“Come,” Sachia said, gesturing with her head toward one of the narrow streets. Koen stayed at his side while his mother stayed aboard the ship. The less they traipsed about the city, the better—their language would place a target on their backs. Members of Sachia’s crew stayed aboard the ship at all times, and though it pained him to leave his mother, she’d assured him that she felt safe.
Reid trailed behind Koen as if he were a guard, his hand on the sword Sachia had loaned him. This was their agreed-upon disguise—to present the man who could speak Asteryan as a wealthy merchant and relegate Reid to what they already believed about him: an Icrurian brute.
They meandered down a pathway, snow pushed to either side as if a young boy had just worked a shovel down the center of it. The route led them to a teeming fish market, which smelled just as pungent as the sea. It seemed all roads led to the north side of the port, where Reid could see the spire of their Asteryan cathedral. He turned, narrowly avoiding slamming his shoulder into a scurrying fisherman in dingy clothes that didn’t seemnearly warm enough. On the other side of the square was a large building that could only serve as their house of government. Between those two buildings was a stark iron pole, and when Reid flicked his eyes to the cobblestone, he noticed a drain.
It was meant for execution, then.
Sachia gestured with her head for Reid and Koen to follow her down a narrower walkway to their right. It led to a seamstress’s shop, unassuming and settled nicely on a less crowded street. Sachia ducked inside, and Reid followed, cloak pulled around his shoulders, his face covered and his sword ready. Koen kept just in front of him, playing the powerful merchant well. A bell sounded at their entrance, and two older women came shuffling out from behind a row of fabric. All around them were sewn dresses, cloaks, pants, and other intricate winter garments. Reid scanned a display of ladies’ intimates, eyes catching on black lace.
Sachia exchanged words with the owners, one of whom scurried out to see the loads of fabrics she brought in, the other going in a separate direction in a hurry.
The bells of the door rang.
“Sachia,” a voice threaded through the air, causing Reid to turn and peer around the fabric, coming face-to-face with a dark-haired man. Dressed in a decorative black coat and pants, the man appeared nothing short of a lord, though seemingly young to command so much from his presence. His gray eyes were daunting, analytical, and keen.
Reid immediately distrusted him.
The man looked over both Koen and Reid, then spoke again in Asteryan. Reid wasn’t able to understand much past the basic topic of their discussion, until Koen leaned in and translated. “He said that he heard her ship was in the port. He’s inquiring as to who we are.”
The man fixed his eyes upon them. Striding forward, he extended a hand to Koen. “Lord Patrik Karev,” he said, and that much Reid understood.
Koen gave some kind of nicety back, taking the lord’s hand and shaking it in the strange Asteryan gesture, though not offering up his own name.
“Icrurian?” Lord Karev asked.
Koen spoke quickly and with a direct, matter-of-fact tone. Frustration bloomed in Reid at his inability to understand. Sachia dragged the lord’s attention back to her, and the two started to walk down one of the rows of fabric. He gestured to a row of dresses, and Sachia nodded, the two falling into easy conversation, yet Reid was able to discern a few key words.Heiressbeing one of them. One of the seamstresses came scuttling out and joined their discussion, waving her expressive arms toward a row of velvet dresses at the front of the store. Sachia led the lord away from them, running her finger over the different garments as she went.
Koen turned on his heel and walked away, looking utterly bored, and Reid took it as an invitation to follow him. “What are they speaking about?” he whispered once they were down a different row and out of earshot.
“The two seem to have done business before. He’s inquiring about the pirate Jonáš told us about, Sutherland. And the other lord he mentioned, Lord Vlacik.” Koen hushed for a moment, listening, and then added, “He said something about Sachia running her own crew now.”
Reid bent to listen, desperate, but within a few words he was lost. Each time he thought he caught on to the topic of their discussion, the words jumbled together into something unrecognizable, and Reid sighed.
“He claims to need a dress for Vaasa,” Koen said.
Reid went rigid. Why would that man need anything for Vaasa? “She’s helping him pick one out?”
“Sachia offered to have it sent on his behalf to the fortress.”
Breath caught in Reid’s throat.Thatwas how he could reach Vaasa. If he could just sneak a letter into that box—
The bell dinged, signaling the lord’s departure.
Reid spun, finding Sachia as she wound around the garments and came to meet them at the back of the store. She leaned against the fabric stacks, but kept her voice intentionally low. “That’s the lord I told you about. He’s interested in the black powder, for starters, but he’s more interested in you two. I said I would explain later, so he’s invited me to come see him tomorrow night. He said he would be with the heiress, but it didn’t mean we couldn’t speak.”
“We’re going,” Reid asserted.
“Don’t be a fool,” Sachia practically hissed. “There are far too many nobles where he’s going, and it will make him suspicious. The goal is to gain access to the prison, not find ourselves locked inside of it.”
Reid considered her words, hating how quickly he had to agree. It was a knee-jerk reaction to try and get closer to Vaasa, to find any path to her he could.
“Are we sending her a dress?” Koen asked.
Sachia nodded.
“I need a pen and paper,” Reid managed through his gritted teeth. He started to turn, but Sachia shook her head.
“It’s too dangerous for you to put something as obvious as a letter in that package. You have no idea if the fortress guard is searching her deliveries,” she reminded him. “Think of something else.”
