Chapter 19: Grilled Reptile, Medium Rare

Myrath smelled like fish, sweat, and desperation. Which, to be fair, was the smell of most coastal cities I’d been in. They called it a city, but let’s not exaggerate—it was a fishing village that had eaten too many growth potions and gotten ideas above its station. The only reason it had any importance was that it sat at the end of the Vaelor Cape, with ships from the grand island of Liraen docking here for trade.

Which meant the streets were swarming with hybrids. All kinds.

There went a man with the ears and tail of a fox, his fur streaked gold and russet like autumn leaves. A woman with scales glittering along her arms sold seaweed bundles, her eyes a serpent’s slit green. A child darted between stalls with feline paws instead of feet, his laugh a high, sharp yowl. Even among the crowd, the occasional half-elf shimmered, their skin kissed with faint patterns of scales or feathers depending on which family tree had been too adventurous a generation back.

And Serine? She was spellbound.

Her eyes darted everywhere, wide and sparkling, like a child on festival day. She tugged at my sleeve every five steps.

“Rissa, did you see? That woman’s hair looks like fins!”

And of course Arkanthos, swaddled under a rough cloth so he wouldn’t cause a screaming panic by being a talking skull, was more than happy to indulge her curiosity.

“Ah, yes, Lady Serine,” he crooned from the depths of my satchel. “That trait is most commonly seen in the descendants of the Aeryth merfolk. They once ruled the shoals along the southern archipelago until their war with the scaled priesthoods. Fascinating people, excellent singers, but their cooking was atrocious—far too much salt.”

Serine giggled, her cheeks glowing with delight as she leaned closer to the bag. “And that man? The one with the feathers at his temples—what’s he from?”

Arkanthos never missed a beat. “Skyborn lineage. They claim descent from raptors, and indeed, some families are said to sprout wings. None ever big enough to actually fly, mind you. Very tragic, but also very amusing.”

I watched her soaking it all up, her head bent as if she was taking notes no one else could see. She looked happy, and I let myself enjoy that for a moment. Even in a place that stank of rotten fish guts, seeing her bright-eyed wonder was enough to soften me. Just a little.

But only a little—we didn’t have the luxury of wasting time.

It had been over two months since I’d punted Myrrin halfway across the continent and into the palace of Virelia. My brilliant little stratagem—feeding them a false trail in the opposite direction—had bought us time. But Myrrin wasn’t stupid. A bloodhound like her would eventually sniff out the truth, and when she did, she’d drag Princess Lyra’s soldiers straight to us. Which meant we needed to be on a ship to Liraen before that smug bitch started knocking on doors.

I glanced sideways at Cassian. He was… twitchy. Not in the fun way. More in the way that screamed: I’ve been here before and would very much like not to be recognized.

“You’re unusually quiet,” I said, sidling up to him with a grin. “What’s the matter, Cassie? Not a fan of fish markets? Or maybe you’re afraid one of these lovely hybrids will sweep me off my feet, and you’ll lose your chance?”

He adjusted the cloak around his shoulders, pulling the hood a little lower so his face was half-hidden. “I don’t like this place,” he muttered, sharp as a blade’s edge.

“Ohhh,” I said, dragging the sound out with all the mockery I could muster. “The brooding swordsman with a mysterious past, hiding his face in the crowd. How very cliché of you. Should I start looking for wanted posters? Maybe you broke some poor girl’s heart here once, hm?”

He shot me a glare that could’ve cracked stone, then—actually covered the lower half of his face with his hand. Like that would help. Which only told me one thing: he’d definitely been here before, and it wasn’t happy memories.

Interesting. But I wasn’t about to dig into it. If he wanted to play the brooding mystery man, fine. Let him stew.

After wandering the streets long enough that Serine’s head was spinning with questions and Arkanthos had started lecturing about obscure aquatic bloodlines no one but him remembered, we ducked into a small tavern to grab something to eat.

Or at least, Serine and I did. Because Cassian suddenly straightened, shoulders tight, and said flatly:

“I have business here. I’ll meet you at the harbor this afternoon.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, how convenient. Mister Tall, Dark, and Handsome vanishes into the crowd with a vague line about ‘business.’ Very mysterious. Very sexy. Really, Cassian, you should write plays. You’d have women swooning in every seat.”

Serine blinked at him, confused. “Business? What sort of—”

But he was already gone, disappearing into the press of bodies like a shadow.

I sighed, tossing myself into a chair. “Of course. Leave it to him to make errands look like brooding heroics. I swear, if he comes back at sunset with a dramatic breeze at his back, I’ll choke him with his own cloak.”

Serine tilted her head, still puzzled, and peeked down at my satchel. “Do you know what he meant, Arkanthos?”

The skull chuckled softly under the cloth. “My dear, I could hazard a dozen guesses, but men like him… they cling to their secrets tighter than they do their swords.”

The tavern by the water smelled like fried squid, rum, and poor decisions. Naturally, I felt right at home.

Serine and I stuffed ourselves with every ocean creature they could drag onto a plate. Crab, eel, fish stews thick enough to choke a troll. I washed it all down with enough drink to drown a sailor twice my size. Serine scolded me every time I tipped the jug, but her scolding had the same effect as trying to stop the tide with a broom. Arkanthos, muffled in my satchel, laughed like a lunatic at her mother-hen act.

Hours slipped by, and when the sun began to dip, we made for the harbor. Cassian, of course, was nowhere in sight.

We found two ships bound for Liraen, good enough to get us off this fish-stinking rock as soon as our knight-in-brooding-armor showed up. Except he didn’t. Not at dusk, not when the last sailors shouted their calls, not when the moon lifted itself into the sky.

Serine’s brows knitted tighter with each hour, her worry practically radiating off her. “He wouldn’t just… not come,” she whispered.

I waved a hand, playing it off. “Please. Cassian’s the kind of guy who probably gets lost brooding at reflections in puddles. He’s fine. Probably just staring moodily at a wall somewhere. It’s his hobby.”

But even I didn’t believe it. Cassian was a lot of things—annoying, stoic, dramatic—but unreliable wasn’t one of them. If he said he’d meet us, he’d meet us. Which meant something had happened.

So, we searched.

By night, Myrath was a corpse. Its lively markets and shouting hawkers were replaced by silence and shuttered windows. The only people left wandering the streets were drunks, shadows, and troublemakers. Perfect company for me, really.

I stopped a fisherman trudging home. “Hey. Seen a tall guy? Gray hair, brooding face, fashion sense of a funeral? No? Useless.”

Another passerby shook their head, and I sighed. “Well, Serine, you know where we’re going next.”

She gave me a look sharper than any dagger. “You mean the tavern. Again. Even if we’d found Cassian, you’d have dragged us there anyway. Rissa, your alcoholism is a problem.”

I grinned, unrepentant. “Or it’s the solution. Let’s go ask about our missing prince charming. And maybe drink a little. Just a sip. Or two. Or ten.”

The tavern at night was the opposite of the quiet streets. Packed, loud, the air hot with laughter, dice games, and the clink of mugs.

We found a table away from the bar, but it didn’t take long before the serving girl approached. And oh, what a sight. Semi-human, semi-fish, semi-lizard—someone had clearly had a very enthusiastic family tree. She was stunning, though. Delicate features, shimmering blue skin, gills at her neck, fins like silk combs along her head, and curves that could sink a ship faster than a hole in the hull.

“Well, hello, beautiful,” I purred, leaning on the table. “Bring me your strongest drink, and maybe your name to go with it. If the name’s as pretty as the view, I might even tip generously.”

She laughed, a light, musical sound, and flicked her finned hair back. “Strongest drink, huh? Careful, stranger. Not everyone survives the sea’s bite.”

“Oh, I bite back,” I said, flashing a grin. “And I’m much more fun than the sea.”

Serine’s jaw tightened beside me. “Rissa,” she hissed. “Honestly? Now? Every time you see someone attractive you—”

“—flirt shamelessly?” I finished for her. “Yes. It’s called having priorities.”

The serving girl giggled again, clearly enjoying the attention, and swayed off with my order. Serine glared daggers at me the entire time.

“You’re idiot.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re mad,” I said sweetly, earning myself a dramatic sigh.

The drinks arrived, and I downed a mouthful before I noticed the conversation two tables over.

A group of rough-looking hybrids lounged there—more reptile than man, scales glinting under the lanternlight, their voices thick with malice.

“…rumor says the son of the chief came back,” one sneered, tail lashing lazily against the chair leg.

“Foolish bastard,” another replied. “The chief swore if he ever returned empty-handed, he’d kill him. Or worse. And here he is, bold as you please.”

A third spat into his mug. “He should’ve run far from here. Instead, the gray-haired little traitor comes crawling back. Serves him right. That pariah doesn’t deserve better.”

My fingers tightened around my mug. Gray hair. A pariah. Oh, Cassie.

I stood, stalking toward them with the kind of smile that promised blood.

“Evening, gentlemen. I couldn’t help but overhear your little chat. Now, I’m curious. This gray-haired fool you’re talking about… care to share who he is?”

The first lizard-man leaned back in his chair, his scaled jaw jutting forward in defiance. “Not your business, human.” His tongue flicked between sharp teeth as his yellow eyes glared at me.

“Oh, but see, I make everything my business,” I said sweetly, resting one hand on their table as if we were old friends. “Especially when it involves someone I know. So you can either tell me nicely…” I leaned closer, smile sharpening, “…or I can peel the scales off your face one by one and find out anyway.”

The second lizard-man barked out a laugh, slamming his mug on the wood. “Cute. Think you scare us with words, little girl? You’re in our town, in our tavern. You should be the one afraid.”

“That so?” I tilted my head, feigning innocence.

The third one, bulkier than the others, leaned forward. “Why don’t you run back to your drink before we decide you’re more fun than our ale?” He grinned wide, forked tongue sliding over his lips. “Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had to put someone mouthy in their place.”

For a moment, I just looked at them, silent, letting the tension simmer. Then I slammed my mug down on their table hard enough to make it jump, ale spilling across their laps. The crack echoed through the tavern and silenced half the room.

“Try me,” I purred, voice low and dangerous. “I enjoy daring.”

The first lizard bared his teeth, but I saw the flicker of unease. Still, he growled, “You wouldn’t dare raise a hand here. Not unless you want to leave in pieces.”

“Oh, honey,” I said, flexing my fingers, “you really don’t know me at all.”

I lifted my hand, palm open. Heat gathered instantly, the air warping above my skin. Flames didn’t burst—not yet—but the glow was unmistakable, a burning shimmer of raw magic. Their eyes widened, but I wasn’t finished.

Before the biggest one could back away, I snatched him by the throat and slammed him against the back of his chair. He choked, claws scrabbling at my arm, as the sizzling heat from my palm branded into his scaly flesh. The smell was immediate—burnt scales, charred skin, the stench of roasted fish filling the tavern. His companions recoiled in horror as smoke curled from between my fingers.

When I finally released him, he collapsed forward, gagging, clutching at his neck where a raw, red handprint glowed, scales blackened and flaking away. The whole tavern watched in stunned silence.

I leaned down, close enough that my breath brushed his ear. “Now. Talk. Before I decide I want a matching set on each of you.”

The bravado shattered. The other two scrambled back in their seats, eyes wide with pure terror. “She’s insane!” one hissed. “Completely mad!”

“Crazy, dangerous, and very impatient,” I agreed with a feral grin. “So unless you want to end up smelling like grilled tilapia, tell me what I want to know.”

They didn’t need more convincing. The first one croaked hoarsely, terrified out of his scales. “He… he went to see the chief. His adoptive father. In the groto, the caves in the cliffs. That’s where the clan is hiding.”

I straightened, dusting my hands off as if I hadn’t just branded someone alive. “See? That wasn’t so hard. You boys should learn to cooperate more often. Saves you from smelling like dinner.”

The wounded bandit whimpered, while the other two bolted from their seats, tripping over each other in their rush to get out of the tavern. Good choice.

I turned back to Serine, who looked worried but unsurprised.

“So,” I said, draining the rest of my drink. “Cassian’s off visiting Daddy Dearest in a lizard’s den. Sounds charming. Shall we go crash the family reunion?”

Serine nodded, determination written all over her face. And just like that, we were off—into the night, toward the cliffs of Myrath, and straight into whatever trouble Cassian had left behind.