The Red Pearl

by C. K. Brooke

  But why, exactly, wasn’t she?

  The dog was clearly threatening her. And she’d a pistol for defense. Yet, why was Rowena only waving it helplessly in Maverick’s face, backing up into a tree with fear in her eyes?

  A spark of suspicion rising within him, Rob met her shadowy eyes. “Shoot him,” he commanded.

  Rowena’s jaw trembled. “What?”

  “You heard me.” He crossed his arms. “Shoot my dog.” When she remained immobile, he added, “Better yet, shoot me.”

  She lifted the gun, hands shaking, but did nothing.

  Slowly, Rob grinned. “You can’t, can you?” He indicated the weapon. “That thing’s not loaded.”

  Rowena swallowed.

  “Checkmate,” he breathed triumphantly, his smile ever widening. Euphoric, he turned to Antonia. “Annie, get the map.”

  The girl hurried into one of the tents. Within moments, she returned, clutching the blessed sheet of vellum to her chest. “Now, untie the horses,” he ordered her.

  He turned back to Wen, cornering her against the tree. “Well-played, Miss Wildaison.” He shook his head. “But I’m afraid your treachery cannot go unpunished.”

  “Robbie.” She simpered up at him with a seductive bat of her lashes. “Why, having you so near like this, I’m beginning to realize how much I’ve missed you.” She dropped her voice. “Come, darling, let us leave the others behind, and you and I can continue the hunt together.”

  Rob laughed. What sort of idiot did she think him?

  Knowing the only way to pull this off was to catch her entirely off her guard, he pressed his weight into her, shoving her up against the bark of the tree, and kissed her. She tasted like poison in his mouth, cold and bitter, even worse than the viper’s venom he’d sipped in the desert. But his tactic was working. Before Wen knew it, Rob had secured her wrist in one of the iron manacles he’d borrowed from his father. With a loud click, he attached the other cuff to the base of a thick, flowering tree branch.

  He couldn’t have been more relieved to release her. And he was more exhilarated still, the moment the woman realized her predicament. “What in hell have you done?” she snarled, attempting to wrestle her arm free.

  Rob stepped back, beaming at his handiwork. “I knew those would come in handy.” He turned and jogged back to Antonia, who awaited him with Maverick and the horses.

  “Bastard!” Wen screeched at his back, writhing as she remained bound to the tree, trying to jiggle her hand from the manacle. “I never loved you, you know! Every hour, every moment with you was an agony I only endured for the pearl—!”

  He ignored her, pulse murmuring as he rejoined Antonia. “You can ride my horse,” he told her. “I’ll take Adams’s.”

  “I don’t know how to—”

  “You’ll be fine,” Rob assured her. “Galleon’s a good fellow, he’ll take care of you. Just follow me, all right?”

  He hoisted her up into his horse’s saddle and patted the creature’s chestnut rump. “Good to see you, old boy.” He then hurled himself up onto Adams’s horse, and the pair set off, Maverick sprinting alongside them. Rob’s rucksack bounced against his back as the horses wove downhill at a steady trot.

  They passed Adams, who still lay prone in the brush, and Antonia gave a start. “Is he—?”

  “Just unconscious. He’ll come to. And good luck to him when he does.” Rob chuckled. “You still have the map, right?”

  Antonia flashed the vellum at him as they rode parallel each other, and Rob sighed contentedly.

  “So, where are we going?” She looked apprehensive. “Back down the mountain?”

  “Aye.” He urged his horse to a swifter pace. “The carriage is parked in the foothills. I’ve repaired it.”

  Antonia only nodded, not looking at him. Why, he realized, she didn’t seem very glad at all that he’d rescued her. Rob rode on, puzzled. Wouldn’t she be thrilled, overjoyed to be freed from her captivity? But she said not another word as he guided her down the mountain, even after several hours passed.

  Had Wen and Adams said something to her, he began to wonder? Had they slandered him, brainwashed her against him? Rob swallowed, giving the girl a sidelong glance. Maybe they’d told her the truth, what he’d done to get the map? And as a result, perhaps she now thought him loathsome, a criminal.

  It should’ve cheered him that the horses moved faster than walking on foot, and that traveling downhill, as opposed to up, made their journey swifter still. But Rob felt merely sober when, by evening, they finally reached the base of the mountain.

  Stiff-legged, he jumped down from the horse and helped Antonia dismount Galleon. She hardly glanced at him, simply emitting an obligatory noise of thanks as her sandals hit the ground.

  “It’s getting late.” Rob tried to meet her eyes. “And I’m sure I speak for both of us when I say I’m bushwhacked.” He smiled, but she didn’t grin back, only toying with the ends of her hair. “What say we go back to the hostel for dinner,” he suggested, “and call it an early night? Sound good?”

  Stiffly, she offered out the vellum. “As I’m sure you recall, Mr. Watkins, our agreement was that I accompany you until you’d regained this.”

  Rob slowly took it, confused by the unusual coolness in her tone.

  “So. Now that you have that back, we can diverge on our separate ways. Finally.”

  He looked down, fingering his map. Somehow, he’d imagined feeling far more excited to have it again. As it were, he felt merely numb. Perhaps she was angry over all the harm she’d encountered, all the danger into which he was responsible for placing her? Well, in that case, he couldn’t blame her.

  He cleared his throat. “Were you…still going to translate the rest of it for me?”

  “I can.” Antonia shrugged. “But soon as I finish, I leave for Elat.”

  Then I hope you never finish, Rob found himself thinking. But he’d never say that to her. Not aloud. For who was he to stand in the way of her dream? Especially after she’d come so far, and risked so much, to help him achieve his.

  “All right.” He swallowed, forcing a smile. “Agreed.”

  ANTONIA HAD NO APPETITE FOR dinner. Before the sun had even set, she retreated upstairs without saying goodnight. Once in the privacy of her dingy hostel chamber, she sat down on the edge of the bed. Her sandals blurred as she stared down at them. Antonia Korelli, you will not cry, she commanded herself. But already, her lashes were wet.

  Why had he done it?

  When she’d heard the unmistakable bark of his dog, saw the crown of his auburn head through the trees, his robust form darting toward her in rescue, Antonia’s spirits had sung. She was saved!

  And when Robin had offered for the others to keep the map in exchange for her freedom, Antonia’s heart had soared. She knew what a sacrifice it meant for him. And she’d taken it as a confession of sorts, an expression of the degree to which he…cared about her.

  Sure, she was relieved—and also incited—to discover that the pistol, which had terrorized her, held no viable threat after all. But then, for his final parting act, Robin had done the unthinkable: he had kissed Rowena. Really kissed her.

  The mountains may well have crumpled around Antonia, for everything within her—her heart, her hopes—had collapsed. She’d barely felt the ground beneath her feet, so numb was she with shock and grief. Why had he kissed Rowena?

  He’d also handcuffed her to a tree. But surely, kissing her hadn’t been entirely necessary for doing so? The only answer Antonia could formulate was that he must have wanted to. The woman was every bit of vile, and had betrayed him in the worst possible ways. But Robin still desired her?

  What poor judgment, Antonia thought angrily, kicking off her sandals. What horrid taste. Clearly, there was something wrong with the man if he was attracted to a tart like Rowena Wildaison.

  She st
ripped out of her gown, crawling under the bed sheets and returning to the warm security of her imagination. All the more reason to put this rubbish behind her, and seek a fresh future in the King’s courts. Her knight awaited her there—she knew it.

  As she’d so often done at the Temple of Azea, Antonia closed her eyes, picturing her arms around a handsome man, riding sidesaddle behind him on a white horse. Elat had always been her balm. And she needed those fantasies more than ever now, to sustain her through the sorrow, until she finally drifted to sleep.

  The next morning found her rejuvenated, prepared to seek her future. After washing and dressing, she came across Robin in the dining hall. Gathering her courage, she sat down across from him.

  He looked up from his coffee. “Good morning.”

  “Morning.” She grabbed the breakfast menu.

  “So.” He lowered his mug. “You, ah, still up to finishing the map for me?”

  “A promise is a promise.” She sighed, not looking at him.

  “If you don’t want to,” he said quietly, “you don’t have to.”

  Antonia ignored this as the staff came to take her order. Of course she had to. She was in this deep, wasn’t she? And anyway, she had already given her word. After breakfast, she took the map to her room. She spent the morning in study, while Robin, who needed money to continue his quest, went into town to sell the horses. By afternoon, Antonia had finally transcribed the last of the directions beside the Skarsköt script. It was done.

  She found Robin outside with Maverick. “I’m finished.” She held out the vellum.

  Carefully, the man took it, and scanned over her additions. “Oh, Antonia.” He exhaled. “Come here.” Spreading open his arms, he embraced her.

  Antonia wanted to hold him back, longed to bask in his warmth, in the masculine smell and feel of him. Alas, to really latch onto him, bury her face in his chest and lose herself within him, would only cause her more pain. Instead, she merely patted him on the back, wishing there was a way to conceal her burning cheeks, her watering eyes.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  She stepped back. “Well.” She held out a formal hand. “It’s been quite an adventure, Mr. Watkins.”

  He shook it, meeting her eyes. “So, you’re leaving for Elat?”

  “Soon as I find a wagoner headed north.”

  “No shortcuts through the Pirsi Desert, then?” He released her hand, grinning.

  Antonia looked down. “Nay, I expect not.” They were silent as she adjusted her bindle over her shoulder.

  “Well, don’t be a stranger. You know you’re welcome to visit the cabin anytime. Our door is always open to you.”

  Antonia manufactured a smile. “Oh, but I’m sure you’ll forget all about me, once you become the world-famous beholder of the Red Pearl.”

  Robin shook his head. “I’d never forget you, Antonia,” he said softly. “Just as, I’m sure, you’ll always remember me.” He smirked, and Antonia well suspected she knew the encounter at which he hinted.

  He then cleared his throat, looking suddenly serious. “Oh, yeah. Before I forget.” He dug into his pocket, and slapped a stack of paper notes into her hand. “For your journey.”

  Antonia stared down at the money. “Rob, this is too much.”

  “Nonsense.” He closed her fingers, and gave her fist a little pat. “That should cover your expenses.”

  Her heart ached as she tucked the notes into her skirts. “Well…thank you.” She glanced at the dog. “Farewell, Maverick.” His tail thudded as she pet him. She looked back to Robin. “Goodbye, Robin. I…hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  He appeared pained, almost as though he wanted to stop her. For a moment, Antonia nearly wished he would. But he only stood back. “And I you,” he finally said. “So long, Annie.”

  SHE COULDN’T BELIEVE HE’D LET her go. Lo, Robin said nothing as Antonia made her way up the street, commencing her search for an available wagoner. She refused to look over her shoulder. She couldn’t handle another glimpse of him, the man she’d never have, whom she shouldn’t want anyway, standing behind looking both so desirable and forlorn.

  With her every step, she waited to hear his voice calling after her, prayed to feel his hand closing over her shoulder. Alas, neither came. Eventually, she found a coach willing to bring her to the city’s end. Though reluctant, she boarded the wagon.

  Antonia leaned back in the seat. The weather was hot, and the ride would be long. She closed her eyes against the sight of horses and endless adobe buildings, and practiced her meditations.

  But a noisy rumbling interrupted her focus. She reopened her eyes, her heart flittering strangely. She knew that sound…

  Swiveling around, she laughed to see a familiar figure chasing after her in the horseless carriage, veering around other carriages and merchant stands in the road. “Can you stop, please?” she asked her coach.

  “Eh?”

  “Halto.”

  The driver slowed his mules, and Antonia waited as Robin caught them up.

  “Annie!” The man lifted his voice over the engine’s roar. “I’ve a proposition for you!”

  “Oh?” she called down, unable to suppress her grin.

  “Come with me! We’ll finish the search together, and share the treasure between us!”

  She crinkled her brow, leaning over the side of the wagon. “Why?”

  Robin parked the carriage and removed the key from the ignition. At once, the motor fell silent. “Because I’m tired of losing people. And I don’t want to do this alone.”

  Antonia’s heart softened at his quiet desperation. There was simply no way she could decline him. “All right.”

  His expression lit up. “You’ll come?”

  She smiled openly. “I’ll come.”

  In her broken Axacolan, she explained to the wagoner that she was canceling her journey. She gave him a paper note for his troubles, and slid down from the bench. Robin leaned over and opened the carriage door for her, and she gladly leapt inside.

  Grinning, the man restarted the engine and circled back around. Maverick stood in the backseat to greet her, amber eyes aglow, and never before could Antonia recall feeling so complete. She was precisely where she needed to be. For now.

  To the southern edge of Pirsi City they drove, where they finally crossed the border into Axacola. Rob gave a whoop, and Antonia stood in her seat, cheering. They laughed as she lowered back down, taking in the landscape. It still looked like desert. But at least it was Axacolan desert.

  “I can’t believe we made it,” said Robin. “I mean, I can believe it, but…” He beamed at her. “This is perfect. Better than I could’ve imagined.”

  Their eyes lingered on each other, and Antonia’s skin tingled. He was the first to turn away, resuming his focus on the road.

  Gradually, the scene around them transformed. Where rocky soil had dominated the terrain, greenery began to sprout; what was an empty road morphed into one bordered with ferns and fronds, atwitter with the cheeping of colorful birds. A low-flying fowl with an enormous orange beak passed them by, and Antonia gave a start. “What in the world?”

  “We’re in a new country. Got to get used to the unusual.” Rob winked at her.

  They passed through a new city. Antonia’s stomach growled at the aroma of steamed corn and beef wafting from a nearby tavern. Intrigued, she watched as scores of black-haired folk paced the sidewalks, going about their business.

  “You know, I’ve been thinking.” Robin slowed the carriage as a line of quaintly-dressed pedestrians crossed the street. “Since you’re coming with me, we should probably get you some different clothing. As nicely as you wear my mother’s gowns, you’ll need attire better suited for an expedition like ours.”

  Antonia blinked, embarrassed by his talk of her clothes. “And what sort of attire di
d you have in mind?”

  He gave her an appraising look. “Trousers.”

  “Trousers?” She laughed in surprise.

  “What?” He smirked. “That’s not so unreasonable, is it?”

  She giggled. “It’s not very proper.”

  “The devil with proper.” Robin accelerated the vehicle. “We don’t know what sort of activity this hunt will demand. There could be climbing, hiking, excavating… You need to be able to run fast, to be ready for anything.”

  The notion admittedly excited Antonia. In her youth, she’d seen some city women dare to sport trousers. But the temple priestesses would never have allowed her to so much as try on a pair.

  “So, keep your eyes peeled for a clothier.” Robin veered around a corner, and several children in the street nudged each other, pointing at the carriage. Antonia waved to them. Merrily, they waved back, though she was sobered by the ragged state of their dirty garments.

  They drove into the next city, and the next. Axacola, Antonia observed, seemed a place of extremes. There was noticeable wealth, well-dressed men holding the arms of bejeweled women, strolling into manicured buildings. But there was far more poverty, as young mothers clutched their babes in the alleys, their faces sooty, feet bare and frocks tatty. Some neighborhoods looked as though they’d been devastated by a calamity. But when Antonia questioned Robin about it, he simply shook his head sadly.

  “They’re just poor here, Annie. They can’t afford to feed their children, let alone maintain their houses.”

  They finally came upon a clothier. Leaving Maverick to guard the horseless carriage, the pair entered the little shop. Antonia was overcome by the heady scent of leather.

  Robin looked down at her feet and tsked. “We’ve got to get you out of those sandals, too. It’s time to buy you a proper pair of boots.”

  “Boots?” A dark man emerged from the backroom, speaking in accented Innían. “I’ve many fine pairs. What did you have in mind, sir?”

  Robin jabbed his thumb in Antonia’s direction. “They’re for her.”