22. Reina

Chapter twenty-two

Reina

I wake with something hard pressing into my butt and I'm worried for half a second that Jasper's pistol is aimed at me. But no.

It's his erection.

Again.

It's dark in the room with the window boarded, but pre-dawn light is slipping under the wide crack at the bottom of the door. Jasper's breathing is slow and steady. His arms are warm and his chest is warmer. For some reason, even with the lewdness of his anatomy pressing against me, I'm comfortable. I just want to go back to sleep, but I want some gods-be-damned answers more.

"Jasper," I say loudly.

His grip tightens on me as he sucks in a sharp breath. "What is it?" he whispers.

"Your exact wording was ‘once we get to Illya.' That time has come and gone. We're firmly in Illya. I want answers," I say.

He groans. "That's what you woke me for?"

"That and I must handle my needs, which I can't do it while chained to you."

"You can , you just won't."

"Answers," I say sternly.

Jasper sighs. "You'll get them once we're away from the city and on the road. There're too many people here. Too many high magi that could somehow overhear us. I won't risk it and you'll understand why soon."

I roll out of his grasp and stand. "Then let's get going so that soon will be now sooner."

He sighs again, longer and more drawn out, but produces the key to unlock us. The manacle pops off and I scratch my wrist. The skin there has gotten rougher from the scars, making it itch. Nothing worse than a manacle itch all night long.

"I'll go downstairs and get us something for breakfast," Jasper says as he tugs on his boots.

He leaves me to handle things I really wish I didn't have to do in a pot and throw out the window, but he informed me that's the way it's done here, as long as it's not after dawn or before dusk. I shiver as I think about how much excrement we'll have to walk through to get out of the city—how much I've already walked through just to get here.

I believe I'll be demanding a new pair of boots before we go. Alejandra's are too big, anyway.

Jasper returns with a loaf of bread and some roasted fish. I'm so elated to see bread again that I rush the tray and bite right into it. The sour, salty, yeasty tang explodes across my tongue, and I hum in delight.

Jasper watches me with amusement. "Putting bread on the list of things I need to learn how to make."

I cock my head at him. "Why?"

He leans in, capturing my chin. I'm stunned, breathless, and I stop chewing.

"I want to hear that sound every morning."

My senses return and I jerk away. "Too bad the only sound you'll hear is the chains around your wrists in the lowest level of hell."

Jasper chuckles. "So, you are going to kill me now?"

"I already told you I would," I say, then take another bite of bread.

He softens, and I can't help but feel like an asshole as he says, "Maybe you should withhold all that judgement until you've heard me out."

"Maybe if you had told me already, I wouldn't have to keep planning your murder," I say through a mouthful of bread.

"When we're on the road," he repeats.

"Fine." I sigh and rip off the end of the loaf that I haven't touched, then hand it to Jasper. "But I need new clothes and boots."

He smirks. "You do, and I know just the place."

"What—"

"Eat," he interrupts, thrusting a fish at me.

I sigh, knowing not to fight him by now. I eat the roasted fish, which is subpar compared to the ones Jasper cooks over a fire, but there's no way I'll admit that. When it's all down, we wash our hands in the little basin beside the chamber pot and collect our sparse things.

I stick close to Jasper's side as we step out into the early morning of the bustling port. It's full of sailors and merchants, people hocking their goods, offering things that sailors need, and prostitutes…so many prostitutes.

Jasper's hand is tight on mine as we walk through the wide, dirty alleys full of carts and horses, people shouting and whores calling. Dark circles line the women's eyes, and they smell of whisky. I don't think they've slept yet. I shed a silent tear for them as I watch the women sell their bodies and their lives, but for what? For a slice of bread? My jewelry could've bought them enough bread for their whole lives.

What a waste.

Jasper pulls me into a shop that smells sharply of chemicals. It's dark, illuminated by soft magus lights, and there's armor all over the walls. Mostly leather, but some random chainmail and cloth too. It's a hodgepodge, and certainly not all from the same creator. It must be a consignment shop.

"Boots sized for a lady who needs to walk and a belt for a man who needs to protect her," Jasper says as he walks into the shop.

There's an older Illyan woman behind the crooked wood counter. At first, her dark brow furrows in frustration, but the more Jasper talks, the more anger leaks out of her face, replaced by shock, and teary-eyed happiness.

She runs out from behind the sales counter with a limp, her arms outstretched for him. She wears a dark, pocketed apron over her loose white shirt and has brown loafers on her feet. Her hair is braided in the Illyan way with beads and carved runes woven into the binds.

The woman says something in Illyan as she throws her outstretched arms around Jasper's neck. He embraces her, releasing my hand to pat her back. She pulls away after a second and examines him with fondness. Then her gaze falls to me and turns cold.

She asks Jasper something I don't understand, and he replies in Illyan. I can tell by his tone it's an excuse. She smacks him on the back of the head and pushes him aside, then turns to me, her lips pressed into a fine, angry line. "Girl, are you here of your own free will?"

Am I? I wasn't weeks ago but now…

"Yes, I am. I'm going to help him," I say.

Her eyes narrow as she looks me over, then glares at Jasper. "You've taken poor care of her. I taught you better."

She turns away without hearing Jasper's excuses and goes behind her counter, disappearing into the back.

I look at Jasper. "Who is that?"

He leans closer to me. "She caught me stealing years ago, whipped my ass raw, then gave me shoes. She's helped me get a handle on this being a Man thing."

"Ah," I say, at a loss for anything else. "But what's her name?"

Jasper stands there, shock freezing his features. "I just called her Meianha ."

"Which means?"

"For lack of a better translation, auntie."

"Well I can't call her auntie!" I whisper-yell at him.

"Why not?" he asks.

"Because I don't even know her! "

She emerges from the back with a comfortable-looking dress over one arm, a tunic and pants over the other, and a pair of boots pinched in each hand.

"Travel clothes. I can take them in for you," she says, dumping most of it on Jasper as she holds the dress up against my shoulders. I take a step back on instinct, not wanting to be touched, but she advances on me as if I hadn't moved.

I hold still and watch as the woman measures me with her eyes.

"Yes, take in the shoulders and the waist," she says to herself, then turns away from me just as fast as she came.

"She likes you," Jasper says, breaking the silence.

"What?"

He shrugs. "She didn't throw you out. She likes you."

I scowl, my anger pushing through the shocked haze. "So you stole from her and she what, took you in after?"

He hums thoughtfully. "Not quite. I came on land about ten years ago. Everyone was horrible to me. She was nice—"

"Before or after whipping your ass raw?" I cut in.

"After, of course. Maybe before, too. An ass whipping was much better than execution. In any case, I didn't have anywhere else to go to learn the languages or how to behave, so I just kept coming back to her. She gave me errands to run and I slept on a cot upstairs."

"And she knows you're a…" I lean in and whisper, "A selkie?"

He shrugs again. "I can only assume she knows I'm not a Man."

"You haven't told her?"

He grips my bicep and turns me toward him. "No, and you won't either. You're the only one who knows."

My stomach gets warm and fluttery at that knowledge.

No. I'm not special. I only know because he used his magic to save my life and that's all.

His eyes glisten with opal magic and he smirks. "You're the only one who knows, Rei, so don't go fucking me."

"I wouldn't fuck you," I say, only realizing the double entendre a half second after it leaves my mouth.

His grin widens. "We'll see."

"Done," the woman—auntie—says as she returns from the back. She limps over to me and holds the garment up again.

"Yes, it fits. Change," she demands, pushing me away from Jasper and toward the stairs on the right side of the shop. "My room is on the left at the top."

I stumble up the steep, narrow stairs to the second floor. There are two doors, one on the left and one on the right. Jasper and the woman argue below in Illyan and a flare of run goes through me. It's only the second floor. He's distracted. I could easily escape him here.

But I still want answers, and maybe just a little part of me actually wants to help Jasper.

I open the door on the left and find a quaint room full of colorful knitted things and little elephant figurines. I've never seen an elephant myself, but Alyse told me about them plenty.

The memory lances my heart like ice and my levity dies. I strip out of Alejandra's clothes and put on the fresh undergarments and the dress. The soft blue fabric clings to me in all the right places and gives me plenty of space to move. It's airy, and the humidity doesn't weight it down. I wonder what it's made of. It fits perfectly, and I can't help but be curious about how she tailored it so quickly. I inspect the stitches. They're so clean and tight, only a magus could do this.

I turn to the mirror again and follow the lines of the dress. It crisscrosses over my chest and exposes a small bit of skin on the stomach. My shoulders and arms are bare, and a triangle of my tanned skin peeks out on my back above the skirt of the dress. It flows wide and fluttery down to my mid-shin.

I twist and turn my hips, feeling the soft fabric rub my legs. It's nice. I wonder how much it costs…

Well, that's Jasper's problem, not mine.

When I come out of the room, he's still grousing about something, and the woman is putting up an uncompromising fight. I make enough noise to be known as I come down the stairs and Jasper quickly quiets. I catch his attention as I clear the wall obscuring me. His face shifts from frustration to awe in a blink.

The scorching look in his eyes threatens to set me ablaze. He's desperate for me. I want him to want me like this, but it's dangerous. Falling into his dark gaze makes me forget about my own people, my own struggles I must overcome. I can't get caught up and carried off in his lust.

Finally, he clears his throat. "Well, that'll do, I suppose."

"Auntie" slaps him on the back of the head again and says something like a curse in Illyan. "It suits you very well," she says to me.

"Thank you, miss…"

She waves away my unspoken question. "Just call me Meianha."

Jasper beams and I can't help but feel like her approval of me matters to him. The thought sends a queasy feeling through my chest.

"Now, you'll need travel packs," Meianha says, moving to her counter. "Elvandro down Sweet Tree Road owes me. Just take this note."

She scribbles something down on a ripped bit of parchment and hands it to Jasper.

"Your clothes stink. Go change, young man," she scolds him.

"Yes, Meianha." He says the word with a hum in his chest, and I sense the selkieness of it. In the water, sounds like f's and p's and the other breathy noises we make on land wouldn't exist. Couldn't exist. But the way he draws out the "n," and the strength of the starting "m"…

Why am I thinking about this?

Jasper disappears upstairs and I stand awkwardly, clutching my hands together in front of me.

"Don't hurt him," Meianha says.

I stare at her in slack-mouthed shock. "What?"

"You heard me," she says. "He's got eyes bigger than coconuts for you."

The phrase is strange, and I wonder if it makes more sense in Illyan. "I don't want to hurt him."

That queasy feeling tightens around my stomach again and we fall quiet once more. There's a heavy thump and an "ouch!" from above and I snicker to myself as I imagine Jasper falling over while putting on his new trousers.

"He's a good boy," Meianha says.

Boy is not what I'd call him, but…"Yes. I know he is."