Moss Forest Orchid (Silver and Orchids Book 1)

by Shari L. Tapscott

“But we must decline.”

  “Sebastian,” I hiss under my breath. He might not like Avery, but the captain’s offer will make this errand much easier.

  Avery narrows his eyes at my partner. “You decline?”

  “That’s right.” Sebastian nods once, curt.

  “Are you very sure about that?” Avery doesn’t look quite as friendly now. I glance between the two men, uncomfortable. Avery crosses his arms. “You won’t make it very far without me.”

  Sebastian doesn’t look concerned. “That’s a risk we’ll simply have to take.”

  “Yes, a risk you have to take. Perhaps Lucia would rather travel with me. I’d be more than happy to escort her through the wildlands.” Avery flashes me a smirk. “Besides, didn’t this start as a competition between the two of you? Don’t you want to see who will win?”

  I take a step back and hold up my hands. “I don’t want to be put in the middle of your rivalry, thank you.”

  But it’s too late, I’ve already been placed there. The two men turn to me, waiting for me to answer a question I won’t be able to avoid. Avery stares at me with his light brown eyes, Sebastian with his green.

  What am I supposed to do now? Who do I choose?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Grenalda...

  The Capital of Warm Welcomes

  One of the ship’s boys rows us toward the shore, and I turn back and wave goodbye to Avery. The captain stands on the prow of his ship, watching us drift farther and farther apart. He raises a hand in farewell. I give him a smile, hoping he’s not too upset. Soon, we round the bend, into the shallows, and The Greybrow Serpent is blocked from view.

  I had to choose Sebastian. It wasn’t a choice, not really. I’ve known Sebastian forever, and we’re partners. I’ve known Avery a month, and we’re…nothing, really. Despite spending the last few days aboard his ship, I still know little about him. He never spoke of his family or of friends. He’d mention acquaintances occasionally—usually people best not met in a dark alley—but nothing more.

  As I think of the captain, I wonder if he’s lonely there on his great ship. What kind of life does he have, sailing from place to place, never having somewhere to call home? And then I realize he’s chosen a life that’s not so different from mine.

  We near the shore, and my mind is forced from Captain Greybrow and onto our new surroundings. We’re in Mesilca, a city on the southern coast of the island kingdom. It’s Grenalda’s main trade port, and there are ships and people everywhere. A gray beach welcomes us. Unlike the soft sand of Brenilsilté and the other islands we visited on the way here, this beach is rocky. Along the shore, children cluster around tide pools, taking delight in starfish and other tiny creatures temporarily trapped in waterlogged cracks and crevices.

  Giant evergreen trees grow just beyond the shore, upon high cliffs. They’re the largest I’ve seen in my life, and I gape at them, feeling tiny. Ferns dot the forest floor, and patches of tiny white wildflowers spread in profusion amongst the grass just past the shoreline.

  It’s like a different world.

  Persistent clouds hang low to the earth. It’s warm enough, but the air is thick with moisture, making my hair feel frizzy and my skin clammy.

  We bump into the dock, and the dinghy rocks back and forth. Sebastian leaps from the boat and reaches back for my hand. The second ship’s boy unloads our things as I step onto the dock. As it always does, the planked surface feels strange beneath my feet, and it takes me several seconds to reacquaint myself with solid ground.

  Secure on his tether, Flink scampers around us, taking in the sights. He’s grown less timid in the last week. He has no desire to cower in my arms when the new smells of the city are so enticing. People watch him, curious. He’s the size of a big tomcat now, and his scales are amethyst today. The nearby children seem to be especially taken with him, and a brave little boy walks over and stops a few feet away, staring at him.

  “May I pet him?” he finally asks.

  “Careful he doesn’t nip you—he’s still teething.” I watch the pair carefully, making sure Flink behaves himself.

  “He’s big.” The little boy holds his hand out for the dragon to sniff. “He’s a munchkin, right?”

  I glance at Sebastian. I’m not sure what to tell people. We don’t want to go around announcing he’s of the common variety. Not only will people feel the need to hide their valuables when they see us coming, but we might also attract an overzealous slayer.

  “His name is Flink,” I say instead of answering the question.

  The boy doesn’t seem to mind, and he calls the dragon’s name over and over until Flink is finally brave enough to nudge his muzzle against the boy’s leg. “Can I give him a piece of cheese?”

  “Careful when you give it to him,” Sebastian says. “You don’t want him to bite you on accident.”

  I glance at Sebastian, surprised he’s interacting with the little dock urchin. He catches me looking and bumps my shoulder in an affectionate way. He’s in a good mood today, warm and friendly. He wears an easy smile, and if he were like this all the time, we probably wouldn’t quarrel like we do—because he’s solely at fault, of course.

  Flink, who’s always hungry, eats the cheese with gusto. He licks his chops and sits back on his haunches, begging for more. As the boy again reaches into his pocket, the dragon lets out a socially deplorable belch—which would be bad enough even if it weren’t accompanied by a purple flame.

  The boy’s eyes grow huge, and several nearby people leap back.

  “Did that thing just breathe fire?” a big and burly man demands. He towers over me, and his arms are built like tree trunks. He wears them exposed, and he’s stained with smudges of dirt and soot. If I were to guess, I’d say he’s a blacksmith. “What kind of demon is it?”

  A few people mutter behind him, parroting the question.

  He takes a step forward, scowling. “You haven’t brought an elemental dragon into my city, have you?”

  Apparently, he owns it.

  The crowd’s mutterings grow less friendly. I scoop Flink into my arms and press close to Sebastian, nudging him so he’ll get moving. The man takes another step toward us.

  Seemingly unconcerned, Sebastian subtly brushes back his jacket, revealing an assorted arsenal of blades. “The creature’s harmless, sir. Now I think it would be best if you went about your business as before.”

  The man glances at Sebastian’s weapons in an eager way that makes me think he hasn’t had a good fight in at least an hour. Since he’s obviously due for another, and I don’t want to be in the middle of it, I thread my arm through Sebastian’s and give him another yank.

  “He’s huge,” I whisper through my fake smile.

  Sebastian glances at me and gives me a withering look, as if saying he’s handled worse.

  When? And where was I?

  “If you’ll excuse us,” I say to the growing crowd. “We’ll just be on our way.”

  I give Sebastian’s arm another tug, but he stands firm.

  “Sebastian!” I hiss.

  The problem isn’t that the man is the size of a boulder; it’s that he has a good amount of backup. If the crowd should decide to lend a hand, we’ll be in trouble. I’m skilled with a dagger against a troll, sure. I can hold my own against any meadow imp, dark sprite, or griffin. But I’ve never fought a human—and I don’t intend to today.

  “That’s right, pretty man,” the boulder taunts. “Listen to your sea-rat wench. Run away and take the demon dragon with you.”

  And then he says that.

  Sebastian’s already sliding out his rapier, but he’s not fast enough. I shove Flink into the wide-eyed boy’s arms, shriek out a war cry that startles not only the boulder but the rest of the crowd as well, and then leap on the man.

  I have brothers. I know how this works, and surprise is my best element. I manage to get one good solid punch to his nose before he realizes what’s happening.

  “Teach you to call s
omeone a wench,” I snarl as he attempts to extract me. Before he tosses me into the sea, I get one good knee to his groin.

  Then I’m in the water. And it’s cold. I sputter and cough as I kick my way to the surface. I gasp for breath when I come up for air, and I’m just in time to see Sebastian, sword in one hand, dagger in the other, corner the man on the end of the dock.

  No one comes forward to help. The crowd gawks, enjoying the spectacle.

  One of Avery’s ship boys offers me his hand and pulls me from the ocean. Not wanting to miss any of the action, he almost lets me go too soon. I manage to keep my balance before tumbling off the edge again.

  “Apologize to the lady,” Sebastian says in a cool, deep voice, keeping his eyes on the man. “Lucia, are you all right?”

  I’ve never seen this deadly, controlled side of Sebastian, and I gape at him as sea water pools onto the dock below me. I shake the water from my arms, and then I wring out my hair. “Well, I’m wet.”

  Flink sits in the boy’s lap, hiccupping madly and breathing out a plethora of purple flames. The boy doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, his friends have gathered round to watch. One of them holds a twig, and they’re trying to catch it on fire.

  “Apologize,” Sebastian demands again, this time raising the tip of the rapier to the man’s jugular.

  The man, who’s literally backed into a corner, holds his hands up. There’s murder in his eyes. “I will not apologize to your she-cat.” Then a blue spark ignites in the center of his palms, and a great gust of wind rocks the dock. Sebastian stumbles backward, hit with the impact. As he attempts to regain his balance, the man punches him once…twice…and then tosses him over the edge and into the cove.

  The crowd cheers, satisfied that their man won.

  “Sebastian!” I yell, not positive he’s still conscious.

  I dart to the edge of the dock and dive in after him, frantic. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Flink break loose from the boy’s grip and leap in after us. Hopefully, he can swim. I kick to the bottom of the inky water, but there’s so much vegetation, I can’t see a thing. Out of breath, I hurry to the surface. Just as I’m about to go down again, Sebastian’s head breaks the water, and he takes in a great lungful of air. I swim to him, relieved he’s all right.

  Next to us, Flink paddles about like a little duck. He’s grown so fat, his stomach acts as a buoy, keeping him afloat. He’s changed to aquamarine, and he’s breathing out a blue ice flame, making intricate frost patterns on the water around him.

  The man, satisfied with his victory, sneers at us one last time and then storms down the dock, yelling at us to get out of the city. Then he says something about needing a mug of ale, and half the crowds disperse, following him. I breathe out a relieved breath.

  I tread water next to Sebastian and watch as people go back to their business, not caring a bit that we’re floating in the cove. I look at Sebastian and frown. Blood pools from a gash on his jaw, and his cheek already begins to bruise.

  “Is everyone a wretched element user?” he demands and then presses his hand to his cheek, growling softly when he spots the blood on his fingers.

  “Let’s find a place to stay, and we’ll patch you up.”

  Once again, Avery’s boy helps me onto the dock. Before I can turn around to assist Sebastian, he pulls himself up. His jacket and doublet are soaked, and water streams from his hair.

  “Best not tell your captain about this, all right?” I say to the boys from Serpent.

  They look at each other, disappointed. Finally, one nods. “Yeah, all right. We’ll keep it to ourselves.”

  Satisfied, I bid them goodbye and pick up my pack. I rifle through it, looking for something to use as a rag. I locate a soft, fraying skirt, rip the fabric in half, and gently press it against Sebastian’s jaw.

  “Why did you jump in after me, Lucia?” Sebastian winces when the words hurt, and then he laughs under his breath. “Did you really think I would drown in seven feet of water?”

  He presses his fingers against the rag, holding it in place, and I step back.

  His question makes me feel foolish. “I didn’t know if you…”

  “What? Knew how to swim?”

  “No.” I turn away. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  He flicks my shoulder, his tone light. “Thanks.”

  I glance at him. “And thank you for protecting my honor and all that.”

  “I think you did that, actually.” Laughing, he starts down the street. “The big brute never saw you coming.”

  Sebastian means it as a compliment, but I finger my damp hair, self-conscious. If I’d just acted like a lady and stayed back for once, I wouldn’t be trailing water down the pier.

  “Any idea where we’re headed?” I ask, hoping to change the subject.

  He pauses at the first crossroads, looking at the wooden signs hanging from the business fronts. “Anywhere that will take two soggy foreigners and one miniature flame-breathing dragon.”

  I’m not sure it’s going to be as easy as it sounds.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Be Careful What You Hatch

  The rooms aren’t fancy, especially not by Sebastian’s standards, but at least they’re clean. After I’ve run a towel over my hair and changed into clean clothes so my nice ones from Avery can dry, I go to the room next to mine and knock on the door.

  Flink chatters quietly to himself, happy with the quiet upper level of the inn we found. There’s a haphazard bouquet of meadow flowers in an urn by the window and an old rug on the floor, the woven type like my mother made for our cottage. The inn might not be fancy, but at least it’s welcoming.

  Sebastian opens the door and ushers me in. His wet clothes hang by the hearth. He wears only trousers and a muslin shirt, and the leather ties at his neck are loose.

  “Why did you get the room with a fireplace?” I tease. “I don’t have one.”

  “You didn’t pay for the room, either.”

  “Tiny detail.” I pull out a chair and motion him over. “Sit down. Let me look at your jaw.”

  Sebastian waves my concern away and continues his project of meticulously refolding every article of clothing in his trunk. “I’m fine, Lucia.”

  I point to the chair. “Sit.”

  He looks as if he’s wondering if I’ll drop it if he refuses, but he apparently decides it’s not worth it. Setting aside a deep burgundy doublet, he lowers himself into the chair. I get a whiff of whatever expensive cologne he’s been wearing, and I lean in closer, trying to figure out what it is. There are citrus notes to it, maybe some pine, and something darker too that I can’t place.

  Sebastian knits his brow. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.” I jerk back. “What are you doing?”

  He gives me an odd look. “Let’s get on with this.”

  I tilt his chin toward the light and cluck my tongue. “You’re going to have one impressive bruise tomorrow. At least he didn’t get your perfect nose. You’d have to hide for the rest of your life.”

  Sebastian starts to protest and pull away, but I yank him back and give him a chastising look.

  He groans. “It does hurt, you know.”

  “Well, then.” I lean in close, our noses almost touching, and meet his eyes. “Don’t fight me.”

  He lowers his brows. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Good.”

  “Good,” he repeats, his voice a little softer.

  And then I do something stupid. My eyes flicker to his lips, just for a second. A barely-there moment. A-half-a-heart-beat glance. But judging from Sebastian’s slight intake of breath, he notices.

  I rip my gaze back to the wound and silently scream at myself. I don’t feel that way about him; I really don’t. But for some reason, my traitorous self keeps doing strange things around him. Feeling things I don’t feel. Thinking things I shouldn’t think.

  Drunken butterflies attempt to flutter in my stomach, but they just sort of f
lop around, confused. Turning my attention to the task at hand, where it belongs, I set a tin jar of ointment and a blue glass bottle on the table next to us.

  Sebastian watches me with that blank expression again, and I wish he’d just say something. Tease me about the moment, diffuse it. Make a joke out of it so we can move on. But he stays unusually silent.

  What if he’s pitying me? What if he thinks that I feel that way about him, and he doesn’t know how to let me down gently? What if now that he thinks that, things will always be awkward between us? My throat begins to tighten.

  “I wasn’t thinking what you think I was thinking,” I finally blurt out when the tension becomes too great. I want to take the words back as soon as they’re out of my mouth.

  “What was I thinking you were thinking?” His gaze is still on me.

  “Never mind. Brace yourself, this is going to sting.” I dab the gash with a cloth dampened in my mother’s homemade herbal astringent. I take slightly too much pleasure when Sebastian hisses. “Warned you.”

  “Your mother’s?” he asks, groaning.

  “She never lets me leave home without it.”

  I finish with a thin layer of salve and then sit back and wipe my hands on a cloth.

  “You don’t finish with a kiss?”

  My eyes fly to his, and my heart forgets to beat. I’m met with a wry smirk, and I relax—marginally.

  “Your mother always plants a horrifying one on your brothers’ foreheads when she’s done,” he explains, resting an elbow on the table. “I’ll never forget the way they fight her. I think she does it in spite of them.”

  “I think it’s her way of making the process as awful as possible, so they’ll remember to be careful when they do foolish things.”

  “Not a bad plan.” There’s something about the way he’s looking at me that makes my mouth go dry. “Do you think fighting the man on the dock was foolish?”

  I stand so quickly, I knock the chair into the table, and the bottle of astringent tips to the side. Sharp-smelling liquid spills all over.

  “Oh no!” I fumble for the bottle, righting it after a few failed attempts. I’ve lost about half of the contents. I shove the cork in and quickly gather the rest of my supplies. “I need to find a tavern to work in tonight. If I don’t leave now, it’ll be too late.”