A day later and they stood at the helm of the ship, Luna’s mouth gaping.
Kalen didn’t blame her. Antioege held no resemblance to their home. It was glasswork and color where Mureau was dour and imposing.
Much of the city was built over the sea. Across the entire bay, posts extended into the water to support massive buildings topped with spindles reaching high into the heavens. The setting sun reflected off the metal and glass that made up most of the buildings, blinding Kalen and Luna with brightness. Farther up the shore, the city extended into the foothills. Homes dotted the landscape, their windows also reflecting the light.
Milo informed them that the Impérial was half a day behind, so they needed to find a place to stay, off the beaten path, by nightfall. Before they exited, Belrose commanded Jasper to go onshore quickly and purchase clothing for the trio to change into.
“When the Impérial arrives, they will question who exited the ship. If you leave in those outfits, you will definitely be flagged as foreigners.”
“He’s right,” Cirrus said with a frown. “But I really would rather not wear Antioegen fashion.”
“Is it that bad?” Luna asked.
It was that bad.
As they prepared to disembark, Luna gripped the skirt of her too-short dress, all thin and lacy and covered with poppies. It was long-sleeved so as to cover her tattoos, and her hair was tied back and covered in a scarf.
Kalen felt equally ridiculous in royal blue silk trousers, a buttoned white shirt, and a vest. He felt exposed, like the bright colors would call attention to them, even though it was the normal attire for this city. Meanwhile, Cirrus strutted around like a peacock in his turquoise attire.
“It’s not as bad as I remember,” he said. “Or perhaps my tastes have changed.”
“I had hoped this was just a prank on Jasper’s part,” Luna muttered.
They all thanked the captain for his service and boarded the tender. Jasper rowed them toward the shoreline, pulling against the solid quay, where he threw his rope around a post.
Luna again leaped out of the boat first. Even though the Hakunan and tea had kept the sickness at bay all day, she seemed thrilled to be on land, even if land was actually a dock shifting with each swell of the waves.
Kalen led Luna and Cirrus toward the first intersecting piers. A light breeze swept in from the sea, ruffling the colored silks and scarves worn by the townspeople. The citizens walked light on their feet down the piers as they greeted one another and stopped to browse the stalls filled with shell wind chimes, woven hammocks, and the spicy aroma of baked sweets. A graceful and pale nationality, they looked delicate, even though they thrived on the sun and the sea.
“I know a place we can stay,” Cirrus said. “We boarded there the last time I was here.”
“On an ambassadorial mission?” Kalen asked. “We both know we shouldn’t stay anywhere you boarded with your guardsmen. You can’t be recognized … Your Highness. Let’s head through town, see if we can learn anything, and then find a place on the outskirts.”
Kalen inhaled the salty air and removed one of his gloves. He hated this more than anything, but he needed to get a pulse on the city and hunt for news from Mureau.
Luna leaned in. “You don’t have to do that.”
“We need answers sooner rather than later.” Especially with the Impérial right on their tail.
He slowed his steps as they approached the crowded city center in the middle of the bay. He pretended to be interested in the wares and let his fingers brush against the residents’ bare skin. A hand here, a forearm there.
Bits of recent memories spilled into his mind.
A girl trying on gowns in a shop, exclaiming she’d found the perfect red dress for the festival.
A man getting more and more angry as he attempted to negotiate a sales contract with a supplier.
A mother staring at her son as he left home that morning, fearing he was up to no good and would end up a criminal or a lockpick.
Hey, it’s not so bad, Kalen thought.
His forehead began to sting with pinpricks of pain, and Kalen shoved his hand into his pocket. There wasn’t anything newsworthy in their thoughts.
The trio moved further into the city center, where pathways widened and stalls lined either edge. Keepers shouted the worth of their wares. Bands for seasickness, silk pillows, and flickerfly jewelry and lamps. Cirrus seemed especially interested in that stall. Kalen sidled up next to a shop owner selling throwing stars and asked the proprietor about the metalworking of the weapons.
“These are forged in high-temperature ovens in the mountain of Ornatio.” He held out a small set of gilded stars. Kalen feigned interest, leaned closer, and brushed his hand against the owner’s palm as he cupped the stars. He figured a weapons dealer would be on the lookout for any fugitives if word had been sent ahead. Instead Kalen saw that he had been lying to the local ironsmith about costs.
Kalen thanked him for his time and walked toward Luna and Cirrus.
Luna tugged on her skirt. “Well I didn’t learn much except that this city is full of pretentious idiots. You?” Luna asked.
“Nothing of note.” Kalen pulled on his glove, and they made their way through the piers leading toward shore. Here the colors muted, as if the artist had run out of paint on the edges of Antioegen’s canvas. Even the citizens dressed in more subtle clothing. At the base of the foothills they found an inn that looked promising, in that it was set back and run-down and looked like a place where nobody would ask questions.
“You two stay outside. I’ll see if there’s availability,” Kalen said.
He walked into a large dining hall and an array of smells. The spicy scent of roasting meats and potatoes enticed him after the repetitive meals on the ship—but first, lodging.
A woman behind the bar waved him over. Her low-cut blouse and apron failed to support her ample bosom.
“Good evenin’.” She flashed a bright smile. “What can I be doin’ for ya?”
“I’d like to rent a room.”
“For how long?”
“A week. At minimum.” He hoped they’d be long gone, either returned to Mureau or searching elsewhere, but wanted to appear reliable. It wouldn’t hurt to keep the room for longer than they needed.
“I have only one left.”
It would have to do.
He handed her the coins, and she led him up a wide stairwell sitting at the far left of the entranceway. The wooden steps squeaked as they climbed. At the landing they stepped onto a dark red carpet, probably hiding several stains. A hallway extended in front of them with doors on either side. She opened the third door on the left and ushered him in. The room was small but comfortable enough. Two narrow beds jutted out from the wall, a low table wedged between them. A stack of blankets and pillows was nestled into an armchair near the door.
She handed him a key and told him the dining hall would be open late.
With a nod of thanks, Kalen dropped his bag on the floor as she ambled down the stairs. He took a moment to pause and look out the window and get the lay of the land from this angle. Their view was of the sprawling city beyond. Rays of pink and orange light filtered through the glass structures and reflected off the metal-and-wood fixtures.
He took a deep breath. They’d escaped. They were here, in a foreign city, in search of a banished princess.
For the first time he allowed himself to dwell on the futility of this quest.
A veritable needle in a haystack.
“WHAT’S THE PLAN?” Cirrus sprawled on one of the beds, his ankles neatly crossed and his hands behind his head.
“We need information,” Kalen said. “And I think the best way to do that is to split up.” He glanced at Cirrus. “You’ve been here before. Do you have any sources?”
“Of course I do. Girls tend to run their mouths.” He glanced at Luna. “No offense.”
“Hmph,” Luna said. “I’m assuming you mean you’re going to head to the nearest brothel?” She sighed and continued pulling clothing out of her bag. She clutched her cloak in her arms like it was a security blanket.
Kalen turned to her. “Any chance you can return to the docks and keep an eye out for the Impérial? We need to find out if they’re here asking about us, and if so, what they discover.”
She nodded. “Glad to put my skills to use. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to start off downstairs and see what I can gather from the patrons. Bawdry tales usually are based in truth. Perhaps some of them will involve magicked items or projected emotions.”
Cirrus launched out of the bed. “Sounds horribly boring. I think I definitely got the better end of the stick here.” He tossed them a rakish grin.
“Please be inconspicuous,” Kalen said. “It wouldn’t serve to have anyone talking about us.”
“The girls know how to keep secrets, and any royals who would recognize me wouldn’t be caught anywhere near where I’m headed.” He opened the door. “Don’t wait up for me.”
The door shut, and Luna shook her head. “Doesn’t he need sleep?” Luna herself looked like she was fighting a yawn. Kalen imagined that the nausea had kept her awake most of the previous night.
“Cirrus doesn’t sleep.” He glanced at his bag and debated changing. As much as he preferred his conservative attire, he figured his gloves were enough to set him apart and he should remain in the Antioegen clothing.
“What do you mean he doesn’t sleep?”
Kalen played with the key around his neck. Unsure how many secrets to divulge, he modified his statement. “He doesn’t sleep at night. He’ll catch a nap at some point during the day.”
The truth was Cirrus was terrified of the dark, especially of being in the dark in an enclosed space. He’d been known to sleep in the forest clearing where he could see the moon and stars, but if the prince slept indoors, it was with a vast amount of candles or flickerfly bulbs to keep the shadows at bay.
“Weird.”
Kalen’s stomach rumbled. “I’m going to head down.”
Luna glanced at the basin on the table between the beds. “I’m going to rinse off some of this dirt and change. I’ll see you later.”
“Stay hidden.”
“As if you need to tell me that.”
“I know. Still, it makes me feel better to say it.”
He stepped into the hall and walked downstairs.
The hall was almost filled to capacity when Kalen entered. The innkeeper was behind the bar, filling cups of ale and keeping up a steady stream of conversation with two men seated in front of her. A serving girl slipped through the crowd, mopping up spilled drinks on tabletops and taking orders from anyone who needed a refill.
Kalen claimed the only remaining chair at the bar and waited for the innkeeper to come over.
“Anythin’ to eat or drink?” she asked.
“Whatever your special is tonight. And a hot tea please.”
She turned and yelled into the kitchen for a bowl of cassoulet.
“Name’s Adelaide,” she said as she placed a steaming mug in front of him. He thanked her and took the cup. Her eyes cut to his gloves.
“Frostbite when I was younger,” he said.
A softness appeared in her eyes, and she asked after his childhood. Kalen felt strangely at odds, guilt over the lie but also a sense of freedom that she wasn’t afraid of him and his abilities. Naturally, he couldn’t talk to her of his youth, so he steered the conversation to another topic of more use.
“Are there any upcoming festivals or events that my friends and I should know about?”
“Jus’ the tournament tomorrow evening.”
“What kind of tournament?” Kalen imagined jousting or some other nonsense sport.
“Cards, of course.”
Kalen’s eyes widened. A card tournament, now that sounded more his cup of tea. It would allow them to gather information—Luna and Cirrus from the crowd and Kalen from the players.
“How does one enter?”
“You don’t enter,” the gentleman to his right said with a sneer of his thin lips. “You earn it. That’s why we’re here tonight. Adelaide is hosting a game, and the winner gets entry.”
Kalen looked him up and down, taking in his false-jeweled rings and the fraying hemline of his shirtsleeves. He was someone desperate for a win.
“And how do you join the game on this fair evening?” Kalen asked.
“You jus’ tell me,” Adelaide said as she took a bowl from the serving girl and arranged it in front of him on the counter. “Entry’s open to anyone.”
“Except young boys,” the patron said, his sneer growing as he stared at Kalen.
“He’s not a boy.” Adelaide swatted at him with a damp towel. “Leave ’im alone, Reiland. Anyone with the entry fee can play—you know the rules.”
“When does it start?” Kalen dug his spoon into the thick casserole in front of him. Beans and mutton, mixed with onion and a simple broth.
“As soon as I set up,” Adelaide said. “If you’d like to join, best eat quickly.”
Kalen needed no further encouragement, finishing the bowl and a crusty piece of bread in a few short minutes.
Reiland shook his head. “Starved, are ya?”
Kalen ignored him and slid off his seat to allow the serving girl to clean and rearrange the tables and chairs for the tournament. Kalen sat as far from Reiland as possible. A dealer approached, and Kalen reached into his pocket to dig out the requisite entry fee. He handed over the coins and took inventory of the room. Two tables with nine players each. The dealer explained the rules of the game, nearly identical to the one he played in Mureau. Once each table was down to three players, they would gather at a single table, and play would reset. “And no cheating. That means no magick, either.” The dealer looked at the only two women who had joined in, identical twins with thin faces, long noses, sharp slashes of lips, and straight dark hair.
Play began in earnest, and Kalen relaxed into his chair. He quickly guessed the players who would be out of the running first: a sloppy bettor on his left and a nervous player across the table from him. Kalen purposely lost a round, giving the table a false confidence that the kid wouldn’t be winning anything that evening.
He folded the next two hands, watching as Sloppy and Nerves went all in and lost to a quiet player sitting to the right of the dealer. He wore dark glasses, and his muted green shirt was buttoned to his neck. Kalen had yet to pick up on his tells but watched him closely as the dealer passed cards around the table. The player lifted each card individually, looked at it, and placed it on the table instead of keeping the cards in his hand. His pinky finger curled inward on the fourth and fifth cards, and Kalen watched to see if he would keep or discard them.
Those were the two he kept.
Kalen had been dealt two pairs. He raised the bet and asked for one more card. He didn’t look at it until Pinky Finger looked at his individual three cards. His pinky only curled once, so Kalen figured at best the player was dealing with three of a kind.
With a glance down, Kalen saw that his new card was a three of moons. It didn’t help his hand, but the pairs were royal cards and would beat a three of a kind. With a heavy sigh he pushed more coins into the pot. Two other plays matched the bet, and, with nonchalance, Pinky Finger added his coins as well. The dealer had them turn up their cards, and Kalen won.
“Beginner’s luck,” Kalen said as he clumsily swept the coins to his side of the table.
Less than a dozen hands later and their table had been whittled to three. Kalen, Pinky Finger, and a large-bellied man with luck on his side. They left their chairs to join the other table, where Reiland and the twins waited.
Some of the patrons had left as the night wore down and the losers nursed wounded egos. Kalen fought a yawn and asked for another cup of tea. Reiland sneered at him again from across the table.
The twins sat stoically upright, their opposite hands resting lightly on the table in front of them. Each had auburn hair pulled into a single braid trailing over their mirrored shoulders. Their heads tilted slightly in toward each another, and they sat in complete silence.
Kalen sipped the tea as the cards were dealt. Reiland was a noisy player, sighing and drumming his fingers, but nothing read as consistent enough to be a tell. He was effective at masking them. The twins were impossible to read. They picked up their cards at the same time, discarded at the same time, and even blinked at the same time.
If magick wasn’t at play, Kalen would have licked the bottom of his boot.
Still, he could win.
He had to win.