“Perhaps for the best you weren’t.” Eira linked her arm with Olivin’s, tugging him away from the spot, and hopefully the memories of Queen Lumeria’s box exploding at the end of the tournament.
“And why is that?”
“I can’t imagine it’d go over well for a member of the ‘queen’s inner circle’ to be close with a pirate.”Or engaging in piracy, for that matter.
Olivin’s eyes shone with amusement. “That’s the nice thing about power, Eira. When you have it, you get to make the rules.”
“And what rules would you make?”
He paused, an emotion almost akin to longing crossing his features. The question suddenly became much more serious than she intended. “When I was younger, I had a lot of feelings on how to make Meru a better place. Perhaps because I had been so betrayed by the leader of the Swords of Light—the people sworn to protect the Faithful of Yargen, and then felt so wronged in the aftermath, I was consumed by righteous indignation and composed a list of what I’d change if I could. It’s what drew me to the Court of Shadows in the first place.”
“Really?” Eira was surprised to realize they’d never talked much about his motivations behind joining the Shadows. She’d always assumed it was solely because of his need for vengeance against his sister, Wynry. And that likely was the case also. But not the only reason.
Olivin nodded. “Deneya suggested that my hate could be used to make something good. Not that I suppose any of it matters now, with Meru as it is. I doubt I’ll be rubbing elbows with any nobles or royals any time soon.”
“Take it from me, you’re probably not missing much. Being close to royalty isn’t all it’s made out to be,” Cullen chimed in, doubly surprising her. The two men were friendly with each other. But going out of their way to offer comfort or encouragement wasn’t usually their manner.
“I’ll take your word for it. Can’t say I’ve ever had the opportunity.” There was a note of finality in Olivin’s tone that had the conversation moving on. But a question lingered in Eira’s mind as they browsed the stalls.
Would you want it?
She remained the default leader, guiding them from one stall to the next. There was a natural ebb and flow between them. When one got too close, the other would respectfully step away. Suddenly fascinated by something else. Then, as the other neared, the first would back off. Eira was mindful not to show either of them too much favor. Things were still in a state of unknowns between the three of them.
The last time they had addressed their feelings, it had been left in a place of “we’ll see” with both of them. An opportunity for her to explore and learn the pathways of her heart. Them aware of, and content with, the other. Then, they had gone to Carsovia and the mines had happened. Since then everything had been…
Eira paused.
The thought of Noelle had been what had originally stilled her. But now Eira’s eyes snagged on a dagger laid out among several on a table toward the very back edge of the market. It wasn’t anything overly fancy. Unadorned, really. But there was a small serpent etched into the pommel, coiled around a ruby so tiny that it looked like a drop of blood. Eira had seen theseweapons up close in the mines of Carsovia. The guards all had them strapped to their waists.
“See something you like?” an unfamiliar voice said, startling her back to the present. A man with a shaved head leaned in the doorway behind the table, Eira was certain he hadn’t been there when they’d walked up. The shadows seemed longer. More ominous as they clung to him. He was dressed in a similar style to Cullen—loose trousers, shirtless, a knitted scarf draped over his shoulders and chest. Lines were tattooed across his pale body in dark blue ink. They seemed to move like ribbons in the oscillating light of the market.
“Perhaps,” Eira said noncommittally, returning her focus to the dagger she’d just been looking at. Hoping she was wrong, she allowed her magic to sink into the blade. She barely managed to conceal a flinch, instantly regretting the decision when a barked order and a scream echoed from a time before. Her fingertips rested on the edge of the table, frost spiking around them. “More curious as to why you have a dagger from the mines of Carsovia.”
The moment the words left her lips Cullen and Olivin were on edge. The shifts in their stances were doubtless only perceptible to her.
The man merely smiled. “Call it a trophy. A memento of personal triumph.”
“Triumph how?” A lot hinged on what he said next.
“Of using it against my oppressors.”
“And you would part with it?” Eira still wasn’t sure if she could take him at his word and kept her magic at the ready.
“No…” He plucked the weapon from the table, sheathing it. “Was merely waiting for it to catch the attention of the right buyer. Which it seems like you are.”
“And why is that?”
“You strike me as someone who would enjoy using Carsovia’s weapons against them. Come”—he gestured inside—“my best wares are inside.”
Eira tapped the table in thought.
His pale eyes darted around, as if looking for anyone who might be too close. His voice dropped. “I assure you, the heir of the pirate queen will find my stock worthwhile.”
She wasn’t sure if she was more unnerved or curious. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you don’t.”
Eira assessed him. He wasn’t calling her Adela’s daughter, butheir. Was that a guess based on Eira being Adela’s daughter? A colloquial terminology? Or…was this man a pirate? Did he have some information and his coy yet careful wording was intended to lure her within so he could impart some information?
