The crew is lively, laughing, making plans for the food they find and the company they’ll seek once our feet hit shore. Otto, of course, is the most excited, and something in my chest eases as the haunted look in his eye retreats for now.
“I need to visit the alchemist and the general store, and Rune said I don’t have a limit on ingredients this time if they have any suggestions for the sort of poultices we might end up making in the future. Can you imagine how much the alchemist would pay for coral dragon horns? I can’t believe you guys actually saw one. The—”
“Bear.” Rune approaches slowly, his gaze flicking to me and away again. “You’ll need this.” The bag he passes to Otto jingles heavily. “We’ll spend the night at the dockside inn. Feel free to take Stiden if you end up needing extra hands. He’ll be staying on the ship tonight.”
Within the hour, we’ve been heaved in and secured. The old planks creak, bowing under my feet. The dock is alive with sounds and colour. Other ships unload wagons of cargo pulled by large minotaurs or squat donkeys. Those walking greet us with smiles and nods and Rune nods back, tossing a coin at the men who helped pull us in. This port is popular with those from the mainland, and it shows—women in summer gowns walk arm in arm down the bricked thoroughfare in thecentre, heading for shops or entertainment. The storehouses are three stories tall and stretch wide, with guards and tax masters checking every shipment that’s catalogued and carried in the door.
Before my feet hit the cobblestone of the road, I slow, taking it in. It takes me a while to place why it feels wrong.
No one is scowling.
None look on in suspicion. As a Viper, there’d been little opportunity—or reason—to visit any respectable settlement in the daylight hours. Even then, there was little hiding what we were, not with Captain Ivor around.
“You okay?”
The question startles me out of my thoughts. I hadn’t realised I’d stopped. The rest of the crew stream past me. Even Soraya, on her crutch, walks ahead, alongside Elio and Otto. Rune stands just behind me, his thumbs tucked into his pockets. He’s changed. The sleeves of his dark blue shirt are long, but rolled to show hints of his shimmering tattoos. His trousers are fitted well, tucked into polished boots I’m sure I haven’t seen before. He fits right in, confident on land and sea, where I can’t help but look for threat in the friendly faces that welcome us.
“Yes,” I say, squinting as I let my eyes trail up to a balcony, where a fae child watches us and the rest of the crowd mill about. “Not used to such a warm greeting, I suppose.”
“They don’t know who you are.”
The words are supposed to comfort me, but he doesn’t know who I am either. Guilt worms its way through my gut. The chances are low I’ll be recognized here, butthe fear stays all the same. We stare at each other for a moment, the thing between us alive and fighting for breath. After a rest, there’s only one more key. One more challenge for us to face together before we get what we wanted and go our separate ways. That thought is supposed to comfort me too.
Instead, I wonder if I should tell one of them the final riddle, then shift and disappear past the edges of this town, let Rune claim the treasure on his own. Then there’s no risk I’ll ever have to see the betrayal on his face if he found out.
“Come on.”
His broad body overtakes my vision as he passes, and I follow, if only because I refuse to be alone. To my surprise, he doesn’t aim for the inn with a swinging sign above it that reads “The Weathered Hull.”
“Where are we going?” I ask, falling into step beside him. I keep my head on a swivel, abandoning myself to the knowledge that my awe betrays me. There are little wheeled shops selling fruits and bread-wrapped meats as they roll down the way. Tailors, general stores, trinket shops, even a spot dedicated solely to the post. Bodies fill the space, moving around and through everything.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many people at once.”
Rune grins. “The novelty wears off, I assure you.”
I believe him.
The eyes of those we pass seem drawn to him, catching on his face and the marks on his arms. He’s taller than even the tallest of the humans, and the crowd parts before us until we step into a bakery whose scent sends a wash of memory through me. I all but choke on the emotion, the sudden clarityof my mother’s face bright before fading again. Each of the round tables inside are only large enough to fit two chairs. Some hold miniature vases of wildflowers, others are littered with crumbs and used dishes.
“You’re welcome to take one, deary.” An elderly woman steps out from the back, her eyes soft as she catches me running a fingertip over one of the blooms. She smiles wide when I startle, her grin deepening the lines on her face. “I insist,” she urges, before turning to Rune.
“Table for two? We’ve got the lover’s special on sale till the pie runs out!”
I pluck a crowded stem of fragrant white flowers, their tiny blooms bunched together like they’re hoping to touch. Being here feels so out of place I almost don’t catch the insinuation. “Oh, we’re not—”
“We’ll take it to go, if that’s alright?” Rune doesn’t look at me until the woman ducks her head to grab a box from under the counter. Then he lifts a brow, daring me to object. “Apple or peach, Odi?”
The embarrassed heat that rushes to my cheeks should be expected by now. “Whichever is your favorite,” I tell the woman, remembering to smile as she turns to hear my answer. “I’m not sure I’ve had the pleasure of either.”
“You’ve never had pie?” Rune says incredulously, just as the woman’s mouth drops open at him, as if he’s singlehandedly responsible for the lack of variety in my diet.
“I’ve hadpie,” I say, a little too defensively. “Checkleberry pie.”
Rune is shaking his head before I’ve finished speaking. “Doesn’t count. Those things are tart enough to take paint off a deck’s railing. Just because you can eat something, it doesn’t mean you should.”
I hold my tongue as the woman nods sagely, then hands Rune the bundle. He drops more than enough coin into her palm, and she winks at me and my flower before I follow him out, tucking the stem into my pocket to preserve the blooms.
“It counts just fine,” I grouse as we move back onto the street. “It’s all that grows wild on most of the islands. And any fruit we found usually made it into our bellies before it had a chance to even see a stove.”
