That evening, Lord Karev called upon Vaasa to come into the city, saying he’d agreed to visit some of the local merchants who regularly traveled through his territory.You are the perfect accompaniment, he’d written in his note.They will be so thrilled at their heiress’s attention.
Roman and a line of sentinels followed their carriage on horseback. As they rode through the streets, Vaasa pulled back the curtain to gaze out the window, and just as importantly to give the crowds an opportunity to see her with Lord Karev. Vaasa’s heart reached north, begging for Mireh. Begging to dance in the Lower Garden and get lost in the stacks ofthe sodality. To view paintings and eat upon a patio. To be comfortable in a crowd.
She craved the sound of laughter and the conditions it needed to bloom.
Cold air stung Vaasa’s nose as she left the carriage, the rancid smell of the port only mildly smothered by the crispness of the air. Cold waves battered against the docks, and Vaasa searched the docks with a keen eye, taking note of every ship that waited there, every channel one could take to leave it, and the precise location of the berths that could bring a hub like this to a screaming halt.
The ships in the harbor were mostly the same—unmarked, sails of different colors, constructed with the same Asteryan design that she had grown up around. Some were smaller and more adept at navigating the pirate-infested waters, while the other, larger ships likely took the longer path that hugged the coastline. A group of fishers tossed their catch down to waiting buckets, others lugging the buckets up to the fish market. All work stopped when people caught sight of them, though.
Voices rose at the swaths of Asteryan sentinels surrounding Vaasa, and Lord Karev approached, possessively placing his hand on her lower back. Vaasa fought the instinct to arch away from him. With his chin held high and a confident grin, he looked just as bold and arrogant as he had when he’d first arrived at the fortress. Just as charming, too, which she knew to be nothing but a facade.
“Shall we?” he beckoned her, letting the world’s attention follow them as he extended her his arm once again, much to Vaasa’s chagrin. She demurely lifted her thick skirts from the wet dock and kept walking, Roman and his sentinels about ten paces behind them. Lord Karev led them to the main square near the fish market, where bustles of crowds floated to and fro. Roman closed in, the rest of the sentinels and Lord Karev’sguard following suit. Being the central market of Mekës, it was the loudest and most populated area, though Lord Karev quickly ducked into an empty, narrow street.
“You and the others can wait here,” Lord Karev instructed Roman, who looked upon the lord like he couldn’t ascertain why a command for Vaasa’s lead sentinel had just come out of his mouth.
Roman gripped the pommel of his sword. “Where the heiress goes, I go.”
Karev grinned wickedly, and Vaasa knew he meant his next words with each ounce of condescension she perceived. “She is with me, Sentinel. I’ll keep her safe. Hold your post.”
Roman met Vaasa’s gaze, but her stomach tightened. “Hold your post,” she told the group of sentinels, stepping closer to Lord Karev. “I’m safe.”
Everything that left her lips now was a lie.
Without holding Roman’s gaze for too long, she followed Lord Karev down the street. Still within their sights, the lord turned to face her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She wanted to recoil. His gaze darkened with wicked triumph. His voice came low, meant for only her ears, as he stepped fully into her space. “I thought you had let the poor sentinel loose.”
“I have,” she assured him.
“And yet you keep him in your employ?”
Vaasa continued to force a tone of nonchalance. “He earned his title fairly; it felt too cruel to steal that from him, too.”
A muscle flickered in Karev’s jaw. “There must not be any doubt that my children are my own.”
Vaasa wanted to hurl a knife at him. She bared her teeth, though to the world it looked like a perfect smile. “There will be no question as to the parentage of our heirs.”
Lord Karev merely stared down at her, unconvinced. “There will be if he does not temper his reactions.”
Vaasa shrugged, trying to make the entire conversation seem lighter than it was. “It’s a fresh rejection. I’ll speak to him.”
“Sooner rather than later,” he said. An order.
Vaasa nodded, lowering her eyes in an attempt to indicate submission. The more power she allowed this man to believe he had, the more secure she made him feel, the more likely she could bend him when necessary.
Lord Karev must have accepted her response, because he continued into a fabric shop. Vaasa paused, gazing around, Reid’s words about where they were hiding coming to the forefront of her mind.
There, leaning against the counter with her light-red hair braided over her shoulder, was Sachia. Despite the beauty of the woman’s face, she had dropped the facade of a merchant’s daughter; tight leather breeches and the knife strapped at her waist immediately summoned suspicion. She looked like the kind of woman capable of throwing Lord Vlacik from a window.
Pirates.
That was how Lord Karev was able to fund his ample army; he was leveraging illicit trade to do it. Vaasa’s heart pounded, though she kept her face frozen. She barely held herself from searching madly around the store for Reid.
“I thought you were lying when you said you’d bring the heiress,” Sachia said. The woman carried an accent—not quite Icrurian, though familiar. It was from one of the long-conquered northern Asteryan provinces.
“I don’t lie,” Karev told the pirate. His eyes narrowed. “And she speaks fluent Icrurian, so there won’t be any miscommunication.”
Distrust pulsed between Sachia and Lord Karev, but the pirate didn’t respond to the insult he’d just thrown her way. Instead, she stepped forward, inspecting eyes dragging alongVaasa’s body. “So quick to jump to business.” She extended her arm in greeting. “It’s lovely to see you again, Heiress.”
Her arm. Herentirearm, not just a hand.
