Chapter 13

Chapter 13

" T hank you, sir. We much appreciate the information." Delaynie dipped her head to the scowling man, a pleasant smile on her pink-hued lips.

The man grunted, shrugging his coat farther around his shoulders, before storming off down the quiet market district street.

It took everything in Ciana not to roll her eyes at the man's disappearing form. "Well, he was …”

"An ass? I agree."

Ciana whipped her head to Delaynie, a look of mock outrage on her face. "Lady Albellane! How unbecoming. We are representatives of the palace court!"

Delaynie grinned. "And what were you about to say?"

Ciana shifted in her saddle. "That he was … quite a disagreeable gentleman."

Delaynie snorted. Ciana sighed. "Fine. He was a prick. A foul-tempered, useless prick."

It was how most of the people they'd spoken to that day were. They’d tried to stop as many city residents they could on every street they’d turned down, searching for something, anything that might be helpful to them.

And each time, they were met with distrusting looks. Suspicious glares at the twin crescent moon sigil on their horses’ saddle blankets. Short, single word responses when they felt sufficiently trapped by Delaynie's sweet yet terrifyingly insistent questioning.

All the while, as Ciana, Delaynie, Kiira, and Rylla ventured farther from the palace, the knot in Ciana's stomach grew. Her glances back over her shoulder grew more frequent, alternated with gazes toward the Bay of Nria.

At the battle she knew raged there.

"It's just as we told you this morning.” Kiira sidled her gelding up beside Ciana's gray mare, Keely. "If it is rumors about the palace and the queen that we seek, then taking horses bearing palace tack will surely drive all gossip away. No one wants to speak ill about a monarch to members of her own court."

Ciana sighed again, glancing up and down the empty street. It had been busy when they'd arrived, but the second they started asking their questions, the doors had slammed shut, the windows boarded, and the alleys deserted. "I know you're right. I just …” She twisted her hands around the leather reins. "I just didn't realize they would be this negative."

"They feel abandoned by their queen and her court," Rylla said from where she lingered behind them. "Many lost family and friends when the pirates stormed the docks. They won't forget easily."

"We are doing the best that we can," Delaynie snapped, ice blue eyes flashing. "You are new here, so perhaps you don't know the full truth of what has occurred in this city. We are all sacrificing things to keep this city afloat and its occupants safe and fed?—"

"My sister meant no offense, Delaynie," Kiira murmured. "All we mean is that this approach of questioning people in the streets … it won't get you the information you seek."

A small bead of anxiety formed in the pit of Ciana's stomach. She wasn't nervous about the two Kreah sisters—even though they were shifters, something she'd thought impossible only a day ago. She somehow trusted them. Mariah had, too, at her presentment ball. And if Mariah trusted them, then Ciana could find it in herself to do the same.

That morning, after Sebastian, Matheo, Trefor, and Quentin left for the latest skirmish on the Bay of Nria, Ciana and Delaynie had roused themselves quickly and met the Kreah sisters in the stables. They’d planned it all last night: tired of waiting in the palace for news to come to them, they would go and seek information of their own.

Rylla had led the charge. Ciana turned in her saddle and faced her, hazel eyes—now human, and not feline—sharp and alert, the dark gray of her clothing melding seamlessly with the rich, cool umber of her skin and the silver jewelry braided into her hair.

"Does it hurt?"

Rylla snapped that sharp stare to Ciana. "Does what hurt?"

Ciana tightened her hands around her reins. "Shifting. When you shift, does it hurt?"

Rylla smiled. "No, Ciana. It does not hurt. Maybe it did, at first. But now it feels as natural as breathing."

"Perhaps even more natural sometimes." Kirra grinned, sharing a look at her sister. The dark-eyed twin had revealed her second form to them all last night, as well: a great tawny cat with rings black as midnight dotting her fur. A leopard, Rylla had explained, while Rylla's own pitch-black feline was what they called a panther.

Of course, that had prompted Quentin to ask about the famed desert sphinx's of Kreah. To which Kiira had blanched and instructed Quentin to never go seeking a sphinx, lest he go in search of a most terrible fate.

Which had only made Quentin grin wickedly. Ciana had almost been able to see the plans of adventure forming in his mind.

"You know what needs to be done if you wish to find out any useful information." Kiira's accented voice tugged Ciana back to the empty city streets.

Ciana swallowed. "You promise you won't eat anyone?"

"As long as they don't strike first."

Kiira shot her sister a glare. "We told you," she said. "We may change forms, but we remain human, in all the ways that count."

Delaynie’s pale blue eyes watched the Kreah sisters, her brow wrinkled.

"What do you think, Del?" Ciana asked.

Delaynie was silent for a moment, before turning to Ciana. "I don't like the idea of giant cats roaming the streets, but … they're right. We're accomplishing nothing this way. If it means we might learn something useful, then perhaps we should try."

Kiira nodded, a short bob of her head. "I'm glad you both got to venture into the city, though," she said. "You needed to see what it was like down here. How the people are feeling. It is impossible to govern without knowing such things."

"Try telling that to Sebastian," Ciana mumbled under her breath.

She hadn't meant to say it, not really. But the thought slipped past her lips unimpeded, just loud enough for Kiira to lift her lips in a gentle smile.

"Don't fault the Armature too much," Kiira said. "He is good at what he does, but they are not rulers; they are guardians. And sometimes, a ruler must place herself in danger for the betterment of the realm."

"I’m not a ruler," Ciana said. That ball of anxiety was back and building, a weight on her chest constricting her lungs and hammering in her heart.

Was that what she was to become if they couldn't get Mariah back? A regent over a failing kingdom, waiting desperately for twenty-one years to pass so a new queen could rise? And if the magic failed before then, if they lost everything…

Ciana had thought the idea of grappling with the loss of her best friend, her queen, terrible enough. She couldn't stomach thinking about this sort of ruinous fate, too.

Kiira leaned out of her saddle, placing a hand on Ciana's arm. "Of course, you're not a ruler, Ciana. And gods willing, you never will have to be. But this city needs you now, and when she is back, your queen will need you, too." The Kreah woman removed her hand from Ciana and slid from her saddle. She handed the reins to Ciana, just as Rylla handed hers to Delaynie.

"Do not panic if we are not back tonight. Sometimes, the best information is only learned at night. Trust that if we learn something, you will be the first we tell."

Ciana and Delaynie nodded in unison, just as a flash of pale blue light filled the afternoon street.

On massive, silent paws, the two cats—one black, one spotted gold—melted off into the shadows of the city, vanishing from view.

"I don't think I’ll ever get used to that." Delaynie ran a hand over her auburn hair, smoothing the sleek waves before fidgeting with a delicate necklace at her throat.

Me, neither . Ciana rolled her shoulders, forcing the tension in her gut to settle. She again glanced towards the Bay, and then back to the castle.

She'd been trying to avoid it all day, but … gods, Sebastian would be furious with them for leaving.

But they had to try. To see for themselves. To do something more than just sit around the palace in their cashmere sweaters, waiting for a miracle.

Ciana gripped the reins of Kiira's horse before pressing her heels against Keely's flank. The gray mare started into a walk, slowly heading back the way they'd come. The steady clop of hooves behind her told her that Delaynie followed.

Neither girl spoke as they meandered back up the streets. Inquisitive and suspicious eyes from behind curtained windows pricked at Ciana’s skin. Her hands grew clammy, and sweat beaded her brow as they wandered up the streets.

Exposed. Vulnerable. That was how she felt. They'd slipped out without a City Guard to accompany them—mostly to avoid alerting Sebastian—but now Ciana wished desperately for that feeling of safety a guard would have offered.

Feeling vulnerable reminded Ciana of how she used to feel in that terrible house, where her stepbrother used to play his games. And she hated it.

The brown cobblestones of the market district gave way to the gold sandstone of the mountain district. The buildings shifted from shops into residences, vendor shops replaced by taverns and inns.

One such inn caught Ciana's eye. She'd noticed it on their way down, and seeing the reminder now settled some of the turmoil in her gut, calming a bit of her racing heart.

She turned to Delaynie. "In the mood for a drink?"

Delaynie started before glancing past Ciana at the inn on the corner. A knowing look filled her expression as she read the sign, smiling softly as she nodded. "A drink sounds great."

So, the two girls deposited the four horses with a ruddy-faced stable hand and pushed through the solid birch doors of The Silver Moon.

The tavern was warm, a fire roaring in the great hearth, and was entirely empty.

Empty … save for the silver-haired barkeep standing behind a polished and waxed mahogany bar, fastidiously wiping a glass with a cloth rag.

A bell jangled above them as the door closed, and the barkeep glanced up, surprise on her comely face.

"Sorry," Ciana stammered, twisting her hands. "I thought … if you're closed, we can come back--"

"Nonsense!" The barkeep set her glass on the ledge behind her. "The hours before shift change are always slow, but I’m very much open. Please, come in."

Hanging their coats on the rack by the door, Ciana and Delaynie strode to the bar, perching themselves on two cushioned stools. Their host leaned against the bar, peering at them both with sharp gray eyes only a shade darker than her hair.

"What can I get you ladies? Perhaps some warm mulled wine to ward away the chill?"

"Do you have gin?" Ciana blurted. She loved mulled wine, but … for some reason, she craved her favorite liquor. Wanted something that would burn the entire way down, like it was cleansing her from the inside out.

The barkeep nodded. "Certainly." She pulled a bottle from beneath the bar, uncorking it and emptying a finger of its clear contents into a glass. She glanced at Delaynie. "And for you?"

"Just wine, please. White, if you have it." Del folded her hands in her lap, looking entirely out of place in the dark, rustic tavern.

"Of course." The barkeep poured the wine, pushing it across the bar, before affixing that sharp-eyed stare back on them.

"Why don't you drink with us?" Ciana toyed with the rim of her glass. She didn't know why she asked it; only that the woman's stare was too bright, like she knew something Ciana did not, but wanted to.

The barkeep looked around her tavern. "Normally, I'd say no. But … seeing as it is quite the slow day, I suppose I could." She turned, pushing a mug beneath a tap and pulling the lever. Rich amber ale filled the glass, a frosty white foam forming at the top. The barkeep returned to them, smacking her lips.

"I'd been craving an ale all day." She raised the glass to her mouth, taking a long sip. Setting it back on the bar, she extended her hand to Ciana.

"I don't drink with strangers, so … the name's Beva. Owner of this establishment."

Ciana clasped Beva's offered hand. "I'm Ciana. And this is Delaynie."

She gestured to her friend, who watched behind glimmering blue eyes as she politely inclined her head.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Ciana and Delaynie." Beva took another sip from her ale. "Now that we're no longer strangers, why don't you tell me what two ladies from the Queen Apparent's court are doing drinking at a tavern away from the palace?"

Ciana's mouth popped open, clammy hands slipping on her glass of gin. Despite her own frantic surprise, Delaynie still held that practiced neutral expression, watching the barkeep with renewed interest.

Ciana raised her glass to her lips, hands shaking slightly. She sipped the gin, the burning liquor carving a path through her chest before landing in her gut. She coughed slightly, then cleared her throat.

"We aren't sure we understand what you mean, Beva." Play dumb. That's what she'd decided. Feigned ignorance.

Beva chuckled. "I saw those horses you rode up on. It's hard to miss palace insignia when they put it everywhere."

Ciana opened her mouth, searching for an excuse.

"You're right. We are Mariah's ladies."

Ciana's mouth snapped closed as she whipped her head to Delaynie, who took a delicate sip of her white wine.

Beva hmphed. “That’s what I thought.” Her gray eyes danced with warm humor between Ciana and Delaynie. “You are looking for something?”

"Information. We want to know what the city folk are talking about," Delaynie said evenly.

"Let me guess," Beva said, "the people you met today haven't exactly been forthcoming."

Ciana narrowed her eyes and shook her head. "We don't understand. We only wish to help."

"Certainly. I believe you do. But they don't know that." Beva sipped her ale. "They hardly know their new queen-to-be, and when they heard she'd absconded in the middle of the night, just before pirates attacked the city … well, surely you can imagine their distrust."

"That isn't what happened!" Ciana blurted. Delaynie shot her a warning glare, and Ciana's cheeks flushed. She reached for her glass, downing a gulp, before wringing her hands in her lap.

Beva watched her shrewdly, taking another sip. "I know, child. Not a single piece of me believes that Mariah Salis willingly abandoned this city or her friends."

"You speak as if you know her," Delaynie murmured.

Beva smiled. "In a way, I suppose I do." Her gray eyes took on a far-away look. "I met her once, before the Choosing. But it’s her parents who I know the best. Wex and Lisabel Salis met in this very bar, when we were all young and terribly na?ve."

The barkeep shook her head. "All that is a story from another lifetime. But I know Wex Salis's daughter would never willingly abandon her post or those she cares about."

Ciana was slack-jawed. What were the odds that this woman, the owner of a small, quiet tavern off the main city streets, knew Mariah's parents? "You … knew … what?"

Delaynie rested a hand on Ciana's arm. "We're thankful for your faith in our queen. And perhaps a bit jealous that you know a piece about her life that we don't. Yet." She smiled at the barkeep, who smiled back.

"You know." Beva drained the rest of her ale and turning to the tap. "If information is what you two seek … I may know a thing or two." The tap groaned as amber liquid poured from the silver spout. "After all, there's no one people like to complain to more than a bartender."

Ciana, finally able to unclench her hands, reached for her gin, taking a quick sip. "Please. We'll take anything at this point."

"Well …" Beva leaned against the bar. "There was a particularly interesting rumor going around the day after our dear Queen Apparent vanished. Some people said they spotted a group of seven figures riding away from the city, all lead by a handsome dark-haired man with blue eyes."

Ciana and Delaynie both froze. They shared a glance, and the pain and fear racing through Ciana was reflected in her friend's expression.

"I take it," Beva said, "that this means something to you."

Ciana released her breath, pushing it between her teeth. "Sebastian is going to be so pissed." She took another sip of her gin. She was pissed, too, of course. But she still clung to the hope that there was more to this than it appeared.

Mariah had just found love and was so happy. Ciana had to believe that meant something, for her best friend's sake.

Beva eyed them with confused interest. "You know, this rumor has been circling for weeks now. You would have learned it much sooner if this wasn't the first time you were venturing past the palace gates."

"Trust us, if we'd had our way, we would've been down here weeks ago."

"This sounds like a story." Beva grinned. "Come, complain to your bartender. This is what I live for, remember?"

Ciana’s shoulders sagged. "Okay. Fine. We weren't allowed to leave the palace; we're still not, but today, we decided enough was enough and snuck out."

Beva nodded knowingly. "Men forget that us women can take care of ourselves. Especially"— her gray eyes glinted—"when they love us."

Heat rushed to Ciana's face and roared in her ears.

This was ridiculous. Sebastian was a friend. A friend who was the first man she'd ever felt truly safe with, and who made her laugh even when his protectiveness infuriated her …

"Sebastian does not love me. He loves his queen. I'm simply the queen's best friend." Ciana washed down her mumbled words with the burn of gin.

Delaynie and Beva shared a grin. "Bring him here one day, when the chaos has settled. Let me be the judge for what he feels."

"C'mon, Cee." Delaynie bumped her shoulder into Ciana's. "I know you're pissed at him now, but please. We all see those dreamy glances the two of you share?—"

"I don't think you want to talk about dreamy glances, Del. How long have you been secretly pining after a certain redhead?" This was now war. Ciana was determined to pull out all the tricks.

Delaynie flushed a deep, rich red, nearly the color of her hair. "I don't know what you're talking about," she mumbled into her wine glass and then drained the rest of its contents.

Ciana did the same, a smile stretching across her face, feeling something blossom in her chest that she hadn't dared feel in weeks.

Hope.