All the Stars and Teeth(32)
“Good.” Bastian fishes a pink pearl from his pocket and tosses it into the cup before the accordion. The instrument dips as if bowing, not missing a note. “Then drink up, everyone. We’ve at least another hour to kill, and then it’s time to catch some barracudas.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
By the time we’re done with the tavern, I’ve polished off my mead and five petit cakes. Bastian never showed hesitation in ordering for me, though it’s unclear if he can actually afford my meal, as well as the six pints he and Ferrick polished off.
Bastian excused himself to the bathroom minutes ago, and upon his return I notice a small leather pouch newly tied to his belt. It jingles as he walks.
“Time to go.” He places three silver coins on the table. Though he feigns a level of easiness, his skin shines with sweat and his fingers twitch at his sides, too jittery. This money doesn’t belong to him.
Ferrick’s laugh fills the room. It’s a boisterous, drunken sound that reaches the ceiling and causes several people to look our way. He’s always flushed easily, but right now his entire face is so red it rivals his flame-colored locks. His glossy green eyes are bloodshot and filled with amused tears, though no jokes have been told.
“One more!” He tries to tug the pirate back down into his chair, but Bastian swats his hand away. Ferrick looks at his swatted hand with a deep frown.
“One more and I’ll have to roll you out of here.” Bastian’s eyes nearly twitch to the back of his skull. “And we don’t want to overstay our welcome.” He peers down to his pouch.
Ferrick takes one look at it and gasps. “You stole that?” he asks, too loudly.
If looks could kill, Ferrick would long be gone. The room quiets, and I’m certain Bastian feels the attention of the other patrons as well as I do.
My skin crawls with the presence of their roaming eyes and spiked curiosity. Bastian’s shoulders shake as he struggles to maintain composure, eventually settling for placing a firm hand on Ferrick’s arm.
“We need to go.” Both the intensity of Bastian’s voice and the prickle of attention from patrons makes that obvious. I clear my throat and gather my things before I slide from the table.
The ache that stirs from the idea of leaving surprises me. I wish there were enough time for me to sink into a barrel of mead and fill my body with a hundred more lavish petit cakes. To chat with Ikaeans about silly things like fashion and trends.
I clench my fists tight and remind myself that one day I’ll have that opportunity. But only if we keep moving.
The tavern’s warm air has turned hot from breath and bodies as everyone eyes us. I keep my head low, not giving them the chance to glimpse my face. Ferrick begrudgingly follows, stumbling every few steps. His ruddy face twists into a scowl at Bastian, as if challenging the pirate. Bastian’s brow arches, but he says nothing as we weave through the crowd and make our way out of the tavern.
The cool breeze and the ocean’s mist are quick to greet us. It sinks through my remaining warmth, making me wish I had a heavier coat.
The streets are a whisper of what they were only hours before, and it’s clear now why Bastian wanted us to wait. This late in the evening, everyone is either at home or in one of the taverns, enjoying Ikae’s nightlife. The stores lining the streets are dark and empty; no one’s around to see us sneak inside. Bastian leads us around the back of Maribel’s, which, sure enough, we know is our store the moment we see it.
The shop looks as though it’s made from thousands of pink bubbles that shimmer, pop, and redevelop as we approach. It creates a quiet little symphony that reminds me of the pop pop pop of sparkling wine.
Though it looks fragile, the shop is sturdy as Bastian tries the handle. It gives easily beneath his grip.
My fingertips itch with desire as the door opens into an expansive shop with gorgeous clothing lining every wall. No longer is it formed by bubbles, but the floors and walls are a rich marble.
“You’ll need supplies for the journey,” Bastian says, “so take what you need while I search.”
“Search?” I echo. “For what?”
“Have you ever seen a barracuda? If you see a symbol with one on it, let me know.” Bastian crouches low at the threshold. He leans against it, as if using the frame for support as he draws a shaky breath. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the pirate was nervous.
Slowly he peels himself away, shifting through the clothes.
I leave him be, my heart thumping in my throat, heavy with desire.
The inside of the shop is breathtaking. Every article of clothing imaginable lines the wall, from fish-scale coats to chic, fitted dresses. In Arida, I’d had all my clothing personally tailored or imported. Being able to walk into a store and pick something out is unheard of.
I’m more in love with this place by the second.
Somewhere beside me, Ferrick hiccups. “You want me to steal?” he asks in horror, his flushed face pinching. “I should … I should call the authorities on you, you pirate!”
I take a coat from its hanger and toss it into Ferrick’s arms. He flinches, then about three seconds later, stumbles back in surprise.
“We’re not stealing,” I tell him sweetly, draping another shirt in his arms. He crinkles his nose distastefully. “I bought this store for you as an engagement gift. I want you to take whatever you’d like.”