Page 59 of Queen of the Night
“Vera, take the front.” It pains me to order the next part. “Darvy, beside her. Rhosse and I will man the oars.”
I stand on the dock and rein in the tendrils of magic that excite when Vera looks up and our gazes hold for an extended moment as she places her hand in mine to step into the boat. She lowers her eyes and slips her hand from mine as quickly as I do from hers. Darvy jumps in next. Adara watches Rhosse with unguarded attraction as he steps in. I grin at his reddeningface as he gets comfortable on the small bench. Then there’s only me.
I turn to Odella. “Thank you for your help. With it, we will hopefully return with a black tulip.”
She nods with a soft smile, and then with a whisper meant only for me, she says, “All depends upon your worthiness, hm?”
I stare at her for a moment, attempting to discern if she’s trying to tell me something. She says nothing else, and her expression gives no other indication it was anything more than a reminder—a reminder that I don’t need.
I nod sharply and jump into the boat.
Adara slips into the water behind us, her blue hands locking around the smooth handles. “Hold tightly. You won’t be needing those oars until the border.” Her voice is as clear and sparkly as the Lucent River.
Vera hurriedly tucks Rupi into her pocket, where she chirps indignantly, before she holds to the side of the boat. I grip the wood edge, and then, with no further warning, we’re off. We travel so quickly it feels as if we skim across the water. The river’s shimmers turn into one continuous bright flash on either side of our boat, and cool wind rushes through my hair and tugs almost violently at my clothing.
Rhosse and I look at each other, brows raised in surprise. This is much, much faster than we’ve ever seen a boat safely travel the Lucent River. The greenery and forest on either side of us is a blur. I see the flash of a large bear on the river bank, but it’s gone just as quickly. And then, the color of the forests disappears, replaced with the brown color of two steep canyon walls. Then we stop so suddenly we’re almost spilled from our leaf boat, causing Rhosse to curse loudly while Vera yelps as she goes half over the edge at the front and Darvy grabs her waist to pull her back in.
Adara speaks from the water behind us, her blue eyes still rushing, and her voice so pure it almost hurts my ears. Her skin shimmers with exuberance, and her long hair is carried behind her like a dark stain in the river. “Use the oars to travel until you see three gold arrows embedded in a tree. Tie the boat there and make the rest of the way on foot. There is a path that leads to the Field of Tulips, but I can’t say what condition it’s in after all this time. Whether you retrieve the flower or not, be back within these canyon walls before two days pass, or the border will close and following this river will no longer take you to the nymphs.”
I incline my head with gratitude. “Thank you, Adara.”
She waits for us to ready the oars, then she releases the handles and disappears beneath the gentle rush of the river. As soon as she lets go, our boat is carried forward, and Rhosse and I push the oars through the water at intervals to stay on a straight course.
“And there’s the boundary,” Darvy says grimly, his voice low and his hand on his weapon.
We watch as a clear line of healthy magic river ends and the poisoned, gloam-infested river begins. The murky, muddy water is a stark contrast to the shimmering, clear magical river we’ve experienced this past day, and I dread navigating it.
Three paces. Two paces. One. The boat rocks violently as we cross. Darvy draws his sword, and Vera grips the edge of the boat with white knuckles. Rhosse and I work in tandem, oaring with focused rhythm learned through years of teamwork and training. On the waytothe Field of Tulips, the current works against us. On the way back, at least it will be in our favor.
Vera stares at the water as if she expects something to appear on the surface, and I’d laugh, except… it’s possible. Other than a soft bump here and there, it would seem we merely travel a filthy river, but we all know what lives in the depths.
I train my focus on the rhythmic oaring and search for the arrows. Odella said it wasn’t far from the boundary, but with the stress of awaiting an attack, it seems as if we float on the gloam water for a long time.
Darvy points to a tree just ahead on our right. “Three gold arrows.”
Rhosse and I easily adjust our pattern to navigate our way to the shore.
“I’ve got the rope,” Darvy shouts as he jumps from the boat to the bank, slipping slightly on its muddy surface before gaining his footing and knotting the rope expertly around a solid tree near the shore. With quick efficiency, the rope is attached to the boat, and then he’s helping Vera out.
Rhosse and I jump to the bank next.
I lean down to grab the boat and glance at Darvy. “You grab one side. I’ll grab the other.”
We drag the boat as far up the muddy bank as we can get it while still staying close to the river. Never know what sort of gloam creatures we’ll find near the Field of Tulips, and we may need a quick escape.
“That’s quite the path,” Vera states dryly, looking ahead through the trees as she frees Rupi from her pocket. She quills up and huddles near Vera’s neck, eyeing the way ahead and rustling her feathers nervously.
“It was considered a bridal path, meant to be beautiful for future queens to traverse so they could bestow a tulip on their king before they wed. All very honorable and steeped in tradition,” I say as I check my weapons. “There’s a drawing in the journal, put there by a more recent grandfather.”
“It looks like the path to certain death, if you ask me,” Vera mutters.
Rupi cheeps quietly in agreement.
Feeling pleased with how my weapons are situated, I rest my hand on the pommel of my sword and turn to see what she’s looking at. Immediately, I frown. A steep set of rock steps covered in thick, slippery black moss leads upward through what once was a bounteous green canopy of tall ancient trees with thick, twisted trunks. Except now, the steps have begun to crumble, and sharp rocks have knifed through… and instead of branches weighed down with healthy greenery, flowers, and birds, spindly tree branches look like skeletal fingers waiting to stab at passing travelers. To add to the deathly image, there isn’t a single ray of warm sunshine lighting the path, as shown in the picture. It’s filled with clouds of foggy, dark gloam.
I start forward. “Staring at it won’t get us anywhere. Let’s go.”
Vera grudgingly follows without another word.
