Varian leaned against the threshold of another tower balcony within jumping range—and I wondered if he was debating if he could clear the distance fast enough to push her off.
A cat playing with a dog—that’s what it was. Amren was practically washing herself, silently daring him to get close enough to sniff. I doubted Varian would like her claws.
Unless that was why he hounded her day and night.
I shook my head, continuing up the steps—watching as the tide swept out.
The sunset-stained sky caught on the water and tidal muck. A little night breeze whispered past, and I leaned into it, letting it cool the sweat on me. There had once been a time when I’d dreaded the end of summer, had prayed it would hold out for as long as possible. Now the thought of endless warmth and sun made me … bored. Restless.
I was about to turn back to the stairs when I beheld the bit of land that had been revealed near the tidal causeway. The small building.
No wonder I hadn’t seen it, as I’d never been up this high in the day when the tide was out … And during the rest of the day, from the muck and seaweed now gleaming on it, it would have been utterly covered.
Even now, it was half submerged. But I couldn’t tear my eyes from it.
Like it was a little piece of home, wet and miserable-looking as it was, and I need only hurry along the muddy causeway between the quieter part of the city and the mainland—fast, fast, fast, so I might catch it before it vanished beneath the waves again.
But the site was too visible, and from the distance, I couldn’t definitively tell if it was the Book contained within.
We’d have to be absolutely certain before we went in—to warrant the risks in searching. Absolutely certain.
I wished I didn’t, but I realized I already had a plan for that, too.
We dined with Tarquin, Cresseida, and Varian in their family dining room—a sure sign that the High Lord did indeed want that alliance, ambition or no.
Varian was studying Amren as if he was trying to solve a riddle she’d posed to him, and she paid him no heed whatsoever as she debated with Cresseida about the various translations of some ancient text. I’d been leading up to my question, telling Tarquin of the things I’d seen in his city that day—the fresh fish I’d bought for myself on the docks.
“You ate it right there,” Tarquin said, lifting his brows.
Rhys had propped his head on a fist as I said, “They fried it with the other fishermen’s lunches. Didn’t charge me extra for it.”
Tarquin let out an impressed laugh. “I can’t say I’ve ever done that—sailor or no.”
“You should,” I said, meaning every word. “It was delicious.”
I’d worn the necklace he’d given me, and Nuala and I planned my clothes around it. We’d decided on gray—a soft, dove shade—to show off the glittering black. I had worn nothing else—no earrings, no bracelets, no rings. Tarquin had seemed pleased by it, even though Varian had choked when he beheld me in an heirloom of his household. Cresseida, surprisingly, had told me it suited me and it didn’t fit in here, anyway. A backhanded compliment—but praise enough.
“Well, maybe I’ll go tomorrow. If you’ll join me.”
I grinned at Tarquin—aware of every one I offered him, now that Rhys had mentioned it. Beyond his giving me brief, nightly updates on their lack of progress with discovering anything about the Book, we hadn’t really spoken since that evening I’d filled his glass—though it had been because of our own full days, not awkwardness.
“I’d like that,” I said. “Perhaps we could go for a walk in the morning down the causeway when the tide is out. There’s that little building along the way—it looks fascinating.”
Cresseida stopped speaking, but I went on, sipping from my wine. “I figure since I’ve seen most of the city now, I could see it on my way to visit some of the mainland, too.”
Tarquin’s glance at Cresseida was all the confirmation I needed.
That stone building indeed guarded what we sought.
“It’s a temple ruin,” Tarquin said blandly—the lie smooth as silk. “Just mud and seaweed at this point. We’ve been meaning to repair it for years.”
“Maybe we’ll take the bridge then. I’ve had enough of mud for a while.”
Remember that I saved you, that I fought the Middengard Wyrm—forget the threat …
Tarquin’s eyes held mine—for a moment too long.
In the span of a blink, I hurled my silent, hidden power toward him, a spear aimed toward his mind, those wary eyes.
There was a shield in place—a shield of sea glass and coral and the undulating sea.
I became that sea, became the whisper of waves against stone, the glimmer of sunlight on a gull’s white wings. I became him—became that mental shield.
And then I was through it, a clear, dark tether showing me the way back should I need it. I let instinct, no doubt granted from Rhys, guide me forward. To what I needed to see.
Tarquin’s thoughts hit me like pebbles. Why does she ask about the temple? Of all the things to bring up … Around me, they continued eating. I continued eating. I willed my own face, in a different body, a different world, to smile pleasantly.
Why did they want to come here so badly?Why ask about my trove?
Like lapping waves, I sent my thoughts washing over his.
She is harmless. She is kind, and sad, and broken. You saw her with your people—you saw how she treated them. How she treats you. Amarantha did not break that kindness.
I poured my thoughts into him, tinting them with brine and the cries of terns—wrapping them in the essence that was Tarquin, the essence he’d given to me.
Take her to the mainland tomorrow. That’ll keep her from asking about the temple. She saved Prythian. She is your friend.
