Magic's Memories

Chapter Twenty-six

If Feyla was stuck panicking then the least Daydrel could do was panic with her.

"I don't like doing this while it's still light out," Daydrel whispered. The three of them were tucked in between two buildings a short walk away from the area where Sedgewick had suspected Desden to be hiding. The cool breeze from the river ruined any relief it might have brought with the pungent smell of fish it carried.

Feyla tapped her heel in growing impatience. "We don't have a choice. Sedgewick's going to be down here tonight at the latest," Feyla replied. They'd been checking every promising building in the area with no sign of Desden or Dormaeus. Feyla's eyes shifted to the sinking sun like it was a ticking clock. "At the very latest."

Feyla bit her lip and pulled back out the map of the city again. The browned paper stood out against the crisp white of her new healer's garb. A hair slipped out of her bun. She tucked it back in firmly. "What about here?" Feyla suggested, pointing to a building on the map. The place had multiple good exit points, wasn't too close to a guard's post, and as she'd learned from Sedgewick, sat close enough to the docks to make smuggling in spell casting materials that much easier.

The muscles on Daydrel's arms tightened as she drew closer, but his voice remained steady, thankfully. She didn't want a repeat of that moment in the training arena. He nodded and held up the map to Delia, pointing to the spot Feyla had suggested. "Does it look as promising at it does on paper?"

Delia's eyes took in the map. "I'll go walk by it. Wait here." She disappeared around the corner, her white cloak flapping behind her.

Daydrel folded up the map as Feyla leaned against the faded white wood of an old warehouse. Unlike further up the river where merchants and travelers ended their journey and the air smelled of spices and fruits, this part of the docks was populated with shipbuilders, fishermen, and warehouses.

Feyla busied herself with listening to the sound of people milling about the larger streets nearby and not on the silence hanging between her and Daydrel.

"I wrote to you," he spoke finally. "After you left. You never answered."

Oh. That letter. She'd almost forgotten. It had arrived after she'd left the guild and started working for Sedgewick. Daydrel had asked her to reconsider their broken betrothal. He'd even sent the engagement token he'd given her with it; a bronze broach with a pink stone. She'd sent it back with no other response. "I did answer." Just not the way you wanted me to, she added silently.

"Was I already too late?" he asked, striding closer with firm, smooth steps. "Were you already with that mage of yours?"

Feyla turned away. Daydrel leaned closer. For a moment, she thought he might try to touch her cheek, but he stopped and settled for her shoulder. "Did you already forget me?"

Feyla's ear twitched at that word. "You're the one who was forgotten? I was the one who you left on the sidelines so you could keep chasing a—a promotion or whatever other goal was always more important than our relationship." She grasped the hand on her shoulder. Daydrel tried to wrap his fingers around her own but she just pushed him away. "I'm not the same person that I was back then, Daydrel."

Daydrel curled his discarded hand into a ball. His throat bobbed with restrained emotion. "When you came back, I thought that maybe it was because... Why are you here then?"

Feyla stopped herself. Should she tell him? It really wasn't his business. She shouldn't care what Daydrel thought about her rejoining, but did she want him thinking she'd come back because of him? "Sedgewick. It's always Sedgewick," Feyla said finally while ignoring Daydrel's pained grimace. "Mother's threatening to take my name over our engagement."