15

Kaylin

A lot of things fall under the definition of bliss—the sunset currents streaming around the isles of Tutapa, bioluminescence under the full moon, the taste of oysters fresh from the rocks, battle with a just cause…

Now I have one more to add: finding myself on a high Aturnian headland, enemy slain at my feet, fresh blood on my face, and a beautiful lass from Baiseen sending curious glances my way. The new feelings are inexplicable. I don’t even know how I got here.

One thing led to another…

True, and the fact remains there’s no going back on any of it, nor would I wish to if I could.

I keep my head down, tossing the corpses into the sea. It’s the best use of my time while the others argue about how to proceed. It also gives me a moment to work out an alternative strategy, in case theirs is bad enough to get them all killed, which it likely will be. It’s an interesting lot, these initiates. For as strong and capable as they appear, their survival instincts are sorely lacking.

But what a spectacular bout! I keep that thought to myself, too, since the others are not inclined to share in the glory of battle. I understand. They have injuries and no clear way ahead, at least until I suggest mine.

Ash mostly listens while she tries to salvage her writing tools and the coins spilled from the Heir’s bag. I want to help her pick up every last one and assure her, again, that I never meant her harm. That, in fact, I will protect her life as if it were my own. But she might want more of an explanation for my cryptic warning to leave Clearwater.

In hindsight, I could have worded that better. And then there’s how I turned up at precisely the right moment, if I’m truly not in league with Nadonis. I have no rationale to offer without giving away too much.

One thing led to another? I repeat to myself. It wouldn’t satisfy me. How can I expect it to satisfy the lass? Then there’s my absolute willingness to help her. I daresay I don’t understand it.

Maybe it was seeing her with knife in hand, squaring off with one of the crewmen, that first time on the deck of the Sea Eagle. Or hearing her pine for far-off lands with such heartfelt passion that piqued my interest. Or watching her curry animals in the bowels of a boat just to bring them comfort. I’m not sure. But I’d given her my word that no harm would befall her, and the truth of that unexpected promise won’t change.

When the others reach a stalemate, I step up. “Have you considered riding up the north road?”

“Toward the enemy?” Marcus says, as if I suggested jumping off the headland into the sea.

“What good is that to us?” Samsen asks. “We’ll run straight into the troops. Do you want to take them all on, too?”

I actually wouldn’t mind, but it’s not what I say. “We can ride inland along the Navren River, hiding our tracks in the water. If you send a rider south with the donkey…”

“Our tracks will lead both ways.” Ash catches on. “Confusing them, at the very least. At best, sending at least some of them along to Clearwater, quick sharp.”

“Aye. Our decoy can loop around and meet us inland. From there, it’s up and over the hills of Mount Bladon and on to Capper Point by ferry down the Ferus River, none the wiser.”

Ash raises one brow. “You certainly know the lay of the land.”

“I know the lay of the rivers.”

I thought it would take more time to convince Marcus, but he nods, saying something about, when in doubt, head north. An interesting lot, these initiates, I think again. That’s for sure.

We ready to ride, and to my delight, I find myself in the most pleasing occupation of helping Ash repack her satchel. It’s all I can do not to breathe her in. She’s over the shock of being attacked and on to bone-cracking anger. Who would blame the lass? Her life was threatened, her trade tools strewn everywhere, texts ruined, and ink bottles broken.

Red-faced, she finds her map of the realms and unrolls it. “A slow, naf’n demon’s death to all marauders. How will we make it in time now? Sark f’qud.”

“A Nonnovan curse?” I ask. “Excellent choice.”

She turns hooded eyes on me, and I cough to cover my smile. The scent rising from her skin is like nothing I’ve ever known. Even in her anger and the hasty wash, she smells of lilacs and summer seas. “At least this is in one piece.” She shakes the map and checks our location, the distance to Bladon and then to Capper Point, and rolls it back up. “We can make it, if there are no other delays.” She repacks everything, cursing now in Tangeen. I hand her a bottle of ink she missed in the tall grass. “Maybe we can track down these Aturnian miscreants and cut their throats,” she mutters.

“You’re a girl after my own heart, lass, but you realize I’ve already done that.” My hand goes toward the cliff and the wet drag marks leading to it.

“Peace be their paths.” She says it with reverence, revealing her well of contradictions. Then the full gaze of her sea-storm eyes locks onto mine. “Thank you, Kaylin. I want you to know—”

“She’s not serious.” Marcus steals the moment from us as he walks by. “About wanting to cut their throats. She isn’t like that.”

“Part of her seems a bit like that.” I don’t mind the pride in my voice, but I can see the Heir does.

We stare at each other until Ash punches him in the arm, a habit of hers I’ve noticed before. I thought it was affection, but maybe it’s more complex than that.

“Let’s mount up.” Marcus scowls at her, then heads for the picket line without waiting for a reply.

When I turn to see if Ash and I might resume our conversation, she’s already halfway to the horses.

Once packed, Marcus gathers us around him, his authority back in place. “Samsen, you take Frost and the donkey and ride at good speed back toward Clearwater. Cut into the forest over ground that leaves no tracks, then turn back toward the Navren River. We’ll meet upstream in one hour.” He confirms with the Tangeen, who nods once.

“We should keep silent and to the port side of the road,” I add.

“Left,” Ash says to the others and mounts the gray mare, the one we groomed together just two nights ago. Rita, she called her.

Marcus and Piper jog horseback around the camp and muddle the tracks, churning the drag marks and bloodstains into the ground. Belair’s bay lets loose a shrill whinny and paws the ground, staring after Samsen and the donkey. “They’ll catch up, lad,” Belair says to his mount. “Easy now. Silent.”

“Ride with me?” Ash extends her hand and kicks her foot out of the stirrup.

“Delighted to.” I grab a handful of mane, as I saw her do, and swing up behind her, landing lightly.

“Just hang on and move with her.” Ash turns to me. “Like a raft on the waves.”

“Aye, lass.” I encircle her waist. I mean, what else can I do with my hands? Rita’s gait settles Ash against me. For a moment, I’m lost in the rise and fall of her breath, her heart beating through her back and against my chest.

I decide I like horseback riding very much.

The mare trots over the short grass beside the road as the sun burns off the fog. Below the headlands, a good six fathoms down, waves crash against the shore. Buzzards circle and gulls already feast at what their short beaks can pry from the bodies that have yet to be washed out to sea.

Ash frowns. “First glance over the cliffs and the Aturnian troops will know there was foul play.”

“Maybe not. The tide is rising.” The mare stumbles, and I fall against Ash, tightening my grip around her waist.

“Are you all right back there?”

“Not used to the world from this perspective.” I close my eyes and lean closer; the heat of her blush warms my cheek.

“Spent your whole life on the sea?”

“Aye.” Thank the deep sea she’s not inclined to quiz me on those details yet.

“I spent my whole life in the Sanctuary until—”

Marcus hushes us.

I don’t mind. It’s something to ask her later. Perhaps tonight. Oddly, I feel we have all the time in the world, which I know is a lie.

Ash urges Rita into a lope. It is much like a dinghy in choppy waves, and I keep my seat once I find the rhythm. The road drops down toward the river mouth where the grass grows tall and the trees give way to a wide mudflat.

“This is your plan?” Marcus halts at the edge of the mud. “We might as well paint a red arrow to point which way we went.”

“It’s an estuary ford,” I explain. “If we follow the bank from a distance, sticking to hard ground, there will be a rock crossing soon enough. No tracks.”

“You really do know your rivers,” Ash says.

“As a good sailor does.”

“And you’re a good sailor?”

It’s my turn to flush. “Aye.” But it comes out more like a question.

“There it is.” Marcus surprises me with an appreciative nod. “A rocky ford, as you said.”

Not a hundred feet from us, the mudflats give way to a deep riverbed, the water running fast and clear over large, round stones. The banks are hemmed by slabs of granite with gravel beaches between them. Ash twists around in the saddle, her face inches from mine. “Well done.”

“Pleasure’s mine.” This beautiful lass will be the death of me as sure as a sunken ship turns to reef.

“How in all of Amassia did we end up riding through Aturnia together?” Her voice is barely more than a whisper.

“As I recall, we were docked in Toretta, loading apples on a carrack, when a lovely lass bartered for passage to Aku…”

“And then one thing led to another,” she says with a half smile.

My body stills. She says this as if she heard my earlier thoughts. But that’s just coincidence…right?