The Witch's Hour (A New Dawn #2.5)

Chapter 14: Speaking is Silver (Part 1)

After weeks at sea, the outline of land and hills brought flutters to Sci's stomach. She jumped up and down, then danced around Esen, pointing and squealing. "That's The Greenlands! Another country. Can you believe it? We're here—We're finally here!"

"I sure cannot," he said dreamily.

She turned to him, meeting his amber eyes. He was still Esen—the boy she did not love, did not want to kiss. He was her milk brother. Brother. Family. She almost forgot she was on a mission until One's booming voice brought her down from her cloud of happiness. "Five, remember who hired you—what's at stake."

A flush crept up across cheeks all the way to her ears. She composed herself, facing her captain, "Yes, One."

The instructions One had barked under the mist of the morning were the most important instructions of her life. At last, he had revealed the nature of the mission, though she already knew they were going to bring Prince Sebastian of The Greenlands to Alburkhan, so he could be wedded to Princess Jhara.

The Silvermarker army would do everything in their power to stop that. Silvermark wanted the Greenlander throne for themselves, unite the continent in their name. In the name of magic, they claimed.

If they managed to place their redheaded pawn in Sundale, life in Scoria would never be the same. They were bloodthirsty monsters worshipping the God of Greed. Witches and wizards. The scum of the world—grasshoppers that devoured the crops, wasting the land with everything and everyone who ever lived there. 

They were the monsters she never wanted to become.

They had to be stopped.

The Al-Safina smoothly sailed into the bay. Even though most of the crew retreated to below deck to ready themselves for docking, she stayed above until One told her otherwise. 

She wanted to take it all in before potential combat could change it all. The calm waves brushing against the hull. Small gulls glided and turned faster than the larger cormorants. Men and women with ambled out of their surprisingly large wooden houses and headed down to the beach. The men working on the one-masted fishing ships were mostly bare-chested; their hair so short. They weren't as pale as she would have imagined the Greenlanders to be.

All was serene. This didn't seem like a country at the brink of war. No blue-and-grey sailed ships in sight; nothing to indicate the Silvermarkers were onto their trail. The bridge connecting the two strips of land parted by the open mouth of the river was deserted. No soldiers. No weapons. Nothing.

 "Five," One warned her.

"On my way," she said before disappearing into the gundeck.

She put on knee-high boots. They were uncomfortable, but they provided the space she needed to stash away an emergency dagger. 

Six handed her a small leather pouch to attach to her waist. "Throwing stars laced in poison nut juice—use them only if there's no other choice. The last way out."

After docking, and One making casual conversation with the dockmaster—a roughly shaven man with cashmere pants who with a lumpy, nasal accent—she paired up with Four and brought the chests that had been stacked underneath their hammocks to the open, triangle-shaped shed. Grass grew on the roof. Crazy Greenlanders.

As crazy as One's order to sing a song, tell herself a tale, or anything but to not think about the mission. Too risky. There was always a chance the Silvermarkers were listening in on their thoughts.

Sci didn't know witches and wizards were capable of doing that. And while Four lifted and lowered the cases with a blank expression on his face, she found herself unable to not think.