The city was on the small side, and as they walked the streets, Sayyida was not impressed by what she saw.
“Eireann wouldn’t have fit in here well at all,” Vidar murmured.
She laughed without humor, having forgotten that Eireann had been betrothed to some rat-faced male from House Skuld. The king knew how to make enemies by mistreating the sons and daughters of the great lords and ladies.
“Not enough luxury,” Sayyida agreed.
Myrr was the Golden City, the Jewel of the Southlands, and though that shining name came about because of the vast number of light fae the Baliks produced, there was quite a lot of gold, too. Vantalia, by comparison, was drab and depressing. Every shop they passed appeared run down, the wood rotting from the salt and sea water. The fae looked little better. Such sadness ringed their eyes that Sayyida had to wonder what was going on in the city that made it such a miserable place to live.
They’d walked for about ten minutes and observed nothing of note. No one appeared to be following them. And aside from the drunken nymph who had tried to force coin from their hands before Sayyida told him off, nobody on the street was paying close attention. Above, no one eased out their windows.
“I think we should head back.” Sayyida nodded back in the direction they’d come. “We can wait by the brothel for a while to be extra careful. Observe who comes and goes?”
Her brother gave a succinct nod. “I agree. Let’s?—”
A figure dropped out of the air before them. Short, but not as short as a dwarf, with a black hood obscuring their face.
“Actually,” a raspy feminine voice purred. “I have a better plan for two sea serpents skulking around Vantalia.”
Sayyida drew her blade. Vidar was only a second slower.
Where did this female come from!?Sayyida chanced a glance up. The motion gave her away.
“Yes, the rooftops.” The female did not appear at all bothered by their swords. “You’re not as inconspicuous as you think.”
“Who are you?” Vidar demanded. “And how do you know who we are?”
“Ooooh, that voice!” The fae leaned one shoulder against the closest building. At her touch, blue paint chips fell to the cobbles. “You must have all the ladies dropping their garments, Lord Virtoris!”
“Don’t say our names!” Sayyida hissed. More could be listening from windows.
“Any other names I might give such a handsome lord are inappropriate, so you tell me, what else am I supposed to call him? I was told that only you’d be here,Lady Glia.”
Sayyida’s spine straightened at the name. The one she was supposed to use when they entered Lord Riis’s brothel. “How do you know that’s who I am?”
The female pulled down her hood, and they got their first good look at her face. Thick black lashes framed startling amber eyes. Her face was heart-shaped, her lips rosebuds, both pleasing, delicate features offset by a head of copper-red curls even more wild than Sayyida’s black ones.
“I’m Yrsa, daughter to Lord Riis, at your service.” She swept into a deep and somewhat mocking bow.
A grin spread across Sayyida’s face. “You live in Grindavik, don’t you?”
Yrsa nodded. “With my sisters.”
“Sváva and Geiravor?”
“So you have heard of us!”
“You’re absolute legends!”
It was common knowledge that Lord Riis had dozens of children, but many of them weren’t at all well-known. The Terrors of Grindavik were a notable exception.
How many times had she heard Thantrel Riis laughing because Lady Ithamai complained that Lord Leyv Riis needed to get his daughters under control? Fates, at least a dozen.
Sayyida had never met any of the Terrors, but it hadn’t been for lack of desire.
Yrsa bowed again, but this time it was with a flourish, like an actress accepting a call for an encore. “We do what we must to keep life interesting in the east. And I have to say, I’m a fan of yours too, Lady Glia. Already a captain in the Nava? Not many could do that so young.”
Sayyida beamed. It was true that she’d risen quickly in the Nava ranks. She doubted that she still held her title after she angered the king.
