Wildwood Larkwing (Silver and Orchids Book 3) Page 3

  More men in the king’s colors board the ship, and now there are more of them than crew.

  “Why all this fuss?” I ask.

  Avery leans against the rail, looking weary. Though the captain’s better now, he still tires quickly. Gregory says time and the healing charms have done their job, and now he only needs to regain his strength.

  I study him, wondering if he’s overexerting himself. Distracted, my eyes lower to the bow of his top lip, to the shadow of stubble on his jaw. Realizing where my thoughts have drifted, I snap my attention back to the chaos.

  “No one has sailed past the siren islands in over eighty years,” Avery says. “We’re the newest novelty in a city of bored nobles. You have no idea how much attention you’ll receive once the king learns it was you who slew the beasts. Already, he sent a courier demanding details. By tonight, everyone in Teirn will know of your prowess with a bow.”

  A strange mix of emotions pass through me—excitement, apprehension, curiosity.

  “His Majesty has sent a carriage to take us to the castle,” Avery continues. “That’s why I was looking for you.”

  “What about your ship?” I ask.

  “My crew will look after it. It’s not the first time I’ve had to leave it.”

  We’re interrupted by one of the visiting men. “Captain, are you ready?”

  Avery looks at me, silently asking me if there’s anything else I need to attend to. I already have my trunk packed—as long as Adeline didn’t try to shove anything else in there, I should be set.

  I track down Zeb and Mason and ask them to watch Flink. The boys nod earnestly, happy to take on the task.

  “Don’t feed him scraps,” I remind them. “No matter how he begs. Meat only, everything else gives him indigestion. And don’t play too roughly with him after he eats.”

  “Lucia, we know,” Zeb says, rolling his eyes.

  I stand there staring at them, wondering if it would be better if I stayed as well.

  “We’ve lived with him for months,” Mason reminds me. “We know how to take care of him.”

  They’re good young men—they are. But they’re also young. What if they decide to leave with the crew for a night at the tavern? All it would take is a pretty girl, and they’d forget all about their responsibility to Flink.

  And he hates the dark.

  “It will be fine,” Mason reassures me, though I can tell they both think I’m worrying too much.

  “Yes, I know,” I say after a moment. “Thank you.”

  “Everything all right?” Avery asks when I return.

  I nod, and we make our way to the gangplank, toward the carriage.

  As we walk down the pier, I notice the man I saw earlier. He watches me again, his gaze still disturbingly intent. I frown and turn toward Avery.

  “Look to your right,” I hiss. “That man has been watching us all morning.”

  Casually, Avery looks that way. “Who?”

  When I look back, the man is gone.

  I frown at the masses of people as we make our way to a carriage just beyond the pier. The crowd has picked up now, but I have no idea why. The king’s guards have gathered, and they usher us through the streets. We’re led to a grand carriage, one with King Harold’s crest on the back, and my heart flutters in my chest.

  This cannot be happening, not to me.

  More guards surround the carriage, controlling the crowd. The people who have gathered are casual onlookers, not nobility but a collection of wealthy people who fit well enough into Teirn that they’re allowed to stay.

  “Where’s Adeline?” I ask Avery as we near the carriage.

  “Gerard has already escorted Miss Daughtra to the castle,” our guard says, answering for the captain.

  I look around. “And Sebastian?”

  “Sebastian had business in the city,” Avery answers this time. “He said he’d meet us later.”

  Shocked, I turn to Avery. “The two of you had a civilized conversation?”

  Avery gives me a wry smile. “Astounding, isn’t it?”

  When we are very near the carriage, the footman tosses the door open, gives me a respectful, crisp nod, and offers his hand to assist me inside.

  “All right then,” I murmur under my breath, feeling as if I’ve stumbled into someone else’s life.

  The carriage is gilded. As in, with gold.

  Gold.

  The seats are made of plush, heavy velvet in the deepest of rich purples, and the seats are upholstered in a coordinating fabric. The ceiling is lined with embroidered satin, and tiny tassels hang from decorative swags. I stare at it all, astonished. But what really has me dumbfounded is the lovely, dark-haired woman who lounges on the left-side bench, smiling like a cat who just caught a canary.

  Avery bumps into my back and comes to an abrupt stop.

  “Hello, Avery,” the woman says, and before I can make sense of the situation, she rises from the seat and throws herself into the captain’s arms. “Miss me?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  More Like a Doll than a Slayer

  I stumble onto one of the benches, astonished. It takes me all of five seconds to realize who this woman is. Her gold circlet gives it away, but when Avery says her name, that’s the clincher.

  “Minerva.” He sounds nearly as surprised as I am that the Queen of Kalae is hanging from his neck. “What are you doing here?”

  He awkwardly pats her back, and though I want to look away, I can’t drag my eyes from his fingers, which rest on the fine fabric of her bodice.

  “I’m here to welcome you back to Teirn.” The woman finally pulls away, holding him at arm’s length even though he’s much taller than she is, and the angle is awkward in the carriage. “You look awful.”

  A hesitant smile crosses Avery’s face. “I’ve been better.”

  Her hair is sable, the color of mink’s fur—cooler than my brown, somehow more sophisticated. The front pieces are twisted around her circlet, creating a complicated half updo. It’s beautiful.

  She’s beautiful.

  After the queen smiles at Avery for several more moments, she seems to remember I exist. Her eyes drift to me, and she wears a perplexed smile. “And who is this?”

  Avery takes a seat next to me. “Minerva, may I introduce to you Lucia Linnon of Reginae, the girl who single-handedly slew three sirens.”

  “It wasn’t single-handedly,” I murmur.

  Her Majesty’s smile isn’t quite as warm as it was for Avery, but it’s cordial and only one degree off friendly. “That’s quite an accomplishment for someone so…young.” She raises an incredulous eyebrow as her eyes skim over me. “And petite.”

  I am not petite. In fact, I am quite an average height. No, I might not be as long and lithe as most adventuresses, and perhaps my curves are a bit soft, but I am strong and capable, and vaguely insulted by her words. Which I believe was her intention.

  Because I have no idea how to answer, I attempt a smile.

  “Your Majesty,” the footman says, half entering the carriage and bowing his head. “May we leave? Or would you care for more time?”

  “Yes, please. I am eager to return home.”

  The queen returns to her seat, watching us with those sharp, almost feline eyes. “How old are you, Lucia?”

  I squirm, thoroughly unprepared for an inquisition. “Twenty-one, Your Majesty.”

  She studies me, thoughtful. “Yes, so young.”

  That’s odd, coming from someone who cannot be a day over twenty-four.

  “And when is your birthday?”

  “Early spring, Your Majesty.”

  She shakes her head, mock benevolent. “Please, we are friends now. You must call me Minerva.”

  I swallow and nod.

  “And your parents, what do they do?” She tilts her head slightly, waiting for my answer.

  Licking my lips, I glance at Avery. He watches the exchange, as uncomfortable as I’ve ever seen the captain.

  “They are chi
cken farmers, Your—Minerva.”

  The woman’s eyebrows shoot up with surprise. “How darling! My husband will love the story—an adorable little chicken maiden, slaying sirens. I’m sure your parents will be so proud of you. Tell me, when do you plan to return home?”

  I don’t like her.

  “I am a scout, Your Majesty. My business partner and I do not have plans to return to Reginae anytime soon.” My words are voiced as sweet as can be, but from the slight hardening of the queen’s eyes, I believe I get my point across.

  “You have a business partner? Is he a fellow chicken farmer?”

  “He is Lord Sebastian Thane, of Reginae.”

  The smug look falls from her face. “Ah. Related to the duke, I presume?”

  “His cousin.”

  Never mind that Sebastian and I have barely spoken two words in the last month. The extent of our conversations aboard the Serpent went something like, “Please pass that hard, crumbly biscuit, Sebastian” and “Don’t stand so close to the edge, Lucia. You’ll fall overboard.”

  But he’s still my partner, whether he likes it or not, and I’ll toss around his name if I want to.

  The carriage slows, and I assume we’re almost to the castle. When I glance outside, however, I find a crowd of people and a great commotion in the street.

  A group of the king’s guards gathers outside a shoppe. One of the windows is busted. Shattered glass lies on the ground, and sunlight glints off the sharp edges of what’s left in the sill. The shopkeeper stands with the guards. He has a bandage wrapped around his head. The fabric is tinged with pink, and the man looks disoriented. It’s a surreal sight in picturesque Teirn.

  “The city has seen an unfortunate increase in thievery as of late,” Minerva says, dropping her faux snobby voice, sounding truly distraught. “We’re still unsure of the cause, but alchemy and herbal supply shoppes have been targeted.”

  It’s not uncommon in the seedier cities, like the port city of Fermall in the province of Colrain. Supply shoppes carry a great many treasures, some exceedingly rare and nearly priceless. But it’s a shock in Teirn, whose pristine beauty makes it appear to be above such things.

  People loiter in the street—gawkers trying to get a closer look. They block our path, and I can hear the queen’s driver shouting at them to move out of the way.

  “I’ve sold to that man before,” I say quietly.

  I’m not familiar with the city, so it takes me a moment to recognize the shopkeeper.

  “He’s the man who bought the hippogriff feather,” I tell Avery, speaking of the rare item that started Sebastian and me on our scouting journey.

  Minerva glances at me. “He specializes in animal ingredients.”

  Scales, quills, feathers—it seems morbid, but they’re all needed for certain recipes. And while pigeon down might not be worth much, items from greater elemental beasts, like dragon belly scales or chimera hide, are worth a small fortune.

  “I wonder what they were after?” Avery asks.

  “Hard to say.” With a sigh, the queen looks away.

  The crowds finally clear, and the carriage rolls on, leaving the broken shoppe behind us.

  ***

  The ride to the castle takes both forever and not nearly long enough. My anxiety grows the closer we get. Though he seemed hesitant at first, Avery has no trouble slipping into conversation with Minerva. He laughs beside me now, a low rumbling sound of real amusement, as she tells him about something her young brother did last week. The sound grates on my nerves for the first time ever.

  I’m not jealous, mind you. The queen is just that—the queen. But it’s clear the two are more than casual acquaintances—and old ones at that. From the tidbits I’ve picked up, it seems Avery’s no stranger to the castle. He was there often as a youth.

  I bet young Avery was a sight to behold. I’m sure he was charming, even back then. Probably perfected his crooked grin on all the maids.

  Fortunately, I don’t have time to dwell on it because the carriage rolls to a stop, and a plethora of guards waits for us just outside the door. Minerva stands first and is efficiently swept into the castle courtyard. To my surprise, Gerard sticks his head in the doorway next. “May I escort you, Lucia?”

  “I have that covered,” Avery says in a smooth voice, one that makes me glance at him in surprise. He sounds just possessive enough it makes me warm and tingly, but not so much that I want to smack him.

  Gerard has the audacity to wink at me, and then he moves out of the way.

  The captain steps from the carriage and then offers his hand. I take it, feeling a bit like royalty when I see all the eager eyes waiting for us. Half the castle must be out here. Not only are there maids and gardeners and a bevy of other workers, but the courtiers have gathered as well. Perhaps starved for excitement in this last month of winter, they watch us eagerly, whispering amongst themselves.

  I’m so flabbergasted, I end up tripping on the step and careening to the ground. Well, I would careen to the ground if it weren’t for the solid arms and chest that catch me.

  I look up at Avery, blinking in embarrassment. He doesn’t quite smile, but his eyes are bright. I back up quickly, afraid I might have hurt him.

  “I’m fine,” he says under his breath, so only I will hear.

  “Sorry.” I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks, and I know I’m as red as a tomato.

  Avery places my arm in his, tucking me close, and we turn toward the castle. I know I’m staring like the wide-eyed chicken maid I used to be, but I simply cannot help it. I’ve never seen anything like His Royal Majesty’s palace. Huge doesn’t even describe it. It’s four times as large as my village, at least.

  There are towers on top of towers, and flags flap in the warm breeze of midday. We’re inside the outer walls, standing right outside the main entrance. And it’s not just a set of double doors as Duke Thane’s castle is—oh no. This castle has a long stone entry, like a longhouse attached to the front, and there are dozens of arching windows lining the rail along the side. It’s open to the air like a gazebo and as tall as a two-story house. At the front, for all to see, is a ten-foot pennant with the king’s stag crest. It’s the grandest thing I’ve ever seen, and this is just the outdoor entry.

  And there, waiting for us, stands King Harold himself.

  I clasp my free hand at my waist, nervous. I’ve never seen the king before, not so much as a glimpse, and now I’m going to be expected to carry on a conversation.

  His Majesty is younger than I expected, twenty-six, maybe twenty-seven years old. He’s handsome in a rugged way, and he stands with the strength of a noble knight of old. But his eyes are bright, and he wears an eager look that I find terrifying.

  Avery pulls me along, oblivious to my nerves. When we are a bare fifteen feet away, Avery releases me and gives the king a formal bow, bending low with his arm held stiff at his waist. I stumble into a curtsy, awkwardly holding out my skirts as I dip, feeling very much like a cow at a ball.

  “Rise,” King Harold says.

  I’m out of breath from nerves, and I think my heart might come out of my chest when I stand. His Majesty takes me in, studying me.

  Finally, after several long moments, he nods, almost smiling. “Captain Greybrow, bring my siren slayer forward.”

  The courtyard is deathly silent, everyone taking in the spectacle. I swallow and resist the urge to wipe my palms on my ornate skirt.

  I’m having an audience with the king.

  Minerva stands at her husband’s side, smiling for the masses. The smile, however, does not reach her eyes. She’s as poised as a queen should be, as lovely as they come. Her hands are softly folded at her waist, and her posture is perfect—nothing like her cat-like lounging in the carriage. She plays her part well.

  King Harold steps forward. Unlike his wife, he looks genuinely pleased to meet me. He holds out his hands, taking me from Avery, and looks me right in the eye. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lucia Linnon. Had I
known my siren slayer was so lovely, the weeks I waited for the Greybrow Serpent’s return would have been torturous indeed.”

  I smile, nodding like a fool, unable to find words. The king just said I was lovely—wait until I tell Sebastian! And then my mood falls because we’re not speaking.

  Smiling, Harold’s eyes drift over my gown. “You look more like a doll than a slayer.” He glances at Avery. “And I can see why the captain’s kept you to himself.”

  The king looks at me so directly, I want to squirm away from his attention.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” I manage to say, knowing I have to speak. “You are lovely…as well…”

  Unable to stop myself, I cringe. I’ve been at the castle for less than five minutes, and I’ve already made a fool of myself.

  “I mean…” I clear my throat. “Thank you, Sir. Er, King Harold, Majesty…Sire.”

  Stop talking, Lucia!

  Avery snorts from next to me, amused.

  I glance his way, ready to shoot him a glare that would make ice shiver, but I falter. The queen stands next to her husband, the picture of royal beauty, but her eyes are on Avery. Because no one is paying her any attention, she’s dropped the facade, and there’s a wistfulness in her gaze. I know that look; I’ve worn it myself.

  I snap my attention back to the king, but my mind is reeling because I am quite certain that at one point or another, no matter how impossible it might seem, Avery has had a romantic relationship with Her Royal Majesty, the Queen of Kalae.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Skip Over the Best Parts

  “We have much to discuss, but there’s no reason to linger outside,” King Harold says, still holding my hands. He looks at Avery, a strangely mischievous look on his face. “Besides, you have company, and I don’t believe you’ll want to keep them waiting.”

  Avery looks taken aback. “Company?”

  King Harold twitches his nose in a funny way—a way that makes him seem rather normal and human. His cheeks work as if he’s holding back a grin. “I might have let it slip that you were wounded in the act of service…”