Page 51 of Ruthless Scoundrel
“The ancient mythological race that was born in the heart of Gaien’s first volcanos?” I ask, remembering them from one of the storybooks Alyse liked to read to me at night when we were young.
“Shush, you,” Jasper says, nudging my butt with his boot.
I glare at him again and he gives me another quirked eyebrow that says, “You’re my prisoner, remember?”
“Whatever they are or aren’t, they’ll take you apart for wandering into their city,” one of the rowers states. “If you want to keep being among the living, don’t go up there.”
Jasper’s eyes narrow on the island and I look over my shoulder. The upper city is built directly into the volcanic glass in flowing arches and intricate designs.
Lumi is a powerful magus with control of Gaien, which is how she became the groundskeeper at the palace. I’ve seen her create similar designs with dirt and softer stone like serpentine and soapstone, but nothing like this. I can see how the myth of the inhabitants’ identities has come to be, since legend says eksteinvas can shape the mountains from which they were born.
“Stay away from the mountain,” Jasper mutters as his hand falls to my shoulder. “Thank you for the rescue, and the warning.”
Red Beard nods with a gruff grunt as the rowboat pulls up to the crowded pier. “If you’re on your way to Illya, you can try to barter passage with our sister ship, the Sea Snake. Captain’s name is Alejandra. She’ll be at the White Sail with some of the crew.”
“Thank you again, my friend,” Jasper says, tapping his boot against Red Beard’s.
He pulls me to my feet and grabs my waist before pushing me up onto the dock. The ten-foot-wide pier is a hive of activity. Wolish sailors roll carts loaded with boxes to the docked rowboats, and more unload them onto the ships. Each crate is branded with the Wol Empire’s signate: an albatross with wings spread, encircled by grains and grapevines.
Jasper’s hand clamps down on the back of my neck and I jump with a start. He leans in to whisper against my cheek, “These men are not your allies, princess. Stay with me, or you will regret it.”
He marches me down the pier with his hand firmly on the back of my neck. Instead of feeling caging, and uncomfortable, it feels protective. Which is quite possibly the stupidest feeling I’ve ever had.
What in the nine hells is wrong with me?
Farther down the pier, men are closing the crates of sparkling gems, gold, and silver, all organized in their own compartments. Two sailors hammer the lid down while a third applies the burning brand to the wood.
At the edge, where water meets the rocky village, there are men and women with large contraptions on their heads that inspect the gems more closely. They weigh a selection of them, then place them in their appropriate slots in the crate.
“What do you think the people who live here are getting for all this?” I ask.
Jasper’s thumb strokes the side of my neck idly. “Must be something important if eksteinvas are digging up their own mother.”
I glance at him with a shrewd scowl. “You don’t believe that story, do you?”
Jasper’s face is stern, and the change in his usually effervescent mood puts me on edge.
“You do?”
He looks up at the towering city of obsidian glass with fear in his dark eyes. “Stay close to me.”
I look up at the city not with fear, but hope. If Jasper wouldn’t go in there, it could easily be my means of escape—once I get these damned manacles off. I blasted a hole through volcanic rock andturned it into ash. No one in that mountain would stand against me once they saw my power.
Jasper asks for directions to the White Sail and we make our way into the town. The streets are wide and clean, with buildings constructed entirely of wood and tar. A rhythmic hammeringovercomes the noise of the bustling merchants, and I glance to the left as we turn a corner.
There: the billow of a blacksmith. They’ll have the tools I need to free myself.
I count the alleys and our turns as Jasper finds our way to the tavern. The village is bigger now that we’re inside it, having enough inns for at least two hundred people. Some buildings look like permanent residences, while others are for processing the hauls from the mines. I may be able to find other tools and necessities for my travels.
“Your scheming is so adorable,” Jasper mumbles down at me.
“I’m not scheming,” I say.
He laughs softly. “Of course not.”
A band tightens around my stomach as I think of the path to come. I have to get away from Jasper somehow, unshackle myself, pilfer supplies to survive my trip home—how in the fuck am I going to do that?
We’re on an island, and there’s one way off. Hiding in the mountain might keep Jasper away from me, but he’ll just wait me out. I’ll have to leave by boat.
