Where Oke’s laughter is the murmur of the waves, this stranger laughs light as air. He looks very pointedly at his sandaled toes on the edge of the dock. They almost seem to hover over the wood, though of course that is impossible.
“Is that so? And yet I’ve found an inch that will allow me. And perhaps the lady will invite me in. Who are you, fair lady?”
I size him up. A layabout, I decide. Those lily-white hands bear no scars or calluses and that kind of attitude is not that of a leader of men. Royal, no doubt, in those clothes. But not a royal I know. And I know everyone along the coast of the mainland within a hundred leagues of here.
Perhaps Oke exaggerated when he called him cousin. But I have no explanation for how he is here with no boat, no attendants, and no guards.
“I am the fisherman’s wife.”
I’ve learned over the years that men who think they are important rarely agree to associate with those they consider under them. I already don’t want to associate with this man. I’m happy to be as low as he’d like.
“Felicitations!” His eyes grow wider. “What wonderful news! I came to find out if my old friend had perished and instead I discover he has wed!”
“Perished?” Oke stills, watching the other man like he is a threat, and I realize this cousin must know about Oke’s wound.
“A little bird told me some ill had befallen you,” the cousin says lightly, brushing a gaze over Oke, who straightens as if to hide that he is wounded, though there is blood leaking through his trousers. “It seems it greatly exaggerated.”
Oke grunts.
“Invite me in, lovely fisherman’s wife, and we will drink to your good health.”
I watch him blank-faced. Am I a child of five summers to fall for such a simple ruse?
“What was she, cousin?” the cousin presses, his smile turning cunning. Clearly, he is not one to pick up on the desires of others. We both want him gone. “A priestess? A princess, perhaps.”
He is clearly trying to flatter me.
“A queen.” Oke’s voice is firm. The smile is gone. His tone remains light, but it feels barbed.
“Alive and married to a queen. What a funny turn of events.”
I frown. He doesn’t seem surprised, despite his words.
The cousin shifts slightly as if to highlight the sword at his hip, and something I can’t quite translate flashes in his expression. “And you are well?”
He points to where Oke has dripped blood across the jetty.
“Quite well.” My husband’s voice is a sheathed sword sliding free.
I wonder what it costs him to stand up so straight. He offers a hand to help me disembark, and I take it. I don’t need it, but also I don’t dare shame him in front of this man. I do not understand what flows beneath the surface of their conversation.
“Then you’ll come to Midsummer Eve, of course?” There’s something in our visitor’s voice. A hint of a challenge mixed with mockery. “To the Resurgence.”
“What is the Resurgence?” I ask.
It occurs to me that there’s another way to be a rich layabout that doesn’t involve ruling a kingdom. One could have the favor of one of the ten gods. If this cousin were the champion of a god, he might know where they are. Or at least where one of them is. And he might be able to appear places without a conveyance. He might even be able to inflict godwounds. But which god has given his favor to this peacock? Not Heskatan or Markanos, known for battle. Not with that unblemished skin. Perhaps Ordanus, God of Art. They say he craves pretty things.
And what would that make his cousin?
Beside me, Oke stiffens just as my feet hit the pier.
Our visitor smiles. “Have you an unfulfilled dream, Queen Fisherwoman? Some vile little hope of the heart? Or perhaps you are too pure for that. Perhaps you love light andbeauty and there’s some injustice you’d like put right.” He has blue eyes. They light up from within when he sees he’s struck a chord. “If you come to the Resurgence, you can have anything you desire, Ragged Lady. You could ransom a god.” He smirks. “Think on it. And if you decide to come, make the payment, and join us.”
“The payment?”
He splays out his fingers for me. They’re bedecked with gem-encrusted rings. Except for one that’s missing.
“Cut off your finger, throw it into the sea, and say, ‘I wager my soul for the will of my heart’ and I’ll bring you to where I am. Easy enough.”
