Page 41 of Dark Bringer (Lord of Everfell #1)
Kal
S he dug her fingers into familiar crevices, scrambling up the brick wall surrounding the Lenormand School. She’d made this trip a dozen times now, but the thrill of outwitting witches never got old.
Kal paused at the top to survey the manicured grounds. Moonlight silvered the grass and cast long shadows between the red-brick buildings. For a place that had once been a notorious reformatory, it looked peaceful. No guards patrolled the pathways. Why bother when magic detected any intruder?
The glowing blue wards set at intervals held steady, not even flickering as she dropped down to the street. As always, the kaldurite in her pocket made her invisible.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, but the sky above was clear and strewn with stars. With luck, the rain would hold off until she got back. Just a few more runs and she’d have enough money saved to leave for good.
Her main problem was getting a new identity card so she could cross the border into Bactra. Sardis had a busy port. From there she could buy passage on a vessel bound for anywhere.
Years ago, her brother Bastian had given her an old geography primer he’d won in a spelling bee.
Kal didn’t care much for school, but she and Durian would spend hours poring over the imports and exports of each province, plotting out their fortune.
Hardwood timber from Bactra. Salt cod and freshwater pearls from Sundland.
Fine porcelain and rare books from Kirith.
Henna, frankincense, and silk damask from Iskatar.
Once their reputation was established, they would focus on luxury goods: textiles and ink, incense, oils and attars, spices like cinnamon, cassia, cardamom, ginger, pepper, nutmeg, and vanilla.
Lying in her bed at night, she’d dreamt of riding camels through the desert, trekking the snowy tundra south of Isai Minye, and watching the footraces in Lagash on festival days, which came every new moon.
They would visit the Gulkishar, which meant Great Hall in Iskari, and drink sweet black tea with the palatine, who was the western equivalent of a consul.
Childish fantasies, yet she had believed they would come true. It was Durian’s brash confidence, she realized that now. Without him, she wouldn’t have imagined a life beyond the boundaries of Pota Pras.
Kal dragged herself back to the present, head down and hugging the shadows with the skill of someone who’d spent a lifetime avoiding notice. The white coats of the Foxes were easy to spot. Still, she didn’t relax until she reached her destination.
Falin’s Fine Spirits sat wedged between a bakery and a glove-maker.
The shopkeeper, a balding man with spectacles perched on the end of his nose, gave Kal a nod of greeting.
She grabbed a basket and began her usual circuit of the store, filling orders from her list. Seven minis of starka.
Two of sweet red Gamay wine for the group who liked to drink on the roof.
In the imported section, she scanned the shelves, hunting for anise-flavored arak from Iskatar.
She was vaguely aware of another customer but didn’t pay much attention until she noticed the expensive cashmere coat. It was her savior from a week ago. He stood at the end of the aisle, studying bottles of zelas wine.
Kal shrank back, wondering if she could pay and vanish into the night before he noticed her. Yet something made her hesitate. Curiosity—or just the chance to talk to somebody who wasn’t dead.
“Bitch, I heard that,” Durian said.
Before she could flee, he looked over. Recognition flashed across his face—which she had to admit was very attractive.
She’d always been fond of men with light eyes.
This one was pretty, but not too pretty.
His nose looked like it had been broken once or twice and his hair was in need of combing.
Though it was odd, she recalled his eyes as being a darker blue the last time they met.
“It’s you,” he said with a warm smile.
She raised a hand in greeting. “Hey.”
He turned back to the shelf. “I was about to buy a bottle of zelas without having the faintest idea if it’s any good. Maybe you could save me?”
“I don’t know good zelas from bad,” she admitted. “But I’m told the greener, the better.”
“Ah, a vital piece of advice.” He selected a bottle with liquid the color of spring grass. “This should suffice.” He studied her heavy basket. “Throwing a party?”
“It’s my birthday,” she improvised. “And you? Special occasion?”
A shadow crossed his face before his smile returned. “Just a quiet evening.” He hesitated. “I don’t suppose you’d care to join me?”
She arched a brow. “You asked me that once already.”
“And you turned me down.” His grin turned rueful. “I have not forgotten.”
“Well, I don’t drink with strangers.”
He walked up and held out a hand. “My name is Levi. Now we’re not strangers anymore.”
With no choice, Kal clasped his hand. It was strong and dry and very warm. He did have beautiful eyes, like a cool mountain lake.
“In a public place, of course.” Levi gestured to the park down the street. “The benches there are quite nice.”
Kal laughed. “Nice benches, eh?”
Oddly, he didn’t laugh back. “You’re making fun, but I can assure you that those are the finest benches in Arjevica.”
“One drink,” she said after a moment.
They paid for their purchases separately. She’d bought a backpack to carry her inventory when the list had outgrown her pockets. Outside, the night air had cooled. They walked together to the park fronting the ballet, its ornate columns gleaming white in the moonlight.
Levi opened the zelas and took a sip.
“Well?” Kal asked, watching his face.
“It’s . . . truly terrible.” He coughed and offered her the bottle.
Kal took a cautious sip. The wine was sharp and acidic, with a strange herbal aftertaste that lingered unpleasantly. She grimaced. “ That’s distinctive.”
Levi laughed. “You should be a politician.” He took the bottle back, their fingers brushing briefly. Again, she felt a pleasant tingle. They sat in silence for a moment, passing the awful zelas back and forth.
“You have me at a disadvantage,” Levi said. “You know my name but I don’t know yours.”
“Oh! Right. Kyra Navarra.”
She thought he would comment on her accent, ask where she was from, but he just took a swig from the bottle and tipped his head back to look at the stars.
“The world is a strange place, isn’t it, Kyra?”
She studied his profile. The bold nose and sharply defined lips. A lock of dark hair tumbled across his brow.
“How do you mean?”
“Well, the way our paths keep crossing.”
“Do you live in this neighborhood?”
“Now I do, but I come from another place. It’s on the shore of the Southern Ocean.”
Her interest piqued. The Southern Ocean was at the farthest border of the empire and she often wondered what might lie on the other side. “I’ve never seen it,” she admitted. “But I’ve always wanted to.”
“It’s different from the Parnassian Sea. Wilder and bigger. After a storm, you might see waves as high as that roof.” He nodded at the grand limestone building housing the ballet. “Everything depends on the winds and the currents. The tides, too, of course.”
“Do you sail?” she asked eagerly.
“We have a dinghy. I’ve taken it out along the shore.” He grinned. “It’s hard to capsize, but I’ve managed it a few times.”
“You’re lucky,” she said wistfully.
“That I was tossed into the ocean?” he asked with a note of puzzlement.
Kal snorted. “No, that you learned how to sail. I’ve always wanted to.” She remembered her ship tattoo and decided to stop yammering.“Where’s your hometown?”
“Niss. A bit outside, actually. It’s all I knew until a couple of years ago. I guess you could say I had a sheltered upbringing.”
“Do you have a big family?”
He nodded. “Lots of brothers.”
“Me too.”
He glanced over. “If you don’t like the Lenormand School, where would you rather be?”
Kal sighed. “I’m working on that.”
Levi watched two women walk through the park, arm in arm. “Not that it’s my business, but if you keep sneaking out, they’ll catch you eventually.”
“It’s not your business,” she retorted, “and I know that. It’s still worth it.”
He offered her the zelas. Kal shook her head. She was angry, but not at him.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I say the wrong thing sometimes. You must forgive me. But don’t you have anyone to help you?”
Kal was mortified at the sudden hot lump in her throat. “I do have a friend,” she managed. “But he . . . well, he moved. To another province. I miss him.”
Levi was silent for a minute. “I could be your friend, Kyra.”
She exhaled a shaky breath. “That’s sweet of you. But I’m sure you have better things to do with your time.”
His unsettling blue eyes fixed on her. “I really don’t.”
Kal struggled to think of an offhand response. Something to deflect him. But he looked serious, like he actually cared about her even though they hardly knew each other. It made no sense, and yet she felt safe in his presence. More than she had in weeks.
She remembered kissing his cheek, and wondered what it would be like to kiss him properly.
Levi seemed to read her thoughts. His gaze softened, but he didn’t lean closer.
Just watched her, waiting to see what she would do next.
Kal Machena never kissed strange men, but Kyra Navarra was considering it when a raindrop struck her cheek, followed quickly by another.
The stars were vanishing behind a line of dark clouds.
“The storm’s caught us,” she said.
“So it has.” He corked the bottle, and the moment broke. “I guess this concludes our impromptu party.”
“I guess it does.” Kal was suddenly aware of how late it had grown. “I should get back.”
“Same time next week?”
She smiled regretfully. “To be honest, I doubt it.”
His face clouded. “I’ll be here. Come if you can, but I don’t want to cause you more trouble.” Before she could answer, he caught her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. “Happy birthday, Kyra.”
Her pulse fluttered as they said goodbye in the rain, then walked in opposite directions. Kal looked back once to see Levi’s black coat disappearing around the corner.