Page 13

Brynla

“Lemi!” I cry out, looking wildly around the ship for my dog.

“Ah shit,” Andor says, nodding at the pier. “He’s taking himself on a walk.”

I look to see Lemi walking along the wooden wharf, people parting in fear as he saunters past, sniffing the air.

So much for keeping a giant magic dog unnoticed.

“Lemi, get back here right now!” I cup my hands around my mouth and yell at him.

His ears prick up and in an instant he disappears, reappearing beside Andor on the deck with a sheepish look on his face.

“Well, I was hoping we would arrive in Menheimr without too much fanfare,” Andor comments with a sigh, giving Lemi a quick pat. “I have a feeling Lemi will be the talk of the town for several moons.”

I almost find myself apologizing before I swallow it down and stop myself. Why should I apologize? Andor’s the one who kidnapped the both of us. If I didn’t feel it would risk Lemi’s safety, I’d encourage him to shift all over the city and terrorize the citizens.

But I have to play nice. I’m in strange new territory. As pretty as it is, and as normal as the people seem so far, I can’t let my guard down, not even for a second. Especially not when Lemi has become the center of attention.

“All right, let’s go.” Andor grabs me by the elbow and I immediately try to shrug out of his grasp, but his grip is strong and he tsk s me under his breath, like I’m some ornery horse.

He takes me down the deck and Kirney hands him a metal box, which Andor tucks under his arm.

I assume the box contains the suen he must have pilfered from the dragon eggs. The suen that should be mine .

Then he leads me down the gangplank and off the ship, Lemi thankfully staying close to us, with everyone else keeping a safe distance as we pass.

Still, even though the city folk eye me and Lemi with a mix of fear and disdain, they all smile warmly at Andor, many of them greeting him as “Lieutenant Kolbeck” or “Handlangere,” a word I don’t recognize.

He nods politely at everyone as he goes, occasionally greeting someone by name.

Turns out my kidnapper is well respected in town. I suppose this shouldn’t be a big surprise since those who come from the syndikat houses have a lot of power.

And yet they don’t seem to fear Andor. They seem to admire him.

I see it in the men who tip their hats at him and in the eyes of the women as they pass by in their wide, fancy skirts and lace-trimmed necklines.

It’s only then that I realize what I must look like in comparison.

I had taken a bath on the ship, but I’m still in my dirty armor and my hair is pulled back in a messy, tangled bun.

Compared to these women with their dark hair in ornate updos and perfumed skin and traces of rouge on their lips and cheeks, I must look like a street rat.

I’ve gotten used to the Dark City, where everyone is living on crumbs and just scraping by.

I’ve never felt so out of place before. It makes me feel off-balance, as if I’m floating through the world, and not really here.

Andor seems to notice this because he leans in slightly and murmurs, “You’re doing great.”

That makes things worse. It’s like he’s feeling sorry for me.

“Great for what? For someone being forced against her will?” I say to him.

“Yes,” he says, and his grip on my elbow relaxes slightly.

“Do you normally kidnap women?”

“Only if they deserve it.”

Then he grins and takes me down a cobblestone street where a carriage awaits, emblazoned with the words House Kolbeck on the side.

It’s made of sleek dark wood, and four large black-and-white horses are at the front, snorting impatiently.

The sharply dressed driver sitting on the coach seat above gives us both a nod and then hops down to the ground.

“I can’t remember the last time I’ve been in a carriage,” I say as we approach, though I meant to keep that thought in my head.

“Is that so?” Andor asks. “That’s probably a good thing; this coach has seen better days.”

The driver opens the door for us. “Good to see you back, Lord Kolbeck,” he says, his gray bushy mustache moving as he speaks. “Ah, and you have a guest.”

“Nice to be back on land, Gudwale. This is Ms. Aihr,” he tells the driver. “And her hound, Lemi. Hopefully there isn’t too much mud on the roads.”

“It’s drying in some places,” Gudwale says as we step into the carriage. “Had a storm pass through the day before last, left some lightning hail, which your brother made quick work of.”

I take a seat facing the forward direction, once again looking out of place with my dirty leathers against the plush green velvet seats.

Lemi stands by Gudwale on the street, looking as suspicious as a dog can look, but once I pat the seat next to me he comes bounding inside, the carriage rocking on its wheels from his weight.

Gudwale wiggles his mustache as he watches Lemi sit beside me on the seat.

For a moment I think he’s going to yell at me about having a dog on the upholstery, but he doesn’t.

“He’s a fine hound, my lady,” Gudwale says with a quick, kind smile before he shuts the carriage door.

Andor takes a seat across from me and the carriage starts to pull away.

“What about Toombs and the men from the ship?” I ask, craning my head out the window to watch the harbor disappear behind the buildings.

“They live in the city,” Andor says.

“Even Kirney? He seemed like your right-hand man.”

He nods. “Even Kirney. Stormglen is heavily guarded and not everyone is welcome, even my best man and the captain of my ship.”

“And yet I am?” I ask, pursing my lips as I glance at him.

He holds my gaze for a moment, then flashes me a smile. “Let’s hope.”

I frown at him, wondering what that means, until the carriage wheels bump over a large cobblestone and I’m jostled in my seat.

I turn my attention out the window, watching as the city of Menheimr rolls past. It feels like noon, at least from the way my stomach is growling, but all the shops are full of patrons, the streets bustling with carriages and pedestrians.

Rows of pastel-green doves line the eaves above the streets, their feathers iridescent in the sharp sunlight.

Every now and then between the shops and residences I spot a secluded courtyard surrounded by lush foliage, or a neat square with a flowing fountain at the center, populated with people lounging on green-speckled stone benches.

Back in Lerick everything shuts down midday.

People hide inside from the heat of the relentless sun.

The fact that there are fountains here with water flowing freely— wastefully —makes my head spin.

Andor makes an amused sound and I glance at him, my eyes narrowed automatically. He’s watching me with large pupils, a smile tugging his lips.

“What?” I snap.

“Nothing,” he says after a moment, then turns his attention back out the window.

I do the same, though I can tell he’s staring at me again. I probably should act a little more blasé about everything. I feel my shell harden.

Still, the fresh scent of water, umberwoods, and blooming flowers that flows in through the carriage windows makes me breathe in deeply, and I feel as if something inside me is growing, invisible shoots sprouting from within. I’m not sure how I feel about it.

We leave the town, the buildings becoming farther apart, turning into red-timbered houses with grass growing on the roofs and large plots of fertile fields dotted with fuzzy, long-horned cows the size of horses and plump white sheep sprinkled here and there like dollops of cream.

Beyond the fields thick with grazing animals, past the fruitful orchards with rows of gnarled trees bending toward one another like bowing men, and the rows of gilded wheat that wave delicately in the breeze are forest-covered slopes that reach up and up, interspersed by the occasional waterfall.

I’ve never seen a waterfall before, though I’ve heard of them, and to see the water flowing so freely, so powerfully, stirs up something deep inside me.

I don’t want to be here. And yet…

I stare out the window in wonder, deciding it’s not worth the effort to keep pretending that none of this is impressing me.

The road becomes rougher with muddy patches as the wheels churn in the ruts, and then I remember the last time I was in a carriage.

It was the only time I was in a carriage.

Moments after my mother sailed off for the Midlands.

I was ripped away from my aunt, Ellestra, by the Black Guard.

I remember the large metal gauntlets digging painfully into my shoulders, the way my aunt screamed as she tried to hang on to me.

I was dragged to a waiting carriage and they threw me inside, locking the door.

I couldn’t escape and through the windows I saw the ship that had my mother disappearing into the night, heading toward her fate, her doom.

I watched as the carriage pulled away from the only place I’d ever known and along a dark road into a long night that would culminate with my arrival at the convent.

The place where I ceased to have a name.

Where I ceased to have a voice.

Where I swore I would have my vengeance.

And yet I thought I had my vengeance. I thought that stealing the precious eggs they revere so much and working for House Dalgaard was somehow sticking a dagger into the sides of the Soffers. But it hasn’t been more than a pinprick. I’ve barely made a dent.

“Worried about meeting the rest of the Kolbecks?” Andor asks me.

I blink and bring my gaze to his. For a moment I had forgotten where I was. Who knows what expression took over my face, what truth he tried to glean?

“I’m worried about my aunt,” I hedge. It’s not a lie—but I’m not about to tell him some sad memory from my past.

He nods and pulls out a necklace that was hiding beneath his shirt, its pendant grasped in his hand as he twirls it over and over again.

It’s a tooth.