“I imagine you’ve seen quite a lot in your travels,” she said, flicking a bug off her shoulder.
“I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe, little lamb.”
She knew the name was an insult but let it roll off her shoulders. Orelia twisted her body to face him, forgoing the fire’s warmth. “Like what?”
He stopped sharpening his knife and gave her his full attention. “I’ve seen a ship made entirely from dragon scales, turning near invisible when the light hits it just right. I’ve seen gems the size of perrin falcon eggs, dancers who could move their hips like they were separate from their bodies, and women with forked tongues who could tell you your future if you sold them your soul.”
He’d lived a thousand lives already, and the only interesting thing she’d ever seen was a dragon—once. It dipped in and out of the clouds on its way north, black scales shimmering as it soared through the sky. Teegan had told her she’d just imagined it, as dragons never came that far south, but Orelia knew the truth.
And gems the size of perrin eggs? She’d seen a picture of an egg as white as snow and knew the birds—who only lived in the Five Points mountain range—laid eggs the size of her head. Orelia couldn’t even begin to predict how much a gem that size must be worth.
“Surely you’ve seen interesting ships living in a port village,” Vade said, half-interested.
“Not really. But I spent most of my time in the brothel and not at the docks, so it’s possible I missed them.”
Hissharpening hand froze. “You were a whore?”
Orelia gritted her teeth at the word. “I healed the girls who worked there. I didn’t work as one of them.”
“Ah.” He looked her over with a neutral expression. “That makes more sense.”
Another insult she ignored. “What else have you seen?”
Vade turned his attention to the sky. “I’ve seen a man with tentacles for arms and a pirate with knives for fingers. I’ve seen a woman who could wield two blades so fast you couldn’t even see them moving, and sands so black they absorb all light and melt flesh from bone.”
She perked up. That explained how he had a Kevarian daydial. “You’ve been to the Blacksands?”
“Brutal place. Stunning gemstone mines, but I don’t know how the people live in such a hellscape. Particularly the Riders.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know one of the Riders. Well . . .knewis probably the better word.”
He chuckled. “You know one of the notorious jewel thieves? Yeah, right.”
Orelia shifted uncomfortably, hating how small his words made her feel, like she couldn’t possibly be worldly enough to know anything other than her tiny fishing village. The stars had come alive in the purple night, and she wondered if Tommen was looking at those same stars now. She wondered if he thought about her at all, or if greed had consumed his thoughts entirely.
“That right there is why I will never let myself believe in such stupidity.” Vade’s harsh words cut through her thoughts.
“What?”
He pointed his knife at her. “That look on your face. That’s what love does to people.”
She blinked. “Wh—, how could you tell?”
The arrogance that accompanied his laugh made her feel even smaller, and she curled into herself.
Black eyes looked her over like he was calculating her worth with a sweep of his gaze. “Love makes you weak. Don’t waste your time on it.”
Surely he wasn’t speaking from experience. As if someone could ever love a man like him. “I doubt you’ve ever dared to love someone,” Orelia mumbled into her knees.
A crude smile curved his lips. “I fuck. I don’t love.”
She went back to watching the fire, no longer interested in conversing with a person who would never understand what it was like to care about someone other than himself.
She’d never regretted loving Tommen, for even though he became someone she no longer knew, she would always have the memories of who he was. Of the boy who laughed a little too loud and playfully teased her. Of the one who held her when she fell apart after healing another broken girl. The one who taught her to sword fight and loved her on the riverbank with only the moon as a witness.
She remembered. She always would.
The stars twinkled, as if they remembered too.
