Page 4

THE SLIPPERY CHANNEL

SERYN

W e arrived in Ceto, the Haadran capital, by nightfall, just as Gavrel had predicted.

My stomach growled as we stepped from the muddy marsh onto a wide, white lynstone bridge.

Our boots, caked in thick mud and broken bits of marsh reeds, slurped against the smooth stone as we neared the city entrance.

Gavrel led us along the winding boardwalks supported by thick, crisscrossing wood piles. Canals gurgled between the paths and under footbridges, brackish water lapping at the algae-ridden tidemarks along the walls. Moonlight kissed the pallid, timeworn buildings.

I sighed, nearly bumping into Gavrel’s back as he abruptly paused outside a spirited establishment, light, raucous laughter spilling out from its open wooden door.

I looked up at a swaying sign, one eyebrow raising as I read the curling letters.

The Slippery Channel. I snorted at its name, smirking when Gavrel glanced at me.

He grunted and, without a word, stepped through the door.

But not before I caught the hint of his dimple winking below the grim line of his mouth and stubble .

The robust comfort of the place barged into my senses. A small fire danced in a hearth at the opposite end, next to a bar lined with people drinking pints. Lively chatter filled the room, bouncing off the walls and well-loved wooden tables.

Scanning the patrons, I couldn’t tell if anyone was a Druik. There were no signs of auras flickering in the sea of alabaster attire.

“What have we here? But it can’t be—Commander Larkin gracing our presence!

” a comely, middle-aged woman called out from behind the bar.

She tossed her rag on the counter and marched toward us, her ivory kirtle stretching around generous curves.

Some patrons whooped or raised their brews in our direction.

Gavrel bowed as she stopped directly in front of us, her wide mouth beaming.

Her smile was infectious, teasing a similar expression from me.

I held out my hand, and the woman bounced forward, cocooning my hand in both of hers.

“And you’ve brought a friend. How divine!

Welcome to my place. The name is Cordelya Brimwell. ”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Seryn.”

As she spoke, the sun-kissed skin around her bright eyes crinkled. She let go of my hands and touched Gavrel’s arm. “What can I do ya for, Commander? Looking for a bed and a pint?” She winked at me, and a small laugh caught in my throat at her audacity.

The corners of Gavrel’s lips lifted politely. “Two rooms and some of your stew, if you have any left.”

She clapped her palms together. “You’re in luck. We have nibbles, we do. This way.” In a flurry, she led us to a table in the corner and smacked her hand on it before flitting away.

We settled in the creaking chairs, the patrons of the tavern gulping down their ale, laughing, and sharing stories, not paying us any further attention.

Cordelya swooped back to us, clinking bowls on the table. My stomach rumbled at the savory aroma of spiced fish and vegetables swimming in a hearty broth. “Now, about the rooms . We only have the one left. Will that do?” One of her pale eyebrows quirked at Gavrel.

“That’s fine. We’ll take it,” Gavrel replied, frowning and handing her coins. “A pleasure as always, Cordelya. ”

She laughed, clunking a chunky metal key on the table between us. “You tell that Rhaegar to come visit me. Cross is what I am that he’s stayed away so long.” She winked at us before making her way to the bar, smiling and touching patrons’ shoulders as she went.

Gavrel huffed a wry laugh and lifted his stew-filled spoon to his mouth, pausing for a moment before sliding the savory meal between his full lips. He chewed slowly, and his thick throat bobbed.

“You’re humming. Good, yes?”

Warmth ran over my cheeks, and I nodded, swallowing. “Ceto’s food rations seem sufficient.”

“The region does better than most as long as the fish-harvesters can bring in a plentiful bounty. But the fish have been dwindling steadily over the turns.”

My belly grumbled at the interruption, and I continued eating slowly, grateful for the hot meal. A festering ire bubbled within me at the thought of people starving elsewhere.

Of citizens disappearing during the Dormancy, possibly trapped in the Stygian Murk. While the Elders—Melina, Lucan, and Ryboas—were safe in Surrelia, we barely survived. They imposed their laws on the mortal realm for their own benefit.

I could sense Gavrel studying me in silence, but I refused to meet his gaze. The broth slid down my throat, warming me. Heat bloomed in my cheeks under his unwavering perusal.

After several moments, I set my utensil in my half-empty bowl, brushing the pad of my thumb over my lips, the taste of the spices still clinging to them. Both satiated and agitated, I sighed and finally met his eyes. “What?”

He ran the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, then grazed it with his top teeth. After setting his bowl aside, he picked up the key. “Your face is practically shouting. Anything you want to share?” One eyebrow lifted.

“Pass,” I mumbled.

“No remarks about needing to share a room?”

Unhurriedly, I pushed to my feet. “Why bother?” I moved past him toward the steps leading to the second level, tossing my words over my shoulder. “I’m sure you won’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Not at all.”

I rolled my eyes and stomped up the stairs, shoulders stiff with irritation. As we came to our room, Gavrel stepped in front of me, the key clanging against the lock. The sound clinked within my ears, and I ground my molars together.

Thoughts banged around my head, and frustration bubbled in my gut. My skin felt tight around my muscles, itching to lash out and find relief from my resurrected memories—from the stifling need to scream into the void until my throat was raw.

From the heartache festering in my chest each time I looked at Gavrel.

Each time I thought of Kaden being missing, and of our time together in Surrelia.

Rubbing the space over my heart, my forehead creased as I studied the modest room with its narrow bed and extra blankets neatly folded at the end.

I removed my muddy boots and put them next to Gavrel’s by the door. The music and chatter from below wafted up through the floorboards.

After removing my belt and dagger, I rummaged through the attached satchel, tucking the etched protection talisman within my palm.

I was fairly certain Mama had the rune stone implanted in my nape at an early age. I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t have the star-shaped scar on the back of my neck.

If her ember was as mighty as my memories alluded, she must have feared the Elders would harm me, assuming I had an equally powerful gift. And she wasn’t wrong. My skin vibrated, and I clamped my eyes shut, disgust lining my tongue.

My mother must have been terrified that Melina would think I was the next Scion. The rest of my face crumpled, and my heart stuttered. The rune had likely been the only way Mama had known to protect me—or at least, that was what she’d believed .

With a sigh, I opened my eyes and set my belongings on the lone dresser in the corner.

I moved to the window overlooking the canal.

A few people strolled along the boardwalks without a care in the world.

With the talisman tightly gripped in my hand, the tiny prickle of the rune’s energy comforted me.

When I sat on the bed, it squeaked under my weight, but it was clean and comfy. After tucking the stone into my pocket, I curled on my side and closed my eyes as Gavrel used the extra blankets to make a makeshift bed on the floor at the foot of the bed.

His clothes rustled as he blew out the candle, his large frame shifting as he lay down. He was a protective blockade between me and the door.

Through the muffled sounds of the tavern below, I could hear Gavrel breathing. His deep and even rhythm lulled me to sleep, sinking into the chaotic shadows of my mind.

I woke with a start, sweaty strands of hair clinging to my neck. A broken, garbled cry fell from my lips. My ember pounded under the skin of my nape.

Gavrel was beside me in an instant, his weight dipping onto the mattress. “You’re safe. Breathe.” His hand found mine and rested on top of it, anchoring me to reality.

My fingers curled into the sheets as I breathed in and out, pushing away the smoky images of Kaden screaming, his muscles tense and writhing within a murky abyss.

As my eyes adjusted to the dimness, slices of moonlight trickled in from the window, painting the ceiling in a delicate glow. Gavrel’s warmth seeped into my skin as my pulse steadied.

I pulled my hand away from his and then turned away from him and lay back down. When he rose, my heart skipped a beat. A raspy plea flew from me. “Stay. ”

He stilled; the silence blanketed with our breaths and the babbling waterway outside.

But then the bed dipped once more as he settled behind me and fit the broad expanse of his back against mine. I melted into the comforting, solid feel of him. My ember calmed, now a faint flutter.

After a few minutes, his gentle but firm words broke the silence. “Tell me.”

He held his breath. I wrapped my arms across my chest. “Kaden. Somewhere dark. He … he was screaming in p-pain.” I stumbled over the last word, choking on it.

No other mortal had dreamed in a long while. The dreams had decayed, withering away into nothing like Midst Fall. But that didn’t stop nightmares from seeping into the shadowed corners of our slumber.

As of late, Gavrel and I had been blessed with premonitions that riddled our sleep under each full moon. Although tonight, both the moon and my patience were waning.

Why were the Fates toying with me? With Gavrel? Why force these cryptic messages upon us?

My eyes squeezed tightly as Kaden’s anguished face flashed behind my lids. We needed to find him. But what if we failed? I whimpered, brushing the wetness from my cheek.

Gavrel turned, his muscled frame nearly pushing me off the narrow bed as it creaked in protest. One massive arm slipped under the crook of my neck. His other arm wrapped around my middle, tucking me safely into his chest.

And I let him hold me, snuggling into the warmth of his embrace. Ignoring memories of his arms around me like this from the past. Allowing myself to be soothed by his nearness as my whirling anxieties crumbled once more into a blessedly dreamless sleep.