“Calya,” Lowe said, fingers gentle upon her shoulder as he steered her back across the street toward the inn.
She stopped at the base of the front porch, eyebrows rising in question.
A dimple formed in Lowe’s cheek as the corner of his mouth curved up. “It’s the end of the day.”
She scrunched her nose in a pout. “Is it?—”
“Caly!” Brint’s loud voice drew their attention. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Brint,” Calya said, doing her best to keep the animosity from her tone.
“Hey, about what happened earlier with Morris—er, I mean, Mayor Krowe. I feel awful about it.” Brint dragged his hand through his dark blond hair, a contrite smile on his face. “Let me make it up to you over dinner.”
“Apologies, Brint, but I have business to discuss with Mr. Lowe,” Calya said sweetly. “You know how it is.”
Brint eyed Lowe, expression frosty. “I see.” When neither said anything more, he sighed. “I won’t keep you, then, but find me later, please? It’s important.”
She doubted that last part very much, for it was the kind of thing Brint would add on to ensure he got whatever it was he wanted.
He stomped up the few steps to the inn’s porch and disappeared inside, letting the outer door close heavily behind him.
“We need to do something about him,” Calya muttered. “He’s going to be a problem if we don’t preoccupy him with something else.”
“Agreed. However—” A smile teased at the corners of Lowe’s normally serious mouth. “I believe we had a deal.”
“I don’t recall.”
“Show some grace, Calya.”
“I have none.”
“I believe in you.” The teasing smile grew into a smirk. “A compliment. Something nice.”
She made a face at him. “You don’t strike me as the type to want a nice woman.”
“I don’t, and you’re not. However, we had a bargain, and I think I’ll find this enjoyable.”
“Yes, well… all right.” Calya squared her shoulders, giving Lowe a lofty stare, eyes raking over him from head to toe. “I like that you’re not handsome.”
He blinked. “That I’m not— How is that a compliment?”
“It is from me.” Calya gave him a falsely coy smile. “So many of the men in Central are just walking rectangles. Pretty enough, but bland.”
I feel like I can be free with you and still be me, unchanged, and you seem to want it.
But she was teetering dangerously close to the edge of liking that feeling too much. To the point where she might give the feeling a chance to grow, or, Goddess break, speak the words aloud. Speak them into being. Because even if the words and feelings were honest in the moment, what of when she changed her mind, as surely Calya would? She didn’t have the time and certainly not the desire to deal with the messy fallout that would inevitably come after.
“You’re… refreshing,” Calya murmured instead.
She brushed past him and up the steps. “I’ll deal with Brint in the morning.”
Chapter Twelve
A comfortable bed on solid ground did Calya wonders. Her room faced out toward the water and a small cove where the locals moored their boats. Thanks to an enchantment on the glass, the cries of seabirds and dock-goers were muted to gentle background noise. It was akin to the apartment she rented in Grae Port, situated near the pier where Helm Naval kept its main office and workshop. How many weeks had it been since she was last home? Three at least, for she’d been up in the Valley to see Anadae, and then there’d been Eunny’s conflict with the Coalition, which Calya had happily joined.
Homesickness was a foreign concept to Calya. She didn’t feel a sense of belonging in the capital, not in the same way that her sister spoke of her connection to the Valley. For Calya, Grae Port was where her company lived, and there was work to be done. It wasn’t nostalgia forming in her chest but resolve. As she watched a small craft head out, the captain raising a hand toward the dockmaster’s station and receiving a wave of acknowledgment, an idea formed in her mind.
After refreshing herself, she made her way downstairs in search of breakfast—and Brint. Courtesy of the Pelf’s excellent staff, she soon found herself with a cup of strong black tea in hand and her target in sight.
