Chapter 48
“Walk me through this again, you were captured after the war and sent to the slave districts in Smoke.” I comb a tense hand through my hair and lean over the table. Saphine Sunwither sits opposite me, her long silver strands plaited tightly over her shoulder.
Around us, the tavern breathes low and slow like a smoky, warm belly of stale ale. The wind outside tears at the eaves and pale midmorning light seeps through warped glass, painting the tables in uneven shades of gray.
“Yes. Just as you, I’d imagine.” She gestures between the scars marking our brows. “Shortly after, I fled to Sea. The hope was to sneak on to a spice merchant’s ship when I got here, but Astora had other plans for me, I guess.”
“And what were those plans exactly? You’re a mercenary, right?”
The windowpanes rattle with every gust, dust dances in the light like ash caught midair. A frigid, oceanic blizzard is rolling in this afternoon, and the quivering glass is far too brittle to keep the chill out. I pull my knit sweater tighter around my frame and wait for Saphine’s response.
“I told your companions all of this already, is it truly necessary to rehash it?” she asks, sighing.
“Yes.”
“Fine. After multiple stowaway attempts, my current employer found me holed up in some grungy bar—not dissimilar to this place—and offered me a job. I took it on the spot without discussing details and I’ll regret that until I meet Morvayne.
That was ten or so years ago now,” she says.
Light glints off the silver in her plait, turning each strand into a sliver of cold morning sun.
Her index finger taps the stained wood grain impatiently.
“I’d like to hear more about you. There are few and far survivors left.
You’re the first I’ve seen since I fled Smoke. ”
“Not yet. I have more questions,” I reply.
It's the kind of calm that I’m itching to break. There is no familiar warmth in her violet eyes like with Yaris. She may bear the same features as I, share the same history as I do, but there’s an air about her I don’t trust.
“Gods above, you and your companions show up after I saved your ass, hold me captive, and now claim that an intact Astralwing egg exists and I am its rider? It’s incredulous to say the least. You don’t trust me yet, Nova Lindwen?
The feeling is mutual.” Saphine’s posture is steady, her words precise.
“We aren’t going anywhere until this storm blows through, so might as well get to know one another.
” Jace leans against the doorframe, arms laced over his chest. A flicker of sconce light falls over his face, bearing his expression unreadable, all trace of the heat between us now gone from his breath.
I haven’t managed to catch his gaze, half terrified my body might combust into flames if I do. We spent the good portion of the morning tucked beside one another, not speaking, just taking in our proximity.
A dull soreness throbs between my thighs like a little reminder of how he claimed me…how I claimed him. Swallowing the dry lump in my throat, I adhere to my chair before my feet follow the thoughts wandering back upstairs.
“You said you were tracking Samkiel. Why?” I squeeze my thighs together under the table.
Jace locks his eyes on me, a satisfied smirk twitching on his lip.
Gods above, that pompous asshole knows exactly where my mind went.
He drags a thumb over his bottom lip as if the blood once smudged there still lingers, and my skin goes taut.
Fuck, how did I ever believe this perfect creature to be a monstrosity? Ok, focus, Nova. Fucking focus.
“My employer has a rather sensitive trade in play with an arms dealer out of Smoke. I was tasked to keep on Samkiel Ashar to ensure that deal goes through.” Saphine leans back in her seat.
“And how did you get your hands on a Ceti signet ring?” I steal my infuriating eyes away from Jace and clear my throat. Saphine pulls off the glittering silver ring on her index finger and places it between us like an island surrounded by rough seas.
“It’s a family heirloom, passed to me from my grandmother,” she replies.
“Interesting that you wear it so openly. I assumed you wouldn’t take such risks as a mercenary,” I mutter, inspecting the ring.
It’s smooth and newly polished, just as Yaris’s was.
Only a handful of rings such as this exist in our world.
The doubt of her lineage fades slightly when I place it back on the table, suddenly nauseous.
“Perhaps it’s pride.” She raises a brow and throws Jace a venomous glare. “Or perhaps a ‘fuck you’ to Ashar and his allies.”
“If you’re suggesting Shadow and Smoke are allies, Ms. Sunwither, you’re greatly mistaken,” Jace bites. “If we were, you’d be dead already.”
Dust particles scatter through the impasse between us. My eyes narrow as I take Saphine in—her straight posture, the scowl carved on to her face, the sweat beading at her hairline.
“My companions here seem to be convinced that you are as you say, but doesn’t this all seem a little too convenient? We come to Sea, specifically in search of a Ceti descendant, and here you are.” I clasp my hands together and lean over the table, closing the space between us. “I don’t buy it.”
“I’m unsure what else you want from me? If you don’t believe me, then let me go. Why waste time with interrogations?” She shrugs.
“The question I keep going back to is this—what do you gain from lying? A payout? A fulfilled contract? If the egg doesn’t respond to you, you’ll be dead anyway. So tell me, why have you exposed yourself so willingly?”
Saphine’s brow furls and she leans into my space.
“Did you ever stop to think that perhaps it’s because you and I are cut from the same cloth?
They took everything from us. Us, not just you.
Has this world stripped you so bare you think the worst in your own faction?
I could have let you bleed out on the fucking street, but I didn’t.
I put myself at risk for you, and you sit there with that disgusted look on your face like I’m no better than trash. Fuck you.”
She spits right in my face. It tastes of copper and salt when I swipe her insult from my lips, and for a moment the storm’s hiss drowns out everything but her vicious fucking death glare.
My nails dig into the tabletop.
“It doesn’t matter regardless, we’ll find out your truths soon enough.
” I push off my chair and pace to the hearth, now casting a warm glow across the creaking floor.
The fire sighs when I approach and smoke curls up the chimney like a drawn-out exhale.
Just as I do, the flames grow tired of this banter.
“In a few days’ time you’ll either be our savior or dead. ”
Saphine doesn’t bother with a response. If she’s anything like me, she knows words won’t earn my trust. Only actions, or maybe consequences, can.
A cool hand drapes over my shoulder, soothing the migraine manifesting between my eyes.
“Damn, starling, you’re cruel,” Jace whispers against my ear. I lean into his touch, uncaring of the affection so publicly displayed.
“Keep it up and I’ll have those vicious little lips of yours wrapped around my—”
“Good, you two finally fucked it out.” Isra barks a laugh as he barges through the tavern’s entrance, a broadsword slung over his left shoulder and frost nipping his lashes. His arrival rips a gust of snowflakes into the room. The door groans shut behind him, muting the wind to a distant howl.
My complexion blazes to a godsdamned inferno and I rip from Jace’s touch. “Where have you been?”
“Clearing the perimeter before the storm hits. Once it does we’ll be stuck here until it passes. It’s fucking freezing already out there.” Isra shakes the chill from his shoulders and unfastens his overcoat.
“Any sign of our friends?” Jace asks.
“No, not a trace. The locals haven’t seen a single crimson cloak since yesterday.”
I listen for a moment, the hair on my neck pricked—for boots, unsheathed weapons—but hear only the storm’s hollow snarl.
I’m not naive enough to think they’ve returned to Smoke.
If he’s anything like his father, Samkiel won’t leave loose ends.
They’ll come, and let’s pray to Astora we’re well over Shadow’s border when they do.
“So, we’re what? Just going to sit here and wait for an attack? You can’t be serious.” Saphine scoffs and throws her hands over her chest. “You three will get us all killed.”
“What do you suggest then, guardian rider? We saunter into the blizzard and freeze to death halfway to the border?” Isra asks.
“No, we’ll take the smuggler’s routes…” She trails off, rallying between our expectant expressions. “And you three have no clue what I’m talking about.”
“Enlighten us, then.” Jace crosses his arms over his chest.
“Before the war, House Mercora funded the construction of a whole network of tunnels under the faction. Supposed to help drain the lowlands when the floods come each spring, but Sea’s black market took interest when they learned those secret tunnels spit out right along the borders.
Dangerous way to travel—some of them are fully submerged when the tides roll in—but if you time it right, you can slip through undetected. ”
Finnick spoke once about a network of tunnels interconnecting the factions’ black trade routes.
That was before the war, though. Before I arrived at the apothecary, they were simply whispers of past jobs…
or at least I thought. “I thought those were closed off years ago. Smoke’s borders are so heavily guarded, Ashar wouldn’t let anything slip through. ”
“Unless he has his greedy paws in black market trade.” Saphine lifts a brow.
“Fuck…the dragonstones…” It would make sense Ashar kept the tunnels heavily locked down to control the flux of contraband into the faction, but also leveraging these routes to keep his own ‘off the books’ trades intact.
Still, Isra and I share a skeptical look.
“Or stay here and wait for Samkiel and his men. Tell me, Nova, how’s that stab wound of yours healing?” she snips. “If you want a way out, safe from our mutual enemies and the snow, this is it.”
“And you’ve used these routes before?” Jace’s lips purse.
“I’m quite familiar with them, yes,” Saphine replies. “Most of my jobs require traveling the tunnels regularly. I can lead us to Shadow’s border, but if we’re to do this, we have to go now. It’s nearly noon, and the tide is set to come in soon.”
The room holds its breath. The fire crackles. The wind wails, and decision hangs between us like a blade. Isra’s fingers curl around the hilt of his sword. Jace’s smirk fades into something sharper.
All eyes turn to me. The hearth light slices over Saphine’s face, and for a moment she looks carved from will alone. I know that look well. Something pangs in my chest. Cut from the same cloth, molded from the same cruelty…if we stay, we face death. If we go, we give her trust.
I take a slow, steadying breath. “Fine,” I say. “We go now.”
Saphine releases her breath. “The entrance is at the abandoned storehouses just down the road from here.”
Jace tucks my hand close to his chest. “Mark my words, Saphine Sunwither. If you fuck us, your death will not be an easy one. Nor will it be swift.”