Page 82 of Tempest

Suddenly Cat forgot the pain in her ribs and her aching feet. She even forgot Jasper Fell, still stuck and searching the streets of Alvaris, if she had any luck at all.

The courtyard was overgrown as the church walls, with weeds and flowers springing up between the cracked flagstones. A fountain in the center was long dry, discolored to patches of brown and green.

She raised her eyes to scan her surroundings, noting the door to the church hall and the even older tower, itself built of sun-washed white stone. It was almost worn smooth, eroded by weather and time. Almost. With a lurch, Cat realized she recognized the patterns coiling up the church’s belltower. Braided lines, twisting geometric coils—the same carvings as the new song tower in the harbor, and the old towers across Arcayo.

Cat blinked up at its height.

This church had not been built by the Esperese but overtaken, claimed when they conquered the island and drove its inhabitants away. Her stomach twisted, and she tried to imagine the tower before the church, before Esperin took this island and everything on it.

As the wind used to sing through the arch in the old harbor, the jungle seemed to whisper here too. But its voice was little more than a passing breeze across the rooftops, an echo of what was, and would never come again.

“Hello?” she chanced, calling out once in Meridian and once in her poorly accented Esperese.

Something scuffled and she whirled to find herself facing a priest robed in rough spun wool, his tanned face peering out at her from a window. He glared and shook a finger at her.

“You are in a holy place, madam!” he scolded, speaking Meridian so she could understand. “Show some respect.”

“My apologies, sir,” Cat replied quickly. She crossed the courtyard to approach the older man, weathering his look of disdain with ladylike grace. Her face smoothed into an expression Cat hoped looked like humble penance. “Forgive me, Father, but I am looking for a sister of your order. I have sins to confess.”

“You certainly do,” another voice answered behind her, ringing out over the churchyard.

A chill settled over her in an instant, falling over sweating skin like a frigid wave. She swallowed hard, throat working.

Perhaps this was a bad idea.

Her heart thumped.

Too late.

With all the will she could muster, Cat turned on her heel, steeling herself to face the church tower, and the black-haired woman standing in front of it.

She wore a robe like the monk, bound at the waist with a length of rope. One sleeve was pinned up, unneeded, for the woman was missing her left arm. But the dull clothing did little to hide her true shine, her eyes like two burning black coals.

Her lips parted, showing four silver teeth.

It was not a smile.

“Ana,” Cat said, her voice sharp and clear.

“Widow Rose,” the pirate answered, holding her ground.

A long moment of silence stretched between them. Even the monk stayed quiet, looking between the two women.

What does she know of the world now? What does she know of me? Cat wondered as she stared at Ana, keeping her face a blank mask to hide her trepidation.

What has she heard?

What does she suspect?

Anamina Rualcon left the life of piracy years ago, but Cat knew she would rather slit an officer’s throat than aid the Meridian Empire, even now. The Seawolf no longer sailed, but she was a wolf still.

Silver flashed in the sunlight, and Cat braced, expecting to be bitten.

Instead familiar, unbridled laughter filled the courtyard, and Ana threw her arm wide. In a few short strides, she crossed the flagstones and wrapped Cat in a soft embrace. Cat could not help but melt, leaning in, her arms tight around the former pirate. She was careful to avoid the curve of flesh below her shoulder, though it had been years since Ana lost the arm. She was certainly healed by now, but Cat was loath to find out her assumptions were incorrect in the worst way.

“By the Sea and the Song,” Ana murmured, her songbird voice half muffled by the hug. “It is good to see you, Kitten.”

“I hate that nickname.”