Chapter 17
And on a tiny island in the midst of the sea rested treasures only found in pirate maps, music only heard by the gods, magical folk only read about in books.
As soon as we got to shore, I tore off my travel pack, rifling through the contents inside. Everything was dry, including my clothes. Seeds were intact. There wasn’t a drop of water anywhere.
“Marielle’s magic,” Hesper answered the question in my mind. “The waterways ensure the traveler stays safe and dry. No use getting to your destination soaking wet.”
Despite our moment of levity in the water, Hesper’s eyes still had that haunted look about them. I wanted to fix it, but I didn’t know how. Perhaps the town might cheer her up.
Securing my pack once more, we made our way into Lore.
Cottages and quaint villages, forests and meadows surrounded me throughout my entire life.
But Lore Isles was home to nothing of the sort.
Instead of cottages, they had tall, slender buildings painted bright colors and decorated with intricate mosaics.
Instead of ale carts and pastry carts, they had awnings stretching out on each side of their streets.
Tables were filled with fruits of all colors, meats that smelled impossibly rich, and sweet, syrupy golden treats as far as the eye could see.
Even the cobblestones beneath our feet were a work of art—bright white and carved so that they all fit perfectly together.
Nothing was upturned or out of place; everything was a vision to behold.
Edge and Warty landed beside us.
“Have a nice swim, Madame?” Edge asked.
“I did.” I laughed. “How did you get here before us?” They had to have flown over the entirety of the flatlands and sea to get to Lore Isles. Even for a magic crow, that would be a task.
“The wind was in my favor,” he said cryptically.
Warty nuzzled my ankle. I scooped him up and kissed him on the nose. He gave a happy chirp and then plopped on my shoulder—his perch for the day.
“We need to find a place to sleep for the night and secure a boat for tomorrow,” Hesper said. She looked worn already, her story etching lines of sadness in her face.
No, what we needed to do was to get one of those syrupy golden treats. Maybe it would cheer up my dreary protector. I was usually the one moping about, but Hesper had taken up that spot today—and for good reason. Underneath all of that leather walked someone scarred.
“All right, let’s get a room and a boat, and then, let’s explore,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. Hesper looked up at me in shock; some of her former darkness seemed to lift for a moment.
“You want to explore?” She crossed her arms, studying me as if someone else had taken up residence in my body.
“Why is that so surprising to you?” I may not like surprises, but I could be surprising. Sometimes.
She hooked her fingers underneath my chin, tilting my head up toward hers.
Up close, her fae heritage was written across every part of her—how did I not realize at the start?
The hulking height, her muscled frame, her rough, honed beauty.
I leaned into her gruff touch without realizing until our bodies were touching.
“If Lore is what you want to see, then that’s what we’ll do,” she whispered.
“That’s what I want,” I said as I stared at that Goddess-damned scar above her lip. My heart lurched toward her, a deep need to lick and caress that scar until she begged for more.
“As you wish, princess.” Our mouths were almost touching—I abruptly pushed her away.
“Don’t call me princess.”
“Don’t look like one then.”
I heaved an irritated sigh. There was no winning with her, even when I certainly didn’t look even close to a princess.
My clothes were all but ruined thanks to mud, snags, and my perpetual habit of getting dirt everywhere all the time.
Even Marielle’s enchanted waters couldn’t wash away these stains.
We snaked our way through the bustling town streets, every vendor like a little world in and of itself.
One had swathes of gold fabric that caught the sun like waves on the water.
Another had intricate music boxes, each one with figurines dancing to their own music.
And all of the pastries. My stomach gave a loud growl.
Hesper, used to my internal tirades at this point, picked up her pace.
We found an inn almost immediately. I expected for us to be turned away—unknown travelers in clothing unfamiliar to these lands—but the innkeeper was kind.
He even offered for Warty and Edge to stay with us, but they opted to sleep on a roof for the evening.
There was only one room, of course. Because why not have another unhelpful trope thrown my way? Reading about chosen ones, quests, magical beasts, and forced proximity? Sign me up. But when they all happen in my actual life? Sign me out. Don’t include me.
I’m not home; post your message to a pigeon that will get lost on its way.
Even so, even if there were more rooms available, Hesper and I needed to stay side by side. And with Margast and stories of Thanadyn fresh in my mind, I didn’t want to risk an evening alone. We could discuss who would sleep where later.
Hesper inquired to the innkeeper about a boat, and he offered his services for the next morning.
“Where are you off to anyhow?” His voice reminded me of old parchment, crisp and worn.
“Dwindle,” Hesper replied.
His bushy eyebrows rose above his large spectacles. “I have never been there before! Hope the Irk isn’t too bad for you two. But by the looks of it, you’ve already had unseemly travels.” He chuckled, slamming his innkeeper book closed and tittering away.
With our room key in hand, we headed back out into the streets.
The pastry vendors were our first stop—and our second, and our third. I couldn’t get enough of the delicacies surrounding us. My sweet tooth was consistently reliable, but these pastries weren’t the normal jam tarts I’d partaken of before. No, these sweets were a whole world bursting in my mouth.
The golden, syrupy treats I’d spotted when we first arrived turned out to be soaked with rum and shaped like tiny mushrooms. I didn’t know just how soaked they were until I bit into one, and the rum squirted right down my already badly stained tunic.
The vendor, a willowy woman with skin as golden as her hair, laughed and then spoke in Fehyen—the tongue of the southernmost part of the Golden Isles.
She sent me on my way with three additional rummy mushrooms I didn’t even pay for.
A nutty, earthy smell wafted through the air, and I followed my nose to a table sprawling with pillowy soft buns covered in what looked to be black seeds.
“Each bite tells a story,” the vendor said in Irpiti. They truly did. With each mouthful, legends of fox ghosts and ancient kingdoms built to reach the clouds danced in my mind. I purchased more buns than Hesper and I could eat, but I managed for us both.
Hesper stopped at a weapons seller, the knives dangling dangerously from the ceiling of the tent.
While she was occupied, I took the liberty of buying myself new clothes.
I hated to ditch my trusty travel cloak and dress, but they were beyond repair at this point.
At least my walking boots had miraculously survived the quest thus far.
The seller, who was bent over fabrics, let me slip behind her tent to change.
I purchased a linen tunic that had lavender embroidered on the front, pants with pockets and images of tiny mushrooms, radishes, and frogs hidden here and there, and a dress I couldn’t pass up.
It was utterly useless for our journey, but the silky green fabric reminded me of Rosie.
I put the dress on and relished how soft it felt on my skin.
I emerged from behind the tent, and Hesper was there to meet me. She twirled a new knife in her hand, but when she saw me, it clattered to the ground.
“See something you like?” I winked.
The dress was more of a slip than anything else. I usually prefer layers and layers of oversized tunics and dresses, but when in Lore…
“She looks like a vision, no?” the dress seller asked over her shoulder, still busying herself with arranging fabrics.
“Yes, yes she does,” Hesper said with a nod. I swished the dress back and forth, savoring the whimsy of it all.
“It’s not useful,” I said, twirling about.
“Not everything has to be useful,” Hesper replied. “Though, I can think of a few ways that dress could be very useful.”
I stumbled over a cobblestone, twirling right into her hard chest. She caught me, her large hands steadying me.
For a moment, I didn’t move away, didn’t shrink from her closeness.
Perhaps all the pastries had turned my mind into honey because all I wanted to do was to melt into her, close any distance there ever was between us.
“What a lovely pair you two make,” the seller said, bursting through the moment. I quickly moved away from Hesper, smoothing out my dress. “Don’t stop dancing on my account.”
Her throaty accent sounded like that of Kr?kti, a continent located at the very top of our realm.
It seemed impossible that she’d found her way here, but Lore appeared to be a place that drew everyone from everywhere.
In fact, so many different languages were being spoken all at once that they mixed together with infectious percussion to make an addicting, never-ending song.
“Thank you for this.” I motioned to my dress and the new clothes in my hand. “Your art is amazing.”
“Your old clothes. I want them.” She pointed behind her back to the sodden mess bundled in my hand.
“These?” I held them up.
She nodded quickly.
“They are mostly ruined,” I said grimly.
“Just wet and dirty,” she said.
And tattered, snagged, and fraying.
I set them on the table next to her, not wanting to interrupt her work. She investigated the ruined pieces, bringing them so close to her that they disappeared into her veil. She then moved another piece of fabric to where my clothes had just rested.
“A trade,” she said.
It was a forest-green cloak. Embroidered on the edges like living stories were woodland creatures.
Flowers and trees skirted the bottom. A few buttercups popped up as well.
A happy coincidence that my favorite flowers were on this.
Best yet, on the cloak’s hood were two shapes that looked eerily familiar—on one side a hedgehog, and on the other, a crow.
And the clasp that held the cloak together looked like the exact squirrel that stole the Crown Jewel Tulip. That couldn’t be possible, though.
I looked up to ask the seller more, but she had vanished.
“I can’t take this,” I said to Hesper. The cloak was worth far more than the wretched fabric I’d given her.
“It would be a great offense if you did not accept the gift.”
“Why? I only had old clothes to give her, nothing that was worth this.”
“That was not just a seller. That woman is a seer.”
Coldness covered my body despite the heat of Lore’s summer afternoon.
I had not heard tell of a seer for many years.
And for good reason. One could only hold seeing magic if they were descendants of the moon herself.
Many of those lineages had died out by now—their power diluted by the centuries.
Stories say that one knew a seer because they glowed in the dark like the moon.
Now, it is only by their eyes that anyone would know they have that magic.
The seller reemerged from behind her tent to bid us farewell, and I saw her eyes for the first time. Silver. Like slivers of the moon. My heart quaked.
“Clara, are you all right?” Hesper asked, her words barely slicing through the buzzing in my mind.
I gave her a tight nod, then bolted out of the tent.
The last time a seer had come into my life, they had ruined everything.