“Try harder.”
It’s good advice for both sets of worries.
By the time the ship docks in Leiden, Rasmus has begun rolling his eyes every time he sees me with Bram.
Tessa says it’s a good sign.
The town is on the coast, and from the small river port, we can see the black stone of the craggy shoreline in the distance. A small lighthouse perches on a hill nearby. Waves slam into the rocks, sending up sprays of foamy water. It’s desolate, but beautiful.
“Welcome back to land,” the ship’s captain says as we prepare to disembark. He’s holding a large, flat leather pouch that he waves in the air. “I was told to give you this upon your arrival. Who wants it?”
Jacey jumps up and snatches it from his hands, and the captain chuckles. “Good luck. I’ll see you in two days for your journey back to the capital.”
I hurry off the ship after Jacey, but when I set foot on the pier, my breath catches.
Leiden. The City of Glass.
I haven’t been here since I was a small child. My father brought me one summer to pick out an anniversary gift for my mother—a special window he had commissioned for their bedroom. Leiden’s main industry is glass, and the town is most well known for supplying stunning stained-glass windows for buildings all over Kastelia and beyond. “I want your mother to wake up every morning bathed in light,” he told me after he met with the artist. I rolled my eyes at the time—my parents’ affection for each other was beyond embarrassing. But still, my memories from that trip are filled with a sense of wonder.
I remembered it being beautiful, but I wasn’t expecting this. The pier is brimming with hundreds of glass sculptures—giant turquoise seashells gape open just enough for us to catch a glimpse of the pearly pink orbs inside. Delicate purple seaweed sprouts from the ground and seems to undulate in the breeze. An enormous yellow fish with black stripes and orange eyes bobs in the water alongside an emerald octopus. Trees made entirely of glass line the boardwalk. They’re rendered in a multitude of hues and in such intricate detail that the veining on each individual leaf is visible. Everywhere the pier is bursting with color.
It’s a feast for the eyes, and for several minutes we all gawk in stunned silence, turning in slow circles to absorb it all. But it would take hours to see every detail.
A flock of geese flies overhead, honking to one another as they pass, as if they, too, are entranced by Leiden’s beauty.
“Should we get started?” Jacey asks. We all gather around her as she pulls a single sheet of parchment from the leather pocket, her gaze roaming over the words.
Talon makes an impatient sound. “So? What does it say?”
Her brows pull together. “We’re supposed to stay at the Swallowtail Inn tonight, and the challenge will take place tomorrow at the Fortress.”
Beside me, Bram goes still. Rasmus is standing a distance away, but I could swear I see him flinch.
“What’s the Fortress?” Niklas asks.
“The Fortress is a training facility for select members of the Ivory Guard,” Bram says. But his tone suggests something more than that. Something darker.
“What kind of training facility?” Tessa asks.
Bram’s mouth is set in a grim line. “Let’s just say I’ve never heard anyone speak of the place fondly.”
“But surely they aren’t going to expect us to fight,” Talon says. “We wouldn’t need that kind of training to serve on town councils.”
“The Fortress doesn’t train soldiers to fight,” Bram says. “It trains them to survive torture.” A shiver goes through me that has nothing to do with the cold. I pull my cloak more tightly around myself. Bram’s hand goes to my upper back, his fingers resting lightly on my scapula. A comforting token of affection for Rasmus’s benefit, I’m sure. I resist the urge to shake him off. I resist the urge to move closer.
A chilled silence settles over the group as we consider the implications of a challenge in this particular location. I kick a loose pebble with the toe of my boot and send it tumbling toward the river.
“Don’t worry,” Bram says, finally. “I doubt they actually plan to hurt us.”
But the words come out forced and empty. We don’t really know what Norah and the Grand Council might be planning.
“So what are we supposed to do until tomorrow?” Jacey asks.
“Let’s explore the town,” Tessa says, her voice false and overly bright. I shoot a quick, panicked glance at Rasmus, but his expression is the same as always.
Tessa strides off toward the center of town without waiting for a reply. Jacey shrugs and follows her. Then Talon and Niklas do too. Bram and I stay at the back of the group. He now rests his palm at the small of my back. The gesture makes my heart stop briefly, then gallop ahead at twice the speed.
A memory tickles at the back of my mind and I feel the ghost of Bram’s fingers in the precise spot they rest now. Strong. Protective. But that was on another path, in another time. And it meant something different then.
I quicken my steps just enough so that his hand falls away.
The town square in Leiden is even more spectacular than its pier. Every building—humble or grand—is graced by colorful stained-glass windows, and sculptures like the ones we saw on the pier. We pass a bakery with a window depicting a scene of a woman removing a steaming round loaf of bread from a red-hot oven with a long wooden paddle. In front of the building, a giant glass basket overflows with shimmering pastries.
The calligrapher’s shop has a series of windows showing scenes of apprentices learning the craft, heads bent over scrolls of parchments, inky black drops spilling from feathered pens. Across the road, the cobbler boasts a display of glass shoes—slippers, boots, sandals—sculpted in hues of crimson, green, and blue.
The breeze carries the briny scent of the sea.
As we walk, Tessa threads her arm through mine. “I’m going to stop in one of the shops and ask after my childhood tutor,” she says softly. “He should be able to tell me where we can find Avalina. Why don’t you go with everyone else to the inn to drop off bags and I’ll meet you there?” She hands me her satchel and squeezes my arm before darting into a butcher shop.
Rasmus doesn’t even turn to watch her go. It’s a stark, unwelcome reminder that he’s only here to guard me. Nothing else matters. Maybe I’m torturing myself with Bram for nothing.
I should know better than to get my hopes up, and yet the possibility of failure dances along every nerve ending, making me anxious and jittery. Avalina might not live in Leiden anymore. She might be unwilling to talk to me at all. I try to imagine the kind of woman Latham would fall for. Ambitious. Heartless. All angles and sharp edges.
The kind of woman who might take one look at me and kill me herself to save him the trouble.
We turn a corner, and the inn comes into view—a large L-shaped structure made from dark stone that highlights the stained-glass windows that stretch three stories high.
A group of children chase one another around the cobblestone courtyard in front, while weary-looking travelers unload trunks from wagons. It’s busier than I expected based on the emptiness of the pier. As we get closer, I hear snatches of conversations in foreign tongues. Cistonian, with its long, melodious vowels, and the rough, clipped consonants of Novenium. Suddenly the bustling inn makes more sense. Most of these travelers probably arrived by sea instead of sailing down the Shard.
Several heads turn to watch us as we cross the courtyard, and suddenly I realize how strange we must seem in our colorful cloaks. A handful of bone magic apprentices so far from the capital and trailed by a hulking bodyguard.
The innkeeper is a small man with a slender frame and round wire-rimmed spectacles. He looks up briefly when we enter. “Ivory Hall?”
“Yes,” Niklas and Talon say at the same moment.
The innkeeper takes two sets of keys from a pegboard behind him and hands one set to Niklas, and one set to me. “Turn right at the top of the stairs and take th
e last two rooms at the end of the hall.”
After the grandeur of the rest of the town, I had high hopes for our accommodations, but our room turns out to be disappointing—small, with two questionably clean mattresses shoved against each wall, and a bedroll resting on the floor in between them. My neck aches just looking at it. I can’t believe Norah sent us all this way but couldn’t spare enough coin for an extra room or two so no one would be forced to sleep on the floor.
I toss Tessa’s satchel on one of the mattresses and drop my own on the bedroll.
Jacey gives me a grateful look. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
I feel as if I owe them both—Tessa because she’s helping me find Avalina, and Jacey because I’ve been misleading her about my relationship with Bram. She’d be hurt if she found out I’d trusted Tessa with my secrets but left her in the dark. Giving her the mattress assuages some of my guilt, if only a little.
“Hey there,” Talon says, poking his head into the room at the same time he knocks on the door frame. He hooks his thumb toward Bram, who stands beside him. “We thought we’d grab a bite downstairs. Do you want to come?” Then he looks around. “Where’s Tessa?”
Jacey rolls her eyes. “You just now noticed she’s missing?”
“There are a lot of us,” Talon says defensively. “And I’ve been rather focused on my growling stomach for the past few hours.”
“She was hoping to visit her childhood tutor who moved here a few years ago,” I say, grateful I can be honest, at least about this. “She stopped to make some inquiries about where he lives.”
“Well, she must have been sneaky about it,” Talon says. “I didn’t even see her slip away.”
Bram and I share a significant look. If Talon—who is one of the less observant members of our team—finds Tessa’s disappearance suspicious, what must Rasmus think?
Bram claps Talon on the shoulder. “I’m hungry too. Let’s eat.”
I only manage to pick at my food. I break off a bit of bread from the loaf, only to realize a few minutes later that I’ve rolled it into a ball between my thumb and forefinger without ever bringing it to my mouth.
Tessa has been gone too long. I shouldn’t have agreed to this plan. If something happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself.
My eyes keep darting to the door, hoping to catch sight of her. Rasmus stands at the back of the room, silent, watchful. He could help me track her down. It would mean giving up all hope of meeting Avalina, but it would be worth it to know Tessa is safe. Eventually the pressure building in my chest becomes unbearable. I start to rise, but Bram puts a hand on my arm. His gaze flicks toward the door.
Tessa.
Her cheeks and nose are pink from the cold. When she spots us, her face breaks out in a wide smile. Good news, then.
My breath sags out of me.
Talon hops up and grabs an extra chair from a nearby table, presenting it to Tessa with exaggerated chivalry. “Ah, there you are. We missed you.”
Jacey gives a derisive snort. “He just feels bad because he didn’t notice you were gone for an embarrassingly long time.”
Talon shoots her a glare. “You didn’t have to announce it.”
Tessa laughs and flops down into the chair. “Who wants to go see how glass is made?”
It’s so completely different from anything I thought she might say that I just stare at her, slack-jawed.
She takes a chunk of meat from my plate and pops it into her mouth.
“Really?” Niklas says. “How would we manage that?”
Tessa finishes chewing and swallows. “My tutor’s son was recently apprenticed as a glassblower and he’s invited us to his shop to watch him work.” She shrugs. “But only if everyone is interested.”
“I am,” Talon says.
“Me too,” Niklas adds.
Jacey pushes her empty plate to the center of the table. “I’m in. When?”
“Tonight,” Tessa says, licking a crumb from her finger. “Now.”
I can’t figure out how this fits into Tessa’s plan, but by the way she has schooled her expression into nonchalance, I know it does.
We leave the inn and stroll through the candy-colored town square to a more remote part of Leiden, where the buildings are farther apart and the windows are made of plain, unadorned glass.
I casually make my way to the front of the group and walk beside Tessa. She doesn’t turn her face to acknowledge me, but after a few minutes she starts speaking in a voice low enough that I have to strain to hear. I fight the impulse to dip my head toward hers. “Avalina lives two streets south of the inn. Her house is built of rose-colored brick with white shutters. It has a big oak tree in front. Leave with Bram, but not until I give you the signal.”
“Got it,” I say just as Bram slides his hand into mine. I take a deep breath. I can do this. I have to.
The glass workshop is on the outskirts of town in a building that would be nondescript if not for the large cone-shaped protrusion on the roof.
As we approach, Rasmus puts his arm out to block me. “Wait here.”
He disappears inside the building and doesn’t return for several minutes.
Finally he emerges and waves us forward.
We step through the door into a dimly lit room so warm that it smothers the air from my lungs. I shrug off my cloak, and several others do the same. Even Rasmus tugs at his collar, as if he’s considering shedding his Breaker attire.
Glassblowers work at various stations. One girl stands in front of a huge oven holding a long metal pole with a purple blob of molten glass on the end. She shoves the pole into the flame as if she’s feeding a dragon.
On the other side of the room, another man blows into a metal pipe, and the liquid glass on the end expands into a delicate bubble. I’m transfixed by the sight, so much so that for a moment, I forget why we’re here. And then, with a start, I realize that’s the point. Tessa has planned the perfect distraction.
Rasmus stands at the edge of the room as mesmerized as anyone else. Carefully, I drape my cloak over the back of a chair in his peripheral vision. He’s already swept the building for potential threats, so his guard might be down. Perhaps if he sees a flash of red from the corner of his eye, he won’t be tempted to look away from the demonstration. Slowly, I back away. Without needing an explanation, Bram appears at my side, again threading his fingers through mine. The glassblower in front of the oven pulls the metal pole from the fire and then starts to spin it. Rasmus leans forward and watches as the glass ripples into a new shape. Tessa gives me a sharp look. Go.
Bram and I back out of the workshop, ease open the door, slip outside.
And then we run.
The crisp air is a shock against my bare arms. The cold bites at my nose and ears. I risk a glance over my shoulder, relieved that no one is following. At least not yet. We run until my legs ache. Until my lungs feel both on fire and coated in ice, like the burn that comes with frostbite.
We weave through alleys and between buildings. Rasmus can’t stop us if he can’t find us.
Finally we slow and then come to a stop. I put my hands on my knees and suck in a lungful of frigid air.
“You all right?” Bram asks.
It takes me a moment to get enough air to answer. “Yes. You?”
“I’m fine.”
“After all this, she better be home.”
The pressure in the air changes just a fraction—the breathless space between when I know Bram will laugh and when he actually does. Finally a full-bellied sound escapes him, rich and full as melting chocolate. “I hope so.”
I’m filled with bittersweet longing.
“Ready?” Bram asks.
“Not really. But it’s too late to back out now.”
Chapter Fourteen
Avalina’s cottage is just where Tessa said we’d find it. The giant oak in front conceals the house from the road, but once we get closer, its cozy facade comes into view—rose-colored br
ick, white shutters, a small flower bed whose blooms have wilted. For a moment, I’m tempted to turn away. To march back to the glass workshop and tell Tessa that Avalina wasn’t home. As if reading my thoughts, Bram once again slides his hand into mine and squeezes it reassuringly.
It gives me just enough courage to lift my fist and knock.
I’m torn between yearning for her to answer and hoping she won’t. But we don’t have to wait long.
The door swings open, and a woman stands in front of us. She wears a thin, loose-fitting blue dress, and her raven hair reaches nearly to her waist. Her eyes are startlingly blue, and her mouth curves into a kind smile.
“Hello there. What can I do for you?”
“We’re looking for someone named Avalina,” I say, certain this can’t be her. Latham couldn’t love someone who looks so … ordinary.
“Lucky girl,” the woman says, “you’ve found her.”
I’m not sure what I was expecting. Obviously, she wasn’t going to open the door dressed in armor or with a weapon in hand, but something about her friendly, unguarded expression throws me off. She’s so different from who I imagined.
“We’re apprentices at Ivory Hall,” Bram says. “We were hoping we could ask you a few questions.”
At that, her brows pull together. “You’re a long way from the capital.”
A shiver goes through me, and I rub my arms for warmth.
“Oh my,” Avalina says, “the two of you are freezing. Come in, come in.”
We step inside, and she pushes the door closed behind us. My gaze sweeps over the room. Off to one side is a small kitchen with a rough-hewn wooden table in the center. A bowl of fruit sits on top, and bundles of dried herbs hang from the ceiling.
Avalina leads us to the other side of the cottage, where several mismatched chairs are positioned around a hearth that glows with a crackling fire. “Have a seat,” she says. Bram and I comply, both of us leaning toward the flames and rubbing heat back into our frigid limbs. “Now, you were saying?”
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