Chapter 24
Every person in the tavern looked up when Riella and Jarin walked in.
She supposed they mustn’t see strangers often, living in such a remote hamlet. As the patrons and elderly bartender peered from the shadowy interior, it occurred to her that Polinth might have spies among the local populace. If anyone left in a hurry, she and Jarin would have to follow them.
Riella sat at a long wooden communal table while Jarin went to the bar. She shifted on her stool, unsettled by the curious gazes of the other patrons. To distract herself, she looked around. Candles lit the tavern and the floor was packed with earth.
Most patrons drank from flagons, but a few had steaming plates of food and the scents caused to Riella’s stomach to rumble. The horse riding and the forest sex had made her particularly hungry. Jarin’s seed trickled hotly from her throbbing entrance even as she sat with a carefully impassive expression.
But she did not wish to dwell on Jarin either, because feelings would only muddy the waters. She needed to focus on her mission—not the way his deep voice was like a caress down her spine. Or the way his smile made her pulse quicken. Or that she now craved his touch every second she did not have it, and even when she did, it never seemed like enough.
Such yearning had to be why sirens lacked the drive to mate. It would compromise their ability to fulfill their purposes. Although they possessed seductiveness and beauty, these qualities were only ever meant to ensnare men, not themselves. And Riella felt dangerously close to being captured by Jarin. Not in a net, or a brig, but in a different way altogether.
She looked at his tall form leaning on the bar as he spoke quietly with the bartender. Her growing feelings didn’t matter, really. After all, she’d be gone soon. Jarin would remain, and she’d be just a memory to him. The thought made her heart ache, but what could she do?
He carried flagons of mead to the table and sat opposite her. She sipped the foamy liquid. It was somehow sweet and bitter at the same time.
“We’re in luck,” said the pirate in a low voice. “The local people loathe Polinth. All manner of children, women, and animals have gone missing since he set up his workshop on the cliffs. They blame him for the disappearances, though they have no proof.”
Riella’s hand tightened around the flagon. “I’m sure their assumptions are correct. Any word on how we might access his caves?”
“No one’s been up there, save those who don’t return.”
“I know there’s a narrow path of stairs next to the cave. That must lead down the mountainside, surely.”
“Sounds promising.” Jarin shrugged. “And if there isn’t a way, we’ll make one.”
The bartender carried a heaving tray to the table, setting down plates and bowls in front of the siren and pirate. Riella sniffed dubiously at the plate of food, sided with bread.
“Roasted vegetable stew with rosemary bread,” said Jarin, pointing at the plate, then at the bowl. “And peach pie with cream for dessert. You’ll like it, I promise.”
She cocked her eyebrow. “You promised I’d like riding the horse.”
“No,” he corrected. “I promised I wouldn’t let you fall.”
“Oh. That’s true.”
He picked up his spoon and started on the stew. Riella was unsure how it could possibly taste nice, when it looked like sludge. The steam curling from the plate smelled enticing though, so she put a spoonful in her mouth.
The stew was earthy and savory, and she liked it. Not as much as she’d liked the fried potatoes in Klatos, but she couldn’t imagine ever liking a food as much as that. She dipped a chunk of bread into the stew, as Jarin did, which improved the whole experience. In the end, she finished the stew before he did, and promptly pulled a dessert bowl to her.
Riella was not prepared for the pie. Her eyes rolled back in her head when the spoonful of fruity, creamy dessert melted into her tongue.
Jarin chuckled into his mead. “Better than kelp, no?”
By the time Riella finished her meal, the patrons had stopped staring at her and Jarin. Their attention had turned to the contents of a news bulletin. A few stools down from Riella, a man laid the parchment before him and read aloud to the table in general.
“Join all the kingdom in celebration of King Leonid’s wedding. The festivities will take place in Klatos, under the joyous light of the coming full moon. The High Magus of Starlight Gardens will be an honored guest.”
“That’s next week. Are we going, Papa?” asked one little girl of the man.
“We’ll see,” he replied. “Might be hard to find a place to lie our heads, with everyone piling into the city like that.”
At the mention of the full moon and Starlight Gardens, the contents of Riella’s stomach curdled. The night Polinth captured her, he’d ranted about wanting the amulet to bring Starlight Gardens to heel. He had a vendetta against them.
“Can’t believe they’re propping up King Leonid for a wedding to a Garstang bride,” said a dark-haired woman. “Rumor is, he’s got one foot in the grave already.”
“And the wedding’s so sudden, too. But that’s the Garstang family for you. The slimy bunch are trying to sink their teeth into the palace all the way from Morktland kingdom,” said another man. “You hear the other rumor, about Prince Davron being alive in Velandia? They reckon he even has a lady now. He commanded her to his castle. Can you imagine? Poor lass. He’s supposed to be monstrous.”
Jarin flinched, knocking his empty flagon over. He refused to meet Riella’s gaze as he righted it, but his brow was deeply furrowed.
“What is it?” she whispered to him.
“Nothing.”
Then, she remembered what he’d told her about the royal family. He probably felt guilt on behalf of his mother’s murderous actions, which would be triggered by mention of the prince, naturally.
The dark-haired woman’s face lit up with intrigue. “I heard the Garstangs sent an assassin after him.”
“Ah, who knows?” replied the man. “The corrupt Court in Klatos will be panicking though, if he’s alive. That’ll be why there’re sudden nuptials. They’re installing their own queen before the prince can return. Leonid will croak any day now, and it’d be war with Morktland if Davron tried to take the throne from a Garstang.”
Jarin cleared his throat.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said to Riella.
He seemed restless, suddenly unable to sit still. She didn’t particularly enjoy being idle either, so she stood at once. After placing a small stack of coins on the table, he followed her outside to the late afternoon sunshine.
“Are you worried the prince might return?” asked Riella as they started walking up the dirt road that snaked through the forest toward the mountain. “Do you believe he’ll hunt you down?”
“What?” Jarin seemed genuinely nonplussed, looking at her in surprise. “No. If he’d wanted to do that, I believe he would’ve tried long ago. He was always an honorable man. It was the Court who pursued me, back when it all happened.”
“They said he commanded a woman to his castle. That does not sound very honorable to me.”
Jarin kicked a rock with his boot. It skittered over the road, disappearing into dense green bushes. “I’ll not cast judgment on a man’s character based on rumors overheard in a tavern.”
“Well, I will.”
He gave her a sidelong glance. “You can’t save every woman in the world, you know.”
“I didn’t say I was going to save her.” She paused. “But if I had longer to live, I might bid you sail for Velandia, in case he really is holding her captive.”
“Dammit, Riella!” Jarin stopped in the middle of the road.
She halted, confused. “What?”
He closed his eyes, exhaling hard through his nose. “You’re not going to die.”
“But Ferrante?—”
“Forget Ferrante. Forget fate.” He opened his eyes, and she took an involuntary step backward at the ferocity in his stare. “You aren’t going to die.”
She gaped at him, lost for words. What was wrong with him? It wasn’t as though she wanted to die.
He kneaded his hands together, cracking his knuckles, his face a mask of darkness. She’d never seen him this agitated before, not even when Artus taunted him on the docks of Klatos.
“Are you losing your mind?” she asked.
While she knew this probably wasn’t the most tactful question, she was completely lost. She didn’t even know what to ask him. Was he experiencing some mysterious human emotion to which she was ignorant?
The pirate glared at her for several moments, while she grew increasingly bewildered.
“Yes,” he replied finally, in a dull tone. “Perhaps I am losing my mind.”
Then, without waiting for a response, he continued up the road. She hastened after him, her mind whirling with everything he’d said. Every few paces, Jarin would look down at his hands, flexing them and turning them over.
Ahead, the mountainside grew closer, blotting out the last dying light of the day.