Page 41 of A Curse of Salt

I kept my gaze glued to the page as he settled into the chair opposite and pulled open an ancient tome I had yet to read.

When I finally looked up, I noticed his thick beard was gone, revealing the strong curve of his jaw beneath the hood. I read on with a furrowed brow, trying in vain not to be distracted by his nonchalant presence. I’d spent days searching for another glimpse of that faraway, forgotten land, desperate to answer the gnawing feeling my dreams had planted in my mind. But with him here, I was suddenly finding it hard to focus.

I sighed and glanced up. ‘Where are we going?’

The King didn’t bother to look at me as he turned the page. ‘To our deaths.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘You know what I mean. You obviously don’t know where Bane is, so where are you travelling to? Surely you don’t just swan across the seas, killing all those you encounter.’

‘Surely.’

Growling in annoyance, I forced my attention back to the book I was reading, trying to shake off his grating presence. The few things I did know made little sense, like shreds of a torn map I couldn’t piece together. I couldn’t tell the sea from the land and the north from the west. How was I ever supposed to find my way home?

‘Just give me the book back,’ I said in exasperation. Failing to concentrate, once again.

‘I told you, I burned it.’

‘Fine. At least tell me why.’

‘It’s personal.’

I sat back with a triumphant smile. ‘It is about you, then.’

‘Didn’t say that,’ he muttered.

My smile turned smug. If irritating him was all it took, finding answers was about to get much easier. But even if it was true – even if that story was, somehow, about him, it explained nothing about why the Sinking Cities were never mentioned anywhere else, why I’d never heard of them before. An entire kingdom, erased by history. How?

It had been two weeks since our last dinner together and I was starving for answers. Starving, but stubborn. I refocused on my book.

Later, when I turned its final page with a defeated sigh, I looked up to find Sebastien sprawled in his chair, thick leather boots resting on the table and a book propped open in his lap, a slight frown to his lips as he read. I tucked my hands beneath me, resisting the urge to reach across and yank back his hood.

Dusk filtered in through the high windows, a precarious peace softening the air between us.

The King glanced up and tossed his novel on to the table. ‘Hungry?’

I nodded, my stomach rumbling as I stood and followed him to the door. He stepped back and I hurried out into the hall, an unwarranted blush creeping into my cheeks as I brushed up against his chest.

When I pushed through the heavy doors into the fire-lit dining room, I paused. Rather than the usual buffet of rich, appetising dishes, there were just two place settings laid at one end of the table.

I gazed longingly down the stretch of wood as I slipped into my new place beside the King. Gold plates harbouring aromatic meats and vegetables suffused the air with the scent of rosemary and lamb. I reached for my already brimming goblet of wine and drank eagerly, letting the heady crimson liquid fill my belly with the courage I needed.

‘You never answered my last question,’ I said.

The King tilted his head, shadows lengthening down the column of his neck.

‘Where we’re going,’ I prompted, setting down my chalice.

Another long pause. He trailed a finger down the gold stem of his goblet, the dip of his throat just visible as he swallowed. ‘Home,’ he said at last.

‘To the Sinking Cities.’

It was a wild guess, perhaps, but I felt it strike its mark. Sebastien lifted his head slowly and my heart skittered at his silence. It’s . . . real?

‘I see you’re as smart as you are irritatingly curious.’

‘I read a lot,’ I said, smiling at his intended insult. A giddy warmth bubbled up in my chest, my blood scorching with adrenaline. It’s real.

‘I’ve noticed.’ His voice scarcely grazed my consciousness, my mind blistering with a thousand questions, a thousand new possibilities, most of them beginning with how and why.

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