Chapter 20 Nes
Nes
The following evening, Nes wandered the Valley market, waiting for Toran to show.
Winter had arrived in true form. The morning had brought freezing temperatures and ice to the city.
Icicles hung from the corners of rooftops, and water buckets turned solid.
The souls of the Ditch unfortunate enough to get stuck outside the previous night were found in the morning huddled in balls, their dead eyes peeking out behind the ice crystals caught in their eyelashes.
Nes kept her hands tight in her pockets for warmth, and to keep herself from touching any of the wares for sale.
The only exception she made was to pull the flask from her belt for a long swig, the eyes of Phineas’s snarling dog sigil gleaming in the low sun as she tipped the flask’s contents down her throat.
She still had some left, but it was nearing empty.
She’d have to find a way to fill it soon.
Phineas’s meeting loomed closer.
While she wanted to sabotage whatever plans Phineas had, she had no idea how to do so. What little spying she’d been able to do had informed her Keifer Harrow was nothing more than a common fisherman. A fisherman who kept the stringent fishing hours of three to ten a.m.
Of course, she knew what the man appeared to be could all be a facade.
But she’d subtly asked around after the fisherman, and all anyone could tell her was he was out at sea every morning and working the docks every afternoon.
It took hours of receiving the same answer before she had to admit Keifer Harrow was a boring man.
She couldn’t go to Suri for help. If their exchange the other day was any indication, Suri knew she, too, was being watched. Which left Nes with only this upcoming meeting to try to find more information. Information she hoped would help her bring Phineas down for good.
The vendor who’d been selling extra fingers the night Nes brought Marnie to Phineas eyed her angrily as she passed her table. She winked at her, and the woman harrumphed.
“I don’t think that vendor likes you very much.”
Her pulse jumped and she whirled, finding Toran at her back.
She rolled her shoulders to hide the surprise skittering about her limbs.
There was something different about him today.
And it wasn’t the neatly tucked button-down or striking black and red of his uniform—she’d almost forgotten what he looked like when he dressed as a guard.
It was something about his presence. Something that brought excitement to her veins and left it lingering like a tease.
She bit her lip. “You wouldn’t either if you were her.”
Toran smiled warmly and raised a hand in greeting to the extra-finger woman while his other hand came to rest at the small of Nes’s back. “Pleasant evening!” he called to the vendor then leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Remind me again how you survived the Ditch for so long.”
The hand at her back pushed gently, guiding her forward. “By not bathing,” she said. “My stench alone kept criminals away.”
“Right,” he said, the word drawn out. “Your stench.”
The way he spoke, like a memory loitered in his mind, made her wonder if he’d been breathing her in.
She forced her feet to step away, to start walking again.
She needed a little distance. Maybe it wasn’t Toran who was different, but her.
Maybe it wasn’t her father who could fill that hole in her chest, but someone else.
He’d been so close yesterday. An anchor when she’d needed one most. And there had been a second, brief as it was, when she thought—a foolish thought for sure—but she’d thought he might kiss her in that water. Lay his lips on hers and kiss away her fear.
His hand shifted, curling tight around her side and tugging her against him just as a cart came rambling down the street.
Her face pressed to the hollow part of his collarbone, and she gasped.
His chin rested against the top of her forehead, his skin smooth against hers, and she realized he’d shaved since yesterday.
She sucked in another breath. He was warm and firm, and maybe it’d be okay if she stayed here a minute more.
No. She had to remember they were working toward a mutual goal, nothing more. Once they reached that goal, her father would be released and the two of them would leave Gadore forever. No attachments. She had made that promise to herself long before she met Toran. She couldn’t slip up now.
She stepped out of his embrace. Crossing her arms over her chest, she said, “You came alone.”
He smirked. “That’s very astute of you.”
“Where’s Genna?”
The smirk fell from his face. “I don’t know. I asked around, but no one’s seen Genna all day.”
“We need her side of the story.”
She didn’t mention how it was her fault they hadn’t gotten it the day before. How she had been the one to storm off after the boat had tipped, halting their progress for the day. But she hadn’t been able to help it. Nearly drowning had unsettled her. More than she’d wanted to admit.
She watched Toran out of the corner of her eye, but he didn’t mention it, either. Instead, he simply said, “We do, but I’m here for another reason today.”
She raised her brows.
“Quint and I have been talking about a possible way to capture the Witch once we find her,” he explained.
She gestured to the Valley, the lines of tables and stalls aglow under the rays of the setting sun. “And you think you’ll find it here? At risk of pointing out the obvious, don’t you think if a vendor had something capable of capturing the Witch, we’d know? That the whole city would know?”
Again, he leaned close. Her shiver had nothing to do with the winter cold and everything to do with the caress of his exhaled breath.
“Not if they didn’t know what they had,” he whispered. “Quint and I have a theory. We think siren hair—real hair off the head of a siren—can bind the Witch.”
Her heart sped up, a skipping sensation overtaking the space behind her ribs. “And what makes you think this theory could be true?”
Toran’s face fell the slightest bit before he perked back up. Had she blinked she would have missed it. “I have a reliable source.”
She watched his face for change. “And you trust this source?”
He was stoic as he answered, “Unconditionally.”
Nes had her doubts. Even if they managed to find some siren hair, she wasn’t convinced it would work.
But, for Toran, she combed the Valley and questioned its vendors about their rare products.
She quickly learned not to directly mention siren hair to any of them—each time she did, they would give her a funny look and direct her to the gambling den.
An hour later they met back up, both empty-handed.
“Know of any other miraculous Witch trappings?”
He gave her a sour look. “Just the one.”
She ran a finger down the cool metal of her flask, tapping the middle and listening to the sound echo.
“I hope Quint’s had better luck.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” she mumbled.
A jewelry vendor spotted Toran and beckoned him over to her table. Nes went instead.
Waves of little pearls on velvet cloths scattered one side of the table while sparkling crystals covered the other. Pendants on silver and gold chains ran in lines down the middle, separating the two sides.
Toran stepped close, a force at her back. “Why do you say that?”
“Even if you do get your hands on what you’re looking for, you still need to find Damari before you can test your theory,” she said.
“We know she’s after Fell. We’ll use that against her.”
“I followed Fell for days, remember? If Damari was going to attack him, she missed dozens of opportunities.” She lightly touched a necklace with a rectangular pendant on the end.
Toran was silent for a moment.
He was warm at her side, a flickering fire strong enough to nip at the cold. It took everything in her not to soak it in.
“She doesn’t know it was Fell.” His words were hushed but began picking up speed, the momentum of the realization driving them faster off his tongue.
“I think whatever Fell refused to tell us—whatever happened up north—happened so fast and was so horrible she doesn’t remember who exactly she’s after, only that Orlonea’s King’s Guard is responsible.
So she’s hunting down every guard she can find. ”
The jeweler’s eyes lit up when she noticed Nes’s interest in the necklace. “That one’s special,” the woman said.
Toran leaned over her shoulder to look with her. “What are you doing?”
“Shopping.” She shrugged, bumping the underside of his chin. “I’m about to come into a fair amount of money. I’ll have to find some way to spend it.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
She flashed him a wide smile. “I think you mean irresistible.” She picked up the necklace, running a finger over the face, and asked the vendor, “How so?”
“It’s a tree trunk,” the woman said, “but all trees have multiple sides. You see the front there? With the bumps on the metal? What do they look like to you?”
She brought the pendant closer and wrinkled her nose. “Magic lichen.”
The jeweler nodded. “But turn it over.”
She did as instructed, flipping the pendant to display the back. Bright green crystal, smooth to the touch and near glowing, winked at her.
“See?” the jeweler said. “The magic’s on the inside.”
Nes sucked in a breath.
The trees. Of course. She should have seen it sooner.
If Damari could smell magic, as Nes could, she’d seek the strongest scent.
The magic’s on the inside.
True, people scraped the magic lichen from tree bark to mix with seawater, but the magic growing on the outside was just a small piece of the magic—the lichen only the excess magic the tree could no longer hold. The majority of the magic was still hidden inside.
Nes dropped the necklace back on the table. “We have to go,” she said to Toran.