7. Diar
Diar
Akemi had always told me I picked a direction and ran. He'd be laughing at me, right about now.
I'd fled from home without a plan, map, or supplies. At Tsuyan's walls, I'd recalled the need to eat and slipped into the barracks to grab a few things: hard bread, dried fish, and a waterskin.
I wasn't proud of it, but at least I hadn't been caught. My disguise had fooled the few souls I'd passed.
According to the map I'd taken, Kentoro wasn't far: two days' travel on horseback. I only knew one thing about the place: the loud, drunken Aenir lords came to celebrate Winter's Tide with us there.
Hopefully, I'd read the map correctly. This was my first time navigating the world outside my home.
Leaning forward on Arrow, I stared down the dirt road, through the veritable halls of thin, white trees.
Snow covered their branches and piled at their roots.
Wagon trails and hoof prints broke up the ice on the road, pointing to other travelers on this path, though I'd only crossed a single caravan.
Sleeping out here, alone with only snow for company . . . it had been incredible. The icy air had burned my lungs with every breath and whispered a new word.
Freedom.
Mother had always said I had an unnatural affection for the cold. Even the coldest winters felt like a soothing chill. Lying beside Arrow had been more than enough to keep me warm.
Clopping hooves and creaking wheels sounded up ahead. Ducking my head, I nodded as a wagon rolled past and breathed out in relief when its rider held up a hand in polite greeting.
When I looked up, I saw the city.
A frozen stream cut through the forest and plunged through a cluster of black, tightly packed buildings. They weren't any different from home—neat, orderly, unadorned. Simple wood painted black to match the eternal night.
Armored guards watched me from the ramparts. Keeping my head down, I led Arrow through the gates, past a pair of burning braziers keeping the guards warm.
Smoke drifted past my eyes, plunging me into my memories.
The assassins set the city of Tsuyan alight. Pillars of flame erupted near the southern gates, drawing eyes and men away from the city center. From their true target.
I curled up on my bed, hugging my knees in fear. Flames quickly engulfed the building, casting the world in a fuzzy red glow and black fog.
My eyes stung. I could hardly see, hardly breathe. Akemi was a smear of dark blue as he broke through my door and led me outside. A shadow blocked our path, just a vague shape in the chaos.
I watched their graceful movements. The cloak enveloping them. The quick steps of their feet as they danced away from Akemi’s blade and extended their hand toward the fire. Light shimmered around their fingers, pulled from the flames.
A sword formed there, above their shoulder. And then it flew through the air, straight through Akemi’s heart.
Shaking my head, I breathed in the frigid air and returned to the present. My hands trembled; my head pounded.
I’d never forget it. Not the spell, nor the way its wielder had moved.
Narrow streets stretched before me—too slim to ride through. Leading Arrow off the road, I guided him to a small pasture by the river.
Tying him up with a sack of feed, I patted his flank and made my way into the city.
I spun in circles, reading the signs hanging from buildings and watching the people: women in long gowns and men in thick woolen tunics.
The Aenir nobles would still be here for the festival. Perhaps I'd be safer in their country than in my own.
Their diplomat looked at me the way only my brother had: like I had a voice. And they rode elks. I passed a pair of the giant brown-hide beasts, their heads crowned by twisting bone. My hand drifted out to touch one, but I yanked it back as the elk turned its head and puffed warm air over my face.
Its rider, a fair-skinned, willowy woman in pale green chiffon, laughed. The sound made me smile.
Raising my head, I noticed a sign hanging from a nearby building: two goblets crossed over faded letters.
A tavern would be the perfect place to start. I could ask for news of Solhearts seen outside their capital.
Solhearts rarely left their vaunted city to mingle with the rest of us. If one had come through town, everyone would have taken notice.
Securing my hood, I pushed through the door and stepped into a lively room.
An equal number of native Muirashins and Aenir guests gathered around the squat tables. They kept themselves firmly segregated. Shying away from my countrymen, I approached the bar on the Aenir side of the tavern and pulled out an empty stool.
Shelves of iceberry wine cluttered the far wall—an uncreative name for the only fruit that thrived in our harsh climate. Akemi and I used to sneak into the cellar to steal some before he came of age.
I glanced behind me, eyeing the clear gap in the room dividing the two races. We liked to make fun of Aenir Stormborns for being boisterous, but the Muirashin side echoed with nearly as much inebriated laughter.
The segregation reminded me of when the Emperor and his glittering Brightspear Knights had come to Tsuyan. Everyone had shied away from the Solheart soldiers, as though terrified to bask in their presence.
A sharp laugh caught my ear, and I glanced down the bar.
"It's true, then?" A tall, thin man with messy brown hair half-shouted. "Your father did fuck his sister?"
The man's words were slurred. Drunk.
The cloaked man at his side offered him a smirk. "Tall talk from a man whose wife has bedded every guard."
The taller man slammed his drink on the table and lunged, but the cloaked man dodged out of his grip and flitted to my side.
I watched him with interest up until the moment he slunk behind me, and his drunken foe snarled at me like I was his new opponent.
"Calm down," the cloaked man said. Beneath his cowl, I glimpsed his grin. "A gentleman like you wouldn't hit a lady, right?"
A lady? I stiffened. Was it that obvious?
My disguise's effectiveness didn't matter. The drunken man lunged.
Throwing myself out of the drunk's path, I grabbed his arm and yanked it behind his back. He was no fighter. I kneed him in the back, and he went sprawling.
"Fucker!" He spat, hauling himself up on his hands and knees.
Something moved in the corner of my vision. I managed to turn my head in time to see a man's fist flying for my face.
Twisting, I caught the blow on my shoulder and lost balance, landing on my knees.
The tavern went silent.
Well-muscled and red in the face, a new man stood over me. He wore a mop of white hair: a Stormborn. The crowd behind him—the darker Muirashins—gasped in horror.
He'd actually hit a woman.
And the rogue who'd gotten me into this mess dared to stand at my side and keep smirking.
All hell broke loose after that.
Several Muirashin men flew from their seats to attack the drunks. The Aenir group rose and flew to defend their countrymen.
Stormborn and Iceborn clashed in a chaotic brawl. And I was in the middle of it.
Covering my head, I rose and tried to escape the sudden cluster of bodies and swinging fists. The spindly man who'd first lunged at me found his feet and tackled the cloaked asshole. They slammed into a table and tipped it over, spilling wine over the floor.
Adrenaline surged through my veins, and excitement prickled under my skin.
I picked a side.
Grabbing the spindly prick's collar, I dragged him off the cloaked ruffian and reared back a fist. It connected with his nose with a satisfying crack. He grabbed his bloody snout and slumped back to the ground.
Cheers erupted behind me.
"Fuck him up!" A high-pitched man shouted.
That I could do. Reaching down, I grabbed a heavy mug and searched for the man who'd punched me. I found his ruddy face in the chaos and lobbed the cup.
It struck his head and bounced off. He whirled in my direction with rage burning in his eyes.
Pushing past the sea of bodies, he charged me.
A flash of black slipped past me as the cloaked rogue swung at him with a broken table leg. It connected with the drunk's shins, sending him sprawling to the ground.
My savior spun the piece of wood. "Damn, you're good."
I'd never fought a man before. Never trained in a practical setting.
But those cheers had made the chaos consuming the tavern seem normal.
Intoxicating.
Turning toward the rogue, I considered whether he was my ally or not. He hadn't struck me, but he'd used me as a shield and dragged me into this mess.
So I elected to punch him, too.
I aimed my fist straight for his smug face. He jerked back in surprise and threw his arm between us, blocking my strike. The skin of my hands brushed his wrist, and . . .
Everything changed.
Water drenched my boots, and I looked down to see rippling waves flowing beneath us. The shouting, cracking wood, and flying goblets—all had fallen silent.
In every direction, an endless sea expanded under a horizon of violet light. Frigid chills rose from the spray, mingling with humidity from the churning storm in the heavens.
Lightning and thunder clashed above, and a warm gale blew my hair endlessly. Everyone was gone.
Except the rogue. Startled, he fell backward, and I tumbled with him.
We landed in the water, tangled. His hood flew off, revealing steel-colored curls and brilliant, emerald eyes.
Breathing heavily, I froze. My eyes traced from the firmament to his face. "What did you do?" I demanded.
"What did I do?" He repeated. "You're the one who attacked me."
"You started it."
He gaped at me in disbelief, and I stared back. A new sensation churned in my stomach, but I couldn't place it. Comfort, unease, exhilaration, and anxiety rolling together.
This endless shallow sea should not have existed at all, let alone in the middle of a tavern brawl.
The rogue tore his hand away, and the strange scenery abruptly faded. We were back in the tavern, tangled on the wine-stained wooden floorboards.
The sound of fighting and yelling roared to life, stinging my ears like a slap.
A hand wrapped around my cloak and yanked me up, spilling my hair loose from my cowl. Panicked, I glanced behind me to see a guard in chainmail and a dark blue tabard.
Another guard grabbed the rogue and twisted his arm behind his back.
"Knock it off, all of you!" A third soldier waved his sword around, breaking up the fight. "Who’s responsible for this?"
Several pairs of eyes turned toward me.
The man holding me choked out a laugh. "A woman? I'd bet this one's our troublemaker." He nodded at the rogue.
"So," I said, twisting under his grip. "Can you let me go, then?"
"Not a chance, sweetheart. Your husband needs to learn not to let his girl play with knives."
Women were not allowed to carry weapons in Muirashi.
Gods. I was an idiot.
"You can wait in the dungeons until he comes and gets you," the guard mocked, shoving me forward.
The steel-haired rogue beamed at me. "Call it a truce?"
I scowled at him as the guards led us away.
Not even a week into my journey, and I was headed for the dungeons.
Somehow, I just knew Akemi would have seen this coming from miles away.