I cannot believe she is real. She is the sun, and I must not look directly at her.
chapter twenty-one
finlyr
I walk besideLigaya, and it is a relief to be out of the inn. Despite my years at sea, I still hate being cooped up. The houses and shops in Umasa’s town square cosy together like old friends. Earthen tiles glitter in the sun and handmade bunting and streamers cascade from shop awnings and balcony gardens. There’s a frenetic energy, the air full of shouts of harried vendors preparing their wares in the town square, and it is even more intense than when I arrived a few weeks ago.
‘What if we haven’t shipped in enough piyata cider?’
‘Is Dally around to help with the market stall?’
‘Feels like there won’t be any more room in Paranish soon,’ I whisper to Ligaya.
‘And to think we’re giving away beds to you lot,’ she returns, a pert smile dancing on her lips.
I catch my reflection in a shop window. A plume in my hat and finer clothes than I’ve ever had before. My cheeks are fuller, as are my muscles. Turns out it’s easier to do garden labour on a full belly. I’m not sure my own father would recognise me now, but the hangman’s seen me more recently. Best keep a low profile.
Sea brine sweeps across us as we approach the promenade. We turn a corner and spot a small mound with a large tree, bare branches stretching languidly beneath the sun. Ligaya stops in her tracks and her grip on the satchel tightens.
‘What is that?’ I ask.
‘An emerald vine,’ Ligaya says, voice full of wonder.
‘Is that worth something then?’ I ask, cocking my head at the tree.
Ligaya laughs. ‘I don’t really know. It still makes my heart skip a beat – that’s why I came here, you know. To Paranish. To finish my mother’s recipe.’
‘Your mother’s recipe?’
Ligaya nods. ‘She was Paranishian. Always broke her heart that she could never properly make her family recipe: kare, a nut stew with vine. You see, emerald vines only grow here. I met Morna researching the vine; she has many books on herb lore in her collection.’
‘You shouldn’t trust books,’ I sigh. ‘They can say all manner of things. Even outright falsehoods.’
‘I’m sure Morna wouldn’t like to hear you say that,’ Ligaya jibes. ‘Don’t you read?’
‘I can, but not many learn,’ I say, fingering my cuffs. ‘Especially as most of the juicy stuff is locked up tight in the Bastion or the temple.’
Ligaya frowns. ‘I hate to think of them all caged up like that.’
The bell chimes happily as we enter Morna’s shop, and the relative peace is a relief from the bustle outside. The bookshop is bright and smells like old paper and calamansi frosting. The shelves are meticulous, every spine shining with embossed gold and silver lettering. Behind the counter stands Morna. She pushes her sleek bob behind her ear and reluctantly closes her book.
‘We brought you some tea. Narra said your supplies were running low?’ Ligaya asks, placing her hand on top of the other woman’s.
‘Thank goodness – I was beside myself. Bring it into the kitchen, would you?’
Ligaya lays out the pouch of tea leaves. ‘Now one teaspoon should be plenty for a book hangover.’
‘A book hangover?’ Isagani asks, scratching their head.
Morna nods. ‘You know when you fall into a book and then finishing it is like crawling out of the sea. Your body feels heavy, and you’re dazed for a moment, completely unaware of how much time has passed.’
‘And you’re hungry,’ I chime in. Everyone looks at me. No one says anything for a beat. ‘Swimming makes you hungry,’ I clarify. I don’t know about this book hangover malarkey, but it sounds like the morning after some particularly memorable nights.
I turn away to stare out the window at the crowded streets. So many bodies. So many curious eyes. ‘Do you really think a party is good idea while we’re in our current predicament?’ I ask.
‘It’s a wedding.’ Morna laughs.
‘Exactly. You already know you’re in love, why the big to-do?’
