It was another five days on the water with the island in their sights. With two masts down and most of the crew out of their wits from the sea dragon and magic, it was slow-moving. Not to mention that all four of the magical users were relatively drained. Not depleted, but they would need some time before they were at full capacity again.

The morning of the sixth day, they finally drew into a large, circular bay and got their first real look at what lay beyond. From the mouth of the cove, a town began to emerge into view. Little houses on the coast along with central buildings by the harbor. Enormous trees dotted out the terrain as far as the eye could see until they reached the highest-peaked mountains Cyrene had ever seen. Everything beyond that was hidden by those mountains.

Gwynora maneuvered them into the dock, and her crew moved automatically to secure the ship. She hadn’t said a word to Cyrene since she was forced to use her magic. They were alive, and that was all that mattered. Just because Gwynora had trouble accepting who she was, it was no concern of Cyrene’s. She had been there, and Gwynora would figure it out, too.

Everyone was assembled on the deck by the time they were secure and able to disembark.

“Are you sure this is the place?” Cyrene asked.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Gwynora snapped. “Edgewood is the seaport. Alandria is the island.”

“But I thought Tymbre said it was a bustling market.”

“Not my problem.”

Orden doffed his hat to Gwynora. “Well, thank you. You did a wonderful job, and we greatly appreciate it.”

“Get off my boat,” Gwynora spat back.

“With pleasure.”

“We’re going to need to find an inn before we can move Avoca,” Cyrene said. She glanced at Gwynora. “Are she and our belongings safe here with you while we find a place to reside?”

“As long as you get off my boat, I do not care,” Gwynora muttered.

“I will stay with Avoca,” Mikel offered.

Cyrene nodded in his direction. “Thank you. For everything.”

“You are a quick study.”

Matilde snorted. “Imagine when we first got ahold of her.”

“Hey!” Cyrene grumbled.

Vera laughed. “You could hardly move a droplet of water, let alone an ocean.”

“You are all insufferable,” Cyrene said and then strode off the boat.

Her first step onto the island sent a tremor up through her spine. She hadn’t forgotten everything that Tymbre had said about this place. Gwynora wouldn’t step foot off the boat, for fear that she would be cursed as well. But Cyrene had no other choice.

Orden, Ahlvie, Matilde, and Vera exited the ship as well. Ahlvie was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet; he was so happy to be off that ship. He had complained constantly about being on board and not being able to do anything. He’d gambled a little with the crew until they realized that he almost always won. But she knew that the Indres form inside of him was dying to break out and run. Not something he could do on the ocean.

Cyrene stopped just before crossing the threshold from the dock to the land.

Orden patted her shoulder. “It’s just a myth.”

“Aren’t all myths true?” she countered.

He tipped his hat. “Touché.”

Then, they all moved forward and into the tiny sea town. A wooden sign with white-painted lettering declared that they had entered Edgewood. But what had seemed like such a beautiful place from the sea proved to be a ghost town.

“This is the place Gwynora said it was,” Cyrene said. “But where is everyone?”

The cobblestone streets were empty of people. All the windows were closed, and no one was selling their wares. A breeze blew in off the harbor, but otherwise, it was already sweltering before the sun rose to its zenith. They walked through the middle of town until they reached what appeared to be the town hall, but even those doors were closed.

“It seems abandoned,” Matilde said.

“No,” Orden countered. “There are tracks. Perhaps the shops are just closed.”

“Let’s find out,” Ahlvie said. He loped over to the nearest door and started knocking on each of them until he finally found someone to open the door.

A slight man in a drab beige shirt and ill-fitted pants stared back at Ahlvie with a snarl on his face. “What do you want?”

“Hello, good sir,” Ahlvie said with his charm. “We are in search of an inn for the night. We just arrived and need a place to stay. Do you know where we can find somewhere?”

“Not much here,” the man spat. “Maybe try somewhere else.”

“Our ship, unfortunately, has been wrecked, and we can’t go anywhere else. We were told that your port was a bustling town, but we’re surprised to find no one around.”

“It’s not a market day. So, we’re smart and inside.”

Ahlvie stared at him, perplexed. “When is the market day?”

“Whenever it happens,” the man said impatiently. Then, he glanced up at the sky and chewed on his lip. “Don’t want none of the Venatrix tribe to come swooping in. You should know better.”

“Venatrix tribe,” he said uncertainly. “Of course. We’d be happy to get inside to avoid them if you could provide us with an inn.”

“Fine.” The man hastily gave Ahlvie directions and then slammed the door in his face.

“Pleasant sort,” Ahlvie said.

“What is a Venatrix tribe?” Cyrene asked.

But none of them knew. They were completely blind in a new territory…an entirely different world. And they had clearly arrived on the wrong day. The way that man had spoken made Cyrene uneasy. As if they actually did need to hurry up and get into that inn, or someone would swoop down on them.

They followed the man’s directions to a two-story building. Like everything else in this strange town, it was boarded up and appeared impenetrable. Not exactly inviting for visitors. But at least there wasn’t a No Vacancy sign up.

Orden banged on the front door and called out, “Hello? We’re trying to get a room.”

Silence followed. He tried the handle, but it was locked. They all glanced around the empty streets, perplexed.

“Maybe try the back,” Ahlvie suggested.

As a group, they walked around to the kitchen entrance to the building. Something strange was going on here, and Cyrene didn’t know what was happening or who this tribe was that seemed to have frightened everyone.

Orden tried the back door, and finally, a young woman peered outside. Her amber eyes were wide, but she seemed relieved when she saw them.

“You’re…you’re not Venatrix?”

“No, ma’am,” Orden said dramatically. “We are travelers trying to find a place to rest for the night. Our ship has been damaged and our companion gravelly injured. Do you have vacancy?”

The woman mutely nodded her head. She scanned the skies for a few seconds before swinging the door open wide. “Hurry. Hurry inside now.”

Cyrene rushed forward and into the darkened interior. One solitary candle lit the kitchen. As soon as everyone was inside, the woman snapped the door closed and bolted it right up again. She huffed a deep sigh of relief and then whirled around to face her guests.

Her demeanor completely shifted. A smile spread on her face, and the tension evaporated from her shoulders.

“Now, where in the world are you lot from?” she said pleasantly, bustling around the kitchen. “People don’t normally visit Edgewood, except during market days. You must be starved though. I have some salted pork that I could cook up and bread in the oven.”

Cyrene salivated at the offer. Yes, she was dying for some real food. But she also had so many questions.

“That would be wonderful,” Vera said, intervening. “We would love some food as well as three rooms and baths.”

“Creator, a bath,” Cyrene nearly moaned.

The woman smiled broadly at them. “Of course. I’m Arelina. Most of my friends call me Lina. Let me check the bread, and then I’ll show you around.”

Arelina was a superb innkeeper. The place was immaculate, and she hurried them around with an unparalleled pleasantness. Especially considering the place seemed deserted. She didn’t even have any staff on hand, except for a small boy who peeked his head out of one of the rooms as she wandered around.

“Jex, retrieve towels for our guest’s bath,” Arelina said.

His eyes grew wide. “But what if—”

“Now. It’ll be fine.”

He scurried away but looked frightened for his life.

But Cyrene had no room to ask any questions. Arelina showed them the bathing room on the first floor. They all stared at the giant tub built into the floor and the strange metal rods around it in confusion.

“You’ve all used piping before, right?” she asked on a laugh. When no one laughed with her, she showed them how it worked. “It’s relatively new. We’re lucky to have it. It beats hauling water in from the pump.”

She flipped a nozzle, and water sputtered out of the faucet and into the bathtub below.

Cyrene’s jaw dropped open. “Brilliant.”

Arelina smiled at her. “I’ll let this run for now, and then it’ll be ready once we get you settled.”

After they found their rooms, Cyrene left her meager belongings upstairs and tested out the bath. It was positively divine. The perfect temperature without her even having to use magic to heat it up. She swore that this piping was even better than magic. She wished she could get more information from it and bring it home to Rhea. Her best friend back in Byern was an inventor. She’d find this piping fascinating.

It struck her then, sitting alone in this tub, just how much she missed home. Months on the sea had darkened her skin and turned it a burnished tan. Her hair she’d needed to use the soap on twice. She could still taste the salt. But, even beyond the luxuries, she could feel the pull to return home. No matter that Byern wasn’t home any longer, she couldn’t erase it from her heart. And Edgewood and even the island of Alandria felt so foreign.

She shook her head and then got out of the bath, toweling off, and changing into the fresh set of clothes that she’d brought with her. Once she was dressed, Jex came in to drain the water and refill it for the next bath. She smiled at the young boy before wandering out to the main room of the inn.

Booths covered the perimeter, and wood tables took up the center space. An empty stage was in one corner. The bar was full of various forms of alcohol, and barstools stood in a perfect line before it. She could picture Ahlvie up on the stage with a roaring crowd behind him. She blinked, and the vision faded. Back to the reality of their situation.

“Bread’s fresh out,” Arelina said. “Pork will be done soon. Ale?”

“Just water, thank you.”

“Suit yourself.”

Arelina filled a glass from another piping contraption and set the drink before her. “So, where did you come in from? You have a strange accent.”

Cyrene raised her eyebrows. “We’re here from Emporia.”

Arelina shrugged. “Never heard of it.”

“I’d never heard of Alandria either until recently.” She took a bite of the bread and closed her eyes as she enjoyed the amazing taste.

“Well, you are in for a treat. When the market opens next week, you are going to see the most amazing things. Everyone comes from far and wide to see Edgewood’s market.”

“Why is everything boarded up when the market is closed?”

“Oh. That. Well, we’re in Venatrix territory,” she said, as if that explained it.

“Okay. What does that mean?”

Arelina laughed. “You’re really not from around here. Venatrix is a warrior tribe. They’ve been expanding their territory in the last decade. We were acquired—or conquered, I guess—two years ago. They’ve been taxing us since then, and sometimes, the males don’t stop there.”

Cyrene nearly saw red. She didn’t want to think about what that meant or what had been done to beat these people down. “That’s horrible.”

“You learn to live with it.”

“Not sure I could live with that.”

“They don’t bother when the market’s here though. Too many other people around to see what they’re doing. So, we try to keep it pretty closed up during the day. Things are better at night though. You’ll be able to walk around again once the sun goes down.”

“Great. I can’t wait to look around,” Cyrene told her honestly.

She had a lot more questions to ask. But Arelina smiled kindly at her and then disappeared into the kitchens to check on the pork.

Cyrene finished off her piece of bread and then downed the water. She was just about to go get the others when she heard a knock on the kitchen door. She glanced back to where Arelina had just disappeared to and wondered who would be knocking on such a day. Already, she had gotten into the mindset that today was a bad day to be outside in Edgewood.

Another knock came.

“Arelina, darling?” A female voice came bright and clear with the hint of an accent as she drawled out the A, making it sound like daw-ling.

Cyrene raised her eyebrows. Curiosity got the better of her, as it usually did. She slid from her seat and walked on silent feet to the open kitchen door. She didn’t dare look in, but she could hear the hushed voices more clearly.

“My love,” the female voice said.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Arelina whispered hurriedly.

“We can make this quick.”

“No, no. Can you come back later?”

“Forcing me out before I even have an ale and a kiss, love?”

Cyrene’s eyebrows rose. Not what she’d expected, but now, Cyrene felt she was intruding. She’d thought it might be the mighty Venatrix tribe, but instead, it seemed to be a lovers’ spat.

“It’s not that,” Arelina said. Cyrene could hear the panic in her voice.

“Fine. If you’ll not give me the kiss, let’s have that ale. Maybe, after we’ve had one, you’ll start thinking less with that pretty head of yours and more with that heart.”

Cyrene rushed back to her barstool, schooling her features into neutrality, so neither of them would suspect that she had been eavesdropping. Then, the door swung open, and Cyrene saw one of the most uniquely stunning women she had ever seen. Her skin was the color of ebony with eyes so dark and mysterious the pupil disappeared entirely and black hair severely slicked back into a high ponytail, hanging low to the middle of her back. She wore black leather pants that shone to match her silky skin. Her shirt consisted of overlapping coins of silver that glittered as beautifully as the sea dragon’s scales. A collar of the same interconnected metal wrapped around her neck with a large tanzanite gem that hung in the hollow of her throat. She stalked forward out of the kitchen with the grace of a hunter and as regal as any queen.

Her eyes shot to Cyrene, and she stopped in her tracks. “And who is this?”

Arelina stepped into the room. “She’s a guest.”

“A guest,” the woman said, prowling forward. “Make that two ales, Lina love.”

Arelina disappeared from sight, but Cyrene had seen that she looked panicked. Was she worried that her girlfriend would be jealous? Was that what this was about?

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Cyrene said.

The woman smiled. “Why, thank you. Have we met yet?”

“I suppose not.” Cyrene extended her hand. “I’m Cyrene.”

The woman stared down at Cyrene’s outstretched hand and then slowly extended her own. “Alura.”

“I love your armor. It suits you.”

Alura cocked her head to the side. “Where exactly are you from?”

“Around,” Cyrene said evasively. Being a stranger here seemed to be so very noticeable. “Where are you from? I’m surprised that you’d visit Arelina today, considering what’s going on in the town.”

“Oh?”

“Everyone seems positively frightened.”

“I risked it.” Alura took the seat next to Cyrene. “Are you here for the market? You’re early.”

“We got our dates mixed up,” Cyrene lied. She didn’t even know why she was doing it.

She’d been so open with Arelina. There was something about her that made Cyrene want to talk to her. Just as Alura had the vibe that secrets were in her repertoire.

It made no sense. She had just met the woman. But she suddenly felt as if she had met someone standing in her shoes. Someone who understood the weight of destiny. A tingle ran up her back, but she refused to break eye contact.

Alura leaned forward until she was mere inches away from Cyrene. “Arelina doesn’t need any trouble.”

“I have no intention of bringing her any.”

“Good,” Alura said. She smiled, and it turned feline. “There’s something about you. I can’t put my finger on it.”

Cyrene knew exactly what she meant. “I’m just me.”

That, of course, was furthest from the truth. She was so much more than she seemed in her tattered Biencan clothing and simple hairstyle with her magic safely tucked away.

Alura looked as if she was about to respond again when a banging came from the front door. Alura’s head snapped to it. “Oh blessed,” she grumbled. “Just what we need.”

“What? Who is it?” Cyrene asked, her eyes darting to where Arelina had entered with the ales.

Her face had gone ghost white.

Then, the door burst open, and a man strode inside as if he owned the place. His very presence commanded attention. With incredible height and build and his banded gold armor accenting his bronzed skin, he looked like a warrior straight off the battlefield. A gilded god back from the front line.

Alura jumped to her feet. “Gerrit, you know that I handle the inn.”

“Don’t care about your dalliance, Alura,” the man spat. “Having trouble at the docks. Some new ship refusing to pay.”

That caught Cyrene’s ear. “Excuse me?”

The man snapped his head at her. “Did anyone ask for you to speak?”

“That’s my ship,” she spat right back.

Arelina heaved a heavy sigh behind her. “Oh, dear.”

“Your ship?” Alura asked with a raised eyebrow. “And I was just starting to like you. Why don’t you stay out of this, and we can keep it that way?”

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s in your best interest,” Alura assured her.

Suddenly, it all hit Cyrene in the face. She knew exactly who these people were. She should have seen it before, but Alura had thrown her. Her relationship with Arelina had made her second-guess what her brain was subconsciously buzzing in her ear.

“You’re Venatrix tribe,” Cyrene said, glancing between them.

Alura grinned. “You’ve heard of us. See, Gerrit? We’re famous.”

Cyrene narrowed her eyes. “If you go after my ship, you’re going to regret it.”

Alura and Gerrit laughed.

“Trust me, darling,” Alura said, gently clipping her on the chin as she strode toward the door with all the confidence of someone who had been challenged before and always won. “The only one who will regret anything is you.”