The Dragon (Creasan #2)

The dragon spent most of his time between the gardens of the palace and the Leitham Sea beside the docks, listening for news of the Young Wyvern and her crew. From what he had gathered, their arrival was imminent - their arrival in the land his brother had decided to call home.

The dragon barely refrained from rolling his eyes when he saw Destrian approaching him. The human advisor was constantly bothering the dragon with news from various lands, lands which the dragon had no interest in. Made even more annoying by the dragon’s inability to respond or dismiss the advisor.

But today there seemed to be an added urgency to Destrian’s steps. “Good morning, Holy Beast,” he greeted.

The dragon simply stared back and waited for Destrian to say what it was he had come to say.

Which he did. “I have just received word that we are to expect a visitor.”

If the dragon had had eyebrows, they would have furrowed at that. A visitor? For a split second, the dragon thought his brother had found him after all. That he’d been bested before the fight had even begun.

But Destrian said, “His name is Varug Blarekson, sire. Leader of the ogres from Gentis District. I am assured he has come alone.”

The dragon turned away from Destrian, his non-verbal sign of rejection. He would not meet with an ogre. If it was truly concerning, then Destrian could handle it. But the dragon had larger concerns -

“He wishes to speak with Thea Wyvern.”

The dragon paused at that and turned back to Destrian. How did an ogre know the Young Wyvern? And what matters could they possibly have to discuss?

Destrian continued, “He will most certainly come through the trees.” He gestured to the tree-line at the edge of the gardens. And then the advisor studied the dragon, waiting for any sign of an order.

Despite his compulsively maintained focus on the Young Wyvern’s crew, the dragon had to admit he was intrigued. He nodded, his indication to Destrian that he would see the ogre.

Destrian’s shoulders lowered in relief. The dragon imagined the idea of turning an ogre away must have been truly terrifying to the small human. Clasping his perpetually trembling hands in front of him, Destrian angled his body toward the tree-line.

The dragon followed suit, waiting for the appearance of this presumptuous creature.

They didn’t wait long before the ogre stomped his way into view. Varug Blarekson looked exactly as the dragon expected, if not a little fatter and a lot uglier. Though the ogre’s size didn’t even approach that of the dragon’s, if the large beast laid his head on the ground, he could bring himself eye-to-eye with the ogre.

Which is how the dragon was able to see Varug’s eyes widen in shock a moment before he dropped to his knee and lowered his head in supplication. “Holy Aestus, forgive me,” he said in his inhumanly deep voice, “I did not mean to disturb you.”

“Rise,” Destrian said for the dragon. “Though you cannot understand the Holy Beast, you may say what you have come to say. He will listen.”

Varug struggled up to his feet again. “Thank you, Holy Aestus. Though what I have come to say I had hoped to say to Thea Wyvern.”

The dragon just stared back at him. Waiting.

Varug took a moment to reword the thoughts in his head before he raised his chin and spoke. “As I am sure you know, Holy Beast, the whole of Creasan was in a horrible state under the leadership of King Favian. Thea came looking for you in order to save us all from his tyrannical reign, and along that journey, she stopped in Gentis, where she asked for my help. I had denied it then, but I have come to offer it now.”

The dragon cocked his head to the side.

Varug licked his lips nervously but plunged on. “I was certain she would not be able to find you, but I told her that if she should return—victorious or not—she would have my support. I do not give my word lightly, and so I have come to uphold my vow.”

The dragon glanced at Destrian and he nodded, somehow knowing what the dragon was thinking. “Creasan is safe now,” the old man proclaimed. “The Wyvern girl brought Aestus to us and he has slain King Favian.”

“Yes, I know that, but I would—“

“There is no need for you to uphold your word as it no longer applies.”

The dragon humphed in agreement.

Varug glanced between Destrian and the dragon. “You misunderstand. I told Thea I would support her leadership. Gentis District has pledged to support her as King of Creasan.”

Destrian’s eyes widened. He looked up sharply at the dragon, but the large beast just narrowed his eyes at the ogre. Destrian cleared his throat awkwardly. “Like I said, Aestus is here. We do not need a king under his—“

“He will not remain here forever,” Varug cut in. “We would do nothing to offend Holy Aestus while he is here, but once he is gone, Gentis would like to see Thea on the throne.”

“Thea has left as part of a trial,” Destrian explained. “Only if she manages to win will she—“

“She will be King of Creasan,” Varug interrupted yet again. “Now I have said what I came to say. Thank you for listening, Holy Aestus.” He nodded once appreciatively before turning back to the trees and disappearing.

The trembling in Destrian’s hands seemed to intensify as he turned to look at the dragon. He didn’t bother asking what he should do; he knew there would be no audible response.

Just the slightest amount of steam started to billow out of the dragon’s nostrils. Not enough to be concerning, but enough to convey his annoyance. He did not particularly care who sat on the throne—though he had a clear preference for the Young Wyvern—but he did not like being dictated to. The dragon also lived by his word and he had promised that the vanquisher of his brother would be the one crowned.

Though he did not see the ogres as a threat just yet, he could hear the promised danger in Varug’s voice. The dragon was not concerned…but he was not at ease, either.

Ana watched with bated breath as the sun rose over the city of Tamilem. She had never been outside the walls of Creasan before, let alone ventured through the Leitham Sea to the until-now only mythical country of Qamizeh. But there it stood, the tall mortar and brick buildings creating the most beautiful skyline she’d ever seen.

Each structure was curved into the shape of a circle with a dome as its roof. The larger buildings had one enormous central dome that was surrounded by several smaller half-domes and flying buttresses. The further the eye tracked out of the central skyline, the less grand the buildings became. Closer to the dock rested vibrantly colored tents. Yet no matter where she looked, Ana noted the lack of intricate exterior designs. The buildings did not boast statues or columns; their grandeur was in their massive size and unique circular shape.

Even as the ocean breeze continued to wash over them, Ana felt heat settle on her skin, a heat never found in Creasan. A heat that seemed to have weight to it, that made Ana’s gown feel suffocating. Sweat broke out on her brow, but she was so transfixed with the city that she didn’t really care.

Merek, Thea, and Brom threw ropes to men standing on the pier and they tied the ship into place. They were officially docked in Tamilem.

Thea wiped the sweat off her forehead and rolled up her sleeves, glancing around in confusion. “Where’s Janshai?”

Merek responded, “Belowdeck with Isolde.”

She nodded and gazed out at the city. The morning hours seemed to be peaceful in Tamilem. There was the faint sound of horses whinnying and maybe a few pigs snorting, but people’s chatter was only a soft hum.

Thea said, “We’ll let the others sleep a bit longer before we move out.”

“I know I don’t need to say this,” Merek started, putting his fists on his hips and looking out into the city, “but I don’t see a single dragon.”

All four of them turned to the city. No, he hadn’t needed to say it, but it was true. Malum was meant to be as large as his brother. There weren’t very many places a creature like that could hide. If they couldn’t see him, then where was he?

Merek shrugged and headed toward the bow of the ship while Brom moved toward the wheel. Thea had turned also, but Ana approached her before she had a chance to go anywhere. “Might I speak with you?” she asked.

Thea frowned at Ana’s formal tone but nodded.

“I have noticed—That is, I have grown concerned—“

“Come on, out with it, Majesty.”

Ana licked her lips and blurted, “Have you switched sides?”

She furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”

“You and my brother-in-law have seemed to…come to an agreement, as it were. You seem less…fiery than when we initially struck our bargain.”

Thea laughed humorlessly and crossed her arms over her chest. “You mean since my mother was killed in front of me, I’ve got less spunk?”

“I simply mean to make sure the plan hasn’t changed.”

“I really don’t know why you’re so concerned, as you said.” She shook her head. “I understand hating the Lances—perhaps more than anyone else—but whether it is I or Fendrel on the throne, you’ll be protected. He wouldn’t dare—“

“Wouldn’t he?” Ana glanced awkwardly in the men’s direction, making sure they still weren’t listening, before she stepped closer to Thea and lowered her voice. “The Lance men are greedy, wrathful, and envious. They always have been. And the last thing men like that want around them is someone who questions their greed, wrath, and envy. I am sure Favian would have had me killed if he could’ve done so without raising suspicion.” Ana looked Thea straight in the eye. “Fendrel has loyalty in the palace. You saw it yourself the first time you were there. If he should want me dead, there is no doubt I will be killed.”

Thea studied the queen carefully. Where before there had been regal confidence, there was only terror. It made Thea feel great sympathy for whatever horrors the woman before her had endured. Gently, Thea rested her hand over Ana’s fidgeting ones. “That will not happen,” she vowed. “No matter who wields the sword, I will be at the palace. I will not let any harm come to you.”

Ana blinked before taking a step back. “No matter who wields it?” She coughed a laugh. “I was right. You have switched sides.”

“No, Majesty, I just—”

“Traitors.” Ana backed up further, shaking her head. “The whole lot of you. Traitors.”

“Ana, don’t—“

But the queen spun on her heel and rushed below deck.

Isolde stared at herself in the mirror. At her green serpent eyes. At the fangs that exposed themselves as soon as she opened her mouth. She shook her head and backed away from the mirror. “I should stay onboard,” she told Janshai, who was sitting on the bed behind her.

“You’re going to hide?”

She turned to him with a sigh. “You’ll all be safer this way. I’d only draw attention to us.”

Janshai stood quickly and approached her. “I can’t do this without you.”

“Yes, you—“

“Please, Izzy.” He took her hands and squeezed. Though Isolde could tell it was a struggle for him to meet her eyes, he did it, and he didn’t look away.

She studied him. Isolde wasn’t sure when was the last time Janshai had shaved, but it was long enough for his stubble to have become an actual beard, short though it was. Just their few days out of the cave had painted over the Creasan paleness of his skin with a healthy tan. He was starting to look less like the Creasan Janshai and more like the Qamisian Sepi. Isolde wondered how he must feel to finally be back but too frightened to step onto his homeland alone.

She felt her shoulders lower with defeat even as she tried once more, “But my eyes, Janshai.”

“Leave that to me.” His eyes sparkled with hope. He knew she had agreed even before she’d said the words. But when she nodded her acquiescence, he smiled in relief. “Thank you!” He yanked her into a hug.

Isolde melted into it. She didn’t think they’d done it on purpose, but everyone had kept their distance from her since her transformation. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d needed a hug until then.

While she relished the moment, she couldn’t help the gnawing feeling inside of her that it would be the last one they’d have in awhile.

One by one, Thea’s crew found their way onto the deck. All except Ana, Thea noticed. She felt a pang of guilt, but there wasn’t time for it. If Malum was in Qamizeh, then they had to find him quickly.

There had been a distant excitement when Thea had gone in search of Aestus. She hadn’t been sure she’d find him but discovering him was meant to be the answer to her problems. This felt different. Malum was a harbinger of destruction, of death, of evil itself. The idea of purposefully seeking him out twisted Thea’s stomach with dread. If Aestus hadn’t managed to vanquish Malum, how was Thea Wyvern meant to?

Thea’s thoughts ground to a halt when Fendrel stepped beside her. A different tension tightened her muscles, one unrelated to the mission. She hadn’t really spoken to him since that night in the Captain’s Quarters—which was by design.

After what she had admitted to, after what he had said, after the foreign feeling that had swirled through Thea in response, she had no idea how she was meant to behave around the prince. This was different than when he had stayed with her after her mother had died. That, Thea could reason with herself, was simple human decency. An action anyone would have done.

But last night? That was…

“We’re going to need different clothes,” Fendrel said, yet again cutting off Thea’s thoughts.

She looked out over the people milling around the docks and realized he was right. Their clothes were lighter, longer, more colorful. If their Creasan features didn’t make them stand out, then their clothes would.

Her eyes locked on a merchant stall up ahead, where she could see fabric flowing in the wind. She pointed to it. “There.”

Suddenly, Thea heard Janshai say, “I can go.”

She turned to find him and Isolde standing behind her. Thea cocked her head to the side. “You want to pick out clothes?”

“Isolde will need something…specific. For her eyes,” he explained, and Isolde ducked her head in embarrassment. “I thought I would handle that.”

“Of course.” Thea offered a friendly smile to Isolde who returned it, though she didn’t lift her head.

Fendrel said, “Then Janshai and I will go—“

“No,” Thea cut him off. “I will go with Janshai.”

He began tiredly, “Thea—“

“You stay with the ship. Keep it—and us—safe. No doubt, some of the locals will be curious about our appearance and the flag we fly.”

Fendrel turned to Thea in surprise, his beautiful blue eyes wide.

Thea internally balked at thinking his eyes were beautiful.

“You want me,” he said, “to stay with your crew?”

“Unless that’s too much for you, Highness.”

“No. Of course not.” But a furrow had taken up place on his brow. Thea didn’t think she’d ever seen someone as truly puzzled as the prince looked in that moment. He stared at Thea like he was waiting for her to change her mind or reveal she was making fun of him.

But she simply nodded. “Good. Janshai, let’s go.”

She headed for the dock with Janshai at her heels.

Fendrel stared after Thea, feeling completely and utterly confused. There was one thing he had learned almost as soon as he had made Thea’s acquaintance, which was that she didn’t trust anyone with her crew. Ever. She had snapped at him for even attempting to give orders to her people on more than one occasion.

And now she had left them in his hands.

The prince ran his fingers through his hair and let out a deep breath. He hadn’t fully processed the sea nymph’s manipulation until that morning, and it had rocked him to his core. Thea had only been tricked because she thought her mother’s life hung in the balance. But Fendrel? All it had taken to fool him was a smile and a few nice words from Thea.

“Mate?” Merek approached Fendrel with a frown. “You all right?”

Fendrel forced himself to shake off his strange thoughts and feelings. He glanced over the banister to see Thea and Janshai had reached the merchant stall. She had entrusted him to look after her crew, so that is what he was going to do. The prince straightened and nodded. “I’m fine. Could you gather everyone?”

“Oi!” Merek shouted to the deck at large and everyone’s heads turned in his direction. He waved them over and then faced Fendrel again, arms crossed and face focused.

Brom stood at Fendrel’s right hand while Carac, Peronell, and Isolde filled in the circle around them. Fendrel knew the queen had gone below deck, and he would deal with her later. He spoke to the warriors first. “We do not know much about this land or its people,” he said, “so I want everyone safe but not threatening. That means daggers but no swords.”

“But we’re meant to fight Malum,” Carac interjected. “How are we meant to do that without swords?”

“Right now, our priority is to simply locate him,” Fendrel answered. “That means talking to locals. There should be absolutely no violence until we find Malum.”

“And how are we going to do that?” asked Peronell.

Fendrel gazed out over Tamilem, eyes locking onto the largest building at the other end of the city. “I would wager that’s our best bet,” he said, gesturing to the building.

Even though the merchant behind the clothes stall was speaking to Thea and Janshai, Thea couldn’t seem to focus, and it wasn’t just because she didn’t understand the language. The merchant did not speak Creasan or anything that sounded close to it; it was a guttural language, like the words came from the back of the merchant’s throat. Thea smiled and nodded as she pretended to look over the vibrant clothes—from sapphire blue to deep purple, the stall boasted every bright color imaginable—but she couldn’t help the way her mind wandered. She wasn’t sure if it was this foreign and oppressive heat that made her skin buzz, or if it was something else.

She hadn’t had time to analyze her actions on the ship—and truth be told, she still hadn’t—but she couldn’t help but repeat her last few words to Fendrel over and over in her mind. It made her stomach feel as if it had bottomed out. She couldn’t tell if it was good or bad.

Thoughts such as those would have continued to swirl inside Thea if she hadn’t recognized the merchant had stopped talking and that he was being answered by Janshai.

Thea whirled in surprise. Janshai awkwardly glanced at Thea as he apparently answered whatever the merchant had asked him. Janshai held up three fingers and then six. Thea guessed he was indicating they would need clothes for three women and six men.

The merchant nodded quickly and pulled clothes off hangers.

Thea leaned over and whispered to Janshai, “How do you understand him?”

Janshai’s eyes darted around, not willing to make eye contact. “I…”

“Sepi?”

Janshai turned around at the name and Thea turned with him in confusion.

She found a girl standing behind them, around their age. She wore a loud blue dress, similar to one hanging on the merchant’s stall, that flapped around her in the heavy breeze. Her long black hair hung in tight curls nearly to her knees, and her bright green eyes were heavily outlined in a black border, making them stand out even more against her tanned skin. She stared open mouthed at Janshai, almost like she’d seen a ghost.

Janshai looked equally aghast. “Anai?”

Thea’s widened at him. He knew her? Thea’s mind whirled. How could he possibly know anything about Qamizeh?

Anai stepped closer, mouth hanging open slightly. She said something else in her foreign tongue that Thea couldn’t understand, but she reached out for Janshai as she did. She stared at him as if she’d seen a ghost.

Janshai seemed equally mystified. He didn’t move; he couldn’t move. He was utterly frozen in place.

Gears turned over quickly in Thea’s mind as she hurried to make sense of what was happening. “Janshai,” she said softly, “have you been here before?”

The sound of Thea’s voice cut through the bizarre tension between Anai and Janshai like a knife. Anai’s eyes whipped to Thea and narrowed suspiciously. She spoke again, but this time Thea caught the word “Creasan” among the other foreign words.

Thea nodded. “We are from Creasan. We were sent here on behalf of Aestus. Do you speak Creasan?”

Anai glanced questioningly between Thea and Janshai, almost like she was waiting for Janshai to explain what was happening. But he remained still with shock. “Yes,” Anai answered.

“My name is Thea Wyvern,” Thea said with a reassuring smile. “You’re Anai?”

Anai nodded. She had a slight accent when she said, “You are the ship that just arrived.”

“That’s right. Me and my crew.”

“He is your crew?” Anai gestured to Janshai.

Thea looked at Janshai again. The fact that he still hadn’t said anything was starting to make the hairs on Thea’s arms stand on edge. Though Thea had never been especially close with Janshai, she was starting to realize that maybe she hadn’t know him at all. Nevertheless, Thea answered, “Yes. Janshai Torgar. Our sea navigator.”

Anai studied him again, for a beat longer. Her eye-lined gaze seemed to see into his very soul.

Thea’s entire body was tensed—whether for a fight or for an explosion, she wasn’t sure.

But Anai simply turned to the merchant in his stall and said something in their language. The merchant nodded and handed the clothes over to Janshai.

Thea immediately shook her head. “No, please, we can pay—“

“You are my guests,” Anai said. “It is my gift.”

“Really, we—“

“You have come for the dragon, yes?”

Thea stalled. “Do you know where he is?”

Anai didn’t say anything. She simply gestured for the merchant to hand over the clothes, shot one last look at Janshai, and then turned her back on them.

“Wait,” Thea called after her.

But Anai ignored her. And then she was gone.

Thea blinked in bewilderment. Were they meant to follow her? Where was she going? Who was she?

And then Thea turned to Janshai. He stood there on swaying legs, bundles of clothes held limply in his arms, hems touching the sandy ground. He looked nearly catatonic.

Thea started in a quiet voice, “Why did she call you Sepi? How does she know you?”

At the sound of that strange name, Janshai came to, blinking quickly. His eyes met Thea’s and his mouth opened, ready to make excuses. But they didn’t come. His lips moved with half-formed words, before he finally settled on, “We should get back to the ship.”

He didn’t wait for Thea’s reply before hoofing it back the way they’d come.

Thea stared after him. She knew what the interaction she’d just witnessed must mean. Of course, she knew. But it seemed ridiculous. Because if Janshai knew the language of this mythical place, if he knew people here, there was only one explanation for it. Janshai was from Qamizeh. And if that was true? Then he had been lying to everyone the entire time they’d known him. In fact, it would mean they didn’t know him.

Ana sat in the chair beside Thea’s bed, staring into oblivion. The queen hadn’t truly trusted anybody in a very long time. Ulrich had come close, but even then she had somehow known not to yearn too hard for him. One way or another, Ana was always left alone.

She hadn’t trusted Thea. That much was obvious. But she had thought their goals were aligned enough to make them solid allies. She had thought Thea was above pretty words and lingering glances.

She had thought Thea was better than the queen.

Evidently, she had been wrong. But the longer Ana sat in that room, looking among Thea’s sparse things—only a few changes of clothes and a handful of weapons—she realized she was no better than anyone. Thea Wyvern, for all her talk and promised violence, was only a child. How could Ana have expected more of her? If it was anyone’s fault for believing the rebel to be true, it was the queen’s. She had fallen into believing the legends.

But, if Thea had really turned against Ana, if she had truly decided they would not rid Creasan of the Lance dynasty, if Thea would not help her avenge her son, if Thea was no better than Ana, Ana realized there was a silver lining to be had. Because if Ana had relied on a girl that was no better than her to defeat Malum…

Ana’s eyes landed on one of Thea’s weapons. On a sword.

If she had believed a child could win the throne…

Then why couldn’t Ana?

The queen picked up the sword.

While Isolde waited for Thea and Janshai to return, she listened to the sound of her own heart, with her hand pressed against her chest. It was so incredibly slow, much slower than it had ever been before she’d been bit, and it felt wrong. Even though anticipation and anxiety should have made her heart thump loudly, it only pulsed sluggishly.

“You’ll get used to it.”

Isolde glanced over at Carac standing beside her. He smiled in her direction. Relief spread through her. If anyone could understand her, it was Carac. “Have you?”

“In a way.” He shrugged. “It still doesn’t feel normal, but it doesn’t feel so different now, either. You just have to give herself a chance to grow accustomed to it. And don’t…fear it.”

“I have the blood of a snake in me,” she deadpanned. “I nearly killed Merek without even thinking about it.”

“I know, I know, I just mean…You can’t learn to use it if you’re too busy running away from it.” He knocked his shoulder against hers reassuringly.

Isolde felt her shoulders lower at that. He was right. But how was she meant to do that, when she could hardly look at her own reflection?

As she pondered that, she noticed the queen had found her way back onto the deck. Her chin was tilted into the air, and Isolde was incredibly surprised to see a sword hanging from its sheathe at her hip. Determination and assurance seemed to radiate off of her in waves. Isolde wondered if she should speak to her.

But her thoughts were interrupted when Janshai suddenly strode back onto the ship, several bounds ahead of Thea. Clothes of all different bright colors were balled up in his arms, and he didn’t even seem to be aware of where he was going. Unconsciously, he headed for Isolde.

She grabbed his arms before he could plow her over. “Janshai? What is it? What happened?”

His voice was incredibly soft when he said, “I saw her.”

Isolde’s brows rose in realization, and she glanced over her shoulder at Thea, who was slowly stepping onto the ship with her eyes locked on Janshai. Everyone else was equally perplexed by his bizarre behavior. Fendrel asked Thea, “What’s going on?” while everyone else just stared.

Isolde matched Janshai’s quiet tone. “Does Thea know?”

“I don’t know.”

But the suspicion radiating from Thea’s shrewd gaze indicated that she did know.

Isolde nodded slowly and gently stepped in front of Janshai. “Thea, could we talk to you privately?”

“Does this not concern the entire crew?” Thea retorted.

“It does, but—“

Peronell said, “Whatever it is, Izzy, you can tell us.”

Isolde looked at each of the friendly, concerned faces around her, until she landed on Merek. He purposefully wiped the furrow from his brow and gave her a subtle nod. Isolde glanced back at Janshai once more before shoring herself up. She gestured to Janshai and said, “This is Sepi Fassan. He is from the Qamisian city of Hamasan.”

Thea’s eyes bulged and Carac gasped loudly. Peronell staggered back a step, and even the prince and Brom seemed entirely flabbergasted. Only Merek remained unmoved. He offered Isolde another reassuring nod and never broke eye contact.

So she continued, “About six years ago, he was exiled to the Leitham Sea for theft.”

“Theft?” Thea burst out.

“He was meant to die at sea,” Isolde told them, “but he somehow managed to make it all the way to Creasan. It was there that he saved Merek and my life from a Guard, and I vowed to help him survive in our country.”

“You knew too?” Peronell whirled on Merek.

Isolde answered for him. “No one knew, except me. I gave him the Creasan name ‘Janshai’ and I—“

“So you’ve been lying to us, too,” Thea interrupted.

Isolde met Thea’s gaze. She knew what the look in her leader’s eyes met. She knew what happened to people Thea Wyvern didn’t trust. And it made Isolde’s heart ache to see it.

Merek spoke up. “Neither one of them lied.”

Thea gaped at him. “They’ve just admitted—“

“Janshai—or, sorry, Sepi—is a sea navigator who has done nothing but work for The Source since he arrived in Creasan, including, apparently, saving my life. And Izzy has been stitching all of us up from the very beginning. Without her, who knows how many more of us would be dead right now.” Merek crossed his arms resolutely and nodded to Thea. “They didn’t lie about the things that matter.”

Isolde’s eyes were locked on Merek. She hadn’t had a chance to talk to him since their unpleasant conversation in the Captain’s Quarters, but he was still helping her. Maybe everyone else was staring at her like she was a stranger, but Merek was steadfast. He had always been steadfast when it came to her. The thought of it made Isolde’s stomach turn over. Not unpleasantly.

Thea looked from Merek to Janshai and Isolde, eyes narrowed, almost like she was scanning them. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Fendrel leaned over to her and said, “Merek’s right. They can be trusted.” Thea turned to him in surprise, and he shrugged. “You know that’s true.”

Isolde wasn’t sure if everyone else on board was as shocked by the prince in that moment, but she certainly was. Not only had he taken Isolde’s side, he had done so in front of everyone in a way that was presumptuous of holding sway over Thea. But even more shocking was Thea’s reaction. She didn’t recoil at his words or snap. She simply gazed up at Fendrel, like she had words to say and all of it was being communicated through her eyes. The moment felt…intimate?

Suddenly, footsteps padded up the wooden plank from the dock. All heads turned toward Anai as she stepped onto the boat.

“What are you doing?” Thea demanded.

“Come,” she instructed.

“Where?” asked Fendrel.

“You want answers. I will show you where to find them.” She pointed to the dock.

All their eyes followed her finger to find a large wagon strapped to a horse, which used bright and vibrant reins, as if wanting to make sure even the animals matched the attire of Qamizeh. The attached wagon was similarly adorned, with the addition of golden tassels and bangles. There were two sets of benches inside the two-wheeled wagon, which seemed like precarious places to sit; with only two wheels, the wagon naturally pitched backward.

Thea eyed Anai again. Though she was offering what they wanted, Anai wasn’t an especially welcoming person. Perhaps it was the way the wind blew her long hair over her face, creating a curtain, that made her seem distrustful, or perhaps it was something else.

Thea glanced back at Janshai. He kept his head ducked as he met her gaze, like a puppy fearful of a reprimand. But Thea asked him, “Can she be trusted?”

Janshai’s eyes moved from Thea to Anai. He stared hard at her for a moment. His Adam’s apple bobbed heavily as he swallowed and then he nodded.

“Well, that settles it, I suppose.” Thea faced Anai fully.

Anai inclined her head to Thea and led the crew off the ship.