Page 185 of A Sea of Fate and Starfire

We made our way outside the heart of the city, the streets adrift with horses instead of swarming people. At the corner of the road, a small caravan parked to the side. Three carriages, the center one framed in gold, elegant and open-walled to expose a long, graceful box inside, fat blooms of wisteria hanging from its roof.

A man—a Naiad—with red-black hair stood over the roof of the first coach, tying down shallow crates along the back. Our pace slowed. We watched for a moment as he knotted his rope, then knotted it again.

“Think he’ll sell a few of Calder’s secrets to Rivea?” Aren asked.

I chewed the inside lining of my cheek, ignoring the smart of my molars. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably. Wouldn’t you?”

There were days I forgot a war still loomed in the north over the mountain range Emilius had illicitly purchased from Rivea, and the mines swimming with veins of gold within them. I wondered what other dark affairs the former King had left for my brother.

Aren blew a humored blast of air from his nose. “Yeah, probably.”

“Maren says he’s close with this Cerbin, though.” I waved as Kazimir spied us. He raised a hand before shaking his dark hair from his eyes and kneeling to wrap rope around a second crate. “And Hade’s spies have found that name connected to Vladca Skorpio. Either Kazimir will return home to help our cause or he’ll harm it. Either way, Maren only asked him to stay until Thaan was dead.”

Pheolix leaned out of the door of the carriage, his hair bound back in a sloppy bun. He’d stripped his town clothes down to a thin cotton shirt that stretched under the muscles across his shoulders and arms. Looking at him, I’d never guess he had the memory of someone twice his age. He moved jovially, his steps like springs as he bounced in and out of the coach.

I’d learned to decipher whether Pheolix remembered what had happened by how lively he was. Somber, distant, quiet, and I knew he was somewhere else. Exiled in an endless land of what if, aimless and wandering, searching for answers or anchors or a small sense of peace. Whatever doomed dreams might offer.

The same place I would be if I’d lost Maren.

“Mornin’!” Pheolix called happily at us, wiping a gleam of moisture from his forehead with the back of his arm. A stitch tightened in my chest.

He often recognized our voices and scents, knowing instinctively that he knew us. But if someone prompted him with the question of who we were, he’d drop into despondent silence. The clouds in his eyes would darken with frustration and he’d finally turn away, embarrassed he couldn’t recall our names.

So we pretended he did.

“Good morning,” I called back. “Looks like you’re almost ready to go.”

“Just a few more things to secure,” Kazimir said, slicking back rain-wet hair with his hand. He offered me a tight smile, which I returned. We owed each other our lives, I suppose. But we could have just as easily taken them, had things happened any differently. The Rivean turned away, hopping off his coach to grab another crate from the opposite side of the road, leaving us to talk to Pheolix in privacy.

“There’s something happening in the city today.” Pheolix crossed his arms, leaning against the wide tire of the royal carriage. “It’s been loud for hours.”

I nodded. “The new king was coronated.”

“Was he?” Pheolix smiled, somewhat darkly. “Hope he is better than the old one. Almost killed him, once.”

“King Emilius?” Aren asked, surprised. “Why?”

Pheolix chuckled, gray eyes veering to somewhere below our feet. His smile faltered, eyebrows twitching as he tried to remember.

“Where are you heading?” I quickly cut in.

“To take Selena to see the Polaris Lights,” Pheolix beamed. “She’s wanted to see them all her life, but we couldn’t until now. She’ll be here any minute. I’ve been waiting for her all morning.”

Kazimir leaned out from behind the long carriage in the back, mouth parted as if he meant to correct him. But he closed it, gliding back behind the Calderian coat of arms embossed in gold over bright white doors.

“I’m sure she’ll be along soon,” Aren said, avoiding my gaze.

“I came to see your cordae before I left,” a sharp voice said over my shoulder. Xiane stood behind me, her attention on the gilded hearse. Her voice softened. “I see she isn’t here yet.”

“Give her a few minutes. She’s on her way.” I stepped back, widening our circle so she could join. She watched me, though her feet didn’t move. “Will you be returning to Paria, then?” I asked.

“Yes. I should have been back already, but…” She hesitated, then stepped alongside me. Not a full step; only a few inches. “It’s been too long since Paria has held any allies with other colonies. Suddenly I found myself in the company of two Videres and”—her mouth twitched in what was possibly the closest thing to a smile she could achieve—“rather appreciative.”

The other Naiads had rarely referred to me as such. Naiads held odd notions over their titles. Like that of a beehive, queens existed, but kings did not. A Videre was a term for a mortal with royal siren blood: a Prizivac Vode ascended. No one knew what to call me, so most of them called me monarch or Sola or lumenblood, though I’d also heard human-born and once, from a mutter behind my back, gnat.

Nori had been next to me and heard it too, whispered among the members of the counsel I’d inherited. I’d named Nori one of my Oculoses, an easy choice if Maren and I ever needed a go-between. Doing so made her my general, and she’d growled at the offending council-siren, banishing him from his post.

“It’s a slur,” she’d said after they’d all filed out with their tails between their legs. “For a Naiad with no powers and no perceived value. You are neither of those things.” Then she’d stalked away, a proud line between her shoulders, before she’d had the chance to see the shock in my eyes.