Page 106 of Fear the Flames
“We overheard someone talking about a few gambling dens along the west side of the isle. We can start there,” Finnian states.
“Remember,” Ryder declares as he scans his eyes over all of us, “no fighting,” he finishes while looking at Cayden.
“Me? Never.” Cayden raises his hands in surrender, breaking away from the group and disappearing into the crowd.
Saskia and I enter the throngs of people. We link our arms together to keep from being separated in the sea of chaos. Someone bumps into my shoulder rather harshly. I spin on my heels and raise my hand to flip them off, but Saskia pokes me in the side.
“No fighting,” she imitates Ryder’s voice. I let out a soft laugh at her goofy, far-off impression. “I saw a dress shop not too far up the road. We’ll have to wait for the cover of darkness, but it won’t be long before the sun sets.”
“I’ll have to size up so I can fit my leathers underneath. I just won’t thread my arms through my sleeves, and the corset will hide the extra fabric beneath the dress.” She nods her head in agreement. I’m happy Saskia is the one with me right now. Her presence is like a calming force. She also has a keen eye for fashion. I remember the ballgown she helped me design a few weeks ago. “I never thanked you for adding the gold vines onto my dress.”
A smirk tugs her plump lips upward. “That wasn’t me.”
“What?” I blink in confusion. “But you placed the order for our gowns and the boys’ attire.”
“Indeed, I did.” She guides us past the dress shop she mentioned. So many people litter the sidewalk in front of the shop that I’m unable to get a good look at it before we turn the corner. However, I managed to get a glimpse of several beautiful gowns in varying shades of popular colors hanging on mannequins—red, blue, and purple, among others. Those are usually the colors people favor in the colder months.
Saskia sits us at a small table outside of a bakery. The scent of sugar and sweetness filters through the air. If we’re going to blend in, then we may as well enjoy it. She picks up the light pink menu from the table and scans her eyes over it. I do the same, letting my questions simmer quietly. It still amazes me how many food options are available to me now. A woman with short black hair pops out of the bakery and struts over to us. She places a bag of logs in the fire pit to my left and sets it ablaze. The fire roars to life, breaching the icy chill around us.
“What can I get you two lovely ladies?” the woman asks.
“We’ll take a pot of decaf rose tea and two raspberry and cheese danishes,” Saskia smiles.
“That will be right out,” the woman says before turning back toward the door and disappearing inside. It’s not a bad place to hang out for a while, and Saskia is always good company. The weird feeling that settled in my chest while first viewing the town isn’t as prominent as it was. My mind is preoccupied with monitoring everyone that passes, making sure their eyes don’t linger on Saskia or me for too long.
“I did place the order for the dresses,” Saskia picks up on our earlier conversation, “but I left the designs for the dresses on Cayden’s coffee table that night. I took them to the shop the morning after we designed them…with alterations made to your dress and the instructions of payment written in a familiar hand.”
My hands grip the cold, metal armrests of my chair, trying to steady myself even though I’m sitting. Cayden helped design my dress, and it was a beautiful addition. It must have been expensive to add all that detailing. I remember seeing his face as he drank me in from the bottom of the stairs. His features were laced with wonderstruck awe and appreciation.Wait. His suit was embellished with the same green and gold detailing as my dress. I hadn’t thought deeply into his suit when I saw it because I figured Saskia orchestrated the whole thing, but it was him. He wanted to stand beside me that nightand match me.
Emotions swarm inside me—confusion and happiness being the most prominent. But then I remember the expression on his face only mere moments ago when I mentioned his scar. My happiness deflates, and the memory of the ball is whisked away and replaced by Cayden’s eyes simmering in anger and regret. My brain urges me to go find him, to apologize, but I know I can’t.
The waitress places a teal teapot and two matching teacups on the table. A sweet aroma of baked berries and cheese drifts up to my nose. The sight of the danishes makes my mouth water. “Do you need anything else?” she asks while pouring the tea.
“No, that’s all. Thank you,” I smile.
“I’ll leave the bill. Take your time and stay as long as you’d like,” the waitress says, placing a small piece of paper with prices scribbled in smudged ink onto the table. She turns away from us and slips into the bakery once more.
I may not be able to find Cayden right now, but I know he would care more about me finishing this pastry than anything else. My hands lift the danish to my mouth, and I sink my teeth into the soft, flaky bread. The tartness of the raspberries mingles with the savory cheese on my tastebuds. Gods, this is amazing. I add it to my mental lists of pastries to make Cayden try, and pastries I want to learn how to bake.
“What color do you think I should wear tomorrow?” I ask, wanting to take a break from the Cayden talk for now.
She purses her lips in assessment after swallowing, “I really like that deep purple color in the window, or maybe maroon. Those look good with your dark hair.” She sits back in her chair and sighs toward the sky. “Gods, it’s nice having a girl in the group.”
I laugh into my teacup while taking a sip. The warmth of the cup feels delightful against my cold fingers. “Has it always been just the three of you?”
“Yes,” she nods. “I met Cayden when we were sixteen, and Ryder was seventeen. It’s been around ten years together, maybe more—I don’t remember exactly how long.”
I figured they met when they were young. I hesitate before asking my next question, “How did you all meet?”
She takes a deep breath, sitting forward to place her teacup back on the saucer. My hands tighten around mine, preparing myself for the story she’s about to begin. “Ryder and I met Cayden soon after we ran away from our home in Feynadra. Both of my parents were cruel, not in the way your father was, but in the way they viewed us as assets.” She pauses briefly, recalling the memory. “Ever since I was young, I always craved knowledge. I would sneak into the library and read any books on strategy I could find, but my parents didn’t like that. Ryder was always interested in swords and painting, but my parents forced him into politics, and he hated it. They viewed my interests as an act of rebellion, to be focused on nourishing my mind and not doing my part in securing a match that would advance us.”
“My parents never hit me, but they would punish me for reading. They would withhold food, they hired a whipping boy, and eventually, they locked the library and arranged a match for me. My height and curves developed at a young age, and since I appeared older, my parents treated me like I was older. That’s when Ryder and I decided to run away. The idea was always in our minds, though we never thought it would come to pass. When I was informed of the match, Ryder packed bags for both of us, and we left that night.”
I have to put the teacup on the table to stop myself from breaking it. The thought of a young Saskia being forced into marriage as a child, all because she wanted to nourish her mind, sets my teeth on edge. Now I understand why she gets so excited whenever new reports come in; it’s because she’s living the life she never thought she would have. She’s in a position where her mind is valued by her allies and envied by her enemies. She hasn’t gone into detail about what Ryder went through in the household, but I can’t imagine it was pleasant.
“We couldn’t take any money with us because my father would have been able to take legal action. We had no place to stay. I fell ill with fever once our food ran out and wasn’t getting better. Ryder’s first instinct has always been to protect me, despite logic, so he carried me over the border of Feynadra and into one of the slums of Vareveth with only a blunt blade to protect us. He walked us right into a tavern filled with criminals. It was the kind of place where desperate people make deals with anyone that could help them, no matter the cost.”
“Ryder was prepared to sign himself into a gang just to get someone to help me. We had no money, all he could offer was himself. But Ryder didn’t have much skill with a blade at that point because our parents always discouraged it. That’s when we met Cayden. Ryder waltzed right up to the table he was eating at. He was alone, and from the way he looked at us, he hated being approached. He was so young, but he was easily the most menacing one there. If you think his glare is bad now, then you should’ve seen it back then. I don’t think even you could’ve softened it.” I look down at my lap when she finishes her last sentence. I’m not sure I have that much power over him, but I care more about listening to Saskia share her story than debating over Cayden’s feelings toward me.
