“Always,” Marin said.
In the waves, Perri tossed more fish into the air and caroled as the birds swooped for the flashes of silver. Together, Marin and Ree raised the sails, and they caught the wind away from Belde. She imagined she could still hear the plants singing.
The sail back to Alyssium was the fastest she’d ever done yet felt the slowest.
Marin used every trick she knew to coax wind into the sails. She aimed for dark patches of water, a sure indication of more wind. She sailed the long tack and kept a close eye on the telltales. And when the wind slowed, she called to Perri, and he sped the boat forward until the wind picked up. She slept minimal hours, alternating with Ree. In the end, she shaved half a day off the usual trip, arriving two days early for Dax’s performance.
And it didn’t matter. They weren’t allowed into the conservatory to speak to him.
“We’re his friends,” Marin told the guard at the stairwell. There had never been a guard by the dock beneath the conservatory before, but apparently rules changed for the solstice celebration. The guard was clothed entirely in silver, with a silver mask over her face and a black baton belted to her waist, as well as a brace of knives.
“His family,” Ree corrected.
Legs spread wide and arms crossed, the guard blocked the stairs. “No entry for non-conservatory residents. You will have to enter the concert hall with your ticket like everyone else.”
Ree whispered, “Do we have tickets?”
Taking Ree with her and leaving Perri to watchSilver, Marin circled the conservatory to check at the ticket booth. She’d never seen the place from the front plaza, and she had to admit it was impressive: all marble and covered in statues of famous musicians she’d never heard of. It had multiple pillars carved with musical notes and the entrance was shaped like a golden harp.
“Fancy,” Ree said beside her.
She spotted a few scorch marks on the stone that had yet to be sanded away, and she noted a few of the statue alcoves were empty—the only trace of the recent violence. She wondered if the events had already been immortalized in song and if they’d be accurate or whether details would be sanded away too.
She thought of Rijes Velk:No one knew the empire tried to burn the library.
Maybe they should.
She wondered if Dax would ever consider writing a song about that.I could ask him. If I’m ever allowed near him.Spotting the ticket booth, Marin approached and confirmed that yes, there were three tickets reserved under the name Captain Mariner.
“Three?”
“Yes, Captain,” the ticket seller said and then frowned down at a piece of paper. “There’s a note that the third ticket is for a window view? On the…canalside?”
Marin smiled. Dax wouldn’t have wanted to leave out Perri. She loved that. “That’s right. Someone will need to open the window so the sea serpent can see.”
The ticket seller swallowed hard. “Of course. It will be done.”
She could tell he had questions. She decided not to answer them. Let him invent his own stories. “We’re family,” she said.
Another gulp. “Wonderful!”
The tickets were good for all the solstice performances, but Marin was only interested in one. She spent the time until Dax’s concert in the plaza with the job postings, scanning all of them, not taking any of them. It didn’t feel right, until she knew what her crew would be.
Would he come with them?
Why should he? What did she have to offer?Only the sea and all the wonders of the Crescent Islands. And a sea serpent, a shrub, and a sailor.
She didn’t know if that would be enough.
Marin had plenty of time for second thoughts and third thoughts, but she didn’t let herself think them. Whenever she wasn’t pointlessly perusing the job listings, she was on the boat with Ree and Perri. She wasn’t willing to leave it for long—she didn’t trust the people in the city. There were plenty who were desperate enough to try to steal a way to a new life.
No one tried, though. She didn’t know if it was because it was the winter solstice and everyone was celebrating or because no one wanted to mess with an enormous sea serpent. Now that he knew he had a ticket and was officially invited, Perri had no interest in hiding. But it could have been the former.
Despite the upheaval and despite the changes and despite the fear that still lingered in corners where lives had yet to settle into new shapes… throughout the city, people were celebrating as they had every solstice for centuries, before the rise of the empire and now after its fall. From the deck ofSilver, she heard voices drift down from windows, bridges, and plazas. Laughter. Singing. Warm voices of friends and family. Ribbons shaped into flowers were being sold from carts, and the city smelled of warm pretzels and cakes.
On one of her strolls through the plaza, she lingered near one cart selling traditional sun cookies that smelled sugary and lemony. She bought two and stored them away in a pocket, wrapped in a napkin, to share with Dax after his concert—if she was able to get close enough to him to talk. It didn’t occur to her until later that he probably had access to far better sweets within the conservatory.
At last, it was the fifth day of the solstice celebration. Marin and Ree were at the conservatory doors well before they opened, with Perri already in position in the canal. She’d seen him situated before she’d leftSilver—the stagehand who had opened the window had been so surprised that he’d summoned over all the ushers and the lighting director to gawk at the sea serpent, before the stage manager shooed them all back to their posts. Perri had been pleased with the fuss.
