Page 126 of Tempest

“I suppose it is magnificent,” he muttered under his breath.

You should see the inside. Cat remembered the spiral staircase and the roving priests, their voices raised in song. And Valerian beside her through it all.

She shook her head, clearing the image from her mind, and directed Fell away from the tower. The Widow Rose had enough still-bleeding wounds. She did not need to tear open another.

“Let me guess, you’re leading us to another street of sinful pleasures?” Fell said.

Cat bit her lip, trying to get her bearings. “I’m sorry to say we’ve learned all we can from the brothels. You’ll have to visit Nera’s pleasure houses on your own time.”

It’s the taverns we want now, she thought, letting her feet carry her. They knew the way, even if she could barely remember.

There were no signs on the streets or buildings, not that Cat would have been able to read them. Instead, the limestone structures were carved to their function, figures and symbols hidden within the braiding lines of stone. Snapper and long-jawed baracud swam around the arches of a fishmonger’s hall, while the crescent-shaped coins of Arcayo decorated the walls of the overrun port office. A carved pot on a stone fire boiled over the door of a spice house, its windows ringed with stone peppers and bunched vanilla beans. Cat’s mouth watered as they passed, and she dreamed of dolphinfish cooked in spice-fired embers, salty skin sizzling off the flesh. Her hunger was matched only by her appreciation for long tables of pearls and polished gemstones in varying shades of Lyrian blue, a staple of the Arcayan jewel houses.

While cities like Archenport seemed at odds with the tropical islands, the Arcayan capital was in perfect harmony, bejeweled and adorned by the bounty of the Lyrian.

It was no wonder so many crowns sought to claim Arcayo.

And no wonder Valerian loves her so much, Cat thought, her appetite disappearing as cold dread settled in her stomach.

The mist made the air tolerable, the sun not so strong, but she was glad for her straw hat.

Without thinking, her arm slipped into Fell’s, pulling him closer.

“What is it?” he muttered next to her ear.

Cat did not answer nor break stride, but she kept her face bowed.

Just until they were through a particular knot of men on the corner, all of them sun-broken, their fair faces battered by the Lyrian Sea. In their salt-stained clothing, long hair poking out from beneath worn hats, they looked like any other group of civilian sailors. But Cat knew better. She eyed their exposed hands as she passed, noting the telltale sign of gunpowder burns and blade-cut scars. A few had tattoos, black ink trailing along forearms and wrists. For a split second, she dared to peek out from beneath the brim of her hat.

Her stomach flipped as she met a smirking pair of eyes. Not green as a storm, but deep mahogany, near to black and dancing with amusement.

Cat clenched her teeth and kept her steady pace, much as she wanted to sprint into the crowd and disappear. But that would only cause more commotion. And there was nothing the Prince of Merchants loved as much as a good show.

She refused to give it to him.

Goa looked down on her as she passed. While the men around him were ruddy and rumpled, the Arcayan man was anything but, his smooth black hair combed to his shoulders, his shirt and breeches crisp, with beaded adornments in patterned shades of blue. His usual ring, seafoam stones set in gold, glinted on his finger.

It took all of her will not to tremble, lest Fell feel her unease. Goa was a smuggler and a fence, a vital ally to most pirates in the Lyrian Sea. Valerian chief among them. And he was a friend.

Or he had been.

For once in your life, be silent, Goa, Cat prayed. Her eyes flaring wide, she hoped he could read the desperation on her face.

To her surprise, he acquiesced with a shallow nod, letting her move on without a word. It felt like a gift, one Cat did not intend to squander. She hastened on, hurrying to put the handsome smuggler behind them.

But Captain Fell was not so oblivious as he seemed.

“Who were those men?” Fell hissed when they were well out of earshot. He pulled her tighter, forcing them chest to chest. “Kane’s crew?”

She could not help but laugh, feeling lighter after putting some distance between herself and Goa.

“Vex wishes,” she scoffed, glancing back. The crew in question were gone from sight too, swallowed up by the city.

Fell’s eyebrows rose, disappearing beneath the brim of his hat. His suspicion melted to excitement.

“Vex? Captain Vex?” he said. Twisting, he craned his neck to look behind him. “Last I checked, he had quite the bounty on his head.”

“Keep your voice down, you idiot,” Cat hissed, forcing him to keep walking. “I recognize those men from his crew.”