The man’s curious look turned a bit barbed. Quentin couldn’t blame him; they looked like bedraggled peasants. Certainly not the kind of people who sought an audience with the Riquetis.
“I know we’re a little worse for wear,” Quentin said sheepishly. “You can imagine why the lady and I are so eager for a hot bath.”
The man glanced at the cart, eyes widening as he noticed Delaynie for the first time. The way she was huddled in her cloak, she was easy to miss.
Usually, there was nothing about Delaynie that was easy to miss.
“Of course,” the man finally said. He pointed down the street. “Take a left at the next cross street. Follow that to the south end of the city. The Riqueti Estate is the last one before you reach the sea. It’s hard to miss.”
Quentin smiled and extended a hand, which the man took after a slight pause. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “I know the lady appreciates the help.”
The man nodded again, averting his eyes and backing away. “Safe travels,” he murmured before disappearing into the crowd.
Quentin hoisted back into the cart, snatching up the reins. Their wagon lurched again down the road.
Sacale was a city of canvas and red-gold stucco. The roofs were all a sun-washed-red tile, windows thrown open to welcome the coastal breeze. It was tucked within a small valley in the Attlehons that opened to an even smaller bay, just large enough to hold the thriving port. While Verith was a center for trade, Sacale was where the merchants kept their homes and would therefore always be a place of wealth.
Even with closed borders, Onita still needed trade. Citizens from other kingdoms could not set foot on the soil, but they sure were willing to take Onitan gold.
Quentin hoped for a day when Mariah actually sat on her throne. When those borders would finally open and Kreah and Vathans and Luexrithians could walk these same cobblestone and sun-kissed streets.
Just not those gods-damned pirates.
“Are you sure we can trust him?”
Quentin blinked in surprise at Delaynie’s soft question. “Who?”
She nodded back the way they’d come. “That man you spoke to.”
“Oh.” Quentin shrugged. “Why would he lie? What would he gain?” He turned to her. “Why? Are you worried about something?”
But she’d fallen silent again, staring out at the bay that had opened below the city.
Quentin sighed but didn’t push her further. Whatever had spurred that question, it was a start. One he would take.
The street gradually grew quieter and smoother, the houses spaced farther and farther apart. Groves of walnut and orangetrees sprouted up between the residences, shielding the road with their thick boughs.
At the end of the road—just as the man had said—stood a towering manor on a sprawling estate. A wrought-iron gate crossed the road, staffed by two guards. They emerged from the shadows, one blocking their path, the other walking to the side of the cart.
“Hello, friends,” the guard said. “Do you have business with the Riquetis?” He sounded friendly yet skeptical and perhaps a little amused.
Quentin kept his scowl to himself as he twisted, reaching into one of their packs. He pulled out the sealed letter and handed it to the guard.
“We’re friends of Sebastian and Matheo Riqueti. That letter should give you whatever other information you need.”
The guard blinked in shock. He broke the seal, unfolding the parchment. His eyes grew comically wider as he read the words, and his jaw was slack when he glanced back up at Quentin.
“I…yes, of course,” he stammered, refolding the letter. He handed it to his companion with a nod, who jogged to open the gate and continued up the winding path. The first guard gestured to the now-open gate, bowing slightly.
“Please, do come in,” he said. “And welcome to Sacale.”
Mr. and Mrs. Riquetistood together in the manor entryway, beaming.
It was impossible for Quentin not to return the smile. Though he’d never been to Sacale, he had met them before when they’d visited Verith—both for business and to see their sons.The merchant and his wife had always been kind and open and warm, the kind of people who could make anyone feel at ease.
Their cart pulled to a stop and the lady of the house rushed down the steps of her manor. Quentin hardly had time to leap down from the bench seat before she was on him, bundling him up in a great hug.
“Oh, how wonderful it is to see you again, Quentin!” She released him, gripping his arms tight. “It’s been far, far too long. I hope you haven’t gotten into too much trouble.”
