When Samra joined us, I did a double take. Perched on her shoulders like a bird sat Aroch.
“You’re bringing the cat?” I asked.
Samra lifted a brow, but before she could respond, a commotion rose from the gathered crowd below. I turned, expecting pointing fingers and awed expressions and instead found the crowd parting for a retinue of soldiers on horseback, led by a small, thin girl clad in elegant green and gold armor.
A thrill of excitement whirled through me. I knew her.
Her short, dark hair had been gathered into thin braids curling along one side of her head, threaded with tiny glass beads. She sat with a rigid, proud posture, her eyes set on us.
Kiva lurched forward a step. “Auma.”
She rode with a small group of Jin soldiers, many of their faces bearing intricate designs in subtle colors. Tama, marks that indicated which guilds they’d once belonged to in Jindae. I recognized the rounded, swirling design of the gem guild tattooed on one man’s face, but I’d never had the mind for remembering these things. If Caliza were here, she could have named each one and decoded the marks for everyone’s rank and specialty.
Auma slowed her horse at the base of the gangplank. Kiva was the first to move, forcing Ericen forward, the rest of us following a second behind. The whispers rose as Res reemerged fully, eliciting several gasps. I expected him to puff out his feathers and lift his head for the praise, but he remained subdued.
“Your Highness,” Auma said in a low, smooth tone with a bow. She spoke to me, but her eyes were only for Kiva, who’d gone rigid. The unspoken words leaping between them thickened the air.
“Auma,” I replied. “I’m glad to see you’re all right, but what are you doing here?” The last we’d seen her, she’d been fighting Vykryn in Razel’s throne room with a group of Trendellan monks so we could escape. It was thanks to her we were free.
Finally, she tore her eyes away from Kiva, who let out a heavy breath. Auma’s gaze glided over Samra and Caylus, narrowed briefly on Ericen, then paused on Res before settling at last on me. “Your sister sent word that you’d be coming by ship. With the presence of the blockade, it made sense you’d dock here in Terin.” She turned her horse. “You should follow me. Illucia hasn’t been foolish enough to step on Trendellan soil yet, but I don’t want to tempt them.” The soldiers behind her parted, the crowd edging away to grant them room, and we followed.
People muttered to one another as we passed. Most were dressed in layers of sheer, brightly colored clothing, draped over their bodies like flowing robes. Many split in a deep V or hung open like coats, the men bare-chested, the women with elegantly embroidered bands of cloth across their breasts, baring dark skin to the hot sun.
The wooden dock didn’t so much as creak beneath the weight. It was so sturdy and well built that Caylus actually paused to investigate the spot where one of the supports met the dock. I grabbed his arm as I passed, hauling him along. If he stopped and investigated every piece of impressive Trendellan engineering we passed, we’d never leave this port.
Ericen’s eyes followed my hands to where they clasped Caylus’s arm. Reflexively, I let go, then cursed myself. One corner of the prince’s lips turned up in a smile.
“Something amusing?” I asked. Two of Auma’s soldiers had taken over guarding him, leaving Kiva free to talk with her. The guards marched at his back, and I fell into line beside him.
“What? Can’t I be happy?”
“Happy to be shackled and imprisoned by your enemy?”
“Ex-enemy,” he corrected. “And I don’t care if you bind me hand and foot, so long as you’re the one who does it, that is.” A flush tore through my face, and Ericen laughed. “Joking, Thia. But you should have seen your face.” He said it with a smile that made me think that, joking or not, he’d also been serious. His voice dropped low. “Admit it, you missed me.”
“I’ve moved on.”
“Then why are you still wearing my gloves?” His bright eyes appraised them, somehow managing to make me feel exposed despite my wearing the uniform of one of the most powerful warriors in all six kingdoms.
“I meant what I said in that letter,” he added more softly. “I’m on your side. It’s the only place I want to be.” He held my gaze as if he might press his sincerity into it. I hadn’t noticed before, but a little furrow formed between his brows whenever his eyes narrowed.
I wanted to believe him. He’d jumped into a roiling sea to save me, for Saints’ sake! But I couldn’t forget the betrayal I’d felt that day in the throne room, when he’d stood by and done nothing as his mother tortured my friends.
Now he seemed determined to do everything he could to make up for that. But how could I trust him?
Movement on his other side caught my eye, and I found Samra watching me disapprovingly. I stepped back, putting space between the prince and myself. Technically, Samra still hadn’t sworn to this coalition. What did she think of me talking so openly with a boy who was meant to be our enemy? We may have reached an understanding, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still closely evaluating me.
We turned down a broad, open street teeming with life.
Like the clothing its people wore, the town of Terin overflowed with color. Buildings of deep cobalt blue, bright winter green, sunset orange, and buttermilk yellow stretched as far as I could see. Everywhere I turned, there were archways: archways instead of doors, archways beneath a bridge connecting two buildings, archways standing on their own as art, the pillars carved with delicate flowers and vines. Like in the Ambriels, remnants of the Sellas stood in the shape of statues or spread across buildings in brightly painted murals.
It felt peaceful here. Alive. My chest tightened.
It felt like Aris before Ronoch.
A strange feeling pulled me deeper toward the city, tugging like a rope. I wanted to keep walking, but Auma turned into a narrow side street before drawing her horse to a halt. She dismounted, her movements lithe and silent, and an image of her slitting a Vykryn’s throat flashed through my mind. I still had no idea who she truly was.
I glanced at Kiva, whose disquieted expression suggested she was thinking the same thing.
