I
Today, for the first time in my life, I didn’t wake up in Karthia.
As a pearly dawn gives way to bright morning sun, Meredy and I, realizing that theParadisehas almost slowed to a stop, bound out of our narrow cabin and up to the deck to watch the remainder of our first journey into a new land. “We’re almost there!” I whisper gleefully. But apparently entering the harbor and anchoring the ship is a longer process than I anticipated.
Blinking away the last traces of sleepiness, we wait at the railing and watch the dock workers milling about below. I wish I were with them. My feet itch to touch solid ground again, and judging by the way Meredy keeps stretching and pacing, so do hers.
“Welcome to Lyris,” Kasmira calls across the deck of theParadise, grinning at our eager expressions as her crew scrambles to drop anchor.
Lyris, the island where Kasmira has been buying cacao and coffee under cover of darkness for years while King Wylding forbade all travel to and from Karthia, doesn’t look much differentfrom the harbor in Grenwyr City. And yet, so muchisdifferent. For one thing, this is the first time Kasmira has been able to anchor theParadisein broad daylight.
Her crew lets out a cheer, the anchor apparently secured. Some sailors slap one another’s backs, and a few even dance a little. I’m tempted to join them.
We’refinallyhere. It seems like we’ve been at sea much longer than a mere day, and as I exchange a glance with a slightly pale Meredy, I’m sure she feels the same.
Yesterday, we left Karthia trailing a swath of mist and had to skirt around a storm, everyone looking tinged with green. And while this morning brought sunny skies and calm waters, I’m worried I’m not cut out for a life at sea. Hopefully that’ll change, though. After all, Lyris is only the first of many lands we plan to explore.
There’s a loud thud as someone lowers the gangway.
Meredy gazes past the docks, far into the distance, and points at a collection of colorful tents that seem to stretch to the horizon. Her eyes shine, and she smiles faintly. Adventure is beckoning her, just as it used to call to Evander.
“Race you to that market,” she says, nudging my shoulder.
“How do you know what it is?” I ask, but she’s already barreling toward the gangway, forcing me to break into my fastest run to catch up.
We sprint past low wooden houses and inns, bound for the sprawling rainbow of tents ahead, not even stopping to take in the people and animals that fill the narrow streets.
There’s a slight bite to the wind blowing off the sea, so I draw my cloak tighter as we reach the first of the tents and pause for breath at last. Wonderful smells wash over me like an embrace: perfume and pie, lavender and leather, soap and sugar. But just as I start to enjoythe market’s atmosphere, a girl with long ash-blond hair hurries by, and I’m suddenly reminded of Valoria. She loves trying new things more than anyone.
“See?” Meredy pants, looking proud of herself as she takes rapid breaths of heady, sweet air. “Definitely a market.” Noticing my expression, she frowns. “What’s wrong? Mad that I beat you here?”
I don’t have the heart to tease her and tell her that I actually beat her by two seconds. Instead, I say, “Valoria.”
From the light dimming in Meredy’s eyes, I don’t need to explain further.
It’s thanks to our new queen that we Karthians can now roam outside of our kingdom, wherever we please. Valoria, who I still think of more as my friend than as my ruler, would want to explore every inch of this place, in all its colorful, aromatic glory, in all its secrets waiting to be discovered.
“We’ll take notes for her. Oneverything,” Meredy assures me, stepping to one side of the nearest tent to let a man and his mule-drawn cart pass.
I nod, my throat tight. It feels like years ago, not months, that Valoria was a curious princess on her first and only trip into the Deadlands, constantly straying from my side and questioning everything around her. I’d been stuck with her while my partner in all things, Evander, walked ahead of us, forcing me to feign interest in the princess’s plans to study the correlation between people’s eye colors and different forms of magic, like how everyone born with blue eyes sees gateways to the spirit world and can learn to raise the dead. Learning, she’d insisted, is fun.
While I don’t always agree with Valoria on the learning front, she has a point. I’m on this journey because I hope to learn something, though I’m not exactly sure what that is yet.
In a daze, I follow Meredy through the tented marketplace, trying to memorize every detail to regale Valoria with... someday. The people here are as varied in height, coloring, and styles of hair and clothing as Karthians, making them feel almost like acquaintances despite the unfamiliar, musical language that swirls around us everywhere we go.
A pair of blown-glass trinkets catches my eye, and immediately, my savings come out to pay for them—a brown bear for Meredy and a marigold for me. As a gentle woman carefully wraps each one, Meredy catches my eye from three stalls away, beaming as she holds up two enormous bags of coffee beans, maybe ten pounds each. “It’s not a lifetime supply,” she calls, “but it’s a start. After all, you won our bet a while ago. We’ve made it more than a whole day without arguing, so... I figure it’s time I begin fulfilling my end of the bargain.”
“You remembered?” I fight back a reluctant smile, torn between regret over Valoria’s absence and how happy Meredy makes me, seemingly without realizing it.
Meredy tosses her head back and laughs, momentarily warming me all over. When she meets my eyes, it’s with a knowing look that tells me she caught my smile after all.
“Ooh, look at those!” she says suddenly, making a beeline toward a display of star-shaped flowers, blooms purple-red like her hair and bigger than her hands. We buy some of those, and some yellow roses, too, to spruce up our dull room on theParadise.Next, we purchase thick slabs of pie laced with spices that make my mouth water in a single sniff. We buy whole dried fish for Lysander, Meredy’s pet grizzly bear, and new leather gloves for Kasmira to protect her hands from the roughness of her ship’s wheel. We’re even tempted by a display of new fur-lined cloaks in every possible shade of a mage’s eyes: from stormy gray to deep charcoal for weather workers, spring green toemerald for beast masters, hazel for healers, even hues of earthen browns for inventors.
My hand stills on the last brown cloak. There are only four types of mages represented here, not all five as I’d assumed when I saw the vibrant display.
“Huh. There’s no blue.” Meredy frowns, having noticed the problem, too. No sky blue to match Simeon’s eyes, no dark blue like Evander’s—nothing for necromancers. “Shame. They probably ran out.” She shrugs, then points to a cart selling frothy pink cream in a cup. “Come on. We have to try that!”
I follow her, not wanting her to know anything is amiss. Even I can’t explain why my stomach sinks as I glance over my shoulder for one last look at the cloaks.
