Shadows in the Trees: Book 1

Chapter 2

"Freya!"

Freya looked up from the stain she was scrubbing at. "Yes, Ms. Eliza?"

"That dolt Malik is here for you. Finish the dishes and then you can go."

"Thank you, Ms. Eliza," Freya said and hurried to the cramped kitchen at the back of the tavern. 

The floorboards creaked hollowly under her. Just an hour ago, the decrepit tavern had been packed with people, but now the crowds were flooding the streets, eager to see the procession of nobles and talk about their clothes and their chances with the prince. The tavern squatted on a main street in Ludovic, and so she had watched with envy as people hurried by, heading for the docks. Freya was supposed to be a drop in that sea of people, but she was at Eliza's mercy. She hoped she didn't miss anything good. 

"Ready?" Malik asked. He was leaning against the door frame that led to the alleyway, tapping his long, calloused fingers against his arm. 

"I have to do the dishes before I go."

"That witch! This will be the biggest celebration of the century, how can she possibly keep you here?"

"It's not as though I can protest," Freya said. She took another few wooden plates from the stack, wrinkling her nose as they splashed into the dirty water. 

"I mean, you could," Malik said, rolling up his sleeves and dunking dishes in the tub along with Freya. "Or you could just leave this place."

"I don't have the money to leave, and neither do you," Freya laughed. "That's why we sell trash, remember?"

"It's not trash, it's recycled goods," Malik quipped. "Speaking of which, we can make a killing tonight if we set up close to the square. Do you think you can be away that long?"

"Eliza said I have the rest of the day. Polly will be here to help her tonight."

"Excellent. I'm glad we stocked up on inventory last week."

"Me too. Alright, that's the last dish," Freya said, drying the final plate with a gray rag. She picked up the tub and dumped the brown, foul-smelling water in the alley. "Shall we?"

Malik held out his arm. "We shall."

The pair followed the winding streets towards the river docks, swiping sweet cakes from a distracted cart owner along the way. The smell of baked goods and roasting meat hung in the air, and blue flags, streamers, and lanterns were strung across the streets. Two children ran by, giggling and waving miniature blue flags with a gold sun in the center. They pushed their way through the gathering crowd until they had a good view of the docks and the procession to the castle. Freya touched her headscarf and moved closer to Malik. Crowds had always made her uneasy, though she got used to them after living in the heart of Elohine's capital city for so long.

Despite the lack of space, the crowd was thrumming with energy. This was the happiest day the kingdom had seen in some time, and people were eager to celebrate. Freya couldn't help but catch the fever of excitement as ships pulled into the harbor and began to unload their wealthy passengers.

Malik pointed at the river. "Who is that?"

Freya frowned at the boat. "I don't know. Perhaps a distantly related baron?"

"It seems too gaudy to a nobility's taste, even a minor one."

A small craft with red sails and bright blue detailing was weaving its way through the towering ships. More people began to take notice of the vessel, voices swelling and onlookers grabbing shoulders and craning necks as the boat cut through the murky water.

"That isn't -- " Malik said over the growing number of gasps.

"It can't be," Freya said. 

The symbol was unmistakable, an intricate weaving of red and blue, flame and water, calm and chaos. If they looked closely, they could discern faces in each of the colors. A woman decorated in the same colors as her flag stepped onto the gangplank, followed by two guards dressed in all black.

"She looks bizarre," Malik said. "Why do they paint their skin like that?"

"I think it's part of some kind of religious ritual," Freya said, her eyes still stuck to the strange trio. "My mother and I visited Khepri once, and a lot of the priests and priestesses had it all over their skin."

People in the crowd shouted obscenities at the foreign royal as she walked by, but she kept her chin high and her eyes forward. Her bodyguards glared into the crowd, swiveling their heads and staying close to their princess.

"I can't believe she had the nerve to come here," Malik said. "The king will never marry his son off to a Kheprian."

Freya snorted. "Honestly. Do they still blame Khepri for the plague?" 

"I don't know. One day it's Khepri, the next day it's Jentsi. Whatever suits their needs, I suppose." 

Freya flinched at the mention of Jentsi, but Malik was too busy gawking at the princess slinking her way to the castle. She smirked. The princess was rather scantily clad, her legs, arms, and collarbones visible through her dress, a stark contrast to Elohine's modest styles. 

"Been a while since you've seen an ankle, eh?" she said, nudging Malik's ribs. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said. His flushed cheeks betrayed him. 

"I will never understand Elohine's need to cover up," she said, tugging at her scratchy collar. "It's so uncomfortable." 

"Damn prudes," Malik muttered. 

Both of them had come to Elohine as teenagers. She knew Malik had come by himself from Thrael, but he had been reluctant to talk about his past. Despite her curiosity, Freya did her best to respect his privacy. It was the least she could do, since Malik didn't turn her and her mother in for being Jentsi. 

The castle doors slammed behind the princess, leaving the crowd to speculate about her bizarre appearance. 

Malik shook his head. "That girl has no idea what she's getting into."