Chapter 43:
Let Us Dance
“‘Tis pure gold, measured by the ounce.” Trevus presents the twisted golden thread that once lined his oban to the dockmaster. I wait at his side. It’s dark, and the three of us are alone at the river’s edge.
The dockmaster is a shorter, older man with brown-gray hair. “Why not smelt and stamp it at the minter?” he asks.
I spent the whole afternoon plucking that thin golden wire out of Trevus’s royal oban as we walked. Ruining such a fine garment felt like committing a crime of the greatest degree, but Trevus insisted we shed all traces of our past lives. A prince’s regalia would draw attention at any marketplace, and it wouldn’t be long before the Hunt Unit tracked it back to the merchant we bargained with. Now it lies as torn scraps, scattered among dead leaves.
We set Dan to run free to whoever’s fortunate enough to find him. Trevus’s shield with the distinctive emerald stripes of House Cerillis lays abandoned in the forest, and our extra julite is buried beside a great stone.
“There is no time for smelting,” Trevus says. “We travel with haste.”
My breath mists before my face. I wrap my shivering arms tight. It’s a cold evening, and I’m exhausted from a day’s travel on foot with no sleep the night before. I hope whatever boat we get has blankets on board.
“Thieves also travel with haste,” the dockmaster says. He blocks our way out onto the dock, as if somehow guarding the four small boats from us. The candlelight of the village Myra shines in the distance, but we’re a good thirty-minute walk away. There isn’t another soul among the surrounding grass fields. If Trevus so desired, he could topple this man over into the water and take a boat without much effort.
“I shall raise the offer – ten percent weighted in your advantage,” Trevus says. “No reward is without risk.”
I’m glad Trevus is here to decipher maps, manage our coins and negotiate with merchants. Spending the pouch of coins Evelyn gifted felt alien, as I couldn’t discern between fair offers and ones trying to take advantage of my economic inexperience. Others learn to barter in their teen years, but I never had such an opportunity.
The dockmaster rubs his chin, then nods. “Agreed.”
He sets out a crude scale consisting of a thin plank across a wooden triangle. Trevus places the ball of golden thread on one side, and the dockmaster places a gold coin on the other. They adjust the position of the coin, then add and remove thread until the plank is balanced.
Both men shake hands, and the dockmaster shows us to our boat. The small wooden vessel is a little longer than Trevus, with enough space for three people to lie shoulder to shoulder. A steering rudder pokes out from the stern, and a frame overhead supports a rolled-up tarp.
Trevus steps into the boat. It shifts under his weight, causing small waves to splash against the dock. He offers me his hand. “Would such a fair maiden grace my vessel with her presence?”
I smile. “That depends on what our voyage will entail.”
He steps as close as the boat will allow him. “My maiden, I cannot guarantee our journey shall be stocked with fine food and soft linen bedding.” He takes my hands in his, bringing me to the edge. The height of the dock brings us eye-to-eye. “But I offer warm companionship every evening and open arms that would delight to hold you.”
I jump off the dock into his hold. He twists around and steadies my feet on the boat. A kiss on my forehead draws out a warm feeling in my chest.
The dockmaster tosses us an oar. Trevus catches it and unties the cord holding our boat to the dock.
We begin to move, and soon our boat has drifted down the river, making the dockmaster appear tiny in the distance.
Trevus guides me to take a seat. He settles at the stern with one hand on the rudder, his body stretched out with his head resting on the rim of the boat. He’s tired. “Osis’s current shall carry us to Zaybeth, and there we shall settle,” he says.
Picking my old shirt out of our backpack, I pull it tight around my shoulders and lie against him, my head at his chest. He rests an arm around my middle, holding me in his warm embrace.
Stars overhead light our way, the only noise being the occasional splash against the wooden hull.
“What’s Zaybeth like?” I ask.
“Zaybeth is a Ceramayan city at its heart. As a nation, they are louder, spirited and less reserved. Being so close to the tripoint between our three countries makes them diverse. With a population spread between Versillian, Mephian and Ceramayan descent, we shall fit among them.”
A place where I can fit in with my mix of Versillian accent and Mephian vocabulary sounds like a dream come true.
“And we will be together?” I ask.
His fingers trail my side. “That is my desire.”
Everything he says sounds so formal, but there’s a tender meaning behind it. It’s just the way Versillians speak. After living among them for so long, I have no trouble understanding him, but I don’t speak like anyone else he’s used to hearing.
“Do you like the way I sound?” I ask.
“I was not starved for choice of women in Versillia, but never did one pique my interest. Despite our difference in speech, you alone speak the words my heart wished to hear. Be assured that I desire every part of you, Jade of Mephia.”
I stretch my legs and snuggle into his chest. My light weight doesn’t bother him. This man, Trevus of House Cerillis, fearless warrior, intelligent herbalist and noble Prince of Versillia, is my own. He’s here with me, looking out for my safety and watching over me. Throughout my life, my hands have connected to people, but never before have I felt a real bond. I love him, and he loves me.
My frame moves with each breath he takes, the rhythmic movement rocking my body closer and closer to sleep. With Trevus at my side, I have nothing to fear.
My julite necklace shines under the midday sun. Adjusting the angle in my hand makes it sparkle all over. It’s a beautiful piece. I’m going to have to wear this forever – as long as I want a normal life. I both adore its magnificence and that it allows my hands to touch others again, while scorning its existence and the fact that I need it at all. I tuck it back under my maroon dress. It will remain hidden in my new life, as will its purpose.
I sit beside Trevus at the stern with the rudder handle between us. “It’s my turn to steer,” I say.
The sun beams down upon our little boat, and the reflections from the water project up onto the tarp overhead. Lush green fields stretch out around us as far as the eye can see. The Osis is calm and its banks are wide – the perfect environment for a novice steerer. It’s hard to believe that the Osis and the Merk are both considered rivers. Their character is so far apart they deserve different categories.
“I do not have confidence in your plan,” Trevus says. “Many years of training were required before I was addressed as Captain.”
Very funny. “I think I’ve proven myself to be adaptable.” I pull the rudder from his hand, and the whole boat twists to the left. I quickly push it straight again, but now we’re headed for the mud bank. Salts.
I look to Trevus, but he’s just watching with a smirk. Between the two of us, he’s the one with the strength to push this boat out of the mud, so I don’t know what’s so funny.
“Point it to port,” Trevus says.
I do as he says, but the boat continues on its path to disaster. “It’s not working.”
“It shall.”
As the bank reeds begin to tug on the boat’s hull, we’re directed back towards the center of the river. Good.
“It moves with a delay,” Trevus says. “Correct to starboard to bring the vessel true with the stream.”
I move the rudder, then straighten it out the moment the boat starts shifting. It turns just the perfect amount to line up with the river again. I’ve got the hang of this.
“Congratulations on your promotion, Captain.” Trevus lies in the center of the boat and folds his hands under his head as a pillow. His eyes are closed!
“Aren’t you going to direct?” I ask.
“You have the vessel under control.”
“What if I make a mistake and hit the bank?”
“That would be unfortunate. Your new dress would end up soiled.”
“You’d leave me to push it free?” He can’t see my annoyed expression, but he can hear it.
“You
are
adaptable.”
I shake my head.
Steering our boat feels more natural the further we go. While the Osis appears straight for short stretches, the occasional oxbow bend keeps my attention. Trevus is still, now deep in sleep. Directing the boat kept him awake last night. I’m glad to take some of the load off.
My eyes trace his arms, his shoulders and his chin. I want to nudge closer to him, but he needs rest. Sleep well, Trevus. I’ve got this.
“Trevus.” I nudge his shoulder.
He rises from his rest, his hand shielding his eyes as he sits up. It doesn’t take long for him to spot the reason I woke him.
The Osis is about to take us through a circular city. It’s tall and thin, and its many buildings reflect that style. Dozens of stone towers stretch so high into the evening sky that they nearly dwell among the stars.
“We have arrived,” Trevus says. This is Zaybeth.
Our boat approaches the tall dark stone wall that circles the town. Unlike Lystra, there are no sprawling settlements bursting beyond its walls. Everything is contained, stacked on top of one another, taller and taller until reaching absurd heights.
A tunnel is cut out under the wall, and barred gates lie open at either side. Trevus rolls up the tarp overhead, and I focus on steering us clear of all the other boats and fish traps set up along the banks.
Our little boat approaches the tunnel. The wall is too tall to see the men on top, but they must be watching us. We pass under the stone wall. Our world darkens without the moonlight, and the tunnel adds a prominent echo to every splash.
Emerging from the other side, we find ourselves in the middle of the busy city market. Every surface is paved with stone, and an endless number of stalls are set up along the riverbanks. Boats crowd around ours, some filled with laughing children, others with old men reeling in their fishing nets.
The homes and stores are circular, all made of stone and black oak, topped with thick thatch roofs. I steer the boat around a huge tower that diverts the river’s path. It’s so tall I have to crane my neck to see the top.
Strings lined with orange decorative bunting cross over the river. Little candles and floating paper balloons are tied to every spire and mast. Zaybeth must be in the middle of a festival.
“There.” Trevus points to an undercover dock that’s packed with boats exactly like ours. I steer in that direction. Once close enough, Trevus hops onto the dock and pulls our boat in, anchoring it to a post.
I pack our bag and take his hand, and he helps me onto the wooden platform.
“Welcome travelers.” A bulky man steps forward with his hand out. Trevus shakes it, and the man offers his hand to me next. I take it with a smile, happy to be seen. His skin is rough from years of labor.
“You’ve returned the ferry,” the man says. He steps past us and puts his hand on the boat’s frame, giving it a good shake. “She’s in poor condition.”
Trevus raises an eyebrow. We definitely didn’t damage his boat.
“Just as I made her.” The man chuckles. “I’ll return the full deposit.”
“Appreciated,” Trevus says.
The dockmaster gives Trevus a handful of silver coins. Trevus tucks them in his pocket and takes the heavy backpack off my shoulder.
The two of us explore the city. The curvy streets wind around each building, never stretching straight for too long. Children chase one another around, making the streets into their own adventure maze.
Most people here sport ink-black hair. The women have long braided locks that stretch down their backs, but what’s most unusual is the men with their shoulder-length hair. It must be the Ceramayan style.
There are a handful of short-haired shaven men with a more Versillian appearance. Others with longer beards must be Mephian. As for the women, ginger, brunette and blonde hair betray their alien roots.
With my chestnut brown locks and Trevus’s short hair, it’ll be clear to anyone that we aren’t Ceramayan. But with the number of other immigrants in this city, we should fit in just fine – certainly better than I did in Antiock.
Even in the evening, this city is buzzing. Antiock became so quiet at night. I hated how lonely it felt.
Trevus leads me into a wide building with a dome roof. He introduces himself to the owner and negotiates a deal for a long-term rental. Soon he has the key, and we head up the spiral staircase in the core of the building. There’s a skylight overhead, but the stars do little to illuminate the wooden steps under our feet.
On the third floor we reach our new room. ‘Coga Home’ is inscribed above the door in orange cursive script. That’s right – it’s not our new room, it’s our new
home
. Trevus unlocks the door and holds it open, moving aside. I take a step down into my new sanctuary.
The room is shaped like a quarter segment of a circle. On one side is the curved outer building wall and on the other is the wall of the curved inner staircase.
On one end of the room, a comfortable looking bed stacked with wool and leather blankets awaits. On the other end is a large fireplace packed with dry wood. In the corner sits a washing tub and black iron stove. Two curved tables and chairs fit perfectly against the outer wall, and a series of long windows offer us a view of the active city below. This place has everything to live comfortably.
Trevus inspects the apartment, taking a particular interest in the collection of pots and pans stacked beside the stove. I’ve never cooked a meal in my life. He’ll have to teach me.
Our view extends far down the winding road. I can even see some of the Osis between two tall towers.
Despite the fact that it’s getting late, the streets are even more lively than before. The river water is nearly glowing with candlelight, and there’s music in the distance. Couples young and old are heading towards the river, the women wearing particularly colorful outfits. “There’s a dance!”
Trevus stands beside me. “There appears to be.” He inspects the bandage wrapped around my head.
I’d always watch Antiock’s annual formal from my tower window. Practicing alone in my cell, I’d learned all their moves, but was always left longing to have a partner to dance with.
He takes off the bandage and wipes my forehead with a damp cloth. “This is no longer necessary,” he says. The cut the king’s soldiers dished out must be looking better.
I take Trevus’s hand. “Let’s go see the dance.”
We lock the door behind us and hurry down the stairs. The flow of couples and families on the street lead us to the heart of the festival – a large, wide bridge that crosses the Osis. White paper balloons are tethered to each post on the banister, and a series of small hip-height fires light up the entire bridge. A band of guitarists and drummers play a lively tune with a fast tempo from a raised platform.
Most of the crowd lingers along the perimeter, with only a dozen daring to dance in the middle. I’ve never danced outside the confines of my room before, but I’ve been waiting for the chance my whole life.
I look to Trevus. “Let’s dance.”
“Myself dancing?” He raises his eyebrows. “That would not be proper.”
“Palace traditions don’t matter anymore. Let’s go.”
“‘Tis not my forte.”
“I’ve seen you duel. You step forward, always left foot first. Then the beat changes, and you sway back to avoid an opponent’s blow. It’s just like that, only you won’t get cut if you mess up.”
Trevus watches the few couples in the middle as they move. After some time, he speaks again, “Very well.”
He presses forward, parting the crowd and leading me along behind him. We stop in the middle of the dance area. Other couples are moving around us, each hand in hand.
I look at the growing crowd. Half of Zaybeth must be here, and every set of eyes is on us. I’m not as confident as I was a moment ago.
Trevus touches my chin, bringing my eyes back to him. “Never avert your gaze from your opponent.”
I smile. He’s committed to the analogy.
He takes my left hand in his and places his right under my arm. “They take only two stances.” He moves his left foot behind his right then back again. I copy his step. It’s a single move, but it’s exciting when timed to the beat.
We repeat it, and our movements grow smoother. My smile doesn’t leave my face, and Trevus is enjoying himself too. No one is disappointed to discover a new talent.
He leads my body to turn on every step. The couples around us are doing the same. Trevus was quick to observe and replicate their movements. Finding the patterns in how people step must have contributed to his combat skill.
The band breaks into a new song, this one even faster than the last. The man to our right spins his partner. There’s a cheer from the crowd as other couples do the same.
Trevus nudges his eyebrows. This is our first time dancing. We can’t manage a move like that. I shake my head.
Unfettered by my doubt, Trevus’s hand leaves my side, pushing me forward as he raises my arm into the air. His strength twirls my body with little effort, the world turning into a blur of lights. I’m spun back to face him, and he catches my frame, falling back into perfect step.
He’s smiling now, pleased with himself. I laugh. Perhaps he mistook his dancing talent as a talent for dueling footwork.
I’m spun around again. This time he catches my hand halfway through, pressing my back against his chest with my arms crossed. He places a kiss on my cheek before rocking back in the other direction and untwirling my arms again. This is the most fun I’ve had in years.
Eventually the song’s beat patters to an end. Two of the musicians sit down, and the youngest one steps forward with his guitar. Young girls swoon throughout the crowd, calling his name – “Andran!”
Andran begins to strum. “Ora ora numan, grentan,” he sings, “Ola ola numan, grentan.” It rhymes like a folk song, but the smooth lyrics roll off his tongue like he wrote it himself. I don’t understand the words, but I catch their gentle meaning.
The floor starts moving again, slower this time. We sway with the guitar.
Trevus brings his chest closer to mine, until we’re nearly touching. I tilt my shoulders to look up at him, finding his eyes are already on me. He’s content, happy with what he sees. I love the way he looks at me.
Author’s Note:
Jade and Trevus are enjoying their time together, but in the next chapter, the past comes knocking.
Thank you for supporting my story.
@iceheartgoldsmile my thoughts exactly!! 😂
😂
tisk tisk she’s adaptable and can figure it out 🤣
when your given power you’d be a fool not to harmlessly abuse it.
So very cute 🥰
Yeah
X2
why is this giving me so much bytterfliessss
Love this story. Your writing skills are amazing ❤️
wait nevermind 💀
who’s the third did i miss something
You deserve much more attention author. Your writing is exceptional 👏
I love this scene 😍
Haha cute
Bravo Trevus😂 👏
Awww
A romantic one , this Trevus 😏
Please just let them make it through anything!!!
Part of me just wants to stop reading now! It’s perfect they’ve made it to safety and a new life. I don’t know if I can handle more ups and downs 😅
But keep in mind she’s been locked up for years. Cooking is a basic skill she may actually want to learn
I absolutely love this chapter
awwww
This reminds me of one of the campus safety officers at my school. He will randomly shout something like “hey” in a voice that that makes you completely stop everything because you think you are in trouble, then once he gets closer to you, he says in a very nice tone “have a nice day.” I was completely terrified the first time it happened to me😂
I love this😂
Make it steamy 🔥
Awww❤️
But true
I’m in!
Agreed
I know it’s more delicate, but for some reason, I can only think of her being whipped around in a circle at high speeds XD
Ignorance is bliss, just enjoy him cooking lmao you can do the dishes
she finally gets to shake a stranger’s hand, skin to skin, that’s gotta be thrilling
Ya gotta learn to solve your own problems somehow girly
I’m surprised she knows what these words mean, most non boat people are starved of such knowledge tragically
it would be really funny if he after a while he just goes “So we’re meant to be going straight, not in these weird circles you’re making” XD
Me!🙋🏼♀️
Trevus shall take care of the economics of your job as Tailor lol
it is 🥰
LETS DANCEEEE
evil 🤣
Aw this is sweet
Why wouldn’t it be proper?
Except a washing machine! lmao
It’s been a long time since she lived in a home
He was messing with them lol
That’s a good way to clean up some money
Being a prince he could have any any woman he wanted… even before that he still would have had plenty of options.
So do the two rivers share a source or start at different places?
*somewhere
I love stargazing! I’m fortunate enough to live someone where I can see them well too.