Intemperate Seas

10

Cedric and Ilara followed Resteros as he navigated the warm and heady bustling city streets, arms linked as noble married couples do when traversing a city. The maids had placed a precious gems piece around her neck, which confused her, but shone brilliantly in the morning sun and cast tiny jewels of light all around in the right angle. Ilara tried hard to keep her arm and hand limp, unmoving, sweating through the thick fabric of the ridiculously huge dress and waiting for any flick of muscle, any indication Cedric was going to bolt and her cover blown. When that stranger had crashed into him and he gave chase with Resteros, she nearly took the opportunity to disappear into the crowd. It was the damn dress that kept her bound tight, chest snug, breathing deep nearly impossible. She'd have to rip the thing off and find something else if she wanted out of this farce. Cedric flexed his hand every block or two, knuckles whitening against the backdrop of the green fabric she wore. Resteros anxiously looked back at them again as he had the whole time. It seemed he was quite worried about the outcome of this event, why she did not know. He did seem anxious in general. For all she knew, he was essentially a cabin boy, errand runner. Ilara's head grew fuzzy, and the flashing of colors, sounds, people, and shops nearly overwhelmed her. For the first time and quite without meaning to, she gripped Cedric's arm for support, nausea pummeling her throat in a flash. She wanted to rip the dress off, peel the warm salty cloth from her suddenly boiling skin. Cursing internally, she wondered, I thought that the change fixed me, perfected me. Why is this happening to me? Cedric gripped her arm back, using his other hand to steady her balance and propel her forward so they didn't lose sight of Resteros. Before he could say anything, she strode forward, nearly leaving him in the dust. Thankfully, their guide had not noticed and continued cutting through the crowd, passerby's parting before him as a blade slices through a slab of fresh meat's top layer.

Thus far, they had no chance to talk through their story, and for her to plan to find out where her father was, and had spent the entirety of their fake marriage in front of others, barely calling each other the right names. Ilara was shocked this charade was still going; she expected Cedric to abandon her the second they reached land, however, he was continuing the lie they were married and had survived a shipwreck together, of which she still did not know the reason Cedric had relayed to the Captain and his family. He had even passed up a chance to leave her and escape that place to go about his own way. Now Captain Siglar's son lead them through the crowds of the city, never straying far enough for them to have a moment to speak.

Cedric's mind, however, was now fixated on the man who had collided with him in the chaos. The seal he picked up off the street, fallen from the stranger's person, looked dangerously counterfeit, although quality. He had seen many such seals onboard the Sea Wolf, the last pirate ship he had been on. Silently, he thanked whatever gods out there were real for Ilara. Despite her desire to kill him and her brazen attitude he had to admit she had gotten him out of a bad situation, one he would have not been able to escape from for a long time. He should have abandoned her hours ago. Slipped through a window, disappeared into a crowd, but he could not bring himself to leave her without typing up some loose ends since she had, inadvertently, already saved him once. He was not so stripped of his humanity quite yet. Cedric could hear his grandfathers voice in his head as he strode through the town pretending he had a wife on his arm, "A man's honor is his most precious possession. Guard it well, for once lost, it is seldom regained." His fingers clutched the green fabric on Ilara's arm without meaning to do so. She looked to him briefly then feigned ignorance, scanning instead a row of carts dedicated to tools and weapons. Blasted strong willed woman still has my dagger. How does she know the symbol of my grandfather's house anyway? Whatever his grandfather would have said about his honor, he mostly just wanted his dagger back. The one his grandfather had given him before he was shipped off to fight in some war. He shook his head, trying to clear storm clouds that rolled and thundered in his skull. His hand found its way to the metal seal in his pocket. As they passed yet another endless blur of shops, brushing uncomfortably against passerby's, Cedric began to fiddle with the small metal ring, pressing the symbol into his thumb repeatedly. Feeling the grooves the symbol left behind on his skin.