“I’m good.” He swapped his dingy tunic for a replacement Hill found in town the night before and stuffed the spare in his new sack. Then they departed the inn for another long day of travel.
They reached the Newand Principality’s capital—their last stop in Gramenia—not long before midnight.
“Three days to Midlake,” Isahn commented offhandedly as they approached the town.
“Are you excited to get home?”
Isahn shrugged. “Sure, I suppose. I’ve been missing something, and I’m assuming it’s home.”
She looked at him askance, but he was too tired to explain the hollow feeling in his chest. It was like losing his parents all over again, that strange emptiness that plagued him.
“I’m looking forward to seeing my sister and this tapestry you’ve been telling me about,” he added, placating Hill.
“I’m only telling you about it because you were telling me about it.”
He groaned, rubbing his temples. “This whole thing is so confusing.”
Hill laughed sadly, exhaling through her nose.
She’d reacquainted Isahn with the information he’d apparently overheard and shared with her before being made to forget the past month of his life. According to Mel Hill, he’d learned from sympathetic guards that his shady Uncle Peros was aspyfor the King of Domos, sent from the northern kingdom back to Selwas in search of some sort of artifact. Isahn wanted to beat him there and get to it first. Hill explained how Isahn told her he thought it was significant, related to something nefarious the king was up to. It was such a bizarre story he figured she couldn’t be making it all up, or maybe she was, and was still planning to murder him in his sleep. But she hadn’t tried anything yet.
With a sigh, he studied the stars. Great swaths of sparkles speckled the sky over the foothills of the Dhegur Peaks.
A tilting sensation swept over him, and he tensed his thighs to stay seated on his mount. The shadowy hillsides that gave way to the stars warped into a room, a deep blue wall with a ceiling depicting constellations in gold. He’d never been much of an interior decorator himself and hadcertainlynever been anywhere that looked like that.
With a shake of his head, Isahn followed his companion into town, where she picked their lodgings.
“This place is owned by a guy who was enslaved in Domos for a while, but he got away.”
“How do you know that?”
“I overheard it,” Hill explained as they pushed open the creaky door.
Once their few belongings were stashed in a tiny bed chamber, they went to the pitiful dining room for dinner.
“Looks like shit here, but they say the food’s good. I know I wanted to leave Domos, but Gramenian cooking has nothing on home.” The ex-legionary ordered for them: an appetizer and a few fusion dishes that combined the grain-heavy diet of Gramenia with the olive-loaded fare of Domos.
“What are these?” he asked, picking up a dark oblong item. Hill had already bitten into one, so he figured he was meant to eat it with his fingers.
“Dolmades,” she explained, finishing hers off.
“What’s in it, any strange surprises?”
“They’re stuffed grape leaves. Filled with rice, pine nuts, and herbs. Try it.”
Isahn bit into the food,and his senses flooded. There was the strangest pull at the base of his brain. Sudden nerves fluttered through his system, and he felt as though he was lying on his side despite sitting upright in a chair. His hand morphed into that of a woman with bronzed skin and many rings. Husky laughter tickled his ears, and his chest throbbed.
“Are you all right?” Hill’s concern punctured his confusion.
“No,” Isahn bit out, setting down the other half of his food. “I don’t know what’s happening.”
“Let me help you up to bed.”
He nodded, mute. A dinner unfolded before his eyes, low sofas stationed around a central table. The pregnant woman, that viceroy, there were others there too...
As they ascended, Isahn tripped slightly on one of the steps, stumbling forward.
“I’ve got you, come on. Almost there,” Mel Hill murmured as they ascended.
