I returned the gesture. Then I wondered if I should have. I didn’t want him to be executed, but if not for him, I may have never gone to Koerlyn.
Shaking my head, I mounted my horse just as Harthon returned.
Coming to his saddle with far more grace than I could ever muster, he asked, “Are you ready?”
Am I ready to rub shoulders with another Princeps? Navigate a hostile Territory? Enter a city no one has seen in twenty-five years? Leave Merelda?
Such a deceptively simple question.
The heat in my chest flared as I said, “Ready.”
* * *
It took us two days to trek to the coast, and not once did I think about what the ocean might really look like.
After all, it was just water.
I was more concerned with other things, like checking on Stefano’s injuries, making sure the knowledge within me still pointed us to First, and stealing glimpses of Harthon when he wasn’t looking. Glimpses that were paired with memories of his fingers between my thighs.
Not that they were about to go there again any time soon. A focus surrounded Harthon, a serious determination that brokered no space for distractions as we traversed the wooded hills, fields, and small villages that met us. Besides, the nightly fires had been big enough to warm us all—even Jac, who’d slept chained to a tree.
So I’d never imagined what the sea might be like. And when we finally reached the port village and I saw the coast for the first time, I was glad I hadn’t tried, because it would have been a waste of time.
My imagination never could have painted something so ferocious.
A cold, salty wind whipped through the village’s paths, which were occupied only by soldiers and sailors. Beyond the long, rickety docks and the ships beside them, an unfathomable expanse of water rolled and pitched, spitting plumes of white foam, stretching as far as the eye could see. Waves crashed like warning shots over the massive boulders that sheltered either side of the port. The ocean was an enormous monster, eager to swallow us whole, and the ships before us looked like bobbing corks compared to the unending sweep of angry water behind them.
Merelda had once described the ocean as serene and refreshing, having seen it before the Domus appeared. She’d even swam in it. Butthisocean would drown me within seconds.
A particularly strong gust tore the hood from my head. My horse whined in discomfort. “You and me both,” I muttered, pulling up my hood and struggling to keep it there.
The dock directly in front of us was the only one showing any activity. A few boxes and barrels were being loaded aboard the ship fastened to it, while men fussed about on deck. The vessel was one of the largest in the port, with three soaring poles spearing into the sky and wooden walls standing high above the water. A row of covered squares was carved into the side of the ship—for oars, maybe. The front of the boat formed a rounded vee, an intricate scroll curling over the top.
There were probably terms for those poles and those walls and that vee, but I didn’t know them.
A weathered sailor approached, ascending the dock’s slight ramp to reach us. His nose was bright red from the cold wind, his eyes blue and bloodshot. With a bow, he reported, “The winds are angry, Princeps, but they are favorable.” A screaming gale almost drowned out his words.
I squinted at the white-capped waves in the distance.
Favorable? How in the Domus was thisfavorable?
Harthon nodded. “Is she ready?”
“Yes, Princeps. Your crew is already settled, and the ship is in excellent shape. The final provisions are being stocked. No malicious sails have been spotted within the last week.”
This seemed to please Harthon, who dismissed the man and guided our small group forward.
My stomach roiled like the ocean. “How long would it take to reach Sixth by land?” I shouted over the wind.
He lifted a brow. “A week. This will take us three days.”
If we survive it, that is.
My fears were plain on my face, because he added, “I’ve sailed in worse.”
“You also walk headfirst into battles.”
“Battles that I know I’llwin,” he amended.
