“At least it will help us gain entry into the city,” I said, doing my best to make him feel better. “Thank you. For using it to save our lives.”
“I suppose that’s true. And you’re welcome.” He sounded slightly less crestfallen.
We snuck closer to the gate, doing our best to make as little sound as possible. Not that it would have been easy to hear our soft footsteps over the noisy din of caravans, animals, and people, all jockeying for their place in line, waiting foradmittance with little patience. We approached from the side, watching the commotion.
Even if the banshee warrior wasn’t standing in our line of sight, I would have felt her presence.
A cold chill whispered past us on the wind. It hinted at ancient magic and carried the threat of death.
I scrutinized the warrior closely. Closer than I would have dared had we not been invisible. As it were, I had no qualms about openly staring. Her silvery-white hair, unusual for someone her age, was tied up in an elaborate bun, held in place by an off-white hairpin. My best guess—it was made of bone.
That wasn’t the only relic casually displayed on her person. I spotted a human finger bone hanging as a pendant around her neck. It took me a moment to locate the woman’s third relic—a small piece of tooth, substituted for a bead on the bracelet around her wrist. Three relics from the same ancestor. That was lucky. If I remembered correctly, the warriors were forced to keep a relic on them at all times or risk losing their connection to the banshee spirit possessing them. There weren’t always enough remains left over to make multiple relics though.
She was outfitted in silver armor. Her cloak and garments underneath were pure white. As we drew closer still, I caught a glimpse of her bright green eyes. They were…unsettling. They lacked irises, not to mention their uncanny glow.
“Papers?” she asked a passing merchant, a ghostly echo to her voice, like two people were speaking at once.
It would be borderline blasphemous to call a banshee warrior undead. Kothians took great pride in channeling the power of their deceased female ancestors. Sivell took a different perspective. Phoenixes abhorred the undead, denouncing all such practices as dark magic. Such rhetoric was commonly employed during periods of war, fueling animosity between the kingdoms. Kothians were quick to call such views hypocritical,given a phoenix’s ability to rise from its ashes. The fact remained, however, that Kothia and Sivell had very different ideas about what did or did not qualify as acceptable rebirth.
Taking advantage of the warrior’s preoccupation checking papers, I grabbed Corvin’s hand, leading us past the city gate.
He stopped maintaining our invisibility once we reached the main city square. “Worst use of invisibility ever,” he lamented. “Didn’t even pull a single prank.” I gave his hand a sympathetic squeeze. The spontaneous gesture gave me pause. I looked down at Corvin’s fingers, interlocked with mine.I never released his hand!I had been holding it ever since pulling him past the gate with me.
Hiding the rosy hue in my cheeks, I finally let it go, pointing toward one of the local establishments to draw less attention to the moment our hands separated. “Look over there! Their sign has a carriage painted on it. Might be where we need to go. Looks like there’s a fleet of carriages around back as well.”
The rental building waspacked.I sneezed as we entered, immediately accosted by a waft of heavy perfume coming from the group of elegantly dressed women ahead of us waiting in line to be helped. I surmised that Tardide was more of a military waypoint than anything else, given the number of people in the room looking for transportation out of the city. We joined the long line, leading up to a professionally dressed middle-aged woman taking people’s coin and directing them toward the line of carriages outside. When we reached the counter, her eyes slid over us expectantly, clearly not one for wasting time. “Destination?” she asked curtly.
“A private carriage to Kincardine please.” I handed her the coin requested in exchange for our passage.
She pointed out our carriage through the window, handing us a pair of tickets. “Next in line,” she called out, keeping the linemoving, already focusing her attention on the next transaction. We followed the stream of people in front of us heading outside.
The coachman gave us a polite bow as we approached. “Kincardine?”
“That’s right,” I confirmed, handing over our tickets. “Do you do that route often?” I asked in a friendly voice. The coachman nodded. “Just about all I do. Lots of traffic between Tardide and Kincardine. Should be a smooth trip.” He offered me a hand, which I gladly accepted, pressing on it for support as I walked up the short step into the carriage.
It wasn’t particularly fancy, but the experience of riding in a carriage still felt luxurious to me, having never before set foot into one. We each had a pillow on our bench. I sank into the cushion as Corvin took a seat across from me. The close quarters meant our knees were almost touching. Locked in the carriage together, it was like we were in our own little world.
After a slight delay, the carriage started to roll slowly forward. “I think we should be a couple,” Corvin said as our trip began.
“You…do?” I repeated, lost for words. My heart started to beat wildly in my chest, louder even than when we were under attack.
“It will be a more believable cover story, don’t you think? Newlyweds? My new wife demanding a lavish wedding gift?”He wanted to talk strategy.It took longer than I cared to admit for my breathing to level out. “I agree,” I muttered, feigning nonchalance. “But why am I the one demanding a gift in this scenario?” I grinned at him. “Personally, I think you look like the high-maintenance one.”
He laughed—a short, surprised chortle. “Fair enough. I’ll play the needy spouse. I think I’m going to quite enjoy you doting on me. Perhaps I should think of even more demands I could make.”
“Don’t press your luck,” I replied, playfully shaking my head. I reclined in the seat, tucking my pillow behind my head. “We should talk about our plans though. While we have a spare moment. Better to be prepared. Given how our morning went.”
“Rough start to the day,” Corvin agreed. “I’ve never been one for overly involved plans. I prefer to take things as they come.”
“And how does that typically work out for you?” I asked.
“Nobody has died.”
I snorted. “What an encouraging standard.”
Corvin turned his head to grin at me. “Let’s plan. Trying new things is good for you. Or so I’ve heard. But first, any theories about who might have shot those arrows at us?”
I racked my brain, conjuring up my rather limited social circle. “No. I don’t have any personal enemies that I know about. It must be somebody who takes issue with my office. My presumption about the Spring Court is based on a dream, and the memory of Kaylin’s six-year-old daughter—not the most reliable sources of information, I know. Maybe I should have tried to grab one of those arrows. Might have provided some clue. Why—do you have any thoughts?”
