Chapter Fifteen
THE SPY
The city bustled with oblivious people. Open windows brought snippets of conversations weaving among the buzz of the city’s energy.
I wandered around the cobblestoned paths and numerous bridges.
Walls of limestone and iron bars prevented a careless pedestrian from falling into the waterways below, and I stopped periodically to peer over the sides.
Everything about this city seemed brighter than Maripol, even the auras.
Yarit was supposed to be darker. Perhaps my senses were off.
I manipulated the moisture in the air to funnel distant conversations toward me.
I scoffed at the normalcy of the people around me.
Petty gossip, business transactions, and frivolous shopping as if the world around them wasn’t teeming with deceptions, drug trafficking, and destruction.
They had no idea they lived in a delusion.
The Good King held the reigns of wrath, and soon all that was wrong would be made right.
My desire to apprehend the Crimson Wolf burned within me.
I was my own savior in this traitorous land.
Korin had unknowingly offered me a bit of information that served as the basis for my search. I wandered the streets until I found a tavern. The bartender tipped his head at me as he dried a tankard in his hands.
“Do you know of any places around here that serve chocolate tarts? Oh and a good roasted rabbit?” I smiled up at him expectantly.
He set the tankard down with a grin. “Got a craving do ya? A lot of places around here serve rabbit. Only two I know of make chocolate tarts. I would try the Foxhole near the Topaz Castle, and maybe the Mud Pit. Both should have what you’re looking for.”
I left a small tip for his recommendations before pulling out the map Maelic supplied me with.
The detail of Lyrae allowed me to move within the city with confidence.
I started northward toward the jeweled beacon in the north.
It sat overlooking the city of waterways where the queen of Lyrae resided.
Queen Avery still allowed trade between our realms, but it was well-known that her realm was threatened by the freedom Haluma boasted under King Nolan.
Yarit kept many secrets, particularly around the strange nymphs that resided here—dryads within their forests and sirens off their coast.
The waning sun brought the coolness of the sea air further inland.
Stores closed their doors and shutters; lights slowly winked out.
Auras that wafted off of passersby seemed calmer and lighter than I had grown accustomed to.
Lyrae’s very atmosphere contrasted acutely with the heavy darkness that veiled my homeland.
Curiously, I didn’t see any obvious signs of Glint’s circulation.
It ravaged Maripol seemingly unchecked. I knew too many kind people whose bodies turned up in dank alleyways, the golden residue of Glint smeared across their lifeless faces.
Maripol may not have sirens, but the temptation song of Glint lured just as enticingly.
Everyone knew Yarit was a darker, dirtier place than Haluma, but as I strolled its streets, the evidence proved the exact opposite. It left me unsettled.
I caught sight of a familiar face, a rebel I’d tussled with back in Maripol.
He walked purposely with another man. I followed at a discreet distance, casually window-shopping and using the reflections to keep track of them.
They entered a pub ahead of me. I lingered a few minutes before following behind them.
Tugging on the moisture in the air, I drew their low voices toward me in subtle currents. Their auras pulsed erratically in shades of maroon and deep crimson, signaling agitation and concern.
“She might be getting better at reorganizing the land, but she’s still not accurate enough.”
“If she can’t control the earthquakes better, she might destroy a part of Lyrae.” The men exchanged knowing looks.
“The Queen will take her out before that happens. She doesn’t put up with strange magic—too threatening.” He absently toyed with the tabletop, his fingers skimming the worn surface.
“You know what she says about her?” the first man said, then took a deep swallow of his drink. “She foresaw her success, and the General believes in her abilities.”
They grew quiet. “I hope they’re right. If she succeeds it could change the outcome of this war. But if she doesn’t…”
They somberly nodded.
I stowed their cryptic conversation away as the men moved on to more mundane topics.
I wrestled with staying with them or returning to my search for Korin.
I decided to risk losing both for greater gain and gambled on Korin.
The night air washed over me when I left the pub and turned north once more.
The Foxhole loomed in the distance. Its white wooden sign swung casually from clinking chains. Lanterns illuminated the path to the entrance. Music escaped into the night as patrons opened its wooden door.
I entered the revelry, scanning the large room for a table.
I gently edged around groups of people engaged in boisterous conversation.
I zeroed in on a vacant table, positioning myself with my back to the crowd, while allowing a clear view of the exits.
I ordered the roasted rabbit and an ale from the server.
The humidity of this seaside city easily fed into my affinity.
I pulled some moisture from the air creating a simple looking glass of ice.
I casually raised it, and began sprucing my hair.
Tilting it surreptitiously, I scanned the other patrons behind me.
A grin blossomed across my face and every muscle in me relaxed. There she was.
Korin wiped smudges of chocolate tart off of her cheek between fits of laughter.
Her companions were caught up in their own conversations.
I didn’t recognize any of them, but I committed their faces to memory.
Korin could lead me straight to the rebels.
I suppressed the urge to destroy everyone she was with.
The Crimson Wolf was my target. I couldn’t get too hasty.
I sat the frozen mirror down and tunneled the humid air toward myself.
I listened as Korin shared a story about rearranging the positions of some buildings.
She relayed how a Prime Elixist had walked through the front door of what she thought was her lab, but in fact had been rotated around and was now a storage shed.
The story seemed made up, and everyone laughed, some shaking their heads at the silliness of it all.
I forgot how imaginative children could be.
The entrance of the Foxhole swung open, and a deep voice lassoed my attention.
A breathtaking man entered the room, striding purposefully toward Korin’s table.
I tensed as the general scored his hands through his dark hair, mussing it in the process.
A few stray waves settled across his brow.
His golden irises seemed lined in dark bronze.
His face was perfection. A straight nose symmetrically accentuated his carved jaw. What was in this drink?
I pried my eyes away. A faint blush heated my cheeks. I tried to refocus on the food in front of me and the conversation four tables away. I shifted in my seat to glean a better view.
A gray-haired man stood, clasping forearms with Judd. Several black rings adorned his strong hands. I zeroed in on them. Those were the same long fingers that had gripped my waist at the festival, that carried me home. The same lethal hands that orchestrated the spread of Glint. I gulped down air.
Their conversation continued to flow directly toward me. “You’re wearing it!” yelped Korin. I flinched at her outburst. Her hands dug deep into her collar. She produced a colorfully braided necklace with interwoven beads, her enthusiasm an electrical current aimed right at Judd.
His startling eyes landed on the girl. A genuine smile softened his features. A dimple formed on his cheek, somehow increasing my blood flow with its appearance. He gripped an identical necklace from beneath his tunic, revealing colorful strands at odds with his monochromatic clothing.
I struggled to shift my gaze away from their interaction.
The way he engaged with Korin vexed me. This stormy man held such a tenderness toward the girl that clashed with what I knew of him.
Emotion welled upward, pricking my eyes and constricting my throat.
It overtook me in its suddenness, from some long-abandoned space within me.
Never had my own father gazed at me with such care and familiarity. With such tenderness.
I sat back, finally looking away. A confusing blend of despair and longing choked me. I swallowed it down, turning back toward them.
Korin beamed in triumph. “I knew you would.”
He tousled her curly hair, leaving them curtained across her eyes. He addressed the rest of the group while Korin rearranged her hair out of her face. My body remained positioned toward my food, but my attention stayed on Korin and Judd from the corner of my eye.
A woman with a seductively low neckline approached the general.
She leaned into him as if she knew him. A large swig of ale chased down my distaste.
I tried to peel my eyes away, but seemed unable to control my gaze.
Of course he would attract attention; how could he not?
His strong posture and ridiculous height made it seem like he could command the wind.
My head cocked slightly as I covertly studied him.
He appeared as self-assured and at ease as he did at the Twin Moon Festival.
Everyone around him deferred to him, even as he easily smiled in an effort to diffuse the power differential.
He politely dismissed the brazen woman. I ignored the gratification that followed.
Korin excused herself to use the bathroom. I finished off my ale and left plenty of coin to cover my meal, then hurried after her. I stalled a few moments outside the door before stepping inside. I froze the lock on the door, ensuring no one else interrupted our serendipitous meeting.
The spigot of water whooshed on, and I feigned washing my hands while I waited. Korin emerged from the stall and I brightened at her presence. It took her a moment to recognize me, but eventually she smiled back.
“Korin! What a surprise to bump into you here! Have you tried the chocolate tart? I hear it’s delicious.”
“I already ate two,” she giggled, scrunching her little nose in the process.
“What are the odds I would find you again? I’m glad you are well and staying away from dryads.” Lighthearted suspicion narrowed my eyes.
She waved her hand in the air dismissively, the colorful handmade necklace around her neck swinging with the movement. “Yes, yes; no more forest excursions unless a Prime is with me. Some people seem extra protective lately, so I can’t do anything without an escort now,” she huffed.
My mind reeled at the prospect of interacting with a Prime, even if they were brainwashed by the rebellion.
Korin was proving to be a very useful gateway to the rebel world.
“I hope that’s not on my account. I’d be happy to meet one of your escorts, or your Primes, and help put them at ease. If it would help, of course.”
She glanced nervously around, her fingers toying with her necklace.
“Well, I am supposed to practice my magic tomorrow. I have trouble with the reabsorption of it—sometimes I become super dizzy when I expel too fast. If you want, you could come.” A twinge of remorse twisted my gut at exploiting her trust. But if that’s what stood between me and the protection of Haluma, I would stomach it.
“I remember learning to control my own magic. Maybe I could offer some tricks of my own that I’ve learned over the years. Where should I meet you?”
Korin’s face lit up like the Haluman sunrise.