With a smile, Tanith nodded and left her book on the cushion beside her. “I’d love to. Maybe we’ll go for a ride when we’re done,” she suggested.
Meelah nearly bounced on her toes, and Kent stepped to the side awkwardly, running a hand through his strawberry blond locks. “I suppose I should join the others, then. Bring me back a treat, will you? Unless you burn them,” he added, giving Tanith a knowing look.
She shooed him off. “Oh, please. That was only a few times, and there was no supervision in that kitchen.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” he muttered before slipping between the bookshelves and disappearing.
She wondered if he would actually join the other firstborns before Meelah pulled her away too. “You don’t need to change, do you? I think they’ll have aprons.”
Tanith glanced down at her trousers and old shirt with a raised brow. “I think I’ll be fine.”
One thing they couldn’t do in the castle was interfere with the work of the royal chef. They were both banned after an incident years ago involving a forgotten oven, and though they hadn’t actually burned the kitchen down, the kitchen staff and their mother both agreed it was safer for them to let the professionals do their jobs.
Neither of the princesses told anyone where they were going, but if they didn’t return, Kent knew where to send the guards looking. Dressed the way they were and without escorts, Tanith wasn’t sure anyone would notice or care who they were. Not unless they looked closely anyway.
“You can see them preparing the boat in the harbor,” Meelah noted, catching a glimpse of the white sails in the distance as they started off.
Tanith hummed, unimpressed with the notion. “I’m not sure why they bother detailing it. Firstborns have only ever returned in the life rafts. Except once, I think.”
No one wanted to be the one to return first and take the main boat home, especially since they’d all been empty-handed in the past. To return without the Sight was dishonorable unless one were to narrowly escape before the island turned invisible again. It was seen as giving up, and many boats had been lost to the island since.
“If more than half of you were to ever return, it would come in handy. Let’s swing by the beach and get a closer look. Our class doesn’t start for another hour.”
They turned off the street down a narrower path, passing through the shallow end of the woods that gradually opened near the water’s edge. The Crescent Coast was a man-made white sand beach with the natural line of grayish pebbles closer to the shoreline. The shells further out had been picked clean that morning by the business owners who turned them into jewelry, but the waves had since washed up some colorful options, glowing orange and pink in the afternoon sun.
Meelah tucked a few in her pocket as they neared the boat, the only one that would be in the water for the following days until the Invisible Island had come and gone. Some men worked on it, a guard standing further off as he observed the progress.
The boat wasn’t huge, but it was meant for royalty, a fresh coat of blue paint covering the outside and yellow details, swirls and short scriptures providing more decoration. They moved barrels on board, provisions as it was unsafe to eat anything from the island. Tanith had been told the food was plentiful over there, but false and unfulfilling. They could starve to death slowly without feeling anything other than content, so they could only trust what they brought with them.
She and Meelah came to a stop thirty feet away from the dock, watching, and Tanith wondered if they were thinking the same thing. Probably not. She was thinking whether or not the combined stress of the mission and the ride over would make her seasick, which should have been the least of her worries. Her sister was probably wondering if she’d even come back alive.
“I asked mother if we could set off fireworks at the end of the first day,” the young princess admitted. “I wonder if you’ll see them all the way out there.”
Tanith smiled sadly. She’d have to live long enough for that, and she wished for nothing more than to see the lights dancing in the dark sky. “I’ll look for them,” she promised. “I’m sure they’ll be beautiful.”
Meelah perked up and took a step forward. “Let’s be on our way then. Otherwise, we risk losing a spot at one of the better counters.”
“We wouldn’t want that.”
It was hard to leave the beach behind, but Tanith knew she’d be back soon, dreading the idea. Perhaps it would have been easier to camp out on the sandy shores and wait, but she promised her sister the day and she would deliver.
They took a shortcut through the trees again, avoiding the main road where some of the men were carting wagons filled with supplies toward the boat. There was no real path on that end as they neared the city, but they could see their destination not far off.
It was loud, the sound of waves crashing behind them and bustling in the streets ahead. Horses hooves clacked on cobblestone and people called to one another. Tanith wondered if she’d miss civilization while she was on the Invisible Island. Wondered how long it would be until she’d see it again when she slammed shoulder-first into a tree.
“Ow! Meelah!” she chastised, turning around, but it wasn’t her sister who’d slammed into her.
Meelah was ten paces behind, paused in front of a large root as a stranger looked down at Tanith. He too had been avoiding the main path, and he only could have been coming from the beach, though it didn’t seem like he would have been working on the boat.
He was dressed in black, draped in a cloak that covered him head to toe. Not even his mouth or nose was visible, nothing but his eyes staring back at her. They were brown, and they should have been warm, but they were void of emotion as he looked down at her.
“Watch it,” he grunted before swiftly shoving past her and treading towards the city.
Tanith glanced back at Meelah in disbelief. “Did you see that?”
Her sister nodded. “He came out of nowhere. What a jerk,” she said simply as she stepped over the root and continued forward.
Tanith looked forward again to find the stranger gone, nowhere to be seen between the trees, despite the fact that he’d have had to be sprinting to disappear into the streets not far ahead. Perhaps his strides were longer, or maybe he’d elbowed a tree or two out of his way. Either way, she hoped anyone else she came across that day would be more respectful. If he’d have known who she was, that she outranked him in every way, it might have been different.
It was a struggle of selfish pride not to track him down and tell him just that, but she had other concerns on her mind as she and Meelah neared the shops.
Sandra’s Bakery was the one they walked into, and the owner was actually Sandra the second, named after her mother for the sole reason of inheriting the shop. Sandra’s unnaturally purple hair was pulled into a ponytail, a huge metal bowl propped on her hip and a whisk in hand.
“Meelah,” she greeted, bowing her head in respect. “Here for another class?”
Her sister nodded. “Of course. This is my sister, Tanith. She needs even more help than I do,” she shamelessly told the baker.
Tanith tried not to gape in offense as Sandra curtseyed, but the firstborn royal merely waved a hand of dismissal. “None of that. How long have you owned this shop?”
She’d baked in the city before, but never in Sandra’s kitchen. She wondered when her sister found the time to explore and weed out her next conquests.
“Since my mother retired ten years ago. I was seventeen when I took over.”
“Impressive,” Tanith noted, surveying the area. The counters were covered in baked goods, shelves of them stocked on the lengthy back wall, and there were a few small round tables to the right, two women and a man seated there. The man read his newspaper and drank his tea, the women gossiping over scones.
“Are they here for the class?” she wondered.
Sandra shook her head and opened the waist-height door between both counters, setting down her bowl. “No. I teach cl
asses in the back. Come on through. You’re the second ones here.”
The back of the shop was even more impressive than the front, equally as large, and the victim of several dozen experiments. All the ingredients were stocked on the farthest wall, long wooden tables lined in the middle of the room. There was flour on the floor, sugar in every crook and cranny that crunched beneath Tanith’s shoes as she walked forward.
Meelah claimed the second table to the front for them, the first having been taken by a thin boy no older than eighteen. His brown hair was shaved, his eyes green, and smile shy when he nodded to the sisters.
“How do you do?”
“Well. And you?” Meelah asked.
“I’m alright ma’am. Gregor’s my name.”
“I’m Meelah.”
“Tanith.”
Gregor’s eyes widened, his mouth parting slightly as recognition set in. “Oh,” he muttered before bowing twice. Tanith held back a chuckle. She hated when people bowed and curtseyed, but sometimes it was fun to watch them realize who she was. “My apologies. I didn’t know. Would you like to switch tables? I’d be more than happy to let you have the front.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Tanith insisted. “We’re fine here.”
Gregor was rather silent after the exchange and all through the lesson after the others arrived, but Tanith caught him glancing at Meelah through the reflection of his spoon more than once.
With Sandra weaving between stations, it wasn’t difficult to put the apple roses together, but only after she showed Meelah how to evenly slice the fruit. It was Tanith’s job to twist the clean cuts around each other between the pastry dough that Meelah perfected and to sprinkle cinnamon over the finished product. Neither of them complained when Sandra took charge of the actual baking, letting everyone in the class chat and socialize while their treats finished in the oven.
“Why not four?” Tanith wondered after Sandra had pulled the baked apple roses away from the heat, passing them out one tray at a time.
“Because Leirge got his nose bit off. If we both eat one now, and you give one to Kent, and I give one to mother, we need a fifth for him. It seems like the right thing to do,” her compassionate sister explained. “He was so sullen in the healer’s chambers last night. They tried to put his nose back on, but it’s… You know. It’ll never be quite the same.”
Tanith shrugged as Sandra put their tray in front of them. “He did tell Penelope to bite him,” she considered.
Meelah gasped. “Are you defending that Crish woman? You saw how feral the disease made her. She was pure evil.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you speak in her favor?”
“I don’t,” Tanith started. “I just don’t feel horrible that he dared a woman to bite him and she did. He wasn’t exactly polite, or even bearable in the way he spoke to her. I think I might have lashed out too if he spoke to me that way.”
“You’d have bitten off his nose?”
“No, but I might have punched him,” she admitted.
Meelah sighed, poking at one of the baked apple roses. “You’re not feral, so I suppose that wouldn’t be the worst reaction. He still deserves something, though, so five it is.”
Tanith lifted one from the pan. “I think it’s cooled now.”
Still hot, she found, but perfect and the first bite melted in her mouth. “This is amazing,” she moaned.
Meelah took a bite before nodding in agreement. “It truly is. How did yours turn out Gregor?”
The lanky fellow turned around, his mouth full and a slice of apple hanging out. He gave her a thumbs-up before turning back around, and Meelah smiled, blushing.
“Maybe we could try to make those giant muffins when you return,” she suggested, and Tanith was quick to agree.
“I think that would be fun.”
A silent exchange passed between them, an understanding that she could actually come back—that she would do whatever it took to return home, hopefully with the Sight.
Sandra gave them three brown paper bags for their remaining goods, shooing them out the door quickly so they could deliver them while they were still warm.
They’d barely stepped into the street when Meelah paused, groaning. “I forgot my ring. I took it off when I started rolling the dough.” She handed her bag to Tanith. “I’ll be right back.”
As her sister disappeared inside, Tanith watched a seamstress from the clothing shop across the street drag a young girl out by her hair. Tanith stiffened immediately.
“You little rat!” the older woman seethed. “You think you can slip out in my design without me noticing?”
Frowning, Tanith put the three paper bags down on the stone ledge in front of Sandra’s Bakery, right next to the flowers sprouting out of the dirt inside the holdings before crossing the street.
“Take it off!” the seamstress demanded. “Take it off now!”
The younger girl whimpered, her hair short, a boy’s cut, and the cream dress a stark contrast to her dirty skin. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Just let me change inside, please!”
“No! You’re not stepping foot in my shop again.” The seamstress pointed to the ground where a raggedy brown dress was discarded, holes in the fabric. “Put it on!”
“Please—”
“Excuse me,” Tanith interrupted. “What seems to be the problem?”
“We have a thief,” the businesswoman answered. “She’s lucky I don’t take her hand for trying to walk off wearing my dress without paying.”
The girl struggled; her wrist held tightly in the older woman’s grip. “I found the cheapest one! I couldn’t afford to buy it, and my old dress is falling apart. I only need one. Just the one! I’ll work it off if you’ll let me.”
“Street rats don’t work for respectable businesses,” the seamstress answered. “Now change!”
“How much is the dress?” Tanith wondered.
The old woman frowned deeply. “Two silver pieces.”
It certainly was the cheapest, nothing special to it, but the fabric was good, and it would hold up for a couple of months at least. Tanith reached into her pocket and paid the woman, leaving her to turn her nose upwards and disappear inside again, a warning never to return rolling off her tongue.
“Thank you so much,” the girl said, picking her brown scrappy dress off the ground as though what was left of it could be repurposed.
“Don’t worry about it,” Tanith answered. “Just stay out of trouble.” She turned to leave before pausing and looking back. “If you need work, there’s a mill on the east corner that’s always hiring. It pays just enough to live on, but for more lavish pleasures, you’ll have to work your way up.”
The girl smiled, nodding. “Thank you. You’re a guardian.”
“Tanith?”
She turned to see Meelah looking around before catching her eye and crossing the street. “Sorry. Are you ready to go?”
Her sister nodded, holding up her hand with the gold ring gold ring on it and wiggling her fingers in confirmation. “Yes.”
“I left the bags…” Tanith’s brows drew inwards. “Weren’t there three bags?”
Meelah nodded, looking at the stone ledge where only two remained. “There were. Who would steal one bag?”
Tanith remembered the girl across the street. She only needed one dress, so she merely shrugged. “Someone who needed food more than we do,” she supposed. “There’s still enough for Kent and mother. Come on, before the treats get cold.”
+
“This is glorious,” Kent muttered as he devoured the baked apple rose. It was the size of his hand, large enough for an entire meal, but he was finished in minutes.
“Does this mean I can expect you to stop jabbing at my cooking skills?”
“Not a chance.”
She resisted the urge to sigh. “Did you get around to gathering with the other firstborns?”
“Only Ekko. He’s been avoiding the others too. His four younger sibling
s remained behind in Ograboden, and he’s down in the dumps about not getting to see them in what he believes could be his final days.”
Tanith tilted her head. “I suppose he has more to lose than all of us, trusting that he actually gets along with his family.”
“He does. Very much so.”
“That’s unfortunate, then, that they couldn’t be here.”
Kent was silent for a moment, considering. “Maybe. Or it could simply be for the best. The rest of us have to say our goodbyes, but if he doesn’t say it, then it isn’t really a goodbye at all.”
“His mother and father are still here,” she reminded him. “They’ll see him off like the rest of our parent’s will.”
“It’s not the same. He’s leaving his life open-ended in that way. That’s got to be good luck for a return.”
Tanith wasn’t sure what charged his train of thought, so she merely sighed, tired of wondering who would live and who would die. “Then none of us should say goodbye. Only hello when we’re home again.”
CHAPTER 4
“Wake up, dear. Tanith! It’s time.”
She felt the cold hand on her shoulder, shaking her awake before she had the chance to rise herself. “What?” she muttered tiredly, but her mind wasn’t muddled enough to forget what day it was. Mission day, and it was time for her to get ready.
She peaked through one eye to see her mother still in her long, purple nightdress. Meelah was across the room with her elbows propped on the windowsill. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed, tone entranced.
Tanith jerked upright so quickly her head pounded, tearing off the sheets and hurrying to the window. In the distance, beyond the rippling crystal waters of the Crescent Coast, it was no longer clear blue skies and pure potential.
There was an island.
It was bigger than she imagined, at least a mile from the beach, and similar in shape to the drawings in her history books. One thing they’d gotten wrong was the highest peak. It was jagged in the sketches she’d seen, beautiful and covered in fauna. She couldn’t confirm that from such a distance, but she did know what a volcano looked like, and she was almost certain it was one.
Tanith & Shaw (The Fealty of Firstborns Series Book 1) Page 3
