Page 7 of Of Blooming Embers
That was the last time I saw my mother. The moment I had learned of her gift, and it had saved me.
Doomed her.
My loathing for Melina and the Dormancy burrowed deeper into my marrow, hardening my bones until my frame straightened and lifted my head.
All these turns, my last moments with Mama had been stolen. But they were mine once more, and I’d be bloody damned if anyone would take them again.
Marching forward, my hands fell as I pushed my shoulders back. First, food and supplies. Then rest.
One step at a time.
Back to the beginning.
To my roots.
3
THE SLIPPERY CHANNEL
SERYN
We arrived in Ceto, the Haadran capital, by nightfall, just as Gavrel had predicted. My stomach growled as we stepped from the muddy marsh onto a wide, white lynstone bridge. Our boots, caked in thick mud and broken bits of marsh reeds, slurped against the smooth stone as we neared the city entrance.
Gavrel led us along the winding boardwalks supported by thick, crisscrossing wood piles. Canals gurgled between the paths and under footbridges, brackish water lapping at the algae-ridden tidemarks along the walls. Moonlight kissed the pallid, timeworn buildings.
I sighed, nearly bumping into Gavrel’s back as he abruptly paused outside a spirited establishment, light, raucous laughter spilling out from its open wooden door.
I looked up at a swaying sign, one eyebrow raising as I read the curling letters.The Slippery Channel.I snorted at its name, smirking when Gavrel glanced at me. He grunted and, without a word, stepped through the door. But not before I caught the hint of his dimple winking below the grim line of his mouth and stubble.
The robust comfort of the place barged into my senses. A small fire danced in a hearth at the opposite end, next to a bar lined with people drinking pints. Lively chatter filled the room, bouncing off the walls and well-loved wooden tables.
Scanning the patrons, I couldn’t tell if anyone was a Druik. There were no signs of auras flickering in the sea of alabaster attire.
“What have we here? But it can’t be—Commander Larkin gracing our presence!” a comely, middle-aged woman called out from behind the bar. She tossed her rag on the counter and marched toward us, her ivory kirtle stretching around generous curves. Some patrons whooped or raised their brews in our direction.
Gavrel bowed as she stopped directly in front of us, her wide mouth beaming. Her smile was infectious, teasing a similar expression from me. I held out my hand, and the woman bounced forward, cocooning my hand in both of hers. “And you’ve brought a friend. How divine! Welcome to my place. The name is Cordelya Brimwell.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Seryn.”
As she spoke, the sun-kissed skin around her bright eyes crinkled. She let go of my hands and touched Gavrel’s arm. “What can I do ya for, Commander? Looking for a bed and a pint?” She winked at me, and a small laugh caught in my throat at her audacity.
The corners of Gavrel’s lips lifted politely. “Two rooms and some of your stew, if you have any left.”
She clapped her palms together. “You’re in luck. We have nibbles, we do. This way.” In a flurry, she led us to a table in the corner and smacked her hand on it before flitting away.
We settled in the creaking chairs, the patrons of the tavern gulping down their ale, laughing, and sharing stories, not paying us any further attention.
Cordelya swooped back to us, clinking bowls on the table. My stomach rumbled at the savory aroma of spiced fish and vegetables swimming in a hearty broth. “Now, about therooms. We only have the one left. Will that do?” One of her pale eyebrows quirked at Gavrel.
“That’s fine. We’ll take it,” Gavrel replied, frowning and handing her coins. “A pleasure as always, Cordelya.”
She laughed, clunking a chunky metal key on the table between us. “You tell that Rhaegar to come visit me. Cross is what I am that he’s stayed away so long.” She winked at us before making her way to the bar, smiling and touching patrons’ shoulders as she went.
Gavrel huffed a wry laugh and lifted his stew-filled spoon to his mouth, pausing for a moment before sliding the savory meal between his full lips. He chewed slowly, and his thick throat bobbed.
“You’re humming. Good, yes?”
Warmth ran over my cheeks, and I nodded, swallowing. “Ceto’s food rations seem sufficient.”
