by J. E. Klimov
Clapping in childlike joy, Isabel twirled around, drinking in the sight of her subjects. “Thank you all. Let this day signify the new Deranian future!”
The crowd erupted into a roar of applause.
When Isabel slowed to a stop, she gazed at Lief. “Thank you for your hospitality during this time.”
“Of course. Anything for you.” Folding his wings, he flashed a paternal smile.
“May… I?” She stood on her tip toes, tapping her fingertips together.
“You do not need my permission.”
Isabel sprinted up the main road leading to the castle. Everyone parted and cheered. The wolfish Foti stood on their hind legs and howled while the fair-skinned Tuuli clapped politely. She even caught a few figures with slit eyes; the Zingari shape-shifted from their dog-like size into humans to get a better view. Cottages in late stages of repair blurred as she flew by.
When she arrived at the steps, giant gold-plated doors greeted her. Her hands flung to the granite handles like magnets and ripped them open. Isabel squealed─the main hall looked almost exactly like before the war. Old tapestries hung on the walls. A large chandelier adorned with lit candles hung above, casting her shadow over her new throne in the foyer.
The velvet upholstery was soothing to the touch. Nostalgia wrapped its warm arms around her. It was as if the spirits of her mother and father shed gleams of light into her heart. Every muscle in her body relaxed.
Home.
She padded to the chapel. She had to pay her respects. Her hands slid up the handrail as she ascended stairs.
If things haven’t changed, it should be around the corner and down a long hallway.
Candles hung from fixtures on the ceiling, reflecting a pleasant light in the corridor. Granite, cut and smoothed into perfect rectangles, lined the walls, secured with gold fillings. When she reached the door, her fingertips hesitated on the knob. She sucked in a deep breath and pulled it open.
Instead of a puff of musty air, the scent of lavender lingered. Cherry wood pews and a stone altar furnished the chapel. Plants in crystal vases stood at each corner of the room, but it was the porcelain urns that caught her attention. Scurrying to the altar, Isabel rubbed her eyes to make sure she was seeing correctly. The front most three had names etched and lined with diamonds: Febe Deran. Hadi Deran. Victoria Deran.
Tears spilled down her cheeks. Even though the urns were only symbolic, Isabel’s heart floated like a balloon. The bands of tension in her chest loosened. She genuflected and clasped her hands together, pointing her fingers skyward.
Isabel didn’t know how long she had been praying, but her joints ached. She swayed side to side to relieve the pressure, but she refused to leave her spot. Relief lifted her spirits while sorrow dragged it down to her toes. Joy tugged her left and anxiety yanked her right. Breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, Isabel tried to focus on the faces of her parents and even her sister.
Febe had been so beautiful. Even when she lay sick in bed, skin paler than the moons, her eyes remained blue like the summer skies. Hadi had become mute from injury, but his strong jaw stuck out in pride. They had been sailing to Lea Island where the Tuuli and humans took refuge before the final Aeonian battle. After the pair were brought to shore, Isabel didn’t have time for proper good-byes, and that was the last time she saw them alive. Their faces reflected brightly in her mind like shards of glass, and Isabel pieced them together as a mosaic to cherish forever. They were now with their younger daughter, and hopefully, watching over her.
A hand pounded against the door. Isabel jumped to her feet in alarm, heart in her throat, as the banging reverberated around the small chapel.
“Queen Isabel!” Lief stood at the entrance, eyes wild and mouth askew.
“What’s going on?”
“I can’t─it’s impossible, but─”
“What?”
Each fiber of his wings stretched to its fullest extent, and Lief trembled.
“You won’t believe who has arrived!”
CHAPTER
5
Bence shaded his eyes. Land rolling for miles loomed before him, the shore only a half mile away. Scanning for a place to dock, he spotted what looked like humans bustling about in a market. Sleeveless tops in muted colors draped over lean bodies. He turned his rudder and adjusted the sail, making his way toward civilization. Hope hinged on his weary disposition.
The sun descended into the horizon. When he reached a wooden dock, Bence caught his breath. His boat had barely survived the rocky trip from the Pekering Islands; however, he was thankful he didn’t encounter any major storms. Bence checked his inventory. He found his dagger and equipped his bow staff. All the fruit had been consumed. There were a couple of roasted fish left, so he carefully wrapped them in parchment paper and stuffed it in his satchel.
When he took his first step off his boat, his arms wind milled. The dock swayed back and forth.
“Oy there!”
Bence’s hand flew to the staff. His fingers curled around the smooth wood, tensing as a squat man waddled toward him, waving his straw hat. Behind him towered a mammoth sign, painted in various colors. Bence could barely make out the smattering of print: “Welcome to Camilla.”
“You─” the man huffed. “Welcome to─” He heaved, hands dropping to his knees. “Welcome to Camilla. Let me tie your vessel up for you.”
Relaxing his grip, Bence nodded. “Thank you. And you are?”
“Ira, mister. I’m the dock master. There are many docks on this island. You happened to land in the Bleeding Heart District.”
“Bleeding… Heart?” Bence’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes, sir.” Ira’s forehead glistened with sweat as he looped a thick rope around a post, reining in Bence’s vessel. “You know, like the flower? They flourish on this side of the island, so it’s been named after it.”
“Oh.” A sense of misplaced disappointment washed over Bence. He landed in a place named after a plant. That didn’t sound too exciting. After scratching the back of his neck, Bence shrugged.
“First time here, I assume?” Ira hooked his arm around Bence’s.
Bence jerked back and drew his dagger, pointing its tip inches away from Ira’s neck. “Don’t… touch… me.”
Ira’s pupils dilated as he released a high-pitched squeal. “S-sorry. We are just friendly folk here. Maybe I should be more respectful of our v─visitor’s boundaries.”
Bence fidgeted, fingers tapping against his shoulder strap. Sheathing his dagger, he figured he needed to cool his reflexes. “I’m just not used to… touch, of any kind.”
Bowing his head, Ira muttered, “Of course. Again, my apologies. Let me set you up with a place to stay. The night approaches. You can speak with the owner to discuss your business here.”
“I need to speak to an innkeeper?” Bence tilted his head.
“Ah, yes. Camilla doesn’t have a unified leader. We’re made of pockets of villages, and the owner runs Bleeding Heart like a tight ship. He’s well respected here, and we all follow him.” He puffed out his chest. “And we’re one of the most successful villages.”
Bence cleared his throat. “Okay. Take me to the inn.”
Ira led the way, carefully maneuvering around Bence, avoiding any physical contact. The dock creaked beneath their boots. Bence gripped his satchel tighter as sea water sloshed beneath him.
Finally, a break from traveling by ocean. It’s so nice to be able to walk on land.
Once his boots met sand, Bence saw stone huts with wood-panel roofs littering the border between the beach and forest. They huddled together, leaving narrow alleys that could fit two people side by side at most. Various trees with fan-like leaves provided ample shade. Lanterns swayed in the gentle breeze, casting a mystical glow through crevices of the settlement. The path transformed from sandy beach to stone and clay. The scent of roasted meat made Bence’s mouth water. People peered at him with curiosity before bowing their tanned heads, feign
ing ignorance. Everyone wore rounded straw hats, and their clothing seem well tailored, not a thread out of place.
“Pardon me!” A plump woman barreled past Bence, pressing him against one of the huts. She held a wicker basket above her head. An aroma of freshly baked bread wafted behind her. Bence stared longingly at the basket.
“Don’t you worry, mister, we’re almost there. And then you can eat your fill.”
The farther they walked, the more Bence’s muscles relaxed. These people didn’t know who he was. When they rounded a corner, Ira gestured to a two-story building at the end of the rectangular town center. More people shuffled about, carrying crates of goods, weaving past one another seamlessly. A crowd formed a line at a well. Once someone dipped their bucket and filled it with water, the person sprinkled some herbs in it. There was a sense of peace here, one Bence had never felt.
“What’s that for?”
“The nearest source of fresh water is miles away in the depths of the forest, but we’ve discovered an herb that absorbs salt from the ocean and cleanses it.”
A silence filled the void between them. Ira coughed. He coughed again. Turning to him, Bence said, “You okay?”
“Yes, sir.” Ira drew an invisible circle with his shoe. “Usually, um, I get a little something for an escort.” He brought his palms up defensively. “Not that I ever ask much. Nor is it required, but it’s a common custom. But for you, I don’t expect… Well, I mean, I─I─” His voice wavered as his brown eyes stared at Bence’s dagger.
Releasing a gruff laugh, Bence said, “I get it. But I don’t have much.” There was no way he would part with his pearl or Isabel’s ring.
Bence unzipped his bag and checked to make sure his pearl was hidden from sight. “See? Take a peek.”
Ira poked his bulbous nose into the bag and gasped. Bence’s eye twitched, but he kept his mouth shut.
“Barrel eye fish? It’s roasted to perfection and still smells fresh!”
Raising a brow, Bence said, “You guys live by the shore, yet you are amazed by fish?”
“This is a rare delicacy on this side of the island. Hard to catch, too.” Ira marveled at it like it was gold.
Bence rolled his eyes. “You can have that as your payment. Take it.”
Ira ripped the parchment from the pouch and bowed feverishly. “My family will be glad for such a treat. Thank you. Take care, sir. Straight ahead is the Bleeding Heart Inn. Ask for the manager and mention my name. He’ll take good care of you.”
“Will do.” Bence heaved his now lighter satchel over his shoulder and brushed past the crowd to the building that stood before him. Built of stone and clay, modest in taste, it was almost unrecognizable from the other homes. A sign flapped against the breeze, adorned with the carving of the flower and painted in black and red.
Wooden chimes rung as he pulled the sliding door open. A red cloth hung draped across the doorframe, obscuring his line of vision. Bence gripped his dagger. The tighter he squeezed, the more secure he felt. He moved the flap with his other hand and ducked under the draping.
“Welcome,” a voice floated out from behind the bar. Tables crowded the room with people peppered about. Voices hushed as heads turned toward him. Bence’s cheeks burned with heat, his heart thumping loudly against his ribs. Everything turned into tunnel vision.
“Sir?”
Bence blinked. Surveying the room, all the faces smiled. Smiled.
“Sir?” the voice pressed. It was silky, as if coated with honey. A head popped up from the bar. Wooden bangles clacked on the woman’s wrists as she waved. A puzzled look was plastered across her face.
“I wish to speak to the manager,” Bence said, annunciating with authority. The patrons turned back to their businesses. He wiped his brow, relieved to be out of the spotlight.
“He’s away and may not be back for a few days. I can help you, though. Pull up a chair, and tell Ami what you need!” She plopped her elbows on the oak bench and tapped her nails against her cheeks. Brown waves fell over her shoulders, framing her oval face. Wooden rings pierced her ears, creating slight holes in them.
Bence sat hard on the barstool, realizing how exhausted he was. “First, how much would a night’s stay be, and secondly, I want to know how I can get to Irelle?”
Her hazel eyes widened. “I knew you didn’t live in this community, but you must really be from out of this country. We don’t have a currency here. We barter─trade goods, you know. What’ve you got?”
His foot slipped off the leg of the stool. He already gave away what was apparently a precious fish. His satchel was empty minus the pearl, which was worth more than a night’s stay at a rickety inn. “Nothing,” Bence blurted.
Ami hummed, twisting the numerous rings on her fingers. “Wait, what’s that?” She pointed at his neck.
“This?” Bence pulled the thread out and cradled Isabel’s ring in between his fingers.
“I’ll take that. You’ll get a night’s stay and a hearty dinner tonight with breakfast tomorrow for it. Oh, and I’ll provide written instructions to head north.”
His hand retracted. The ring felt warm from sitting between his chest and his tunic. “North?”
“You bet. The only way to Irelle is to sail from a port in northern Camilla to an international trading post. If you’re lucky, a vessel will take you there.”
Bence gripped the ring tighter. It had more value than that. Ami already provided him with an invaluable tip. He could find a place in the forest to sleep. Loosening his tongue from the roof of his mouth, he said, “No. I’m all set.” When he stood, he swiveled on the balls of his feet and rushed toward the exit.
“Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be here!”
He ducked under the curtain and slammed the sliding door open, only to bump into a wall of a man.
“Move it,” Bence said.
A meaty hand pushed him back a few feet, “No, why don’t you move it, runt!” The man brushed past him, shoving a little harder with his shoulder.
As he stumbled outside, Bence cursed under his breath. The tall figure was built like a boulder. A weathered taupe cape hung from his neck and dragged on the ground.
Bence slammed his boot down on the fabric, causing the man to lurch back abruptly. “I told you to move it.” He swung his staff around the man’s neck and tugged.
The man lumbered backward, grunting and struggling. He straightened, lifting Bence off his feet and tried to reach him. A hand landed on Bence’s satchel and pulled. Bence hurled himself up and over the man and collided against the stone walkway. Pain streaked down his body and burned his nerves. Before he could react, the man pressed his boot against his neck. Bence wrapped his hands around his ankle, but couldn’t budge it. “You…” his voice rasped. Trying to suck in the last bit of air he could, Bence reached down toward his hip, found his dagger, and blindly swung it.
The burly man shouted upon contact and released his hold on Bence, who hopped to his feet. He ducked a wild punch and twirled around the man to pierce his flesh once more. “You will learn to never mess with strangers,” Bence hissed.
“What on earth is going on?” Ami’s voice shattered the tension-filled air.
Before Bence could turn around, a spear whizzed by his shoulder, ripping his tunic. Both men stilled and gaped at Ami.
“Stop it!” She reached for another spear and wound her arm back. “Who started this?”
“He did,” whimpered the man who sat and nursed his ankle.
Bence snorted. A bully and a coward?
After waving to some patrons to aid the injured man, Ami glared at Bence. “You! Come with me. Now.”
CHAPTER
6
The double doors crashed open. Isabel’s hands flew to her mouth to prevent the air from escaping her lungs. As the world spun to a halt, the man she had thought was dead stood before her at the entrance to the castle.
His dirty blonde hair was disheveled and his clothes hung around his emaciated frame,
but there was no mistaking those ice blue eyes. He stood before Isabel, head held high with a grin.
“Dante?” she asked. Her voice barely passed as a whisper. “But you’re…”
The sun’s rays stretched like an open hand. The crowd had remained by the steel gates, standing on their tip-toes. Puffs of white clouds escaped their open mouths. The breeze carried their whispers, brushing past Dante’s locks, which have grown to his shoulders. She craned her neck, confirming her shock by the paralyzed expressions on the guards’ faces that lined the paved walkway. Their hands twitched at their hilts, unsure what to do. Lief cleared his throat as he passed Isabel, making his way to a pocket of Tuuli bystanders.
“It’s a miracle, right?” A weak laugh escaped his lips as he turned to face the crowd. People glanced at one another with eyebrows raised. Some inched away while others pushed forward, daring to pass through the gates. The wagging tails of the Foti and Zingari drooped between their legs. A reluctant clap arose from the crowd.
“I survived the Aeonian War. My sudden appearance must come as a shock to you all, but it has taken me quite some time to recover and find my way back. I’m sure many of you are confused, but I will meet with my wife─”
Survived. Isabel’s stomach lurched. Deep cuts marred his fair arms and neck, but she had expected mortal wounds, and blood-stained clothes. It didn’t made sense, but his voice certainly sounded like the Dante she knew. All this time she thought she was widowed, but instead of feeling relieved, lassitude doused her spirit.
“─and we’ll answer any questions you may have through your chiefs at a later time. But for now, I need rest. Thank you for your unwavering resilience over the past few months.”
Isabel focused on the Tuuli. Some of them were weeping with joy, while others like Lief murmured to one another, stone faced. Their heads shook. When Dante approached her, he wrapped his lanky arms into a hug. His hands were unbearably cold and clammy.
