Page 22 of The Sea of Zemira (The Zemiran Chronicles 1)

“I love you, Father,” she said.

He smiled. “The greatest moment of my life was the day I found you floatin’ in the sea. You were meant to be me daughter and I am so proud of you.”

Nola’s jaw trembled, but she would not allow herself to cry. She secured the strap of the bag around her shoulders, then checked her bracelet, making sure she had the one thing tying her to the sea. A slight moment of doubt crept into her mind—she hesitated.

“Gotta believe, child!” Duncan said as if he had known her thoughts.

She smiled; her shoulders slouched. “See you when we win the war and bring back the magic.”

* * *

Nola had until sundown to reach the docks. Three trading vessels sailed to Queenstown every Monday and Friday. There, she would have to pay the sailors for the remainder of her trip to the Eastland Forest with every coin her father had given her. But she had to move quickly once she reached Queenstown. If she missed the ship, she would have to wait three days in a foreign city.

Brecken’s main square was nearly empty; all sailors most likely at the waterfront already, and the shops were starting to close. The lampposts were dimmer than usual. The lack of breeze promised a relatively quiet evening to the siren girl’s disadvantage. It was a sweltering afternoon.

It took Nola a few hours on foot to get there. She peered behind a Weeping Willow, keeping to the shadows. Beads of sweat rolled down the nape of her neck. If it were not for the heavy bag around her shoulder, she might not have been so worn. Nola rested her back against the tree and felt the weight of her body ease and her legs relaxed. Then she removed the bag and placed it on the ground next to her. She pulled her shoulder blades together and let out a long sigh.

And this is just the beginning,Nola thought as exhaustion settled in her body.

Dried leaves fluttered from the trail, followed by what appeared to be horse hooves trotting down the dirt-paved road. Nola’s eyes turned to the two horses veering the corner, pulling a coach behind, heading in the direction she was going. Brecken was not the safest place for anyone to venture—a city full of crime and violence, but it was the only way to a decent ship, and by ship was the only way out of Zemira.

As the horses came closer to her, moving briskly down the road, she leapt forward, standing in their path, holding up her hands. The driver pulled back the reins and halted.

“Move, girl! Get out of my way!” he shouted.

She glanced at the coach. The curtains were drawn, so she was not able to see who was inside.

“Could I get a ride, please?” she asked, nerves twisting in her belly. She had no idea who was in there and feared it was someone from the royal palace, though it did look a bit too worn and tattered to be something the royal family would own.

The driver looked behind him as if he were speaking with someone inside and then back at Nola.

“What’s your name?” the hairy man asked, his eye twitched, shifting his heavy body in his box.

“Finola,” she replied nervously. He probably heard the anxious pitch in her voice, she thought, and that alone could make him suspect she was not trustworthy.

The door to the left of the coach opened slowly, and a woman stepped out. She was tall, with long white hair that reached down to her hips. Her clothes looked like any commoner she had met, and she strolled towards Nola.

“Whereabouts are you traveling to, Finola?” she asked, her voice was deep but not masculine.

Nola gestured with her head. “Brecken Terrace, the waterfront—just a few miles that way!”

“I know where Brecken Terrace is—that’s where we’re heading, too. Would you like a ride?”

Nola had not interacted much with people outside her village. She did not trust easily, but the woman did not feel like a threat. However, Nola’s father taught her through the years that people could lie and deceive. They pretended to be kind when they were nothing but the sort.

Nola nodded, still doubtful but exhausted. “Thank you. I’ve been walking all afternoon.” Then, she followed the woman onto the carriage and stepped inside. Her shoulders relaxed when she saw a small child sitting on the booth across from her.

“This is my husband Thomas, and my daughter, Cam,” the white-haired woman said, gesturing to her family.

Nola smiled. “It’s very nice to meet you,” she said, shaking their hands.

The little girl was no older than four, and the woman’s husband was a heavy-set man, with a short beard and dark freckles along his nose and under his eyes.

“I’m Sabre,” the tall woman said.

“Are you from Brecken?” Nola asked.

The white-haired woman shook her head. “No, but we have business with some friends at the waterfront. You’re causing us no trouble at all, I promise. Besides, look at you, you are sweating like you just fell into a lake. You should relax a bit; it’s going to be another few miles before we reach the docks.”

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