Sky of Wind by Emily Deady

Chapter 20

Meena pretended to watch the distant landscape draw nearer on the final day of their journey. In reality, her eyes barely registered the bright blue sky above or the hazy outline of the far-off shore.

Her hand slowly ran up and down the ship’s railing, her fingernail gently prying at a loose sliver of wood.

Sol had been acting particularly awkward since they’d kissed three days prior. He skirted around her without touching her—a surprising feat in the small space they shared—and he continued to address her in a formal manner.

He had been spending most of his time with the sailors, asking them questions and helping them around the ship.

Meena, on the other hand, had done little since then but think about kissing Sol again. Their relationship was merely a strategic partnership, but apparently that hadn’t stopped her heart from dreaming about more. Especially during those rare moments when Sol seemed carefree enough to smile.

She, too, had done her own share of shadowing Tillon and his crew, participating in whatever tasks they would let her touch. Despite the looming danger, these last few days felt as though they were outside of time. She loved strolling the small deck, jesting with the sailors, and having no responsibilities.

And she loved the rare moment when Sol seemed to set aside his constant vigilance and enjoy the same thing.

But it wasn’t just his smile which made her heart pound more quickly. There was something incredibly attractive about the way he approached every action with a thorough intensity. His eyes never appeared dull or vacant. Where he looked, he looked with purpose.

Meena wished he would look at her more often. She wanted to be seen by him.

She yanked on the splinter, breaking it away from the wooden rail.

Clearly, she had developed feelings for him. And it was even more clear that he did not return those feelings. Otherwise, he would not be so ashamed of having kissed her.

Holding the long splinter between her two hands, she snapped it in half. It broke easily with little resistance.

“Tighter, Solano, tighter!” Tillon’s voice sounded down the deck behind her.

Meena turned, leaning her side against the rail so she could more comfortably observe the latest lesson.

Sol grasped a rope which was looped through an iron stay and attached to the top of a sail. Sol pitched his weight against that of the unfurling sail, struggling against the rope.

“Aye, that’s it. We’ll make a sailor of you yet, lad!” Tillon encouraged.

Sol’s face glistened with perspiration as the other end of the rope slowly lifted the hefty sail up the mast.

“Now!” Tillon called.

Sol wrapped the rope around the iron stay, deftly overlapping it in a sailor’s knot that would hold through any storm. At least, Meena assumed that it would.

She threw up her arms and cheered as the intensity on his face melted into a smile of success.

He glanced up at her, seeming surprised that she was watching.

She smiled in response, still clapping.

As a child, she’d had the opportunity to learn whatever interested her. Happy as she was to see Sol enjoying himself, a small part of her heart ached for the serious little boy who had been too busy trying to survive that he never had time to do something unnecessary.

She longed to give that to him. To give him the time and space to explore something because it interested him or fascinated him. Even though she missed his company and attention, she was happy to stand back and watch him become a sailor for the brief time they had aboard.

It was not his fault that she had fallen in love with him.

Feeling her cheeks turn warm, Meena quickly twisted her body around, slamming her stomach into the railing so that her back faced Sol.

She did love him.

She’d only been married to this stranger for a handful of days and her entire body wanted to be near to him. Her heart wanted what was best for him. Her mind wanted to know everything about him, on this day and every day in the future while he grew and changed.

A shadow blocked the bright sun from her eyes and she turned to see Sol standing next to her at the railing.

Her skin tingled at the sudden lack of sunlight falling on it. Pretending that it was too bright to look up into his face, she started scratching on the railing in front of her with a piece of the broken splinter.

It was the first time he had sought out her company since the kiss. But, in typical Sol fashion, he merely stood next to her and said nothing.

Meena tossed the piece of splinter over the rail and into the water below. She still had the other half to spin between her nervous fingers.

Hopefully he could not understand what she’d been thinking when she realized she loved him.

Or at that moment, right then.

She was thinking about being in love with him, and he was even closer. If he could read her mind, it would be in closer proximity. Perhaps there was something about magic users where they could read thoughts with their magic.

Meena’s heart raced, and she shook her head in an effort to free herself from her spiraling thoughts.

Everyone had the potential to wield magic. She was being fearful and ridiculous.

He still hadn’t explained why he approached her, and Meena was done with her thoughts.

“Falqri truly is beautiful,” she said, focusing her eyes on the red coastline, which was slowly coming closer. “I was here as a child, but all I remember is being overheated and constantly asking for something to drink or a fruit to eat. There was this delicious yellow one, I forgot what it was called, but it was sweet and tangy at the same time and I couldn’t get enough of it.”

“Foreboding,” Sol said.

“The fruit?” Meena asked, confused. “It was delicious. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

“The landscape,” Sol responded. He pointed to the looming cliffs ahead. “It looks foreboding.”

Meena stared out at the soft rounded sandstone which lined the shore as far as she could see in either direction. She tried to imagine seeing the layers of yellow, cream, and red through Sol’s eyes. The height of the cliff itself could be described as ominous, but Meena also thought it was more than that. “Majestic,” she said, speaking the next word which came to her mind.

“Uninviting.”

“Strong,” Meena said. “The sharp edges and rounded corners have withstood the test of time. Powerful.”

“Blood red,” Sol responded instantly. “Tired. Worn down.”

“Now you are just being wrongheaded because you enjoy it.” Meena looked up at the man standing next to her. This she felt comfortable with. Perhaps she was the one being wrongheaded.

Sol returned her gaze. He was not smiling, but the lines in his face were relaxed. “I wasn’t being wrongheaded, I was being honest.”

“As was I.” Meena tilted her chin up ever so slightly.

The corner of Sol’s mouth tilted up. “Whose words are true if the words contradict each other?”

“We were not contradicting each other,” Meena said quickly. “We were . . . discussing things from a different point of view. But I still stand by what I said. You were being contradictory for the sake of quarreling.”

“Which you shouldn’t mind because you enjoy quarreling,” Sol said, his eyes still on her.

Meena punched his arm softly with her fist. “You are purposely making me angry.” She drew her hand back instantly. Her knuckles tingled. She rubbed them with her other hand to wipe away the overpowering sensation.

Sol, too, lifted his hand, rubbing the place on his arm where she’d touched him.

Meena quickly looked away. “The cliffs are not blood red,” she said quickly, bringing the conversation to safer waters. “They are rust red. They look like a piece of iron someone has left out in the rain.”

“Is that not ominous, still?” Sol asked. “I don’t find anything comforting about rusted iron.”

“It’s less ominous than blood.”

“One is direct, the other insidious, like the purposeful tarnishing of something that was good. Breaking it down over time, ruining what it once was.”

Meena looked back at Sol. He was no longer poking fun at her. His tone was too serious. “I don’t fully follow, but I would like to understand what you mean.”

“I was speaking of the cliffs.” Sol grabbed the railing with both his hands, leaning out over it slightly and away from her.

He was hiding something from her.

Meena leaned forward, desperate to be included and instinctively trying to see his eyes which were turned away from her. “You can tell me.”

“There is nothing to tell.”

Her heart once again broke for the young boy whose world had been constructed of cruel realities. “If you do not wish to tell me, I will not force your voice.” She reached a hand toward his arm, stopping before she made physical contact again. “But I am here and I can listen. Want to listen. Will listen.” She dropped her hand, pulling it away from him.

“Princess.” Sol turned from the rail, dipping his head in a gesture of respect as he quickly walked away.

Meena had the distinct feeling he had not done so out of deference, but merely to hide his face from her own.

She exhaled, dropping her elbows on the railing to hold her weight. She felt like a child, like Sol was protecting her from some horrible truth just as she had tried to do for Celesta. “I am not so unscathed by the world that you must hide things from me.” She spoke over her shoulder to the empty air behind his back, but her words were quiet and the waves were loud.

She did not repeat them.

He did not turn around.

Meena returned her gaze to the shore, watching its rapid approach by herself.

The ship dropped anchor a short length from sand, and she and Sol were given the first rowboat ashore.

Sol occupied himself with helping the sailors load their chests on the small rowboat which hung over the side of the ship.

Grasping the rail for stability, Meena jumped, swinging her legs up and over the rail until her feet landed on top of it. Her skirts bundled up under her, but she carefully rotated her body until she was sitting on the rail, her feet hanging over the edge of the ship to get into the sailboat below.

“Allow me to help, Princess,” Tillon said, appearing at her side.

“Thank you, friend.” Meena accepted his hand as she slid off the railing, landing unstably in the rowboat.

She held tightly to Tillon’s hand for a few extra seconds as she caught her balance in the swinging boat. “Thank you,” she repeated, looking up at the sailor on the other ship. “It was a breathtaking voyage.”

“Breathtaking is one way to put it,” he responded with his ever quick smile.

“I hope we will travel with you again for our return trip?” Meena asked. “Only next time without the storm, please?”

He laughed at that. “I’ll do my best, Princess. Enjoy your stay in Falqri.”

Sol climbed over the railing a few moments later and sat in the center of the boat to help row.

Staring at his back, Meena waved goodbye to the other sailors still on deck as they made their way to the shore.

Minutes later, the rowboat bumped against sand, as close to the dry ground as it could get. Meena swung herself over the edge of it on her own before Sol could offer her his hand.

Dropping her feet into the ankle deep water, she bundled her skirt as best she could and waded the final few steps to shore.

Sol naturally helped the sailors lift their trunks from the bottom of the rowboat.

The Falqri Fortress loomed overhead. It was constructed of the same red sandstone which spread along the cliffs all the way down the coast as far as the eye could see.

Standing directly below it, Meena tilted her head far back and took in the low profile of the wide building. It appeared to be built into the cliff rather than above it. A thin path swung back and forth up the cliff face, connecting the shore to the city above.

Sol wordlessly dropped a chest by her side in the sand and returned to the boat for another.

Meena could see nothing of the city itself, as the fort and cliff hid it from view. But she could see various people making their way up and down the long road, leading carts and hauling loads of goods from the beach around her.

Sol returned to her side a moment later, dropping another chest. A sailor behind him deposited their third and final piece of luggage.

“If royalty doesn’t work out for you, you could make your fortune at sea,” the sailor dipped his head as he splashed back into the water.

“Thank you, Esven,” Sol said with a sincere smile. “Safe seas to you.”

The sailor winked at Meena. “Though it seems you’ve already found yourself quite the fortune.”

She rolled her eyes as she waved back at him.

Sol did not acknowledge the man’s brash comment. He turned to stand next to Meena, his expression serious. She could see his eyes quickly taking stock of the area around them, just as she had done.

“Who is meeting us?” he asked.

“I have no idea,” she responded. “The councilor said we would be met at the shore and taken to our lodging. He insisted on arranging everything as a marriage gift.” Meena spoke the last two words with contempt.

Sol’s eyes still scanned the light crowd of moving people in front of them, but he picked up on her meaning instantly. “He must keep us constantly under his thumb.”

“It will likely be some gruesome Falqri captain who doubles as both innkeeper and prisonkeeper.” Meena let her imagination play on Sol’s observation. Their keeper would likely search all of their chests for hidden weapons and put them up in a dark room half dug out of the ground as she’d heard was the Falqri way to avoid the sun’s heat indoors. “We are little more than hostages of Chendas.”

“It would be more accurate to say your family is being held hostage,” Sol said.

Meena tensed. He was right. Iseldis was under King Gareth’s thumb, and by traveling alone to the strongest hold in the five kingdoms, Meena and Sol were placing themselves in a precarious position.

“We must give him no reason to think we are suspicious on any account,” Sol continued. “Be the princess you are and we should not raise any concern.” Sol turned back toward the sea, distracted by the sound of another incoming rowboat.

Meena let him speak, knowing she would have no trouble playing her part. It was him they were both concerned about and he knew it. But she enjoyed hearing him talk in multiple sentences at once and didn’t interrupt to correct him.

She did, however, notice two people walking toward them.

“Like this?” she asked, slipping her hand under Sol’s arm and smiling up at him, drawing his attention back to her. They had to re-establish some sort of relationship before they were on display once again. If Sol was not comfortable with her because of the kiss, she had to sell their ruse. Perhaps if she led the way, he would continue to relax enough to smile more often.

“Exactly like that,” Sol responded, his arm stiff. “Though it’s only necessary after our keeper arrives.”

“Keepers, I think,” Meena responded. “And they’ve arrived.” She gestured lightly toward the man and woman quickly approaching them.

“So they have, Meena mine.” Sol spoke quietly, his mouth somehow smiling and tense at once.

“Meena mine?” Their keepers were only a few steps away, but Meena couldn’t help but tease Sol for the silly name he’d called her. He was going to have to try much harder to convince anyone they were in love.

He didn’t respond, but she could feel his arm tense as he prepared to meet the newcomers.

“Prince and Princess Sirilian?” the man asked pleasantly.

Sol didn’t answer immediately, so Meena held out her free hand. “You must be our keeper?” Meena asked.

“Your keeper?” the woman replied, confused.

“Innkeeper,” Meena quickly fixed her slip of the tongue.

“Your highness,” the man bowed over her hand. “Falqri would never offer a princess such as yourself into a mere inn. You and his highness will be guests in our home. Which, I can assure you, is far finer than an inn.”

The man’s smile was disarmingly charming. He appeared to be only a few seasons older than Sol and herself. He wore the white and purple of Chendas. His eyes twinkled with mischief, reminding her with a pang of Erich. She missed Erich. And because of it, she liked this man. Instantly. Which she knew was ridiculous because he was her actual enemy, but apparently her feelings and her mind had stopped consulting with one another.

Squeezing Sol’s arm for stability, she looked between the man and woman in front of them. “And you are?”

“Jules,” the man bowed again, sweeping the hat off his head in an elaborate flourish that reminded Meena once again of Erich. “And this is the most perfect woman in all the kingdoms—except for yourself, of course—who was gracious enough to bind herself to me, my darling Ezra.”

The woman’s severe face relaxed into a small smile. She was tall and full-bodied. Her stiff dress and cloak, as well as her tightly braided crown of hair, gave her an intimidating air. If Jules was charming, this woman was frightening. Her smile softened her demeanor by the smallest degree. “You are one of the most prominent captains in the king’s army. The binding was not a difficult choice to make.”

“I always hoped our union might be one of true love,” Jules pretended to wipe away a tear. “But at least you love me for my many accomplishments and that is love, is it not?”

Meena smiled, enjoying his dramatics. If he could jest so easily around his wife, she could not truly be that intimidating.

Sol placed his hand over Meena’s, pressing it against his arm. “Thank you for keeping us.” His hand was damp and warm.

Meena squeezed Sol’s arm with her hand, both in an attempt to reassure him and encourage him to remove his sweaty touch. It had taken him long enough to find his voice.

“Here we are, keeping you on the shore,” Jules said, playing off Sol’s words. “Surely you are tired and hungry. Come. We’ve hired a cart for the chests, and another for our rears.” Jules winked at his wife.

Ezra rolled her eyes. “It was a good jest the first time you used it, Jules.”

“It’s the first time they’ve heard it, so it’s amusing for them.” Jules spoke to his wife as though Sol and Meena were not standing right in front of them.

Meena laughed appreciatively, looking at Sol to share in the mirth.

His face was stony. She couldn’t see the expression in his eyes, as they were shadowed under the tilt of his brow.

Jules, however, grinned at her. His own eyes sparkled at her appreciation of his jest.

“I am both exhausted and starving,” Meena said. Her voice was cheerful and loud to compensate for Sol’s reserved presence. “Please lead us to the cart for our rears.”

Sol’s arm flexed under her hand.

Meena slipped her hand free under the pretense of lifting her skirt across the sand. Her mouth quirked into a smile she couldn’t hide. If she’d embarrassed Sol with her mention of ‘rears’, she was not sorry for it. In fact, she rather enjoyed it and hoped she would have the opportunity to embarrass him again.

Jules held his wife’s hand, swinging it widely back and forth as they worked their way across the sand. Meena noticed with jealousy that Ezra did not bother to lift her skirt, nor was she tripping on it. Upon closer inspection, Meena noticed the hem of the other woman’s skirt was higher than her own. She hoped it was a Falqri fashion she could adopt while living in the sandy environment.

Sol followed a step behind Meena, and she threw him a quick smile. She reminded herself he was both displaced from his familiar surroundings and social standing. She resolved not to get angry with him for tripping over his tongue in social settings. That was the one thing she could provide on this mission, and she intended to provide it well.

“How long have you been here at the fort?” Meena asked Jules, keen on keeping the conversation flowing.

“Not long at all,” Jules replied. “We were in the capital at Chendas until very recently.”

Meena felt the world shift around her. Her legs stumbled as they adjusted to walking across solid ground.

Sol grabbed her upper arm, steadying her before she fell. She threw another smile over her shoulder to thank him. He dropped his hand as soon as she moved forward again.

If Jules had been in Chendas recently, he could have been present when Erich was nearly executed. He could have participated in that awful event.

Meena clutched her skirts. “How recently?” she asked, keeping her voice light despite the crack which accompanied it.

“We arrived in Falqri at the end of silverreign,” Ezra responded.

Meena exhaled. Her brother was not in Chendas until greenreign. Jules had not participated in Erich’s imprisonment.

He still could have been there when Aizel or Celesta was captured.

Meena felt her chest tighten. For all his charm, she had to remember that Jules was a minion of Gareth. As delightful or charming as he and Ezra might seem, they were still the enemy.

She hoped they did not know about the chaos magic and Gareth’s cruelty toward the Majis. Jules and Ezra seemed like genuine and kind people, but she steeled her heart against them.

Though Jules kept up a constant chatter as their cart slowly rambled up the cliff side road, Meena had difficulty hearing the words he said.

Sol remained stony and silent at her side.

Ezra occasionally spoke a word or two, but only when her husband called on her to affirm his facts and stories.

The fort loomed overhead as they criss-crossed their way up the cliff side road. The uneven sandstone gradually transformed into a carved brick wall. Long, thin slits made up the windows of the lower levels of the fort, and short, pointed triangles lined the upper wall.

“Was the fort built into the cliff or out of the cliff?” Meena wondered, not realizing she’d asked the question out loud until Ezra answered her.

“Both, I presume,” Ezra said. “Anywhere you see individual bricks, such as the towers or battlements, were added to what the cliff already provided.”

“I’ve never seen triangular shaped battlements before,” Meena said. “Are those a Falqri tradition?” Meena nudged Sol, who sat at her side.

When he looked down at her, she blinked twice, slowly. It was the communication they had agreed upon for warning the other when they were discussing parts of the plan.

Sol’s gray eyes appeared a shade darker as he furrowed his brow.

“I have not been in Falqri long enough to know,” Ezra responded to Meena’s question.

The wagon bounced as they rounded a corner. Meena grabbed at the wooden bench she sat on. The uncomfortable feeling she’d had been trying to forget snaked its way back into her stomach. Ezra was from Chendas, not Falqri.

“The triangle shape seems as though it would be a poorer choice for defense,” Sol said slowly. He bit his lower lip and twisted his neck back to stare at the fort as the wagon finished turning around the tight corner. “A rectangular shape would provide more coverage.”

“You seem very interested in the fort’s defenses,” Jules said. “Are you looking for its weaknesses?” He glanced over his shoulder at Sol. “Are you planning to attack it?” His mouth was smiling in jest, but his eyes appeared uncomfortably sharp.

“No,” Sol sputtered, he looked to Meena. He blinked, furiously.

They had not agreed upon a meaning for that many successive blinks, but Meena knew he was asking for her help.

“You are really in command of this entire fortress?” Meena directed her question at Jules. It was not difficult to fill her voice with awe and respect.

She saw Jules’s chest puff out as he inhaled. “A tremendous responsibility,” he said. His words were modest, but Meena could hear the pride in them.

“Interesting.” Sol gave Meena a sidelong glance. “Interesting that a soldier from Chendas should oversee the largest port city in Falqri.”

Jules glanced over his shoulder again. Meena could see one of his eyebrows suspiciously raised.

She nudged Sol with her elbow. That was too pointed of a question to ask.

“Not surprising at all.” Jules responded more slowly than he usually did. “Falqri is known for its great warriors, and Chendas for its great strategy. It only makes sense that we would combine our strengths.”

Sol scooted a touch further away from Meena. It seemed he did not like her warning jabs in his side.

“The soldiers here must really respect you, then.” Meena directed her words to Jules, but sent a glare toward Sol. She blinked once. Once meant they were simply making conversation.

“They do,” Ezra responded for her husband, slipping her arm into his and nudging his shoulder with devotion and pride.

Staring at the gentle contact of Jules and Ezra’s upper arm, Meena suddenly felt very cold. She could feel the ocean breeze blowing freely in the space between her and Sol. She let the conversation dwindle.

As they finally entered the city gates, two guards stopped them on the way in. “Oh, it’s you Captain,” one said, standing up stiffly and nodding his head in a salute. “Sorry to stop you.”

“Thank you, Rivard,” Jules replied kindly. “You are supposed to stop everyone who comes through these gates, even me.”

The cart rode through and Meena let her attention turn to the small city that comprised the fort.

The structures, composed of clay and sandstone, ranged in color from creamy whites to rusty reds. Most of the buildings were indeed built low to the ground, with sand piling around their outer walls. Other than that, it felt very much like the Iseldan capital she grew up in. Tight rows of small houses gave way to open marketplaces. Surrounding it all, the thick wall of the fort protected everything and everyone inside the city.

Also, unlike home, the lighter and warmer colors were different from what she was used to, especially the pale, soft hues of the Falqri clothing. Everyone in Iseldis seemed to favor deep, dark tones. It appeared as though everything here, from the buildings to the clothing to the people, had been shaped by the constant heat of the sun.

They were only a few turns past the operating section of the fort when the cart stopped in front of a sprawling sandstone manse. It was set against the wall of the fort, overlooked the city inside it. The sprawling courtyard in front of the house was covered in sand and beautifully arranged stones. Small bulbous plants in a pale green color brought a charming sense of life to the dry environment. Short stocky trees with long, thin, willowing leaves lined a path to the main entrance.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Jules asked.

Meena turned to him. “I’ve lived my entire life in a castle, and I’ve never seen a more welcoming home. Is this your family’s estate?”

“No. Not sure who had it last, but they were thrown out. King Gareth certainly knows how to take care of his own,” Jules replied.

Meena kept the smile on her face even as the joy in her stomach turned to horror. She knew her own father provided housing for all the commanders in his army, but she didn’t know if he’d ever thrown someone out of their home to accommodate the soldiers. She’d never even considered it as an option before.

It seemed as though every moment of joy she found was dissipated by another reminder that she knew so little about so many important things. Exhausted, she accepted Sol’s hand as he helped her down from the cart.

He seemed completely unperturbed at the revelation of removing people from their homes, which meant he’d known of the practice or he was not surprised by it because such horrors were common to him.

Meena squeezed his hand, refusing to let go of it as she stepped onto the ground. She was glad to know now, but she didn’t like to think of how many other uncomfortable truths she’d been protected from. She only knew she would find them, one by one, uprooting everything she had previously known.