I half expect guards waiting for me outside, posted there by the general after my failed attempt at sneaking in. I remind myself that he has in fact been well informed of my ‘sneaking’ twice now and likely has little need of that sort of thing.
It’s a quick descent to the sheer granite slab that walls the palace in, the guards’ paths still fresh in my mind from the night prior. In my dark cloak, I vanish against the smooth black of the stone and take my time finding small imperfections in the wall to grip. The effort to scale the slab is taxing, but not impossible. I smile proudly when my feet hit the ground with a puff of loose dirt on the other side.
To walk to the A’kori port would take hours, but my uncle’s home is close by and his stables well stocked. No one tries to stop me when I ride off bareback with a young midnight mare, toward the shadowed alleys leading down to the docks. It’s late when I make my way through the quiet town. The only sign of life in the narrow walkways between buildings, a few scrawny cats taking up residence outside kitchen doors. Candles flicker in windows and dwindling fires crackle from within parlors, casting a warm glow upon the cobbled streets.
The saltwater scent of the ocean fills the air long before I lay eyes on the docks. A gentle breeze stirred by the current kisses my cheeks as I tie the mare to a hitching post behind the fishmonger’s storefront.
My eyes rove over the shipyard, nearly as dead as the streets of A’kori. The echoing creak of the ships rocking in the harbor, the only sound to permeate the night. I will board every vessel here before morning if that’s what it takes to find the ship Felias spoke of. If the A’kori are receiving shipments from the south, I want to know what they are.
A familiar voice skips off the cobbled streets and my head whips toward the sound. I’m just in time to see the general appear from below the deck of a large cargo vessel, followed by two cloaked figures. My eyes narrow in the darkness, as I try in vain to discern what they take from the ship. There is little doubt in my mind thatthisis the ship I am here to find.
The hooded figures load their cargo into a large cart, obscured by the shadows cast by the light from the streetlamps beyond. The general entersinto a terse conversation with a dark figure slumped lazily against the wagon wheel, their words muffled by the evening mist wafting in from the sea.
My eyes glide back to the vessel, and I step through the shadows unseen, until I’m no longer watching from behind the fishmonger’s shop but from the deck of the ship itself.
A small light flickers below, and I find myself following the waning glow of a lantern, down a steep set of stairs and into the belly. The entire space is deserted, little more than a ghost ship pitching gently on the waves that make it past the docks. Cots and hammocks of various sizes create a labyrinth from stern to bow. Open barrels of dwindling food supplies and fresh water lay scattered among the maze.
A flash of movement by the stern catches my attention and a pair of pink eyes reflect from within the dark shadows that cling to the corner. I take a cautious step forward—the motion met with a throaty growl that stills my feet beneath me. Eyes adjusting to the low light in the belly of the ship, I suck in a shallow breath when I make out the form of a wood sprite. He is the spitting image of the sisters, cut from the very cloth of the earth and knit together by the fates.
His bloodshot eyes whirl nervously, and he watches me with apprehension. The branches mingling with his green hair are snapped, caked in dry blood where they’ve been broken. Bruises and scrapes mar his face, and he looks as though he hasn’t eaten in weeks. He cradles his arm at his side.
I take another slow step toward the sprite, and he bares his teeth at me, letting loose a loud and vicious growl that tears through the night. I glance over my shoulder, aware that we are unlikely to be alone for long, wondering if his protests made it above board.
Slowly, I crouch down, pulling back my hood and reaching my hand toward the fea in offering. The male could be feral for all I know and maybe the sisters have made me less wary than I should be, but all I feel when I look at him is pity.
“Reh’desh,”I say softly so as not to startle him, “Le’thay launa’hi meiur. Ty’liean vathai, vay’esh ka’ai.”
The sprite’s eyes widen. The low rumble in his chest quickly fadingto a whimpering murmur and he tips his head to the side, observing me curiously.
“Reh’desh,”he replies.
I smile, a smile he returns with a wince when he puts too much weight on an injured leg.
I remind myself that I am here to complete a task, and the male before me is not the reason I came. I tell myself that he will be all right if I leave him alone, that, like the sisters, he can simply vanish at will. But the sprites need the woodlands to become unseen, and the male in front of me is in no condition to be left alone in the forest.
He takes a wobbly step toward me, reaching out his hand to grasp mine as he nearly stumbles under his own weight. He’s as light as a gentle breeze when I catch him between my hands to steady him.
His nose scrunches as he huffs a series of quick rhythmic breaths, much like a hound on the trail of its prey. His eyes saucer when they land on one of Eon’s small blooms braided into my curls. He plucks it from my hair, shoving it against his nose, the petals fluttering toward his face as he inhales the scent.
He takes another ambling step toward me, pointing at the flower, repeating something I struggle to understand. I may be unfamiliar with the words but there is no mistaking the excitement in his voice when he says, “Mah’nai. Mah’nai sa’hi.”
“What?” I wonder under my breath.
He takes another step toward me, wincing when his leg nearly falters beneath him. The pain doesn’t stop him from squeezing my hand tightly and waggling the flower in my face while he continues to repeat the foreign words.
“All right,” I say in a whispered breath.
Without enough time to consider all the options and potential pitfalls of a plan that I’m only now forming, I pin the male with a pointed stare. He is far too frail to walk off the ship, but all I can think about are the razor-sharp teeth behind that smile when I say firmly, “Neh,reh.”
He gives me a hesitant nod and I pick him up like a child, popping him on my hip and sweeping my cloak over his body to shield him fromview. The sentiment is one I learned from Tig, most often directed at her sister.Be good
Pulling my cloak over my head, I spin on my heel, ready to slide into the shadows above deck and—
“Awri.” I choke out the name under my breath when she emerges from a nearby shadow at the base of the narrow stairway.
I wonder briefly how she made it below deck without me hearing but decide it’s a question for another time.
“What are you doing?” she asks pointedly, with no attempt to stifle the anger in her voice.
