Page 48 of The Sea of Zemira (The Zemiran Chronicles 1)

“This is beautiful,” Nola said, her stomach fluttered with elation. “I’ve never seen anything like this in my entire life.”

Lincoln leaned over her shoulder. “I was here for over a week when I visited ten years ago. It happened to be the time of the harvest festival. The nomads use nature’s herbs and crystals and harness the elemental magic for each kingdom they visit. It is—”

“Quite beautiful?” she added with a slight smile over her features.

“Aye, it was quite memorable, to say the least,” he said.

The siren girl kept her neck turned, looking into his jade eyes and the handsome smile imprinted on his lips. She nibbled on her lip nervously as his gaze fixed to hers, then turned back to the lights. Nola found his hand wrapped around her waist and gave him a tight squeeze.

Lincoln smiled at the gesture, delighted to see her reciprocate his touch.

The glow lit up hundreds of colorful tents, colors Nola had never seen before?—colors she did not know even existed. Despite it being dusk, the lights lit up the sky with fireworks booming into the night, lighting up the gorgeous, unique scenery surrounding them. There was a long stage to the left, decked with thousands of flowers and garlands. A couple dancers and what appeared to be goblins moved about the tents surrounding the square. Nola had read about the traveling nomads of the ten kingdoms, but the way they looked was not what she had pictured in her mind. The books had it all wrong.

Maybe the king lied about them too,Nola thought.

Their outfits were eccentric?—almost glowing?—several with makeup painted thick on their face.

They look different, just like me,Nola thought; the instant comfort connected her to those the world looked at as strange and weird. If not in Westin, at least, they would have been in Zemira.

“What happens during the festival, Lincoln?” the siren girl asked innocently, not turning that time. She could not will herself to look away from the spectacle.

“Ah, well, I guess you wouldn’t know such celebrations since small villages like yours haven’t had fresh produce in nearly two decades,” Lincoln explained. “But every town they visit, they reap the harvest from the fields. Then they sell the product here to give thanks to their gods for the good season. He pointed around at the tents surrounding the city streets. “Anythin’ you see here is free,” he reiterated, bringing their horse to a stop.

Nola smiled. “This is beautiful, Mazie,” she said as Lincoln swept her up and off the horse. “Why did you leave?” she asked, oblivious to the fact that she was stepping again on the ground.

Mazie’s dark brows raveled into a glower as she sucked in a breath. “It wasn’t like I wanted to leave—I was dead to my mother, and if it wasn’t for the captain here, who knows where I would’ve ended up.”

“Oh,” Nola said. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

Mazie raised her hand. “Just because Harry greeted me with open arms?—doesn’t mean…” She paused, looking irritated, “Gah! You’re so stupidly naïve—”

“Raven, that’s enough!” Lincoln scowled; Mazie’s body tensed.

What did I ever do to you?!Nola looked at her with pleading eyes.

It was clear to her that the dark-haired pirate despised her, and she was not even trying to hide it. She also wondered how much more she would hate her when they figured out that she was a siren and had lied to all of them.

Mazie rolled her eyes and looked back to the city she once knew, taking it all back in?—just ten years later. After they hopped off their horses, Raven began feeling a tug at her chest. Kitten noticed her friend aching, so she rushed to her side and held her hand.

When they all had their bags on their shoulders, Lincoln led them to a yellow canvas tent at the far end of the main road and there stood a woman holding a curtain open. Her long black hair, dreaded in thick locks, fell to her hips, and a full sleeve tattoo from her shoulders to her nails. She wore a colorful red lace dress draped over the front of her chest, with beaded lining over the collar.

Once inside, tall canvas walls surrounded them, lit by incandescent lamps on every corner of the room. The tent was embellished with garden leaves climbing up the walls, dried-out flowers scattered about, and jewels and stones placed on each table, creating a brightly-lit sanctuary. An earthy aroma drifted in the air. It was pleasantly inviting.

“Mazie,” the woman breathed as the black-eyed pirate moved past Lincoln to stand in front of her.

“Mother, you haven’t aged a day,” Raven said wryly.

Her mother laughed. “My magic has done well for me over the years,” she said, “And what say you, daughter? Have you learned to fly yet?”

Mazie’s jaw tightened, she quickly turned away as if consciously fighting to contain her untamed tongue into saying something she would regret.

It was clear to Nola that Mazie’s mother’s remark—whatever it meant—was intended to hurt her. And judging by Mazie’s scowl across her face, she had let it sting.

The black-haired pirate looked at her mother sharply; a flicker of begrudging shone on her face. “I daresay, Mother, you are still a ragin’ bitch,” she sneered.

Her mother threw her head back and cackled, and of course, that only caused Mazie to hiss through her teeth.

Nola found it interesting how tough Mazie behaved towards her and the rest of the crew since she met her. However, she appeared a lot more vulnerable, as if her mother knew exactly what to say to get under her skin.

---