Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Tovi
In the late winter months, the sea’s rains drenched the partying city, Morrow, in endless puddles.
The gaps between cobblestones bubbled with ocean sludge, the shingles on the roof glistened under the gray, wispy clouds, and seagulls’ caws mingled with the lazy lull of midday waves.
Winds blustered from the Sapphire Sea, and despite their chill, a thickness hung in the air. Humid with sweat, salt and—
“This town smells like sex,” Yennifer said next to her, nose wrinkling.
Tovi tried to laugh, but limbs tingled with nerves—she, Yen, and Evelyn weaved through the town revelers on their way to meet with Captain Flynn Seaver.
She’d received a letter from him with a time and place, nothing more, nothing less.
Though she’d written to the pirate to help with the captured werewolves months ago, she’d not seen Flynn in decades.
Ahead, a green sign swung on the coastal breeze, the tavern’s name painted in a dark purple to contrast—The Muckie.
A sea monster of some kind was etched onto the sign, slumbering like a coiled snake.
Algae and mussels clung to the bottom stairs, still wet from high tide.
The weathered wood groaned as Tovi and the others ascended up.
Evelyn intercepted Tovi’s path before she walked through the entrance. “How exactly do you know Flynn?”
Tovi paused, debate hovering over her tongue.
“My guess is a past lover.” Yen raised an all-knowing brow.
Evelyn’s brows pinched, and Tovi sighed.
There was no sense in lying, and she’d given up the habit of keeping up secrets.
“Alright. Fine. Flynn and I were once involved romantically. But he betrayed my trust and it ended as swiftly as it began. Of course, Flynn hadn’t meant to hurt me, he just .
. . tried to protect me. In the end, I forgave him, but we haven’t seen one in another in long time.
Its rumored he still has feelings for me. ”
Evelyn shook her head. “I don’t understand. If you forgave him, why not give him a second chance?”
Sadness spread through Tovi’s chest. “Because once I realized I could live without him, I knew he wasn’t the one.”
Tovi stepped around her friend and entered the Muckie. Inside, the establishment buzzed with conversation. Fire flickered inside a hearth constructed from coral instead of stones. Witches dressed in teal dresses that resembled scales carried trays filled with drinks garnished with fruits and herbs.
Evelyn nodded towards the bar, empty aside from the female attending it. Witch, vampyr, or human, Tovi didn’t have the slightest idea at this distance.
The bartender braced her hands on the bar top, revealing tattoos reaching from elbow to wrists. “What can I get you ladies?”
“We’ll have the Tempest Tonic,” Tovi said.
It wasn’t actually the name of a drink, but a password that Flynn had detailed in his missive.
The bartender’s eyes widened a fraction. “Salted rim or not?”
Ah, why hadn’t Tovi anticipated another question that Flynn hadn’t shared the answer for? To make her think. To make her work for it. To make sure the letter hadn’t landed in the wrong hands.
Evelyn’s brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”
“It’s a riddle of sorts, something only I would know.” Tovi rattled through her memory, battling annoyance. Bloody hel.
“I’d guess salt,” Evelyn whispered. “Right? He’s a pirate after all.”
Tovi nibbled her bottom lip. “It’s more than that—“
Salt always.
The pads of Tovi’s fingers tingled from the distant memory of brushing her fingers over words etched into Flynn’s main ship—in a place only someone close to him would’ve seen.
Her chest tightened, making it hard to breathed as she said, “Salt always.”
The bartender smiled, flashing a fang. “Follow me.”
Tension bristled as they followed the female vampyr out of the main floor and down the hallway painted black and lined with candles molded into the shape of skulls.
At the end, a red door stretched from ceiling to floor, with a single brass doorknob positioned at the center.
The vampyr used both hands to turn it, unseen gears clanking out of place.
It eased open by itself, sighing as it revealed the inside of the parlor, gaslight lanterns lining wooden bookshelves.
“The Captain’s waiting for you, my queen.” She bowed and hurried off, leaving Tovi speechless.
“You’re going to have to get used to hearing that,” Yennifer whispered.
“She’s right,” Evelyn said. “We can’t go into negotiations with you looking stunned.”
Tovi shuddered. “I don’t look stunned.”
Evelyn’s brows shot upward. “I might have to pick your mouth off the floor.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re a queen.”
Tovi waved a hand in the air. “I’m aware.”
Evelyn grabbed her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “As well as my best friend, and—“
“Tovi.”
Flynn appeared in the doorway, looking as if he had just stepped off his ship moments ago. His dark, wind-swept hair framed his face, while stubble lined his jaw. His dark eyes, the same smoky gray of the sea he sailed on, brightened at the sight of her.
Evelyn released her hand, and Tovi didn’t glance at her friends as she entered Flynn’s parlor. Like a queen. Shoulders back. Hands clasped ahead of her. With a diplomatic smile plastered across her face.
“Flynn, it’s good to see you.”
He nodded, flashing his signature, dashing smile. Once, that smile had the power to buckle Tovi’s knees, but she stood there and felt nothing. Her stomach swam with butterflies, anticipation tightening her smile as she readied to convince a pirate to play politics.
“You haven’t aged a day.” He winked and strode over to the table with a decanter full of an amber liquid. “Ah, there’s the famous Daughter of the Goddess.” His slate eyes skimmed over Yennifer. “And a werewolf warrior. You brought quite the entourage, Tovi.”
“I detailed in my letter that the request was on behalf of Evelyn—felt foolish not to bring her. Do you have wine?”
Flynn swirled his rum. “Already on the table for you.”
Evelyn’s stare pierced through Tovi’s back.
She ignored her, following Flynn towards the seating area.
He lounged on the crescent leather chair, throwing his arm across the back.
Tovi paid him no mind, snatching up her glass of burgundy wine, and headed for the one window on the north wall.
Past the velvet curtains, she peeked out and soaked in the bay’s view.
The Void’s gray taunted her with the choices awaiting her on the horizon.
“I never thought I’d see the day when a vampyr, werewolf, and witch walked into a room as friends. Tell me, how did you manage that feat?” Flynn asked.
Tovi had to admit, Flynn was a handsome male, but against the green of his leather couch, the color reminded her of someone else—a werewolf alpha tucked in the Vadon Mountains across the continent.
Tovi sipped her wine, allowing the ripe fruit to burn her throat and bring her back to the present.
She’d left Eldrick behind for a reason—all to focus on what was best for her people.
The wine burned worse during her second sip, as if it’d become laced with the lies and emotions she’d let fester.
There was a time when Tovi had admired her father, and back then, she’d studied his movements in meetings—how he kept his opponent on edge by moving about, standing so he remained the imposing figure in the room, and wearing a mask that appeared disinterested or bored.
Her father always carried an air that he had somewhere more important to be.
At first, Tovi had studied him with awe, but it grew apparent her father was pretending—a humble farmer turned monarch thanks to the snap of the Goddess’s fingers.
He hid his fears behind a mask, and Tovi witnessed, decade after decade, not the seed of experience sprouting into confidence, but the mask itself taking root.
If one pretended for too long, it wasn’t others they fooled, but themselves as well.
He donned the mask with his children and wife, and suddenly it wasn’t a mask at all, but simply the king he was—above others.
With Flynn at her back, remnants of the curse ahead, and the unknowns peppering the air, it felt easier to don the same mask as her father.
“Tovi helped break me out of Drystan Castle,” Evelyn said, snapping Tovi back to the present.
“The rumors are true then; you were the prince’s captive,“ Flynn drawled, his smile loud on his lips.
Tovi whirled, Flynn’s choice of words catching her off guard.
Prince. Had his choice of words been bait and she’d fallen for it?
The urge to remain guarded prickled across her skin.
She’d used secrets as armor before, so why not use the act of pretending?
Temptation tasted like leather and blackberries on her tongue, yet Tovi had no interest in letting her subjects feel little.
Tovi could stand by the window, far from Flynn, and use the distance as a shield and pretend she didn’t care, or she could be authentic, herself. Even if Flynn was bluffing, she could play the game too, but not like her father once did.
She waltzed over to the large arm and sat across from Flynn, relaxed and conversational—the ghost of her mother hissed in the back of her mind, demanding she sit straighter, more ladylike. Whatever the bloody hel that meant.
This was her. Wine in hand, heart at ease, friends by her side.
“She indeed was. What other rumors have you heard?” she asked.
Flynn’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, mirroring her own posture.
He sat back, pressing into the leather of the coach.
“That you’ve gained allies in Sorin, the werewolves.
” His gaze flitted over Evelyn and then back to Tovi.
“As well as witches. But other rumors suggest you’ve lost the werewolves altogether after your brother attacked.
It makes me even more curious why you’re here. ”