‘And then you came back and I thought things were different.’ Lucian walked away, but then swung back around and she could see the hurt in his eyes.
‘I grieved for you,’ he blurted out, as if it was the last thing he wanted to admit. And Phaedra stepped back from him, frightened by the emotion of his words. She tripped on a raised tree root and suddenly Quintana was there, flying at Lucian, a fist to his temple.
Tesadora reached them, trying to pull Quintana away. ‘Lower your voices,’ Tesadora hissed. ‘We’re still close enough to Charyn for your words to be heard.’
Quintana’s other fist landed on Lucian’s arm.
‘Stop!’ Phaedra cried, gripping both of Quintana’s hands. ‘Stop,’ she wept. ‘All of you.’
She dared to glance up at Lucian and he pointed at them both.
‘Keep out of my sight,’ he said with such hatred in his voice, Phaedra had no idea whether he was speaking about her or Quintana. ‘Keep her out of my sight or I don’t know what I’ll do.’
Chapter 17
The ocean was a strange thing to Froi. He wasn’t much of an adventurer; he had discovered that about himself only after he was settled in Lumatere. He would have been happy to stay and never leave the confines of Lord August’s farm if he’d had the choice. Finnikin and Isaboe were different. Despite how ugly the world had been to them, they had both experienced the freedom of an open road for most of their life in exile. If his queen and her king had the chance, he knew they’d escape together to see the land on their terms.
The Ocean of Skuldenore would have made their heads spin.
They arrived late afternoon and Froi had been surprised at just how close the underground community of Trist was to the port capital. Not even half a day’s ride. He thought of the
Gargarin found them a room in a sea merchant’s cottage high above the city. The town steps down to the port of Sebastabol lay outside their lodging and Froi questioned whether it was a good idea for Gargarin to attempt the steep climb.
‘We’re better off at an inn down below,’ Froi said.
Gargarin shook his head. ‘I want Lirah to have the view.’
Their room was on the top floor and it had a balcony that indeed afforded them a spectacular view over the rooftops, the bustling port and the ocean beyond. It seemed to stretch out forever and Froi heard Lirah’s gasp as she stared out at it. Gargarin stood behind her, his good arm around her body, his head close to hers.
‘Did I not promise to show you the ocean one day?’ he said softly, tenderly.
‘Nineteen years is worth the wait,’ she responded, her voice filled with emotion.
It only served to remind Froi that Lirah and Gargarin had been imprisoned a long time and most of their hopes of freedom had come from books. Stories, he thought. All they created was a yearning for faraway places.
He stayed inside, not wanting to intrude. Watching their intimacy made him feel awkward. He was born out of that intimacy and all Froi’s life he had believed he’d come from something sordid. He had greater difficulty understanding the reality of this strange love than accepting the nightmare he had grown up believing to be truth.
‘Don’t you want to see it?’ Gargarin said, stepping aside to make room. So Froi joined them, because he wanted to be part of the contentment between the two. He could see that much like Paladozza, the townspeople of the port city of Sebastabol lived in dwellings built from quarried stone rather than carved out of caves. But he could also see they were being spied on by at least one man disguised as a peddler, and another two outside a baker’s house.
‘We have company,’ he said.
Gargarin sighed. ‘People can’t seem to keep away from us,’ he said. ‘How many are we talking about?’
‘Three. Not in uniform, but definitely soldiers. What’s the Provincaro’s security like?’
‘Extensive. I’d be surprised if he hadn’t sent out a welcoming party.’ Gargarin sounded more bored than annoyed. ‘The Provincaro was always torn between thinking I was a spy for the King, and wanting to move me into the residence as his advisor.’
Gargarin stepped inside and Froi followed.
‘We’re going to have to pay a visit,’ Gargarin said.
‘Whatever you say.’
Now Gargarin looked truly irritated.
‘No, I mean it,’ Froi said. ‘I’m not trying to challenge you. Whatever you say.’
Lirah joined them inside and Froi watched Gargarin send her a look that he couldn’t quite work out.
‘What?’ Froi asked, angry.
Gargarin didn’t respond. He collected his cloak and staff. ‘Lirah, you stay here,’ he said. ‘Froi will come with me. Don’t let anyone in. If we fail to return, you wait a day and then make your way back to the Priests and find Arjuro.’
‘Why wouldn’t you return?’ she asked sharply.
‘Because this is Charyn,’ Gargarin said, bitterness lacing his words. ‘People go and buy a loaf of bread and don’t come back.’
He pressed a kiss to her mouth.
‘If he returns wounded, I won’t be happy,’ Lirah said, and Froi didn’t know whether she was speaking of him or Gargarin.
If not for the annoyance of being followed, Froi would have enjoyed Gargarin’s lessons about tacking and winds and the moon and the sun and the spring tide.
‘Can you just hold that thought?’ he told Gargarin, pushing him into an alleyway and waiting for the right time before his hand shot out to grab the throat of their pursuer, pressing the man against the stone wall beside Gargarin.
‘Is there something we can help you with?’ Froi asked politely.
‘The Provincaro requests your presence,’ the man wheezed.
‘Well, what a coincidence,’ Gargarin said. ‘We were just going to visit him.’
‘Yes,’ Froi said. ‘Tell your friends to come along and join us. The more, the merrier.’
The Provincaro’s man hesitated, opened his mouth to deny the presence of the others, but then seemed to change his mind and made a signal. In no time, four other men joined them.
‘Five of them?’ Gargarin asked Froi. ‘You said there were only three. You’re slipping in your old age.’
Froi shrugged and they continued walking.
‘Where was I?’
‘Neap tides.’
‘Ah yes, the neap tides …’
The Provincaro’s fort was perched at the end of a long stone pier that jutted out to sea. Froi could see it was a treacherous coastline and could not understand anyone’s desire to leave dry land.
‘Sagra! You’d be a fool to sail out there,’ he said.
‘It’s a life of uncertainty for the sailors,’ Gargarin said. ‘There’s been many a wreck against those rocks.’
A good deterrent for those planning to attack Sebastabol from sea.
By the time Froi and Gargarin reached the entrance, a welcoming party that included De Lancey and his guards was waiting there for them.
‘Any news?’ De Lancey asked urgently. ‘Do you know where she is?’ he demanded of Froi. Was there accusation in his voice?
Froi looked away. He had been dreading this meeting and hadn’t expected to see the Provincaro of Paladozza so soon.
‘We’ll find her,’ Gargarin said. He eyed De Lancey suspiciously. ‘You made no mention of this meeting with
