Fenrys had forgotten how warm it was in Wendlyn. After adjusting to the cooler climate of Terrasen, the heat was affecting him more than normal. He found himself uncomfortably hot and sweating. The temptation to shift into his wolf was increasing with every minute. His fur would attract more heat, but panting would help, and at least he wouldn't have to deal with sweat.
The scent of it was overwhelming as they ventured into the port city of Aklease. Vaughan was in the lead. One of his spies had agreed to meet with them and give them Nascha's current location. Once they found her, Lysandra would approach and try to lure her to the ship. They would do their best not to let Nascha know where they were from, or what their business with her was, but that part of the plan was flexible.
Fenrys kept one hand on the hilt of his sword, aware of the wary looks that followed them through the streets. "It seems the people of Wendlyn haven't forgotten you," Aedion murmured.
"That could prove good or bad," Lorcan replied. "Good if they remember what we're capable of and choose not to engage us. Bad if they think we're now vulnerable because Maeve is dead and choose to attack."
"I don't think they'll hurt us," Fenrys said. "Wendlyn is ruled by Glaston Ashryver, Aelin's uncle." He glanced at Aedion. "And yours. Attacking us means attacking members of Aelin's Court and Glaston's family. I doubt he'd take very kindly to that."
They fell silent as they reached a vacant alleyway. Vaughan gave a shrill whistle, reminiscent of his osprey cry. Seconds passed before a figure, clad in black, leaped off a roof and landed before them.
The Human man began speaking in a language Fenrys didn't understand. Vaughan, however, did. "She's in a tavern two blocks from here," he translated. He tossed a few coins to the man and they set off once more.
Fenrys and Aedion fell in step with Lysandra. "Do you have your story ready?" Aedion asked.
"I'm a frail young woman looking for someone to escort me safely to a ship so I can return home to Adarlan," Lysandra recited.
"And your disguise?"
Long brown hair became dirty blonde and shrank to her shoulders as she shifted. Emerald green eyes turned to muddy brown. Lysandra's proud nose grew more rounded and her cheeks hollowed. Her breasts became practically nonexistent. Fenrys averted his gaze with a laugh as Aedion gave a warning growl.
"Is this adequate?" Lysandra asked. Her new appearance, complete with a set of ragged clothes she'd swiped off the ship, made her look like some poor wretch.
"Perfect," Fenrys and Aedion answered in unison.
Vaughan held up a fist and pointed to a tavern just up ahead. Lysandra narrowed her eyes, scanning the people visible through a large window. "She has red hair and brown eyes," Vaughan said. "Her Fae features should help you identify her."
"Does she have any particularly defining traits?" Lysandra asked.
"None that my spies have mentioned."
"Great." Lysandra crossed her arms and started across the street, leaving them to watch from the shadows.
◦ ~ ❘ ☼ ❘ ~ ◦
Nascha lounged in a booth near the back of the tavern, her feet kicked up on the table. The heat of Wendlyn was making her left leg act up. This always happened when the weather was unusually hot or cold. The steady ache made it difficult to walk without limping, and she couldn't afford to show any weakness in this town.
Aklease was one of Wendlyn's less desirable port cities. The sailors who docked there were often pirates, or merchants who dealt in live cargo. It seemed that despite Glaston Ashryver's efforts, and the presence of Galan Ashryver's armada, the slavery business was still holding strong.
Nascha had spent the past few weeks freeing slaves from the bellies of cargo ships. She wasn't even sure where slavers could take so many captives. The Khaganate of the Southern Continent was working to abolish the act. There were few places in Erilea that still dealt in slavery, especially now that the salt mines of Calaculla and Endovier were closed.
Of course, there were other ways to enslave a person. Soldiering, brothels, gladiator pits, household servants... She hated the whole ugly business. That was why she'd spent the past nine years of her life working to free slaves while she hid in the Southern Continent.
Nascha took a sip of her sour red wine and grimaced. "Why doesn't anyone in this cursed city have whiskey?"
She ignored the winks of a few Human men walking past her booth. Normally, she would've returned the gesture and maybe struck up a conversation, but she wasn't in the mood right now. She wanted out of the heat. She wanted her leg to stop aching. She wanted a damned bottle of whiskey. Nascha combed her fingers through long crimson hair with an irritated groan.
"Excuse me," a timid voice called. "Is this seat taken?"
"If you're going to flirt with me, yes, it's taken. If you're not, it's free."
A Human woman sat down beside her, staring shyly at her clasped hands. "Are...are you Fae?" Nascha smiled, flashing her canines at the woman. "Wow. If you don't mind my asking...how old are you? I've heard Fae can live for centuries. Even thousands of years."
"They can if they've Settled," Nascha replied. She hadn't Settled yet, but this woman didn't need to know that.
"What does that mean?"
"Settling is when a Fae or Demi-Fae's body locks into their immortal lifespan and their magic matures."
"I see."
Nascha pushed her goblet towards the woman. She picked it up and sniffed, but did not drink. Nascha narrowed her eyes. Usually, someone with an appearance like hers wouldn't be picky when offered a drink. That had been her experience, anyway. Nascha's shoulders rose and fell as she drank in the woman's scent.
She smelled of sweat and brine, which meant she'd likely been at sea, working on a ship, or roaming near the docks. Beneath those scents however, there was a hint of jasmine...and vaguely familiar males. Males she hadn't seen since...
"Where are you from?" Nascha asked, trying to separate the male scents that clung to the woman. She'd already identified two of them, confirming her suspicions.
"Adarlan. Rifthold, specifically. At least, that's where my family is."
"How did you find yourself all the way over here?"
"My family sent me away when Erilea went to war," the woman explained. "They gave me everything they had and asked me to send for them when I'd found work and a place for us to settle."
"You don't seem to have had much luck."
"I haven't. I've saved enough to return to Rifthold. Hopefully things will be better for us there now that the war is over and King Dorian has come home. My...my ship leaves soon. I was hoping to find someone to escort me there. I'm a little worried about the..." Her voice fell to a whisper. "The pirates."
This woman was certainly a good actress. Nascha might've have believed the story, if it weren't for the familiar scents. She stood, patting the twin duel bladed swords that were sheathed at her hips. "Lead the way."
"You'll come with me?" The woman's brown eyes brightened.
"Of course," Nascha purred, letting another smile spread across her lips. "We females have to stick together, right?" The woman nodded and started towards the door.
Nascha trailed her into the street. The woman was already making a beeline towards an alleyway. Quick as a whip, Nascha unsheathed one of her blades and grabbed the woman's arm. She angled the forked blade at the woman's throat, baring her teeth in a snarl.
"You tell those Fae bastards of Maeve's to leave me alone, or I'll slit your throat right now," Nascha growled.
To her credit, the woman showed no signs of fear. Her features began to change, and Nascha's eyes widened. A shapeshifter, she realized. I didn't know there were any left. The woman was still Human when her transformation was complete, but she now had brown hair, green eyes, and a fuller frame than before.
"Release me," the woman commanded.
"I don't take kindly to being baited." Nascha lifted her hickory gaze to the alleyway, ignoring the onlookers who paused to watch. "Come out, you bastards. You should attend to your business yourself, not hire an incompetent shifter to do it for you."
"For the record," a voice, smooth like honey, drawled, "we aren't Maeve's Fae bastards anymore." The male stepped into view, looking just as she remembered him. Golden brown skin, long blonde hair, teasing onyx eyes... A face that was oh so punchable. The twin scars from his brow to his jaw were new, though they didn't diminish his appearance in the slightest.
Three more males joined him. She knew them all. The blonde Demi-Fae's parentage was unmistakable, from his shoulder length hair to his Ashryver eyes. She'd met him a few times when she was younger, and had been attacked by his father. The other two males bore dark hair and dark eyes. One was Fae and one was Demi-Fae. They'd been with the first male and the second's father the day her brother died and she received her limp.
"Release her," Aedion Ashryver, the Wolf of the North, demanded.
"In due time, Lion Cub," Nascha snapped. The group tensed and she knew she'd struck a nerve. Something had happened to Gavriel, the Lion. "What do you want with me? Maeve is dead, and besides, if she wanted me that badly, she would've made you pursue me even after I escaped."
"We're here to take you home," the first male said.
"There is no home I wish to go back to."
"That's too bad," the dark haired Demi-Fae growled. "You don't get a say in this."
"You need to work on your diplomatic skills, Lorcan," the blonde chuckled.
Nascha pressed her blades closer to the female's throat and the four males were instantly alert. "You seem to be missing a few members of your little group, Boys. I see no Lion. I see no Hawk. I see no Black Wolf. A pity." She glanced at the first male. All laughter was gone from his face. "I found him far more attractive than you, White Wolf of Doranelle."
"Lorcan. Vaughan." She faced the other two males. "You look as broody as ever. I don't know how you've lived so long with such a big stick up your ass, Lorcan. You should see about having it removed. As for you, Aedion, Adarlan's Whore. You have certainly made your family proud." She pressed her cheek close to her hostage's. "I don't know your name, Darling. Care to enlighten me?"
"Lysandra," she spat.
"Lysandra. Pretty. Tell me you're not wasting your heart on any of these bastards."
"Afraid I've stolen one of them from you?" Came the sharp retort.
Nascha threw her head back with a wry laugh. "I wouldn't sleep in the same bed as any of these males if they paid me a king's ransom."
"What about a queen's?" The White Wolf taunted. "Speaking of queens, our Queen will be very displeased if you harm the Lady of Caraverre. I suggest you release her, or you'll return to Terrasen as a prisoner."
"I won't return to Terrasen at all," she hissed. Nascha withdrew her blade and threw Lysandra at the males. Aedion lurched forward to catch her.
Nascha shifted amidst the confusion. She leaped into the air, letting her wings carry her away from the street. She was aware of angry shouts behind her, and knew the group was giving chase. Nascha flew faster. She would fly all the way back to the Southern Continent if she had to. She was not returning to Terrasen.