I walked across the deck toward the dining hall. Appetite or not, I knew I had to eat something, and it was lunchtime. I entered and left my hat and book for the servant boy, who was standing at the door.

  He nodded at me. “G'day, my lady. Lunch is served.”

  “Thank you.”

  The dining hall was nearly empty as I was late and maybe the last one to come to lunch. Only one group sat at a table near the windows. There was a golden-haired woman, her hair twisted in a curly bun, an older, red-faced man, and him—the dark-bearded man from the harbor. The group was bickering about something and the woman giggled once in a while.

  I sat down, leaving a few tables between us. Instantly after I had taken a seat, the servant brought the lunch. I focused on eating and eavesdropped on the conversation.

  “But, Nicholas, you can’t be serious! No one has ever proved the stories real. They are only tales.”

  “Has someone proved they aren’t true?”

  “You can’t seriously think that the legends from the era of the Magic Riots are based on factual events? It’s like believing in dragons! Yes, the churches burned people, but it was later confirmed that they were heretics. Witches. There’s no such thing as magic.”

  Nicholas leaned closer to his companions. “There’s been rumors, that—”

  Woman’s giggle interrupted his words. “Ooh, maybe the stories about self-moving carriages are real!” She laughed heartily at her own joke and stood. “Come, Doug. I need some fresh air, and I’m not in the mood for fairy tales.”

  The older man chuckled and offered his arm to the lady, who smiled at him and turned her back to Nicholas.

  He remained seated and returned his eyes toward the sea. Today, he wore his hair tied in a bun on top of his head. He had a straight nose, sculpted features, and nicely shaped shoulders and arms. His coat was open and revealed the white shirt. I tried focusing on my lunch, but again, my eyes drifted to his direction like a magnet. He didn’t look like he was from Dastaria. His skin was a bit darker, and something in his presence oozed adventure and excitement. I wondered where he was headed. Maybe he was a merchant? No, his muscles and posture told about physical training. Maybe he was a mercenary? I heard him talk about the Riots and charms. He must know something about them. Maybe he knew some revolutionary theories?

  Staring the sea in his thoughts, he stroked his clipped beard.

  Should I talk to him? I was intrigued by the handsome stranger. Maybe a world traveler. Gathering my courage, I took a breath and walked to his table. He looked at me, and I had to hold my gasp. His eyes were the deepest blue that I had ever seen, like a deep ocean.

  “Good afternoon, I’m Gina Mansfred.” My voice sounded peculiar and breathy like I hadn’t used it for a long time. Like I allowed my voice out for the first time in months. I cleared my throat and continued, “I overheard some of your conversations and I’m curious . . .. Are there some rumors about the ancient legends or Magic Riots?”

  “My name is Nicholas Rain. Please sit, Mrs. Mansfred.”

  He gestured at the free chair, and I sat on it.

  “In fact, it’s Miss Mansfred. I’m sorry for the intrusion,” I said. “Truth to be told, I’m terribly bored and could use an interesting story. Please, call me Gina.” I realized I was blabbing and forced my mouth shut.

  Nicholas smiled. “Gina.” He tasted my name in his lips.

  I was mesmerized by his mouth. His lips looked soft and full. Corners of his mouth had soft lines, but he couldn’t be much older than me. Something told me they hadn’t come from laughing.

  He examined me with his intense stare. “Have you heard any of the tales from the Magic Riot era? Have you heard how everyone who was caught using charmed mechanics after the ban, were burned in huge holy bonfires by the church? Have you heard how there are still some villages where you can hear their desperate cries echo in the night like the past hadn’t truly abandoned the place at all? Have you heard about the tales about the world where the magic really existed?”

  His words had sucked me in instantly. His charming, deep baritone drew the horrible events into my mind vividly. I was feeling like a child again, feasting on exciting stories. I nodded at him. “I have heard something. The horror stories told by the church.”

  “Good. The rumors, then.” He smiled.

  My heart skipped a beat.

  He stretched closer to me over the table. I leaned in to meet him in the middle.

  He whispered, “It’s been told that a secret society upholds the knowledge of the lost magical culture and that when they are ready, they will govern the world with the knowledge.”

  I took a breath and straightened. “How? Why? Charms aren’t real. The churches burned the people and preached about the magic that had to be destroyed, but nobody believes it really. Maybe the people were just against the church and they had to use the ultimate means to control the heretics?”

  Nicolas leaned back and sipped wine from the glass. “How? I don’t know . . .. But why?” He mulled the wine and stared at it for a while. “During the Riots, lives and livelihoods of dozens, even hundreds of families, were destroyed. The royals of that age became commoners or refugees, many nobles lost their fortune and were forced to live on the streets like beggars . . .. Maybe someone demands justice? Maybe someone has been waiting centuries for the right time?”

  He shot a glimpse at me, and I could sense that he was dead serious.

  Then he smiled. “Oh, that’s perchance speculation gone too far.”

  “How is it that you know these rumors?”

  “I discover these in my work . . .. I’m a mercenary. The rich pay me to secure their travel or they wish me to deliver some precious items for them.”

  “Like . . . treasures?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Maybe.”

  “I bet you are trying to discover these alleged charms,” I said, smirking. “But many claim that those never existed and that the stories are nothing but fairy tales, invented to make the heretics sound dangerous. There are no charms . . .. Then what are you seeking?”

  His face got severe and the smile disappeared. It was like he changed into a different person and a veil was dropped between us.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Mansfred, I am not allowed to discuss the matter.”

  “Oh . . . fine,” I said.

  The warmth we had just felt vanished in an instant.

  “Excuse me. I need to go,” he said and stood, nodding his farewell to me.

  I returned the gesture and stared at his back when he exited the room.

  CHAPTER 8

  THE SHIP DEPARTED from Harven early in the morning. We were headed to open sea. As exciting as I was about taking this trip, I was bored. The weather was glorious. The wind flicked my hair to my face, and I leaned against the railing. A pod of dolphins swam around the ship. Once in a while, one of them jumped high, greeting us. The sun glistened on its skin before it dove back under the surface again. I had never seen dolphins and I remember talking about them with my mother when she was still alive.

  Sadness filled my mind.

  I wished there was someone I could share my joy with, but I was alone. It felt like a hollow blackness was inside my heart. Playing the thief in Karis had killed my father, and it was my fault. Maybe it was foolish to think that I found my long-lost uncle and have a beautiful relationship with him. After all, I hadn’t seen him since I had been a child. I had no memories of him. He didn’t sound like a kind and pleasant man in the letter, but maybe he had some wishes to reunite with his family? There were many things I wanted to ask from him, especially what the secret was that he had implied in the letter.

  “Gina, my darling, I’m all worn out,” Lady Marabel said. “This sun and all this rocking are not doing good for me.” She fanned herself with her hand. She was a sturdy woman, gray and puffy. She had destroyed her health over the years and years spent in tea salons. Tea salons were the only amusement available for wealthy women in Karis, but little the men in Karis knew that when they sent their wives to spend their days at the tea salons, there were completely other refreshments offered, like wines, liquors, and even opiates. Many of the ladies preferred them over tea, including Lady Marabel.

  “Should I escort you to your cabin, Lady Marabel?” I asked.

  She dismissively wiped the air with her hand. “No need. I’ll get there myself. You just enjoy the sun, dear. You look so pale in that black, better to get some sun on your face.” She pushed herself up from the chair, panting with the effort, then stumbled a bit when the ship swayed with the waves. Her face turned pale. “Oh, these sea voyages are not for me but the only way to visit my dreadful sister. Why did she ever choose to live on an island so far away from me?”

  She mumbled her words, already her back turned to me. I was happy she left me alone. Her negativity was contagious.

  Letting my hand slide on the ship’s railing, I lunged toward the other side, trying not to disturb the men working with the sails. I reached the tail end and stopped when I saw Nicholas standing in front of the wall, knives in his hands. His jacket was tossed away, and he had rolled up his sleeves, revealing his tanned arms.

  He gripped one knife into his hand, lifted his arm over his shoulder, aimed, and tossed the knife to the ring he had drawn on the wooden wall. Then, unbelievably fast, the second, third, and fourth knife.

  Thock, thock, thock.

  All were neatly inside the target on the wall.

  He turned his head toward me, squinting his eyes in the dazzling sunlight. I smiled at him, and he returned the smile with his white teeth showing.

  “Greetings, Miss Mansfred.”

  “Gina,” I reminded him.

  He nodded. “Gina.”

  Walking to the wall, he twisted the knives from it one by one.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “A bit bored, I think. I’m not used to doing nothing.”

  He offered one of the blades to me with a wink. “Do you want to try it out?”

  “Absolutely,” I said with a grin, snatching the knife.

  He lifted his one brow and gave a slow smile. The sun deepened the blue in his eyes. There was a twinkle in the depths of that blue that made my knees weak. I was likely getting myself in a lot of trouble here, but I didn’t mind. For the first time in weeks, I felt lighthearted and giddy, and I had missed the feeling. I wanted to thrust the gloomy thoughts aside.

  “Here, let me show you,” he said as he steered me to the spot where he had tossed the blades. Holding my shoulders, he turned my face toward the wall. He stood behind me, and the warmth radiated from him like a burning fire. When he pressed himself close to me and guided my movements with his body, a dangerous sensation started to build up inside me. He placed his hand on my waist to hold me on a certain spot and it made me feel twitchy. The hand on my waist was dominant and steady.

  Leaning toward my ear, he whispered, “Force is important. But it’s not everything.”

  His deep baritone vibrated through me like thunder.

  “You must think this knife is a continuance of your arm and hand,” he continued and gradually started to slide his hand over my right arm and elevated it up. His fingers gently lay on top of mine, and we held the knife together. I had been touched by a man before but this . . . this was the most erotic, yet completely appropriate touch, I had ever felt. I was shocked by the emotions he caused with his voice and touch. I wanted to thrust him away, but at the same time, I wanted to feel more.

  “Are you ready? he asked.

  “Y-yes, I am,” I stuttered, nibbling my lip.

  “First, let’s see the movement before throwing the blade. Lift your arm to as high as your shoulder, that’s right. And now keep your wrist straight but relaxed. Remember to straighten your arm all the way before and after you release the knife.” His hypnotic voice echoed in my ear, sending shivers with every word.

  I had to stop this before I did something inappropriate or plain foolish.

  “I think I got it, thanks,” I said and moved slightly to indicate that he needed to move farther.

  Like a gentleman, Nicolas took a step back.

  I weighed the blade in my hand to get a feel of it. Setting my feet on the right angle that felt comfortable, I lifted my arm. I had tried knife-throwing once at the carnival but was terribly bad at it back then. I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself though, so I concentrated. It was challenging; I could feel his blue eyes travel across my body, studying, observing. I wrenched my arm back a bit and then tossed the knife forward. It flew straight into the ring on the wall, but wrong side ahead, and simply hit the wall and fell.

  “Well done, Gina,” Nicholas said.

  I turned to look at him, turning up my nose. “But it didn’t stick.”

  He offered me a second knife. “You didn’t expect to succeed the first time you tried, did you? That was a good throw. The aim is important.”

  I took the knife and got myself into a similar position as I had been before. “How do I make it stick?”

  Nicolas sat on a wooden cargo-box and crossed his legs comfortably. He grinned. “Practice, lovely Gina. Practice.”

  I glimpsed him under my lashes. Lovely? The way he pronounced my name, softly and caressing . . .. I had to admit, he made me feel special. The way he looked at me—nobody had looked at me like that before. Elliot’s leers had been just as repulsive as I had gotten in the House of Burglars, and from other men mainly calculative but this? This was something else.

  The time passed and we kept practicing. I observed him closely and tried to mimic his movements and listened to the advice he offered. I focused on practicing and was enjoying myself and his company. I told him about my intentions to keep the Mansfred Merchant House up and running now that my father was gone, and he told me about his trips around the world. He had been nearly everywhere—Londia, Icy Plains, Pomerun, Tigras . . .. But I sensed that he held back. He would stop sentences or let his words drift away in the middle of a story.

  Even if we had just met, I felt like we had a connection. We appreciated the same things—freedom, travel, mysteries. I tried to convince myself that I was more interested in our conversation than him, but my body signaled other things. When he was close, I lost my breath. But how could this kind of experienced traveler be interested in me? There was heat between us for sure, but he looked like a man who had entertained a lot of women. Could I ever try that kind of life? Meet a man, enjoy him for one night, and then say goodbye?

  The sun had colored the sky a delicate pink when we finally decided to stop. I had fun that day, more fun than I’d had in a long time. He gathered his knives and started to roll his sleeves down. A brisk wind hurled through the deck and I shivered. The weather was cooling down. I had taken off my jacket earlier and was feeling cold now. Nicolas saw me shake, and he leaned to grab my black jacket and put it on me.

  He held his hands longer on my shoulders than necessary. Was I imagining it? When I looked at his hand resting on my shoulder, I noticed a beautiful silver ring on his middle finger. It looked ancient. A green big opal was attached in the middle, exquisite carvings framing it.

  “That must be old. It’s gorgeous. A family heirdom?” I asked him.

  He glanced at me under his black lashes and smiled that beautiful smile at me, making my knees weak again.

  “No, It’s charmed mechanics, of course.”

  I burst into a light laugh.

  Nicolas tilted his head. “You don’t believe me?”

  “No way.”

  He flashed a sheepish grin. “You’re right. It’s not a charm. Our family used to hold a high position in this land . . .. It was hundreds of years ago and this ring is said to be from that era. It is a family heirdom.”

  Hundreds of years old.

  My fingers itched to examine it. I stretched and gently touched the smooth opal and received a slight shock that snapped my finger.

  “Oh!”

  My heart jumped. Listening his stories had undoubtedly made me jumpy.

  He burst out laughing and squeezed my hand. “A static shock. Maybe there’s thunder in the air?”

  He lifted my finger to his lips and caressed it softly.

  Thunder indeed. At least in my heart.

  All the energy that had been building between us the whole day gathered into a tight ball inside me. The touch of his tender lips on my skin was too much, and I knew I had to retreat. Swiftly, I jerked my hand away. Our eyes locked, and there were promises of kisses, heat, and passion in those blue eyes of his.

  “I think I should go inside now,” I whispered, unable to move.

  He said nothing but merely continued to stare at me. It was like he had hexed me into my spot.

  “There you are, Gina,” Lady Marabel called behind, saving me from myself.

  “Yes, Lady Marabel. I was just about to come and ask if you need anything. Thank you, Nicolas, for the intriguing discussions this afternoon.” I nodded at him.

  He nodded back. “The pleasure was all mine, Gina.”

  His words made me nearly stumble on my feet. I quickly turned my back to him and gripped Lady Marabel’s arm like it was my rescue boat from this storm that was Nicholas.

  ALL THE PEOPLE HAD gathered in the ship’s grand hall at twilight. They called it the Midway Ball. The hall was a magnificent place—heavy chandeliers hung from the ceiling and dozens of candles provided the room a pleasant, rosy glow. The crystals sparkled, the glasses jingled with the slight swaying when the Mermaid journeyed forward. Passengers had dressed in their finest—low cleavages, satins and silks in all colors, men in their dark coats . . .. For so many years I had avoided events like this, and I remembered the reason now. I never felt like I belonged. There were always the pushy ones, the ones who spoke too loudly, showed too much skin, tried to be everything everyone else wanted. Then there were the silent ones who wanted to be like the pushy ones, glancing at them, trying to declare a word here and there, but never given the chance over the loud ones. Then there were the drunken ones, the ones who caused the embarrassing situations for themselves and others.

 

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