Wind Flowers, page 20
If only I’d known then what ‘no matter what’ would cost.
Seventeen
IRINA
I’d never been one for much exercise—a quality my mother hated and often warned would do me no good—but by the time we finally reached the outskirts of Qara, I was inclined to agree about its uses.
Muscles I didn’t know I had ached, my feet and knees throbbing as my bones considered breaking. My skin itched with layers of dried sweat, red splotches discoloring my normally smooth arms and face to an angry rust. It’d been bearable at first—walking alongside Aya, who kept a comfortable pace, chatting and bantering with the twins and Naveen to pass the time. Even when Malina and Kas would circle back to us with updates, I didn’t mind Malina’s presence, her clear orders and mapping skills making the journey less arduous and Kas’s cheerful grin propelling my feet further.
But after the sun had fled beneath the treetops, a chill settling into the air, we all felt the sting a little sharper, moods souring and hopes dying with the approaching dusk.
So when we stumbled into Qara—a much smaller town than Kisari, right where the river practically bumped up against the mountains—I almost cried with relief as we approached The Breeze Haven Inn & Tavern. It was less spacious than The Frog Hollow, but the lights and laughter pouring from inside spoke of fortune and food to be had, and when Shin nodded his agreement, I almost smacked a kiss on his cheek.
Almost.
He and Malina walked into the inn without a word, just throwing one of those signals to the others that meant stay put until I say so.
“Not to rub salt in a wound, Princess, but do us all a favor—please try not to pick any fights at this one.” Naveen slumped over as he trudged toward the door, whatever energy my magic had given him zapped with the dying sunlight. He leaned against the frame, letting the structure steady him as we waited. “I need sleep and a bath.”
“I’m not much of a fighter,” I retorted; shame licked my chapped skin, creeping hot across the back of my neck.
I’d shut out my guilt—locked it away in the small, crowded box where I kept all of my other unsavory feelings—but there was no denying what I’d done. Last night, my actions had gotten a friend hurt, and a man killed.
None of Shin’s pretty notions of clean slates could erase that.
This is what happens when you speak, girl.
Stay in your room, Irina!
A snort pulled me out of the box again, a blue eye winking at me from beneath messy copper bangs. “You should consider it, if the whole Princess thing doesn’t work out. You have a natural talent.”
“What do you know about talent?” I huffed at Ren, brushing past him with false confidence despite the pit threatening to drag me back.
“See? Fighting already.” Naveen quirked a smile.
Tears bit the backs of my eyes, that guilt roaring up without a leash, but a hand on my arm chained it before it could escape.
Riku’s normally icy expression warmed to an understanding I hadn’t expected. “Ren and I grew up in the circus. We know how to tell the difference between someone with an act and someone with a gift. You’ve got the latter, Princess.”
Something sparked in my chest, spreading through me like wildfire. My throat tightened, a surprising relief I didn’t know I needed unwinding inside me.
I’d never been seen as gifted. A tool, yes. A toy, even. A spare.
But a gift?
No, a gift was what these strangers had given me when they’d sprung me from my cage. When they’d given me the chance to fly for myself.
“Can everyone start calling me Irina?” I croaked around the ball in my throat. I couldn’t shed my title like a molting bird, no matter how much I’d outgrown the previous version of myself. But perhaps for a night, I could pretend to be someone else. Maybe even myself, for a change.
Aya smiled first. “Sure thing. Let’s get some grub, Irina.”
With another signal from Shin and a bit of bustling, we managed our way inside and to a table this time, the inn packed with customers laughing and cheering over warm food and friendship.
My stiff muscles eased, the scent of deep herbs and sharp spices reminding me of Tasha’s kitchen, of the warmth and love I always felt there. But as much as I missed that small sanctuary, this place beckoned me further. From the rafters hung small glass orbs, tiny fires burning inside them—definitely the work of a talented Easinir—that lit the place in dancing light. None of the tables or chairs matched—some of them high-backed and regal, others merely cushioned stools, the tables both round and square and lacquered in every stain of wood imaginable. But even without cohesion, it somehow gave the place a whimsical charm that made me want to sit and stay a while.
And at the front of the room, across from the bar, a small stage jutted up three feet higher than the rest of the tiled floor, an upright piano waiting open for a player. It was a dingy instrument—the keys yellowed by age, the wooden bench rickety—but it still spoke of a luxury I hadn’t expected from the Breeze Haven.
Entertainment.
Whatever lack had carved through The Frog Hollow seemingly hadn’t touched this place, more of a reason for me to believe the barkeep had just been a surly man with a bad attitude, his complaints projections for his own failings.
At least, that was the story I let myself believe as we devoured our rations—roasted chicken and some heartily cut potatoes basted in a butter and curry sauce that almost had me moaning over each giant forkful I allowed myself, for once not worrying about how much I ate in front of others. If this place—only a day’s walk north—could be touched by such plenty, then perhaps Babylon was not doomed after all.
After we’d stuffed ourselves—the conversation limited as we each attended to the beasts roaring in our bellies—Shin, Malina, and the twins excused themselves from the table without a word, headed toward the barkeep at the back of the room.
“What are they doing?” I murmured to the others, munching on a cinnamon cookie despite how tightly the waist of my pants bit into my protruding middle.
Kas shoved two of the small sweets into each of his cheeks, crumbs tumbling from his lips as mischief lit his eyes. “Bargaining.”
I set my own treat down on the plate, unease chasing away my appetite. I hadn’t even thought about what it would cost us for such a respite, and I had no idea how Shin had been managing money as we traveled. We’d fled The Frog Hollow without the silvers he’d given the owner, and without the carriage, I doubted we had anything valuable to offer.
My tastebuds turned to ash, the food bittered by reality. Was this what it was like for them in Hiku City? Had each meal laid such a grave toll on their shoulders?
I swallowed despite my dry, guilty tongue, asking though I feared the answer, “With what?”
But Kas was immune to the discontent that plagued me, bouncing in his seat as he bit his cheek to hide a smirk. “They—”
Aya held up a hand, silencing him with a stern look that I’d seen on her brother’s face too many times already. “Don’t spoil it. She’ll see for herself.”
On cue, the barmaid clinked a knife against a glass, silencing the gentle rumble of voices in the tavern. Flour and spilled drink stained her salt-and-pepper hair and worn apron, but she held her chin high, commanding respect like a queen as she scanned her castle. After a moment, she cleared her throat, a beaming smile captivating her laugh-wrinkled face.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the Breeze Haven, please welcome some very special guests!” The owner raised her glass, gesturing to Shin and the others. “Tonight, all the way from Hiku City, the most amazing traveling troupe of players to grace all of Babylon, The Misted Muses!”
Cheers and hoots erupted, and Shin and the twins bowed, Malina dropping into a deep curtsy. My gut fell and rose with them, and I had to scrape my chin from the floor as I whipped to Aya. “What? They are the Misty Muses?”
Of course, I’d heard of them, even in Dunyas. For the last five years, they’d been the most popular touring group in all of Babylon, earning accolades even in noble circles. Though I’d never seen them before, Nikolaj had raved about the acrobats and players, promising me that he’d one day take me to see them perform.
It was another promise he broke.
But one I’d make good on for myself, tonight, having unwittingly traveled with them for days.
“No, they are the Mist-ed Muses, not Misty,” Aya corrected with a wink, and the promise shattered again. “Close enough, though.”
I stared incredulously at Shin, impressed again by his ability to lie in half-truths.
“Con artist,” I grumbled beneath my breath, but my words died as Shin took the small stage and sat on the rickety piano bench, the wood creaking beneath him.
He inhaled once—green-tea-and-honey eyes surveying the crowd—while the other three got into position, taking grandiose poses in front of him.
And with an exhale, his fingers touched the old keys, and the entire tavern was transformed.
This was no longer just an inn and a rundown piano—it was the grandest stage I’d ever seen, the music soaring through the room with expert precision and artistry, the crowd instantly under his spell. It was not the stiff waltz we’d danced to at the ball, but instead a dynamic, fluid thing, his fingers making magic with each brush against the keys, despite their slightly discordant pings.
As he played, the twins and Malina began their performance—slow at first, their movements finding the tempo, but soon they were diving and flipping over one another, twirling and spinning with expertise. As they went, the twins made small orbs of ice, juggling them in their deft hands while Shin’s fingers never stopped playing, his melody moving and swaying in time with them. The twins tossed the orbs between each other, rainbows of water streaming from their palms as they dazzled the gasping, grinning onlookers.
And amidst it all, Malina danced. Hips swayed and dipped, lithe and unrelenting, and her feet carved intentional paths across the stage, sparks dancing in her wake. As she moved, mist rose from her skin when she heated the twins’ water, creating a shadowed effect that dazzled the audience. Her curls floated and flipped behind her, every last inch of her a rhythmic, melodic creature, the perfect counterbalance to Shin’s soaring melody.
I didn’t know why it twisted through my ribcage like it did.
Against every instinct, I tore my eyes from her, instead watching Shin. Watching his hands, stroking every key with masterful intent. His chest, each even-tempoed breath rising and falling in synchronicity with the music. His eyes, staring at everything and nothing at all, like he was both fully in the moment and trapped in some long-ago daydream.
Before I knew it, I was under his spell, too. All of the twins’ tricks and Malina’s motions faded away. The ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ and ferocious claps from the crowd drifted into oblivion.
All that was left was him and I. And this song, filling every inch of the liminal space between us. Mending cracks in my soul that I’d forgotten long ago.
The heady buzz of violins. The deep moan of cellos.
Eyes like a warm spring breeze, like leaves falling from a tree.
I didn’t even realize I was crying until a hand reached out and swiped a tear from my cheek, breaking the enchantment and lassoing me back to the tavern’s walls.
“Dance with me Prin—Irina?” Naveen dried the tear from his finger with the hem of his shirt before jerking his head to the center of the room, where a small gathering of patrons had shoved the tables out of the way to join the dance, their clumsy feet far less graceful than Malina’s, but their smiles bright enough to warm the room even without her Qualifying heat. Naveen’s expression matched theirs as he offered me his hand. “I feel like a million marks.”
I took his hand before I could convince myself not to, letting him drag me to the makeshift dance floor.
My body didn’t possess Malina’s captivating grace, especially with stiff muscles and numb joints from a day of walking. But I let myself dance anyway, ignoring the aches, my feet keeping time with my racing heart as Naveen led me around the floor, spinning me like a flower petal in a gust of wind.
This wasn’t the slow, calculated waltz I was used to. Not a structured, polite thing. No, this dancing was uninhibited. Lawless.
“Slow down!” I laughed, my breath a sharp, scraping thing in my lungs, but I didn’t care. Not even as I stumbled, Naveen catching me by my arms before I could smack my face into a chair.
This was chaos. Directionless, whirling madness.
Freedom.
I loved it.
“Can I cut in?” Aya asked behind me as I righted myself, stepping back from Naveen. As my dizziness abated, I noticed the stars in her light eyes as she looked at my dance partner, expectation and excitement swimming in their depths.
Naveen grinned at her, his straight teeth flashing. “You’re up for a dance, little butterfly?”
A pang thrummed my heartstrings as Aya’s face flushed crimson. Is that what Hana had seen on my face during the ball? That same nervous joy—one part foolish, three parts brave?
My gaze drifted to Shin again, still playing as people danced, even though Malina and the twins had taken breaks. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his whole body one with the piano as he performed, but his focus didn’t waver, lost to the music.
I blinked before I could lose myself, too.
“Be my guest; I need a drink anyway.” I smiled at Aya, squeezing her hand. Carefully, I let just a kernel of my power slip through my littlest finger and into hers, so small that the flash barely registered in the bright room. But still, she stood straighter, inhaling sharply as more color siphoned into her cheeks.
She kissed my hand before letting it go. “You’re a good friend, you know that?”
The weight of the word hit me with an unexpected force, stealing my breath from my already-abused lungs.
Friend.
I didn’t know if I’d ever had one of those before. At least, not one that hadn’t been my brother’s or my parents’ first. But somehow in the last few days, despite all of the horror and turmoil we’d faced, I’d made one on my own.
Friend.
I tucked the word into a formerly empty corner of my heart before turning to the bar, my sore limbs suddenly less heavy.
My relief was short-lived as I slipped into the empty barstool next to Malina, who sipped a drink while listening to the owner speak, their conversation pricking beneath my skin.
“It’s a real shame, what’s happening around these parts,” the owner sighed as she stuffed her hands into her apron pockets, the corners of her lips pulling down and emphasizing the slight wrinkles. Up close, there was a tiredness about her I hadn’t noticed before, a heaviness that sagged her mouth to frowning. “If my boy Driss didn’t happen to own a small barge, we’d be in the same place. The greed is getting out of hand.”
The usual harshness I’d grown accustomed to fled from Malina’s tone, replaced with a strange softness as she nodded. “You all do the best you can, Sayeda. None of us have the power to change it.”
Flashbacks to The Frog’s Hollow threatened to consume my mind, but I shoved them away. I’d been such an ignorant brat, whether or not they were right. It hadn’t been my place to pick that fight, and now a man was dead because of it.
I couldn’t scrub clean that blemish on my soul. But I wouldn’t make the same mistakes again. Despite my unease, I wrestled my courage to find my voice. “What are you two talking about?”
Malina shot me a look that might have sent me running for the hills a day ago, hoarding her drink closer like I was the thief. Like I had taken something vital from her. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not your kind of conversation, trust me.”
The dismissal stung, but I didn’t let it deter me.
Malina didn’t like me—not that she had any reason to. I’d brought trouble to their world with every step, and had been next to useless in carrying the burden.
I wanted to hate her back. Wanted to turn my envy into something bitter and caustic, to let it make me feel powerful for once in my life.
But even so, I admired her.
Because she was everything I was not. Strong, capable. Clever and commanding, even with nothing to her name and no title to lean on. She crafted luck out of misfortune, and did so with a clear head and the skillset to see it through.
Nikolaj would’ve been impressed, too.
And perhaps it was the adrenaline or exhaustion, but I wanted to make her like me back. Wanted to be her friend.
And I wanted to know the people of Babylon better, too. Hear their stories, see their lives. If I was going to be in charge one day, they deserved that much. They deserved a version of me that maybe even Malina could respect.
With my bravest, brashest parts, I grabbed her arm, an unspoken plea for her to show me how. “I want to understand.”
Malina stared at me, unblinking, as she assessed my utter lack. But when she didn’t respond—didn’t tell me where I could promptly fuck off to—I took it as a victory anyway.
I turned to the barmaid with a smile, ready to be let in.
Her gaze darted between Malina and I for a moment, but when Malina didn’t protest, the woman—Sayeda, Malina had called her—spoke, a crack in her voice that ran soul-deep. “I was telling your friend that things have been bad around here, ma’am. Everywhere, really.” She shrugged, but as she leaned against the bar, her eyes glazed over, sadness frightening away the merriment of the scene around us. “The coast folks and the city dwellers have it slightly better, just because the stuffy royals need them around to keep their Poppy Dust moving and their whores pretty…not that it’s all that much nicer. But the rest of us get left to rot.”
I inhaled deeply, chewing on her words like the vegetables Tasha used to make me eat as a kid. All I wanted was to spit them back at her—to run toward something sweet and sugar-coated instead. But much like the bland, harsh broccoli stalks I’d been forced to swallow, these truths were necessary for my growth.
