A sign for Portsgrave Harbor soon appeared. The thicket put us half a day ahead if the mile marker was any indication. The briny smell of salt water accompaniedsmall sunray puffins that scattered as we approached. A few weathered, hearty buildings squatted in the wind coming off of the harbor but a majority of the village was tucked just beyond the cliff edge, strung out along the curve of the meeting of the land and sea.
At the bend in the road, the town’s only inn huddled against the gorse, salt and gusts. Ward prepared me to the best of his ability in his usual book nerd fashion. I had at least glanced at his scrolls. While the area used to be home to a bustling harbor, the Sirens slowly filled in the bay until large ships had to avoid the city, which eventually shrank to a town, then a village.
No wonder no one ever found the true Calix. This place wasn't full of ghosts; it was deceased. For all that, the inn we stopped before had fresh paint and a clean-swept courtyard. I sat on the salamander, tapping between Maggie's shoulder blades with impatience. Was she dead? She hadn't made a sound since the initial squawk of protest.
“Is anyone coming for my mount?” I asked her. I needed to hear her voice. Honestly, I expected more yelling at this point.
“Pumpkin?” I propped her upright and she slumped over.
“Pumpkin!?” My Nightmare invaded my voice but the low hum of my usual amount of anxiety ratcheted up.
Her lips parted and I pushed away all thoughts of crushing them with mine. Was she breathing? The slowblink surfaced her from a trance. I gripped her a bit tighter than I should have, ready to yell at her.
Maggie’s gaze focused sharply and a swift crack of her hand against my face followed. My eyes watered with the force.
“Don’t ever do that again. You’re lucky I’ve been meditating for a decade and I know how to fold outside my body.”
I went to throttle her for scaring me but she moved like water, slipping off the saddle and onto the ground.
“And nobody is coming for your mount, Your Highness. I’m using the outhouse and I’ll meet you inside.”
She wouldn’t ride like that again because Maggie was going home. That’s what she was doing. I thought when I dragged her to this seaside enchantment, I would find a mount for her and a young man with nothing else to do but escort her home. Safer than her going it alone. Strike that. A young woman sellsword with nothing else to do. I shook my head. Knowing Maggie, that wouldn’t stop her either. That empty well of power inside her proved insatiable.
I sighed as I dismounted, unsaddled and left the salamander in the fountain bubbling before the inn. If anything, he would purify the water here. Room first and then I would deal with my penance.
I stepped into the whitewashed, cheery interior. Everything gleamed with spotless fervor, from the bottles behind the small bar to the thistle-scentedfloors.
“Hello?” I called out into the empty space.
Banging came from the back and something crashed to the floor before a dumpling of a man jutted out into the front rooms.
“My goodness, a patron!” The glimmer in the man’s eye was only matched by the obvious polish he put on the near mirror-shined bar top.
“Your Highness,” he said.
The funny little man even managed a bow. At least he automatically knew when he was in the presence of royalty. I hadn’t gotten much of that lately and it straightened my spine a bit.
“You may rise,” I said in my most gracious tone.
“How can I be of service, Your Highness?”
I resisted the impulse to flick my hair over my shoulder and preen a bit. “I am in need of a room.”
“You would like to stay here? At my inn?”
It’s not like there was anywhere else to be in this Goddsforsaken village. Maggie chose that moment to walk in.
I kept my eye on the innkeeper. “One room, my good sir. With one bed.”
Maggie folded her arms over her chest. “I’m not sleeping with you.”
Only my iron will kept me from looking at the cleavage she displayed. I spilled a bunch of gold coins onto the bar top. “You’re not sleeping in this territory, Pumpkin.” I pushed a pile of coins to the man. His eyeshad grown to saucers behind his half-glasses. Maggie gasped.
“What are you doing?” She came between me and the innkeeper, clawing back the pile of gold. “Did you hit your head?”
The innkeeper’s whole body began to shake.
“What do you mean?” I asked, pushing the pile of coins back to the man. He tentatively reached for them.
