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“And while you’re busy being quiet, I order you to change your eye color to something more appropriate for a moon elf. They should be iridescent, should they not?”
This time when the Void Prince’s jaw tightens, there’s no mistaking his emotion for anything but fury.
He raises his hand and covers himself in shadows. When they fade, his crimson eyes are an iridescent hue. I pause, examining the purples and pinks and teals rippling through his eyes and checking no hint of crimson remains. They shine brighter than the Lumarian ambassador I once saw meeting Father. I wonder if this is how Natharius’s eyes looked before he became a demon. According to the ancient tome I read, he was a High Enchanter, and an incredibly powerful one at that.
Realizing I’m staring, I turn away and gaze out at the approaching port. There is nothing fascinating about him. He isn’t even a real moon elf, and no aether shimmers in his eyes. It’s only an illusion.
Neither of us speaks again before we anchor in the harbor. Since the Void Prince’s magic puts us at risk of being arrested and marched to Tirith’s capital, Lowrick, I use my magic to dock the ship. I whisperventrezand send a gale blowing the capstan in the opposite direction. The anchor rolls down beneath the waves, and after it plunges into the seabed, the ship feels more stable. But not nearly as stable as dry land.
I use the same spell to furl the ship’s sails and then turn and march off the ship—
Except when I reach the edge, there’s no plank. The Void Prince disintegrated ours.
“Can you resummon the plank?” I ask, gesturing to where it should be. “Or conjure a new one?”
He shrugs.
Our pier is on the outskirts of the port, and we’re a fair way out at sea. None of the nearby ships have anyone onboard, and it’s nearly nightfall, so no one will notice a few more shadows. The demon should be fine using his magic—as long as he’s quick.
“Well, summon it back then,” I say. “Or else you’ll have to carry me down to the pier.”
He rolls his eyes and waves his hand. The plank emerges from black dust, spanning the side of the ship and down to the pier. I wonder whether his spell is likeevanestand whether it too has a name in Abyssal, the language of demons and dark magic. Maybe the plank was stored inside the dark magic coursing through his veins (if he even has them), or maybe it was banished to the Abyss. I’m curious, but not nearly curious enough to ask and permit him to speak. Unless he suffers his punishment, he’ll continue to taunt me about Nolderan’s destruction.
I don’t thank him before heading down the plank. I owe him nothing but my hatred.
Zephyr flutters after me and perches on my shoulder. For a moment, I feel rather like a pirate captain striding down from their ship with a parrot on their shoulder. Except mine is a faerie dragon, and I’m also wearing violet magi robes.
Lenris Port is as cold as Nolderan, if not colder. Frost sheens the pier, and I take care not to slip and tumble into the dark waves on either side. The Void Prince would only laugh at my expense before I forced him to pull me out.
A man hurries toward us, his lantern swinging back and forth. With his speed, it’s surprising he doesn’t slip on the frost.
“Evening, good sirs!” he calls out. I don’t bother correcting him, and when he reaches us, he adjusts his spectacles on his nose and squints at me. He straightens and clears his throat. “I beg your pardon, miss. I believe my eyesight must be getting worse.”
“It’s not a problem.” I flash him a quick smile and hope he will step out of our way, but he doesn’t.
He cranes his neck as he peers behind us atThe Sea Lion. “Where’s the rest of your crew?”
“It’s just the two of us,” I say. The man glances between us both, so I gesture to my robes. “I’m a Mage of Nolderan, and he’s an Enchanter of Lumaria. What use do we have for a crew?”
“I see,” the man replies, dipping his head. “So, did the two of you come to import goods? Or perhaps you’re seeking exports to take back to Nolderan?”
“We came to visit.”
“In that case, how long do you intend to stay? There is a fee for our port, charged by the day for—”
“We won’t be needing the ship again, so you can keep it. Perhaps that will free us of any fees?”
He blinks at me. “How peculiar. Why, that’s the second time this week I’ve had a ship donated to me. Well, not personally to me. Of course I give it to—”
“The second time this week?” I blurt. “Who else has given you a ship?”
The man frowns. “It was yesterday or the day before that a ship anchored here with a crew all wearing black robes. What an odd-looking bunch they were.”
“Where did they go? Do you know?”
“They asked for the nearest tavern, so I directed them toThe Laughing Gull—just over there.”He points in the distance to the few buildings overlooking the sea. Light radiates from their windows. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m looking for them.” When his curious expression doesn’t relent, I add: “One is an old friend, and I owe him a favor.”
