“Different than kidnapping women and storming evil warlord camps, you mean?”
Shaw rolls his eyes. “Okay, so not that different, I guess. But lonelier. I had no one when I met him. Nothing but hunger and the Darkness.”
That’s why, beneath all his bluster last night, he didn’t stop me from feeding Sura and Luwei. Why he swelled in admiration; because he’s intimately familiar with the ache of hunger.
“Denver found me and took me in when I was twelve. He educated me, gave me something better to believe in. Something bigger than myself.”
“He gave you a home.”
Shaw shrugs. “He gave me somewhere to go, at the very least.”
Again, he avoids the wordhome.What is it about the word that makes him hold it at such a distance? Almost as if he doesn’t deserve to use the term. I’m about to ask when we reach the crest of the trail, and my breath leaves me in a veritable gust. The trail winds down the jagged mountain edge, before flattening out and giving way to a lush green valley. And there, nestled between the next mountain range and the sparkling turquoise waters of the sea, is Nadjaa. The most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.
A shiver runs over my skin as I realize itisn’tthe first time I’ve seen it. For the city that sprawls below us is the same imprinted on the coin hanging around my neck.
ChapterTwenty-Three
Mirren
I breathe in the abundance of life that teems from Nadjaa’s wide streets greedily, as if it’s oxygen that’s been starved from my lungs. People are everywhere, the different shades of their skin creating a rainbow as enviable as the houses that sprawl across the mountain. Excited chatter and various chords of music spill into the public space from open windows creating an exuberant symphony I’m eager to be a part of. Shaw wraps his cloak around my shoulders and pulls the hood over my head, shadowing my face. He steers Dahiitii away from the clamor, turning instead down a deserted street that leads around the edge of the city.
Disappointment threads through me. “We aren’t going to the marketplace?”
On our way down the pass, I glimpsed the way the city threaded itself across the valley and up the mountain. The most bustling section, the market where sailors sell their wares and shops line the cobble stone, hugs the curve of the bay. The Bay of Reflection, Shaw told me, named for the way the entirety of its black waters reflect the moon once a lunar cycle.
“Not with you looking like that.”
I peer down dubiously. My jumpsuit is stained with dirt and blood, the slash marks from Shivhai’s knife hastily stitched with the same thick thread I used to sew Shaw’s skin. And that is without taking into account my bruised face and throat, the cut on my forehead, and the matted state of my hair. Shaw might have a point.
“The fastest way to the manor is across the bay.” He gestures to waters below. “We use small boats to traverse the distance. But with Dahiitii and the state we’re both in, it’ll be better to take the long way around.”
I find that even the long way isn’t long enough for me to drink my fill of the city. There are no gray quarterages piled atop one another here. Small, well-kept houses, each painted in splashes of bright color, blend together up the mountain in a rainbow sea. Bright green grasses and trees line the clean, white paved streets. Fresh blooms crawl up trellises and dangle from the sides of buildings. A cool sea breeze threads through open windows, carrying with it the scent of baking delicacies.
We cross a bridge that arches over a sparkling river that curls lazily down the mountain. Nadjaa doesn’t possess the quiet of Similis, but an ease settles over me anyway. A feeling of contentment. A small sigh of pleasure escapes me, and Shaw stiffens behind me.
“Will you sit still, you menace?” he growls in my ear. It isn’t the first time my movement has seemed to cause him discomfort and I push down the urge to laugh. “We’re almost there.”
We ride for a quarter of an hour, around the southern side of the bay. Hills guard this side of the bay, miniature versions of the ones that surround the city. The houses here are large and spread further apart, hidden by thick foliage. We turn down a small path, marked only by an unlit lantern and climb it until we are nearly at the top of the largest hill on the outcropping.
A house the size of the Education center sits at the top, looking as if it’s stood strong against the sea’s repeated attempts to claim it as its own. The bright yellow paint of the exterior is chipped in some places and vines crawl up three fourths of its visage, but I can’t help feeling it’s the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen. A large, solid looking staircase rises to stain glassed doors. Balconies carved and gilded with spiraling details frame each of the large windows that line the front.
The house might be pretentious, if not for its apparent disrepair. And for the overgrown fruit trees and flowered bushes that crawl unchecked around the property, each a riot of color.
“Is this where you live?” I ask Shaw, unable to keep the awed tone from my voice.
He chuckles behind me. “Sometimes.”
I glare at him. He can never just answer a question directly.
Shaw has barely hopped down from Dahiitii when a blur of red hair bursts from the manor door and shoots down the stairs. Calloway hurtles at Shaw, enveloping him in a hug so vigorous that Shaw rocks back on his heels. I hesitate atop the horse, both uncomfortable and intrigued by such a raw display of affection. “When you didn’t meet us, we thought…well, we thought the Praeceptor found you somehow.”
“Not the Praeceptor, exactly,” Shaw edges vaguely, with a look that clearly says it will be discussed another time.
Calloway’s bright smile travels to me. “Well, I’ve seen worse after a journey with Shaw.”
I run my hands over my hair, vainly attempting to smooth it down, but its wildness is resistant. “Um, thank you?”
Calloway laughs as I allow him to help me down, just as the manor door bursts open once more. Max’s lanky legs prowl the distance between us, and I force myself not to look away. To remember I’m no longer the cowering girl that Max first met. That I have teeth.
