My heart plummets.
No.
I breathe deep, blow it out, then grab my sack off the ground. “Well, is there somewhere safe where I can set my things? I’d like to get started right away, if it’s all the same to you.”
He frowns. “You’re tired, Orlaith. It’s been a big day.”
“I’ve beensittingall day. I’m fine,” I bite out, ignoring the twinges in my lower back and between my shoulder blades.
He’s happy to torch two ships and a crew of people to fit his philanthropic narrative. This is a far less destructive path to the same destination.
“Sacrifices,right?”
The words come out a little bitter, and both his brows lift.
Studying me for a long moment, he finally says, “Very well. Izel, take Orlaith’s things to her suite.”
A pretty, blue-eyed handmaiden dressed in a simple cobalt shift breezes forward, hands outstretched. She’s tall and austere, her skin lightly tanned, clothes so perfectly pressed she makes me feel like a scrunched-up piece of parchment.
Something I can’t quite put my finger on has me eyeing her warily.
“I’ll take it to your suite, Mistress.”
“I’d rather do it myself. It needs to be kept upri—”
Cainon grabs my sack and hands it to the woman, and I’m forced to bite my tongue as I watch her step back in line.
I nail him with a hard stare which he holds, his steeped in subtle chastisement.
Right.
Clearing my throat, I offer him a faux smile, drop into a tight curtsey, then look at Izel clinging to my worldly possessions. “Please keep that upright. There’s a cup of soil in there, and I’ll be devastated if it spills.”
A brief frown buckles her brow before she nods, and I force myself to spin—trailing Kolden across the courtyard while reminding myself there’s only one way to earn those fucking ships …
Play along.
I’m led to the western wing of the palace, then down a cavernous hall that echoes our steps and seems to go on forever, finally ending at an enormous pair of rough stone doors. Just before we reach them, Kolden ushers me through a side door and down a thin coil of stairs that spit us out into a long, dusty room that’s doused in powdery light and the musty scent of old things.
Floor to ceiling windows line one entire wall, perfect frames for the world outside that showcases a blue stone bridge stretching across the angry bay, rising from the base of Cainon’s palace. The bridge feeds into the city; a cluster of irregular-sized buildings that are big and small, tall and short, all hewn from the same Bahari blue stone. All kept in the tight embrace of a lofty wall sketched around the edge of it, keeping it herded against the rocky shore.
“Is that Parith?” I ask, as I gobble up the details through wide eyes.
“It is. This way, Mistress.”
I rip my gaze from the view and follow Kolden through the room, weaving between stacks of books and tables overburdened with clear jars—each packed with different …things.
Ears … fingers … teeth … fluffy little paws. There’s even a small sprite suspended in rosy liquid, wings frayed and black hair a motionless swirl around her face.
I look away and realize with a start I’m walking across a shaggy animal pelt twice the size of my bed in Stony Stem and an alarming shade of gray.
I quicken my pace, suddenly thankful for the boots I’m wearing.
We come to a wall at the end of the room that’s littered with so many mismatched clocks it’s hard to see the stone beneath, alltick-tick-tickingaway as Kolden raps his knuckles against a smooth, wooden door.
We wait in silence, his sturdy stare pinned forward.
He’s short, built like a brick, and there’s a casual confidence in the way he holds himself that suggests he knows precisely how to wield that half-spear strapped to his back.
