I turn to Shaw, a wordless plea in my eyes. But he only watches me, eyes twinkling, an unreadable smile pulling at one side of his mouth. The mouth that only minutes before was close enough for me to taste. To make mine.
“Enjoy it, Lemming. Tonight, you’re going to experience Nadjaa at her finest.”
ChapterTwenty-Five
Shaw
I blink blearily, the words scrawled across the ancient tome in front of me fading in and out of focus. I roll my shoulders and then my neck, refocusing once more. I’ve been here for hours and am no closer to a strategy than I was before I left for the Similian border on the vague direction of a prophecy. The Achijj’s fortress, aptly named Yen Girene, or ‘mighty rock’, is impenetrable from both the inside and out.
It doesn’t help that every time I try to focus, my mind drifts back to the manor pond. It seems that rigid self-discipline is no match for long, dark tresses trailing over shoulders. Or for rosy lips parted in anticipation. Or water droplets curling their way down curves that demand to be traced by my hand.
Yen Girene. Right.
The gates open twice a day—at dawn and sunset—and only Achijj approved traders are allowed through. The punishment for attempting to gain entrance through falsehoods is being thrown from the wall that surrounds the entire city and stands fifty feet high. Our only way into the fortress remains through Mirren and hoping the Achijj’s interest in adding to his harem is great enough.
It’s getting out that remains the problem.
The last time I saw the inside of the fortress, I was eleven and there to dispatch a spy that had lost their usefulness to my father. It had been easy then, slipping into the city pretending to be a scrawny, merchant child. I only glimpsed the Achijj, portly belly quivering as he sat at the head of the throne room, surrounded by his wives and concubines. Even then, he’d been an old man. By now, he must be ancient.
His fortress sits atop some of the most profitable gem mines in Ferusa and in terms of Dark World squabbles, he’s always been content to remain atop his stash like a drake protecting its hoard. He’s never pushed for more territory, as there’s been no need. The small bit he controls is every bit as lucrative as territories three times its size. It’s why the Boundary hunter’s information caught us so off guard.
I suspected the Praeceptor, or perhaps Akari Ilinka, the warlord in Ferusa’s southeast region who declares herself a queen. Both, along with a dozen others, are well known for their conquests and interest in Nadjaa’s port location. The Achijj hadn’t even crossed my mind.
Why now?
The question echoes through my mind for the umpteenth time. It’s gnawed at the corner of my brain like a persistent parasite since I discovered the Achijj’s involvement, an anomaly that no matter how I contort or bend, I can’t make sense of. What if I was wrong to trust Aggie’s prophecy? Denver’s gained notoriety in Ferusa with his transformation of Nadjaa and the way his ideas that were once viewed as radical have flowed into the mainstream. There are hundreds of people that could want him dead for that alone.
I press my fingers into my eyelids until splashes of color bloom and am contemplating tossing the book across the room when Calloway peeks in. His cheeks are rosy behind his plastering of freckles, as if he’s just been running and his copper hair is damp with sweat. He eyes the pile of books in front of me. “Anything new?”
I glare at him irritably, which he pointedly ignores as he settles himself across from me. He folds his arms across his chest and grins.
“You know there’s nothing new,” I grumble, “if there was any way to get in and out of Yen Girene, we would have let Mirren go in the Nemoran Wood. And if there were any other leads, we never would have listened to a silly prophecy and gone to the Boundary in the first place.”
Still, Cal grins, his white teeth gleaming against his weather-tanned skin. “But then you would have never met Mirren.”
I resist the urge to throw the book at him, rather than the wall. “Did you need something? Or are you just here to make unhelpful observations?” I ask, ignoring the way my stomach surges at the mere mention of Mirren’s name.
“Seems there have been quite a few unhelpful observations today.”
Cal thumbs through the pages of the book with a look so smug I immediately know he’s talked to Max. My face blazes and I curse them both for their ridiculous gossip in the midst of a crisis and then curse myself for blushing like some sort of wayward schoolboy.
I slam the book shut with an irritated chuff. “Oh, just get on with it, Calloway!”
His eyes light with victorious mischief, but he cocks his head innocently. “Get on with what, Anni?” He asks, my nickname light on his tongue.
“You’re not here to see if I’ve made any progress to get to the Achijj, you’re here for gossip like a wife at the market.”
“Well, I’ve been called worse,” Cal acknowledges with a chuckle. “Moonlit trysts—"
“There was no moonlight!”
“With beautiful Similian girls in sparkling coastal ponds—"
“Now you’re just being preposterous,” I point out sulkily.
Cal continues, undeterred. “Green eyes wide and innocent and lips pouted just so—"
“Are you writing a romance novel or is there a point to this?”
