“And I want Vexx’s and Gavril’s.” Helena stabs her fork into an apple. “If that’s even his name.”
“I want the same,” I tell them, thumbing an angry tear from Nephele’s cheek. “But we can’t risk Zahira and Yaz’s safety and the safety of innocent Northlanders for our revenge, which means we can’t remain in Malgros much longer.” Everyone falls still and attentive. “It was clear last night that Vexx is running the show here, and he will follow standard Eastlander protocol.”
“Which is?” Callan says, looking between me and Rhonin. I gesture at Rhonin.
“Eastlander military practice is to observe first,” he says. “Then decide how to best engage. Attacks they’re certain will be to their advantage are the method of choice. The element of surprise. If the situation and geography allow, this is their primary form.”
“Thus the dinner last night,” Hel says. “They didn’t know where Alexus was hiding, but they knew exactly how to lure him to Brear Hall. He was expecting one thing and found another.”
“It’s probably why word of the dinner became town gossip, and why Terrowin, a man not normally in such social circles, was invited at all,” Zahira interjects, looking up at me. “In hopes that you would hear about it when you came asking questions.”
A trap I didn’t expect. Because revenge was all I could see.
“So what will they do now?” Callan asks. “Sweep the city?”
“No,” Rhonin replies. “That would be a bold announcement of their plans and would require a concentration of too much manpower and time. They will work to maintain control of the situation. Since we—the enemy—are trying to leave, and they’ve already manned the city gates, they’ll intervene in any transportation plans we might’ve made. The Watch’s fleet will seize Terrowin’s ship before it reaches land. Any other ships scheduled to sail will be frozen in the harbor, until we’re found.”
“And it’s very likely they’ll use their resources here as well,” I add. “This is a land of Witch Walkers. They will likely raise a veil along the coast at some point, and if there are any talented witches who can help them seek us out, they will be recruited for duty.”
“Fuck.” Keth sets his fork aside and pushes away his plate. “So because of last night’s disaster, it’s us against the entire Northland Watch, their fleet, and a city of witches, if we mean to leave this break.”
I feel the punch of guilt he has every right to throw at me.
“Why didn’t you just kill those bastards?” he asks.
“Would you have killed them?” Jaega asks, her voice smooth as glass. Keth faces her. “If they were the only ones who knew where I was,” she says, “and that I was in danger, would you have killed them?”
Silence falls over the room.
“For what it’s worth,” Rhonin says, his voice low, “Alexus tried to drag Vexx with us, but we had to leave him. What Alexus was going through was…” He looks up at me, eyes filled with empathy. “There was no other way. We had to run.”
“So now what?” Nephele says softly. “What do we do? We can’t get to the Summerlands like this.”
I take a deep breath, my mind working. “No, we can’t get to the Summerlands like this. But I can. Nephele, you, Zahira, and Callan can get everyone out of Malgros tonight via Starworth Tor’s gate. It might require another shielding construct if they send more guards to man this end of the wall. But I have different means of travel now. I’ll distract the Watch and leave for Itunnan, but I can only carry myself.”
Zahira sets her glass of juice on the table, hard, a look of irritated disbelief on her face. “By sky jumping across the Malorian? You’ll wear out and drown before you ever reach those golden shores. You’re a fool if you think I’ll let you attempt that.”
I arch a brow. “I love you, but I don’t need your permission, my friend.”
She opens her mouth, but before she can reply, Joran speaks up. “Give me until nightfall.”
We all look at him.
Nephele scoffs. “I will kiss you right on the mouth if you can actually help this situation.” She folds her arms across her chest. “What can you possibly do that the rest of us cannot?”
With a roguish smile, he rubs the corner of his folded linen napkin between his thumb and forefinger, holding her stare a moment before turning to me. “I’m a water witch. With access to the Malorian Sea. Let me play.” He leans forward, arms crossed on the table. “Nightfall and a little trust. That’s all I need. But understand that even if you say no, I’m going to do it anyway. I mean to be in Itunnan in a matter of days, not a Malgros or Queziran prison cell. Besides, I’ve no king, and I’ve no lord, certainly not you. My asking for the benefit of the doubt is the extent of my courtesy.”
Nephele stiffens. “Joran, if they catch you...”
He slides his eyes in her direction. “They won’t.”
“This seems… unwise,” Rhonin interrupts, nervously tapping the table. “No offense, Joran, but I can’t see you sailing a ship through the harbor to Starworth Tor’s front door alone. Even if you could, we’d still have to get past the Northland fleet to enter Summerland waters. And if you manage that, without Terrowin and crew, we have no idea what to do once we cross those lines. That’s asking for a storm of trouble. One we cannot withstand.”
Joran looks down the table at my young friend. “I am the storm. If anyone need fear anything, it’s the Watch.” He turns back to me, not looking for permission, obviously, but agreement. “All I ask in return is that you owe me a single favor after this. If I succeed.”
“What’s the favor?” I ask, suspicious.
He shrugs. “I’m not sure yet. Nothing too grand. Maybe better living quarters when we return to Winterhold. My home for the last long while has been… a little cramped.”
