Havenfall (Havenfall #1)(35)
She smiles, steps past me—her shoulder brushing mine in the cramped space—and lifts a hand toward the small, high window set into the barn wall. In the sunlight, she turns her hand from side to side. “Not burning.”
“Not sparkling either.” I heave a sigh of mock disappointment. “And here I had such high hopes.”
“What, regular old people aren’t your type?” She does the raising-one-eyebrow thing again—not skepticism this time, but maybe a little bit of a challenge.
I shoot her a surprised look. “Why, how old are you?”
She glares. “You know that’s not what I meant. I’m nineteen, twenty in October.”
I’ve already drawn breath for another hopefully witty reply, but her last words pierce right through me.
Nate. He would have been twenty in October too. His birthday is always the second-worst day of the year, after only the anniversary of the attack, of his death in April all those years ago.
Tears spring to my eyes. I can’t stay in here anymore. “Sorry,” I mumble. “I just remembered I have to be somewhere.”
Taya tilts her head at me, confused, but I don’t meet her eyes. Just give Kitkat an apology pat and hurry out of the stables, brushing the hay frantically off my clothes because the scent reminds me of Brekken and brings it all rushing back, the memory of what we did just a few feet above in the hayloft. His touch, confident, not nervous like I was. Like he knew exactly what he wanted. And here I was, thinking what he wanted was me.
I grit my teeth and push away thoughts of Brekken, of Nate. I’ve had plenty of practice losing people I loved. And I have to get my shit together if I’m going to help run Havenfall. I know that. But right now, the seemingly constant threat of tears is back again, stinging my eyes, making pressure build in my chest and throat. It seems like the only way to keep ahead of it is to stay in motion. Outrun the panic, outrun the tears.
It’s not until I’m well away that I realize how neatly Taya dodged my question about her big life plans. But that doesn’t matter now. It’s time for my first commitment as interim Innkeeper.
The observatory is all the way at the top of Havenfall’s main building, a little glass dome sticking out at the highest point of the peaked roof, ideal for taking in the summer sky and the glorious mountains in all directions. Maybe it’s some kind of Realms magic, but somehow the paneled glass captures all the light in the sky and multiplies it across the polished oak table. Even on the cloudiest of days, this room is bright and cheerful. On sunny days, the deep blue carpet blends into the view to make you feel like you’re sitting in the sky. And at night, the windows cast thousands of speckles of refracted light over everything and make you feel part of the stars.
It was here, one night a few years ago, when I first looked at Brekken and thought, holy crap, he’s beautiful. We’d snuck up in the middle of the night just so I could show off my knowledge of constellations, but then everything shifted under my feet. And ever since then, I’ve never set foot here and not thought of him, the stars in his hair.
But I’m here on business, I remind myself. Delegates book this room when they want to impress. Today is my first chance to make a good impression as interim Innkeeper.
Soon after I sit down, the delegates enter. Lady Mima of Byrn sporting an opalescent pendant the size of my fist, practically glowing against a night-black jumpsuit. And Saber Cancarnette, an ethereal Fiorden guy with hair, skin, and eyes so pale he looks like a ghost, in a long, impeccably tailored silver fur coat.
At breakfast, they asked me to sit in on their meeting, but they still look skeptical that it’s me instead of Marcus. And I can’t say that I disagree with them at the moment.
Graylin is there too, but he warned me earlier that he’d need to stay in the background to avoid any appearance of interfering in the meeting. He greets the delegates and gives me a quick shoulder squeeze as he sits down next to me. You’ve got this, he mouths at me, and I try to smile.
I sit with my hands in my lap, trying to stay still and inconspicuous while Mima and Saber begin their negotiations. It turns out that the jewels Fiordens wear in their ears actually originate in Byrn—which is why they’re such a mark of status; only noble families have the Havenfall connections needed to obtain them. Add that to the long list of things I didn’t know. I slide my phone out of my pocket under the table and peek at it for just long enough to open up a text file. I hope phones are a foreign enough concept to the traders that they won’t notice me typing notes.
Mima, the Byrnisian delegate, produces a briefcase filled with a jaw-dropping array of jewels of every cut and color and size. Diamond-like stones that seem to suck in the sun and spit it back out tenfold, red gems that glow even though the dirt of the mine still clings to their rough surfaces, blue ones that seem to come naturally in intricate patterns like snowflakes, but are the color of sapphires and big as my palm. In response, Saber, the Fiorden, unrolls a small bolt of soft white cloth, to which he’s sewn fur swatches in a rainbow of colors and textures.
Animals in Fiordenkill, Brekken’s told me, aren’t just shades of black, brown, gray, and tawny like they are here. They’re blue and red and gold and green—
But there I go again with thoughts of Brekken. That won’t lead anywhere good. I blink hard and try to concentrate on what’s being said, the transactions.