Page 19
“I—”
“It’s ok. We can discuss that later.” She tucks a windblown strand behind my ear. “I bet you’re from a fishing family since you’re from a town near Seshly.”
Fishing family, fish family. Close enough. “Yes. I do spend a lot of time at sea.”
“Lovely.” She throws an arm over my shoulder and guides me toward the bank. “My family is going to take your appearance as an omen. They’re quite superstitious.”
My muscles tense. “They are?”
She waves a hand. “They’ve been on my ass to take a wife lately. Don’t mind them when they inevitably start pushing for us to get married.”
I let out the breath I’ve been holding. I’ve spent many nights listening to Darcy lament about the pressure she feels to settle down, my stomach filled with knots while imagining her life with somebody else.
But that somebody could be me. This could be the stroke of luck we both need.
Coppery bracken tickles my ankles as we reach the plateau, and my eyes water at the sight of the land beyond the hill. A proper village sits in the valley, with small buildings placed strategically around a square circuit of cobblestone…streets.
“Tell me more about yourself,” Darcy says, redirecting us away from the ledge and toward a trail winding up the harsh slope to the castle. “I want to know everything.”
It feels silly to start from the beginning, but I rattle off bare-bones details about my strict father and perfect sisters, the conversation taking my mind off the new sights, smells, and sounds overloading my senses. She asks my age, and I pull my attention away from the loud metallic ringing of a bell in the distance as the pathway rises higher over the village.
“I’m six—”
“Do not tell her you’re sixty years old,” Zephyr says, a breeze whispering past my ear.
They’re still nearby, then. I thought they’d disappeared.
I cough into the cloak. “I’m six and twenty.”
It’s the first blatant lie I’ve told her. I don’t like it, but I can remember how she reacted the first time I revealed my true age to her. I swear to myself I’ll clear everything up once it’s safer.
“About ten years younger than me.” She loosens her hold on me as I grow winded, looking around as if she’s expecting to run into somebody. “Are you alright? Do you need to stop and sit for a minute?”
“No, I’m ok,” I say, even though my muscles are sore from the exertion of climbing. People are bustling into the square below, and I want to go somewhere quiet, away from the distracting cacophony.
“Shouldn’t be too much further now.”
The castle looms ahead, casting long shadows that cool the air. I regularly swim in the glacial waters of Corstylia, but my human body is struggling to adjust to these fluctuating temperatures. My teeth chatter as I study the fortress.
I’ve always looked up at the rectangular building, its pale stone walls appearing neat and uniform from the ocean. But from here, I can see how weathered it is.
Moss creeps along the foundation and branches out over the salt-stained siding that ends in notched crenels. I count four stories of windows from top to bottom, excluding the tall towers rounding out the corners.
“Let’s go this way,” Darcy says. “My family will be gathering in the foyer for breakfast, and I’d like to avoid them. I’ll wait until dinner to introduce you to them”
“That sounds good to me.” It will be nice to spend the morning with her before making the rounds with her family.
She veers away from the castle, and prickly shrubs filled with plump indigo berries snag on my dress as we follow a worn divot in the layer of land extending out from the cliff. We come upon an arched opening scooped out of the rock face, the hole fitted with a corroded iron gate. Darcy pulls a key from her pocket and unlocks it.
“This is one of the secret entrances,” she explains. “We should be able to slip you into a bedchamber without anyone noticing.”
A bedchamber sounds promising. My excitement makes my steps feel lighter as she takes me through a tunnel. I’m not used to my human vision yet, so I’m thankful when the darkness lifts, and I can see the shells embedded into the walls around me. I trail my fingers along them for balance as we twist up a spiral staircase made of raw steps cut directly into the cliff.
Dizziness ensues as we make another revolution, ending at a flat landing that takes us into a more refined section of the building. The rough-hewn walls are carved with intricate designs, and polished stone floors shine at my feet.
An elderly woman stands beneath a pair of lit sconces at the end of the hall, her spine straight and hands clasped at her waist.
Darcy waves to her. “Mrs. Bexbury, would you mind fetching a pair of maids to attend to my friend? She’ll be staying in Minnie’s old chambers.”
