by Emma Fenton
Ria glanced down at the cards. She’d won again, three times in a row. Siraj must really not be paying attention if he’s playing so sloppy, she thought. But then the man in question was standing, face twisted in fury and pulled a knife. Shit. She stared at the blade, wide-eyed. Had she miscalculated? She’d thought Siraj was protecting her, but maybe she’d been horribly wrong. What if he’s working for Izan now, one part of her brain wondered, while the other part protested. He wouldn’t. He was friends with the Elder Scholar.
“Cheat!” he spat. His voice was far louder than anyone’s in the whole tavern. Heads snapped towards their table, all eyes on them.
Ria frowned. What is he doing?
“Think you can steal from me, eh?” he said, waving the knife around dramatically. His eyes widened marginally as he gave her a pointed look.
Oh. Taking the hint, she pulled her own knife. “Don’t call me a cheater, you rat bastard,” she said, dropping her voice an octave and doing her best imitation of a Bokaine accent.
“Oi!” one of the soldiers called. “If you’re gonna fight, take it out back!”
Siraj grabbed Ria by the collar and hauled her to the back door, knife at her throat. When the door closed behind them, they ducked into the nearest alleyway and waited, but there was no sign of soldiers following them.
“Why cause a scene?” Ria asked, catching her breath. “They could’ve arrested us.”
“Who looks more suspicious?” he asked, smirking. “Someone who looks like they don’t want to be found, or two people having a row?”
She supposed he had a point. “Thank you.”
“Ameer said you would need me.” Siraj held up a hand stopping her from launching into a half a dozen questions. “I’ll explain later, but first—”
“There you are,” Peryn said, stepping out of the shadows in the alleyway. Faster than Ria’s eyes could track, Siraj’s knife was pressed against the demon’s jugular, and Peryn was already raising a hand to break the man’s neck.
“Stop.” She pushed her way between them. “Siraj, this is my fiancé. Peryn, Siraj. He’s helping us. He was friends with the Elder Scholar.”
Neither of the men looked particularly eager to lower their guard, but Peryn reluctantly dropped his hand. Siraj stared at the demon a moment longer. Eventually he sighed and sheathed his knife, muttering curses under his breath.
“I don’t have papers for you, Mr. Fiancé.” He sighed again. “Bophur’s going to kill me.”
“Papers?” Ria asked.
Siraj reached into his cloak pocket and pulled out a familiar piece of parchment. He passed it to Ria. She recognized it immediately: the fake identity the Elder Scholar had set up for her months ago, back when he’d given her the option of fleeing the country rather than fight Jaya. She’d refused to even take the papers, but apparently he had passed them on to Siraj instead. How much of this did the Elder Scholar know would happen? She felt another surge of anger towards the man and his lack of straightforward answers. He’d planned for this moment, and yet he hadn’t warned her beyond, “prepare yourself.” Like that’s helpful.
“You’ve got passage out of Helhath,” Siraj said. “And if we don’t hurry, we’ll miss the ship.”
He didn’t wait for their response, just peered out on the streets to check if it was clear. When he was satisfied, he turned back to them and shrugged off his own cloak. He shoved it at Peryn, who looked at the worn material as if it offended him.
“You stand out.” Siraj nodded at Peryn’s all-black clothing. The demon grudgingly fastened the cloak around his shoulders. “Good. Now if you can manage, try not to look like you’re wanted by the royal army and attempting to flee the country.”
With that, he turned on his heel and started towards the docks. The sun had set fully by now, and the dark streets provided the perfect cover. The royal guard was still out searching, as were Izan’s men, but the town was quiet, and the soldiers were too busy searching buildings to focus on the street itself. Ria followed Siraj through a twisting labyrinth of alleys and side-streets until the ocean stood before them, the wooden ships creaking as the rocked in the waves.
“This way,” he said, leading them towards a smaller ship at the end of the dock.
“How do you know they’ll be willing to smuggle me out of the country?” Ria asked, hesitant as she glanced around the docks. “How do I know the captain won’t just hand me over to Lord Izan as soon as they get the chance?”
Siraj, already halfway up the gangplank, snorted. “He won’t. He owes me a favor.”
“Reassuring,” Peryn said dryly. But they followed Siraj up onto the ship regardless. Staying in Helhath wasn’t an option; they’d be found sooner or later, and even Peryn’s magic wouldn’t keep them safe forever. Ria trusted Siraj—or, well, she had trusted the Elder Scholar, and if Siraj was following Master Ameer’s directions, then she had to trust him, too.
“You’re late,” a voice said. A slightly shorter man with windswept black hair pushed off the nearest mast and approached them, hands tucked into his coat pockets. Siraj walked forward to meet him, an uncharacteristically soft smile on his face.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Siraj looked as though he was about to sweep the other man into a hug, but he was stopped by a hand on his chest. The other man glanced over at Ria and Peryn with dark, shrewd eyes, and scowled.
“You said one passenger.”
“Did I?” Siraj mumbled innocently as he slid his arms around the man, pressing his face into the shorter man’s hair.
“Siraj.”
“Bophur.”
The shorter man, Bophur, extricated himself from the taller man’s grasp, much to Siraj’s disgruntlement. Ria stiffened as the dark-haired man approached her, and she felt Peryn edge a bit closer.
“You’re the queen,” Bophur said. He didn’t sound surprised, exactly, but it was clear from the look on his face that he hadn’t known exactly who he’d be smuggling out of the country. “Siraj.”
“Yes, dear?”
Bophur massaged his temple and breathed heavily through his nose, which Ria noticed was pierced at the septum. “You said it was an easy job.”
“Exactly.” From behind Bophur’s back, Siraj winked at them. “It’s nothing beyond your capabilities.”
Bophur turned to the man, unimpressed. “I want a divorce.”
Siraj nodded, a mollifying smile on his face as if he was used to hearing this all the time. “After the job, love.”
The two men stared at each other for a moment, each one seemingly waiting for the other to blink first. Eventually, Bophur shook his head, eyes rolling as he muttered something unintelligible under his breath.
“Fine. Siraj will show you where you’ll sleep,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He gave his husband a sharp look. “We’ll talk once you get them settled.”
Siraj nodded and then led them over to a ladder leading below deck. They climbed down into a pitch-black hallway, and only once they were completely immersed in darkness did Siraj pull out a small lantern.
“We don’t want to tip off anyone that we’re leaving,” he said. “Seeing as it’s not strictly legal to depart from the docks at night. This way.”
He led them into the kitchens, which were empty at this time of night, and walked over to the pantry. It was small, only big enough for one person to stand in at a time. Siraj felt along under the bottom of the third shelf from the top.
“Ah, there,” he said, and the back of the pantry swung open with a soft click, revealing a narrow—but not claustrophobic—bedroom. “Stay in here until we’re out on open sea.”
Ria pursed her lips. “You said you’d explain—”
“About Ameer,” Siraj finished. He nodded. “But later. We’re not safe yet.”
She nodded and followed Peryn into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. There was a small cot in the corner of the room, a simple round table, and two chairs. She hooked the strap of her pack over one of the chair
s and kicked off her boots, shrugging off the cloak Siraj had lent her. One by one, she pulled the pins from her hair, finally taking it out of the intricate braided up-do that Sofi had put it in only this morning. It tumbled down her back in loose waves, and her scalp tingled where her hair had been pulled too tight.
The events of the day finally felt like they were catching up with her, and in the relative safety of this secret room on a ship headed out of Helhath, she allowed herself to release some of the tension in her shoulders. The adrenaline which had been pumping through her intermittently throughout the day ebbed away, leaving her feeling entirely drained. And with the way the ship swayed beneath her with the rocking waves, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay on her feet.
“You should sleep,” Peryn said. He was lounging in one of the chairs, looking more than a little worn down himself. She frowned.
“I never asked: do demons not sleep?” She couldn’t help but think of the time he’d offered to stay up and keep watch after the assassin had nearly killed her.
He laughed. “Of course we do. Who do you think invented naps?”
She shook her head as she sat down on the edge of the cot, not sure if he was joking. The mattress wasn’t as soft as her one in the palace, but it was softer than the floor. And, Ria thought, at least no one on this ship is currently trying to kill me, which is not something I can say about the palace. She curled up under the blankets, pulling them up to her chin as Peryn blew out their lantern. The Thaw was coming to an end, the nights already growing colder with the promise of snow. It was strange to think that she had been entirely remade over the course of a single season; it felt like years to her, not mere months.
Despite how tired her body felt, her mind was wide awake. She listened as Peryn’s breathing slow, heard the chair slide against the floor as the ship rocked a bit harder. We must be heading out to the sea, she realized. The chair slid again, the sharp scrape of wood squeaking against wood, and Peryn jerked awake for a split second before settling back in. Ria chewed on her lip for a moment.
“Peryn,” she whispered into the dark cabin. She could just make out the outline of his form slumped in the chair. It didn’t look particularly comfortable.
“What?” His voice was heavy with sleep.
“You’ll get a stiff neck if you sleep like that.” She scooted over in the cot until she was flush with the wall. It would be a tight fit, but there was room. “Come on.”
He eyed her for a moment, not moving. And then slowly, he stood from his chair and slid under the covers, careful to keep just enough space between them so they weren’t quite touching. Don’t panic, she told herself, swallowing back her nerves. You’re practically married to him. There’s nothing improper about it.
She settled in, facing the wall and keeping her back to him. A moment later, she felt the light press of his back against hers, and she let out a slow breath. The barest brush of his magic tingled across her skin, warming her better than the blankets had, and she found herself unconsciously relaxing, eyes drifting shut.
“Ria.”
“Hmm?” She felt too tired for words, too warm to open her eyes again. If she let herself drift, she could almost pretend today hadn’t happened.
“You should know—” and she should have guessed that he was up to no good by the teasing lilt to his voice “—I usually sleep in the nude.”
She kicked him reflexively, still asleep enough that her brain was slow and didn’t realize what she’d done until she felt the pain in her own calf. She inhaled through her teeth. That’ll bruise, she thought, but Peryn was laughing, shoulders knocking into hers as they shook.
“Don’t even think about it,” she grumbled, pushing back with her shoulder. “Or I’ll kick you out of this bed.”
Silence stretched between them once more, no sound but the creaking of the ship and the steady rhythm of their breathing. She lay there: the bed too small, and the blankets too scratchy, and the future uncertain. But the ocean was persistent, slowly rocking back and forth until her eyes drifted shut again, and she slept.
Epilogue
Ria woke to an arm slung haphazardly over her waist and warm breath on the back of her neck. Sometime during the night, Peryn had turned to spoon her, apparently. It was odd to see his face without any of its usual expression: no mocking humor or arrogance or cold anger. His face was slack, lips slightly parted, and so peaceful that he almost didn’t look like the person she was used to. She slipped out from under his arm slowly, careful not to wake him, and tiptoed across the room. She slid on her boots and grabbed her cloak from the chair before opening the secret door and sneaking out of the room.
It was early, but not so early that no one else was awake. Ria passed a lanky red-haired man in the kitchen who nodded to her in passing as he chopped potatoes, and when she made it to the deck, there were half a dozen sailors already milling about. She ignored them, her attention drawn to the horizon.
Nothing but water and sky as far as the eye could see. It was as beautiful as it was terrifyingly empty. The sun was just beginning to peek over the water, and Ria watched as the sky became tinged with purple, and then pink. She could taste the sea-salt on her tongue, could feel the faint spray of saltwater every time the ship skimmed across a particularly large wave. The wind whipped across her face, catching in her loose hair and twisting it in every direction. It would be impossibly tangled, she knew, and now she did not even have the benefit of Sofi to help her manage it. It would be far easier to cut off the tangled parts than to try to comb through them.
Ria paused. There was no one to stop her. There was no reason not to do what she’d been dying to do for months, years even. Her hands reached for her already-knotted hair and she tied it into a loose braid, making no effort to untangle it any more than was absolutely necessary. She ran her fingers over it one more time. Would she miss it when it was gone? Probably not. Then she took the knife at her hip and sliced it through the braid just above her shoulder, the blade cutting through it with surprising ease. Her braid slipped through her fingers and into the ocean, disappearing beneath the foaming waves.
She felt so light, almost as if her head had been held underwater all along and she was only now breathing for the first time. When the wind tugged at her hair again, it tickled the back of her neck. Ria opened her arms to the breeze, letting it wrap around every part of her and sting her skin with salt. If only I could exist in this moment forever, she thought. But that was impossible.
Peryn emerged from below deck and came to stand beside her at the railing. He was quiet for a while, and the two of them just stood there, looking out over the ocean. She would enjoy this while she could have it; Ria knew there would be few peaceful moments in her future.
“What will you do now?” he asked, his voice barely carrying above the wind.
“Find a way to take back my kingdom.”
She didn’t know how. It was easy to say that she would reclaim her throne, but with Izan and the Council against her, she felt hopelessly outnumbered. Her chances of succeeding were slim at best. She had no army, few allies, and very little money while Izan had all the advantages. He had even forced her to run as if she were a common criminal and not the queen of her country.
She had been a fool to think that wearing a crown meant that people would listen to her, respect her. She had been a fool to think that she did not need to win the nobility’s loyalty, or that she did not need to appease the Council more fully. She had made a mistake in giving Izan so much free reign; she might as well have handed him the throne herself. And now she was utterly powerless to stop him.
She would not allow herself to make those same mistakes again.
“You will have to decide—” she kept her eyes firmly on the horizon, too afraid to look Peryn in the eyes “—if you are willing to stand by my side and help me, knowing that I will never allow you to take the souls you seek.”
She would do this without him if she had to. It would hurt her, in th
e place deep in her chest where she mourned the Elder Scholar and her parents and even—when she was feeling especially generous—Jaya. From the moment she’d summoned him in the forest, they’d been inextricably bound to each other by magic. And now, giving him the chance to walk away felt like offering to cut off her own arm. But she would not compromise on the lives of her people. Whether they wanted her or not, she was still their queen, their protector, their guardian. She would not disregard her duty to her country for one man.
He did not say anything, just quietly stared at the horizon, and Ria closed her eyes against the stinging tears that threatened to make themselves known. As she turned to go—crying in her room was preferable to doing so on the deck where anyone could see—Peryn caught her wrist.
“You won’t make a good man out of me, Ria, if that’s what you’re trying to do.” His eyes bore into hers. “I haven’t been one in a very, very long time.”
“I don’t need you to be good,” she said honestly. “But I won’t save Helhath from one madman only to hand it over to another twice as dangerous.”
“Only twice?”
“Peryn.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said, eyes scrunched closed, voice barely a whisper. He took a deep breath. “Sometimes I question if you were made to test me.”
Ria had nothing to say to that. She often felt the same way about him. How many times had he tried to persuade her to murder and manipulate? How often had she been nearly blinded by his beauty? His charm?
“This has been the only thing I’ve wanted for nigh a thousand years,” he said. For once, Ria knew that he was being entirely honest. In this moment he wore no masks, and there was something tortured in his eyes that Ria had never seen before. He took another steadying breath. “But perhaps there are worthier desires to pursue.”
She stared up at him, eyes wide, mouth parted in surprise. Ria had hoped, but she never thought he would really concede. He was just as stubborn as she was, usually. She still remembered his volatile reaction the first time she had refused him the souls. His reaction the second time had been moderately less violent, but no more pleasant. She’d expected more of the same.
