Chapter 22

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

After Lex left,I took a nap. Now, I’m much too antsy to stay cooped up in the unfamiliar space. Contrary to Lex’s belief that my unease is due to my luxurious upbringing, it’s not. It’s impossible to relax with my homeland in peril. I’m on edge because of that, not because of the lackluster apartment.

Leaving was the best thing I could do. Without my unpredictability getting in the way, Dash and his family can take on Mother. I know it’s for the best, but guilt about leaving Ilona starts to sink in. Doubts about whether or not Dash will trust me—whether I can trust him—creep in. Worst of all, new worries form about Mother harming Dash or Ilona.

It’s reassuring that the Vannyks are prepared to take Mother on without me. They’re confident they can secure Hakran’s freedom. But I still worry.

Another concern I have is whether or not my people will accept me as their ruler after the outburst I had in the throne room. I pray to the goddess they’ll understand once they hear the full story.

I’m not the murderer they think I am. I’m nothing like the Dead Queen. I’ll prove it to them.

Light filters in through the threadbare curtains as the sun creeps toward its apex.

Stretching my arms overhead, I wince at the crick in my neck. I might not need many luxuries, but I do miss my bed.

A pile of neatly folded clothes on the table beside me catches my eye, and I furrow my brow. They weren’t there before.

Upon inspecting the trousers, forest-green sweater, and thick wool socks, I realize they’re just my size. These will be much warmer than what I have on. Near the door, there’s even a pair of leather boots that fit perfectly. I slip out of my thin, worn-out clothes and appreciatively put the new ones on.

Lex must’ve stopped by while I was asleep. Either he’s skilled in the art of moving silently or I slept much deeper than I anticipated.

Maybe both.

When I notice a basket of apples resting on the counter, I realize he brought food too. In the formerly empty icebox, there are now chunks of cheese and thin-sliced meats.

My stomach rumbles at the sight.

Silently, I thank the goddess that Lex brought fresh food and clothes as I indulge in a snack. It was a kind gesture.

It was a huge risk for me to run away with the prisoner from the pit; it could’ve been a terrible choice, but so far, I have no regrets. The last thing I want to do is wait around like some damsel in distress though. As soon as the power-sharing bond is broken, I will return and win over my people.

But for now, the only thing I can do is distract myself.

After I eat, I decide to explore Nevaris. I exit the apartment, shutting the door behind me. Thumping down the stairs in my new boots, I inhale the clean, pine-scented air and use my fingers to smooth out my messy hair. The alley is narrow, barely wide enough for the rickety steps to fit. Despite being a little rundown, the area is clean.

I round the corner to the main cobblestone road, pausing to take in the shop on the first floor.

Fara’s Fragrances.

As I’m debating whether or not to go in, the door opens and a delightful floral aroma leaks out into the streets. A chipper girl about my age, with onyx braids down her back, steps into the street. There’s a woven basket in her hands, covered with a cloth.

“Ahh—Astrid?” she asks, disbelief in her voice, as if she’s both thrilled and terrified. “Of course you’re Astrid. Silly question. It’s marvelous to meet you.”

Her eyes flash with recognition, and I wonder if we’ve somehow met before.

There’s a small bounce in her steps as she draws closer, and a smile stretches across her face, emphasizing her apple-like cheeks. As she wraps her arms around me, the handle of her basket digs into my back. I go stiff.

I’m used to people greeting me with respect or silence. Normally I’m given a deep nod of acknowledgement, not a hug.

She doesn’t seem to notice my discomfort as I awkwardly pat her on the back. Her flowery scent is overpowering, tickling my nostrils. I hold my breath until, finally, she pulls away.

“This is for you,” she says, thrusting the basket at me. I accept it reluctantly. “I was on my way up to visit you, new neighbor! I’m Fara, and this is my shop.” She points at the sign above the door. “Though you probably could’ve guessed based on the name, huh? I live on the second floor, so I guess that makes us neighbors! It’s swell to have you around.”

Her rambling reminds me a little bit of Ilona. Fara is like a more outgoing version of my best friend. Ilona is sweet, of course, but shy around strangers.

And as nice as Fara seems, she isn’t Ilona.

“Aren’t you going to peek?” she asks, waving a hand toward the basket.

I pull back the white cloth to reveal a dozen rectangular pastries. They’re warm and smell sugary sweet with a hint of apple and cinnamon.

“Thank you, Fara,” I say, forcing a smile.

“They’re my speciality! Apple strudel. I hope you think they’re superb.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“I figured if you were with Lex, there’s a chance he forgot to feed you.” Her body vibrates with giggles, and she claps her hands in front of her as if it’s impossible to stay still.

“You didn’t pop into the apartment by chance earlier, did you?” I ask, thinking back to the newly stocked food and change of clothes. If it’s so unlike Lex to care for a guest, perhaps it wasn’t him after all.

“Me? Oh no, I’ve been busy mixing oils this morning. It’s a lavender and bergamot day with—anyway, why do you ask?”

“Does Lex normally forget to feed his guests?”

“Well,” she says, her voice dropping a few octaves. “Considering Lex’s visitors normally come in chains or…without a head, he doesn’t normally need to remember. I’m sure you can understand why I worry about his hospitality.”

My face scrunches at the gruesome implication of her words, and she laughs heartily.

“Don’t let his coldness scare you away. He’s been through a lot, and he’s sacrificed much for us. I can’t imagine what he went through in the time he was gone, but I’m sure it hasn’t helped his attitude any. Give him a chance, please.”

“He seems fine. He’s nice enough, really,” I say. “He’s letting me intrude in his living space, after all.”

Her brows draw together as she contemplates something. “That’s not Lex’s apartment. I mean, he owns the building, so I guess it’s technically his, but he lives over in Harmony House. He didn’t tell you that?”

I shake my head, looking past Fara and down the shop-lined street to where vendors stand among their booths and tents, talking animatedly to shoppers. A few people seem to be bartering, but most heads are swiveled in my direction, watching with open interest.

Fara glances over her shoulder, following my line of sight, and releases another belly laugh. “Excuse them. They’re not used to the excitement. Lex has finally returned with his—with a guest. The villagers in this end of Nevaris are mostly bored folk who love any excuse to flap their lips.”

“How long has Lex been gone?” He seems rather important to the village, but perhaps it’s because it’s such a small town. It seems like a place where everyone knows each other. It’s even smaller and closer-knit than the island of Hakran.

I still don’t know how long Mother had Lex locked up—or why. Lex’s answers were cryptic.

“It’s been—” Fara starts to whisper.

“Talk about flapping lips, Fara,” the rosy-cheeked lady from earlier says as she waddles up to us. “D’ya think Lexyll would appreciate you blurting his business?”

“It’s not like that, Bea. You know how he is. I was just giving Astrid here a rundown.”

“Astrid.” Beatrice eyes me warily. “You look like someone I once knew.”

“Aife?” I ask, remembering that she called me my horse’s name earlier.

When she doesn’t respond, Fara tries to fill the silence with chatter about the weather.

“That’s my horse’s name,” I say. “I’ve never met anyone with the name before. Funny coincidence.”

“There’s no such thing as coincidences,” Beatrice says before shuffling off down the cobblestone path. Without stopping, she bellows out, “If Lexyll wanted to share, he would! Leave it, Fara.”

“Beatrice runs the farm,” Fara whispers when the woman is out of earshot. “Her husband Tomas passed away last year, and it’s been hard on her. I can’t imagine it’s easy for her to look after all the animals without him. She has two grown boys that help as much as they can, but they have their own children to look after.”

Fara keeps talking, giving me insight into the various villagers set up around the street. I nod here and there to pretend I’m listening, but I’m eager to slip away and explore on my own.

“—and the turkey ate the cow with ten toes. I married him yesterday,” Fara says, jerking my attention to her.

“What?” I ask, confused.

“I knew you weren’t listening.” She tilts her head back with a chuckle. “Anyway, I’m sure you have things to do, and my oils need me. Enjoy the strudel, preferably while they’re still warm. That is, if they haven’t already gone cold with all my yapping. Pop in anytime, neighbor! It’s a pleasure finally meeting you.”

Finally?

I only arrived a few hours ago.

Relief washes over me when she doesn’t stick around for a response. With an animated wave, she slips away into her shop. Although she’s plenty nice, I’m not feeling particularly social. I’m not here to make friends and chat about the weather; I’m here to bide my time until I can return and resume my position as the queen of Hakran.

It’s strange; I’ve only imagined Hakran run by Mother. I never thought I was worthy of the throne. Honestly, I never thought I even wanted it, but I’m starting to realize those weren’t my own thoughts. They were ideas planted there by the mother who has taken advantage of me at every turn. The woman who has deceived me my entire life.

A light breeze rolls through the street, ruffling my hair. I shiver, wrapping my arms around me. It was kind of Lex to provide me with the warmer clothing.

I like the coolness. It’s refreshing. And Nevaris is utterly peaceful. I’d love to bring Ilona here one day; she’d adore the quaint shops and chattering townsfolk.

Walking in the opposite direction from the vendors, I head deeper into the village, passing more wooden houses built into the side of the hill. With their steep, arched roofs and multiple levels, they give the village layers.

The homes are mostly in shades of brown—made with natural, unaltered lumber—but some have splashes of pale yellow or soft pink accents here and there.

Peeking through the alleyway on my right, I spot a few vessels tied to private docks, bobbing almost imperceptibly in the water.

A few people scurry past me, dressed in long-sleeved tops or thick skirts. With my borrowed outfit, I fit in. Almost. Curious glances still flash my way.

One impatient woman tugs at the hand of a small child of maybe about five years old. Out to the side, she’s holding a basket of jam jars, being careful not to knock them about too much.

“Mama! I want to feed the ducks!” the child cries, resisting his mother as she pulls him along.

“Vincent, get over here,” the mother yells at a slightly older boy with messy orange hair. The older boy catches up to the pair, and his mother releases the smaller boy’s hand long enough to swat the older one on the back of the head.

“Ow!”

“What did I say about wandering out of sight?” she scolds.

“I was right there, Ma.” He points at the lake, visibly huffing as his younger brother wails.

“I want to feed the ducks, Mama!” the younger child wails.

“Oh goddess have mercy on me! Will you two behave for a single day?” They carry on quickly toward the vendors, and I chuckle as they continue bickering, their voices fading with distance.

I wonder if that’s what having a normal, caring mother is like.

The further away from the town center I tread, the more spaced out the houses are. The homes grow larger, and some have yards with free-roaming goats and sheep that bleat as I pass.

Eventually, the street forks off into two paths. On my right the cobblestone path continues, leading to the waterfront and the rolling farms beyond. On my left the path gives way to packed dirt, sloping upward into a tree-lined hill where prickly conifers obstruct my view of what lies beyond.

I continue on the stone path, along the shore.

Clutching the basket from Fara, I pass roaming farm animals and green pastures. The scent of cinnamon and apple wafts up, reminding me of the treats inside. I pull back the cloth and take out one of the flaky pastries, biting into it as I continue my stroll.

Fara was not exaggerating.

It’s my first time experiencing a strudel, but it’s delightful. It’s still lukewarm. The pastry is sweet with a flaky outside and a soft apple explosion inside. There’s a hint of spice, and I wonder what exactly it is.

I should stop by and thank Fara when I return, because I’m pretty sure it’s the best dessert I’ve ever had.

* * *

As I continue down the winding path along the lake, I enjoy the clean, pine scent. The air is becoming less fishy the farther away I get from the docks. A short while later, I spot an unusual sight. A large, white mansion sits on the water, with its turrets and spires reaching into the sky.

It’s in the same architectural style as the rest of the village, but it’s reminiscent of a castle. It appears as if it’s floating.

I have to squint against the harsh glare of the sunlight reflecting off the water, but after a moment, I realize the building isn’t actually floating; it’s perched on an almost imperceptible chunk of land, practically flush with the water, giving off the illusion of floating. Only a single stone bridge stretches from the land to the castle.

“For me?” a smooth voice calls. I jump. A man around my age with tousled, honey-blonde locks and a broad grin pops up next to me. I didn’t even hear him approach. At first glance, he appears harmless. A second glance reveals he’s equipped with daggers at his side and a sword strapped to his back.

His boyish looks and saccharine smile are definitely a facade; his stealth, combined with his weaponry, indicates he’s perhaps a guard or a spy.

As he gives me a once-over, his smile grows wider. There’s a slight gap between his front teeth, but it adds to his appeal.

“Are you going to respond?” he asks, cocking his head. “Or are you mute?”

“Is there a third option?” I say apprehensively.

“What did you have in mind?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively as he circles me, like a predator stalking its prey. I don’t reply as I glance toward the castle. The man follows my gaze. “I’ll give you a tour for a strudel.”

“What makes you think I want a tour?” I scoff.

“The way you’re staring at the house with such open interest.” I tear my eyes from the castle, looking at him instead.

House? More like a mansion. “Well, what makes you think I even have a strudel?”

He chuckles as I grip the basket tighter, ensuring my treats are fully concealed. “I can smell Fara’s desserts from a mile away. Why do you think I came over here in the first place?” He reaches toward the strudel, licking his lips dramatically.

If he is a guard, he’s unlike any I’ve ever met, with his cheekiness and lively spirit.

“Fine,” I say, extending the basket toward him. He reaches in without looking, grinning in triumph when he pulls one free. “Do you always proposition strange girls for castle tours?”

“Only when they’re not so strange,” he says with a mouthful. I cringe as crumbles tumble out of his mouth. “Lex already vouched for you.” He takes another enormous bite and tries to speak as he chews, but I can’t tell what he’s saying.

“Gross.” I scrunch my nose and glance back at the mansion. “Lex lives here?”

“Sure does,” the guy says. “I’m Callan, by the way. I’d shake your hand, but Lex might kill me if I touch you.”

“What?” I ask, frowning. Why would Lex kill him for touching me? Perhaps he’s only kidding, but Lex isn’t the humorous type, and I doubt he would make such a joke.

Callan cocks a brow but doesn’t say anything else. He beckons for me to follow him and leads me toward the bridge. It’s made of stones, resting only a few inches above the water line. At only a few feet wide, it’s a fairly narrow crossing. It’s almost like walking on water.

“Lex is home, by the way.” Callan winks at me over his shoulder, and my frown deepens.

“Please don’t tell me he’s a freaking king or something.” I groan. The last thing I want is to drag another nation into Hakran’s issues. But my guess is that Hakran and Nevaris already have issues of their own, considering Mother imprisoned Lex. He seems to be someone of importance.

After what seems like a mile, we finally reach the end of the bridge, and I’m grateful when my feet hit solid land.

“He’s definitely not a king.” Callan snorts in amusement.

“A prince?”

“Nope.”

“He’s definitely not a normal villager if this is where he lives,” I mutter, gesturing toward the mansion that sprawls before us, taking up almost all of the small island.

“Lex is anything but normal,” Callan says.

I roll my eyes, deciding to let it go. I’m still too emotionally raw to deal with anyone else’s riddles and games. As soon as this bond with Dash breaks, I’ll leave and never see Lex again anyway.

But if Lex is here, that’s a good thing. I can ask him how long he thinks it’ll take before the bond is broken. The sooner I can return, the better for everyone.

I follow Callan to a tall door with a wrought-iron knocker. He pushes through without knocking—an indicator he either lives here too or he’s extremely welcome—and he holds the door open for me.

“Welcome to Harmony House,” he says.

Harmony House.

Beatrice mentioned this place. She said, “The harbingers kept watch over Nevaris” from here, and Lex called the harbingers his friends.

I wonder if Callan is one of them.

But that still leaves the question: what the hell is a harbinger?