Wildwood Larkwing (Silver and Orchids Book 3)

by Shari L. Tapscott

  She lights up like she wasn’t just whining moments ago about her hair growing frizzy in the moisture and smiles at him like he’s King Harold himself.

  I shake my head and grab Flink’s lead once he’s caught up to us.

  “Shall we?” Avery parrots as he offers me his arm as well, his tone lowered enough that it’s downright dark and delicious.

  Butterflies stir in my stomach, coaxing me to accept. It’s been two months and three days since the last time he kissed me, not that I’ve been counting, and I do believe I’m going through withdrawals.

  That’s when it dawns on me, brightening my mood. This turmoil I’m in—it’s not love. No.

  No.

  I’m infatuated. In fact, if we kissed again, perhaps it would get all this out of my head. And then I could think again.

  And after that, I’ll swear off men altogether because they are far more trouble than they’re worth.

  Even ones who look so dashing in their captain’s uniforms. Or ones who smirk in that cocky way, making your blood rush through your veins just a little bit faster. Ones who—

  “Are your snubbing me or not?” Avery dips his head a little closer to better look at me under my cloak’s hood, his voice thick with amusement. He moves his arm a little, reminding me he’s still standing here, waiting for me to take it. “Because I can’t tell.”

  I slide my arm next to his, and he tugs me close—so, so close. The faint scent of the dark, masculine cologne he wears envelops me, and his heat reaches me even through our combined layers. I almost close my eyes and purr like a cat—just from the decadent rightness of it.

  Get a hold of yourself, Lucia.

  He is a cad, a scoundrel, a womanizing pirate who’s had a romantic affair with half of Teirn, including the queen and possibly the woman we’re working for.

  Oh, but I want him.

  And that’s bad! my common-sense yells at me. It’s a shame I’m not listening.

  Sebastian and Adeline are ahead of us, heads bent to together in conversation, and they almost walk right past the shoppe they’re so preoccupied. It’s sweet—a little revolting, but sweet.

  Avery brings his hand to his mouth and lets out a loud whistle that makes my ears ring. When Sebastian and Adeline turn back, startled, Avery nods toward the dingy shoppe next to them. The painted window letters faded long ago, and the door looks like it might collapse at any moment.

  We’re in the criminal district, a place where the poor congregate during the nicer weather, gathering around fires and sharing drinks and quite possibly night floss. I have no idea where they are now. Apparently, they must find shelter during the winter. Either that or the constable finally chased them away.

  Still, even in their absence, the street has an ominous feel.

  Sebastian frowns at the door. Realizing something is wrong, we hurry to catch up.

  I read the sign and groan. It says the shoppe is closed for the winter.

  “Oh well,” Adeline says, trying to hide her glee. “I suppose we’ll have to go back to Teirn. Can’t say we didn’t try.”

  She’s already turning back the way we came when Avery lets out a low, deep chuckle and yanks the door open, almost pulling it from its hinges.

  We gape at the captain, even Sebastian, as he storms into the dilapidated shoppe, stepping over bric-a-brac and avoiding a strange and chaotic assortment of old junk and priceless artifacts.

  “Mueller!” he calls out, his voice loud and authoritative. “Get out here, old man, or so help me I will come find you myself.”

  I stare at him, my mouth hanging open. I’ve never seen this side of him. He’s so commanding, so noble.

  Still, I can’t imagine the shopkeeper will greet us now. Who knows if he’s even here? The shoppe always has a deserted, maybe-there’s-a-dead-body-languishing-in-the-back sort of feel to it, so it’s impossible to know.

  To my great surprise, the shopkeeper shuffles from the back room, muttering under his breath. He’s just as I remember him from when we were here last. His hair is white and wild, and though he is clean shaven, he has wrinkles aplenty. He also has a fondness for clothing that is too large—almost as if he were taller and broader at some point in time.

  And he’s as crazy as a day-flying bat.

  The man turns his eyes on us, his gaze surprisingly sharp. “Ah, if it’s not the infamous young Captain Greybrow. What could I have possibly done to earn the pleasure of a personal visit?”

  He’s different this time—more coherent, less bumbling.

  The shopkeeper’s eyes travel to me. “And Delivery Girl as well. Hurry, we must set the tea. If only I had scones.” He finishes in a deadpan voice, “Oh, visitors. Oh, joy. Oh, bliss.”

  Avery wears a wry smile, one that’s half grim and half amused. “Hello, Mueller. I understand you swindled me out of three thousand denats.”

  “Actually, I believe I swindled that man.” The shopkeeper gestures toward Sebastian and smiles, thoroughly amused.

  “You will repay him,” Avery warns.

  The shopkeeper—Mueller—lets out an exaggerated sort of sigh, as if this commotion is beneath him. “Yes, fine. But I assure you, the dragon is worth every denat. It’s me you’re cheating, asking me to give him away for so cheap.”

  Flink, who’s been behind the piles of rubbish, sniffs up a nose-full of dust and promptly sneezes a shower of golden sparkles right over me.

  “Ech!” Adeline shrieks, jumping away from the sparkling cloud.

  I grimace, trying not to dwell on the droplets of dragon mucus dotting my cloak, and step away. When I glance back at Mueller, I find the man frozen in place, staring at Flink. With awe, he declares in a low voice, “He’s a nullifier.”

  Adeline and I exchange a look. Never mind; he’s still mad.

  The man snaps out of his trance and turns to Avery. In a crisp, no-nonsense voice he says, “No refund.”

  I step forward before Avery or Sebastian can argue. “What’s a nullifier?”

  The man removes his spectacles and begins to clean them on the edge of his undershirt. It was probably white at some point, but like everything else in this wretched city, it’s now gray. “Approximately one in every thousand dragons is born with the nullifying element, but it’s more common in the lesser variety. They neutralize magic.”

  “We noticed,” Avery says, meeting my eyes. His expression is slightly haunted, though he tries to hide it.

  Memories of that awful night on the ship come back to me, of Avery coming after me, enchanted by the sirens’ songs, sword raised, ready to fight. Flink leaped in front of him, breathed out the strange, harmless flame. It broke the trance.

  People celebrate me for slaying those three sirens, but it was Flink who truly saved us that night.

  I peer at Flink for several moments, and then I look at Mueller. “It’s an unusual element then. Could some unusual personality quirks accompany it?”

  “What kind of quirks, Delivery Girl?”

  Ignoring the jab, I cock my head to the side and rub my neck. “Flink can be a bit stubborn. He doesn’t listen well—”

  “At all,” Sebastian mutters, but he steps back when I shoot him a scathing look over my shoulder.

  “He can be a mite unruly at times,” I continue then hastily add, “Not all the time.”

  “Most of the time,” Sebastian feels the need to add.

  I glare at my partner then turn back to Mueller. The shopkeeper nods, very serious. “I see. There is a reason for that behavior.”

  “Yes…?”

  “You’ve spoiled him.”

  Sebastian lets out a loud, abrupt laugh, and I suck in an offended breath. Before I can argue, Mueller turns to Avery. “As I’m sure you’re well aware, for a creature with such a unique element, you owe me for the difference in price. Ten thousand denats will suffice—Kalaen currency only. I don’t want my money in shields again.”

  Avery chuckles, exasperated as if this is something that’s been discussed before. “
First—absolutely not. Second, that was a good investment. Tell me you didn’t make back your money and more.”

  “That’s beside the point. I had fifty of the blasted things, all lying about, disrupting the order of my shoppe.”

  Still irritated, I raise an eyebrow and glance around the disarray. Adeline, looking perplexed, lifts a finger, about to question that statement, but I cut her off. “This isn’t a social call. We’re looking for a wildwood larkwing butterfly, and we’ve been led to believe you have one for sale.”

  “Serena sent you, did she?” Mueller says, unsurprised. “I told her steward I would be happy to sell it back—as long as she was willing to pay the price I requested.”

  “You swindled her,” Avery points out.

  “Swindled is such a nasty word. I prefer to think of it as having good business savvy.”

  I nudge Avery and quietly say, “Sounds familiar.”

  He grins, perhaps remembering the conversation we shared on our “wedding” night. Just the thought of it makes my pulse quicken, and my thoughts get all muddled.

  “We’re here to buy the insect,” Sebastian says, ready to leave. “How much is this going to cost?”

  Mueller turns to my business partner. “I have no idea how much Ivan wants for it. You’ll have to ask him.”

  “Who’s Ivan?” I ask, though there is something tickling the back of my mind. Why does that name sound familiar?

  “A business associate.”

  “And why would we speak with him?” I ask, dreading his answer.

  Mueller tosses his hand in the air dismissively. “Because he bought the larkwing from me two days ago. Haven’t you heard? Lepidoptera are in terrible demand right now in Teirn.”

  Something very strange is going on in the king’s city.

  “And why is that?” Sebastian asks. “Why the demand for moths and butterflies?”

  The man shrugs, but I can tell he knows more. “Word on the street is that there is a dandruff epidemic.”

  He’s lying, no doubt about it. Oddly enough, that’s exactly what Dante said.

  Adeline steps forward, smiling like the delicate flower she is. “Is there no other use for them? No obscure alchemy recipe they’re required for?”

  Mueller, like any man, is not immune to Adeline’s charm. He smiles at her in a grandfatherly sort of way. “I’m not an alchemist, so I’m afraid I wouldn’t know. I obtain things for customers, and then I sell them. Nothing more.”

  She glances at me, giving me a subtle apology. At least she tried. I have a feeling if anyone could get the old man to talk, it would have been her.

  “This Ivan, do I know him?” Avery asks, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. “Have I done business with him?”

  “Pirate,” I mutter under my breath.

  Though still facing the shopkeeper, a quick smile crosses Avery’s face.

  Ignoring Avery, Mueller offers Adeline a sweet from a jar of hard candy that must be at least thirty years old—the candy, not the jar. She backs away, shaking her head gently, declining with a smile and a look of terror in her gray-blue eyes.

  “You’re sure?” he says before he sets the jar back on the table, next to a ripped doublet that looks to be about fifty years old and an iron paperweight in the shape of a rat. Then he finally turns back to the captain. “I don’t believe so. He doesn’t run in your usual circles.”

  That sounds ominous. Shadier than Avery’s illegal-dagger-pawning associates? That’s not good at all.

  “Delivery Girl, though. She’s done business with him.”

  My attention snaps to the loony old man. “I have?”

  “You made a delivery for me this summer. Don’t you remember?”

  Oh no.

  Sebastian rubs his hands over his face, remembering the shifty fellow I delivered a suspicious-looking box to. It rattled and emitted red smoke. I never learned what it was, but it couldn’t have been good.

  “Where can we find him?” Avery asks.

  The shopkeeper writes down an address and bids us farewell. We maneuver around piles of books, old armor, and a six-foot statue of Victor of Tanrith that I’m quite sure was swiped from the king’s palace. But before we are out the door, Mueller calls Avery’s name, stopping him.

  There’s a greedy glint in the shopkeeper’s eyes. “I have a blade you’re sure to be interested in. I had promised it to the Duke of Eromoore…but seeing as how you’re here…”

  Sebastian gives the captain a pointed look, reminding him we’re in the middle of a job and that illicit business deals should wait.

  “What is it?” Avery asks, reluctant to leave.

  “Five hundred years old, dragon enchanted.”

  “Dragon enchanted? Is it Eldish?” the captain demands, speaking of a continent far across the ocean, a three-month’s sea voyage from Kalae. We have no history of the great dragons here in Kalae, the ones who history books say spoke like men. Many argue they are fables, so it’s hard to say if the dagger is genuine.

  The shopkeeper smiles, knowing he’s snared him. “Errintonian drachite. It was said to have been crafted by the warrior king himself for his beloved queen.”

  Avery swallows. “You can’t sell that to Devon. He won’t even know what to do with it.”

  Mueller shrugs as if it’s out of his hands.

  “Oh, go on,” I tell Avery. “Tuck it in your cloak on the way out. There’s no one in the streets to see you leave with it anyway. And it’s not like the queen herself doesn’t know about your illegal infatuation.”

  Smiling because he must be able to tell I’m a wee bit jealous, Avery turns back toward the man and yet again traverses the dangerous path that is Mueller’s shoppe. “Let’s talk price.”

  Sebastian shakes his head and escorts Adeline out the door, into the street.

  Having no desire to wait outside in the rain myself, I wait for Avery by the door. A few minutes later, the captain returns with a sleek black dagger with intricate scrollwork on the fine blade. It doesn’t glow blue, so I doubt it’s actually enchanted, but it’s a beautiful weapon, no doubt Errintonian drachite. I have no idea how much Avery paid for it, but it must have been a small fortune.

  Finished with business, Mueller shuffles into his back rooms, calling over his shoulder, “Until next time Captain Greybrow, Delivery Girl.”

  I toss my hands in the air, but the man is already gone.

  “Try it,” Avery says, handing me the dagger. “It’s perfectly balanced.”

  Sure enough, it lies on the palm of my hand, the hilt weighted heavier than the blade so it doesn’t tumble to the ground. It’s not a hard feat for our modern blacksmiths, but for a weapon five hundred years old, it’s impressive.

  “Keep it,” he says when I try to hand it back to him. He’s smiling, but he has a hesitant look in his eyes as if he’s not quite sure I’ll accept the gift. It’s a vulnerable expression, one that’s not doing my resolve any good. It makes my knees weak, and my heart all melty. I’m afraid I’m going to turn into a puddle of Lucia, right at the captain’s feet.

  “Avery,” I whisper.

  “It’s time you replace that cheap thing you’ve been carrying around.”

  It’s true my dagger is bulk forged, nothing special. But this…this is too much.

  “Just take the gift, Lucia.” About to step into the street, he raises my hood, fingering a loose strand of hair as he does. With a teasing gleam in his eyes, he leans close. “It’s very fashionable.”

  Then, without asking permission, he tugs my dagger from its sheath and then takes the drachite one from my hands and slides it in place. Without so much as a look behind him, he tosses the old blade on the floor, amidst the hodgepodge of random things.

  Trying not to smile, I nod toward the discarded weapon. “Do you think he’ll even notice it?”

  Avery grins, letting his hands rest on my shoulders. “Not a chance.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Aren’t You a Shifty Fellow
r />   Ivan’s farm is not a farm at all, but a shack in a meadow. A sad-looking brown vegetable patch sits withered by the dilapidated front gate, betraying the fact that it likely went wild long before the first freeze of the season. It looks as if someone cared about the cottage at some point, but it’s fallen into a sad state of disrepair.

  Yesterday’s rain turned to sleet overnight, and the damp chill seeps through my cloak. I’m so busy studying the shack that I don’t watch where I’m going and step in an ankle-deep puddle. The water soaks right through my thin boot, which was designed more for fashion than function. Now that my stocking is wet, it clings to my foot, and the frigid water squelches between my toes with every step I take.

  I glare at the puddle.

  For a moment, I wish I were with Adeline, back in the inn, where Sebastian instructed her to stay. The weather is miserable enough this morning she didn’t bother to argue this time. Not surprisingly since he seems to hate the cold, Flink stayed to keep her company.

  Avery gingerly climbs the rickety porch stairs and raps on the door. As we wait, he crosses his arms under his cloak, attempting to stay warm. The first real snowflakes mix with the sleet, gracefully wisping to the ground.

  After several moments, the door swings open, creaking on its hinges, and a familiar, twitchy-looking man pokes his head out. He narrows his eyes at us, apparently not liking what he sees.

  “What do you want?” he demands.

  “Only a moment of your time,” Avery says smoothly. “We understand you’re in possession of a wildwood larkwing butterfly, and we would like to buy the insect from you.”

  Ivan’s eyes move to each of us in turn, lingering a little longer on Avery. “Come inside.”

  Avery glances over his shoulder, questioning whether this is the greatest idea. It’s probably a bad sign if the pirate is leery. Yet, we find ourselves following the man anyway.

  The interior isn’t any nicer than the exterior, and I find myself hovering near the door, not sure where to stand. Leftover chicken bones languish on a pewter plate on the table, remnants from last night’s dinner. A gray and white cat stares at us from beside the plate, unblinking. He rises to his feet when we enter, his long tail twitching. The creature is polydactyl—has too many toes. The extra digits make his furry white feet look huge compared to his body. When he decides we aren’t going to fight him for his dinner, he yawns wide and settles to his belly to continue licking the bones clean.