to think of Adam.
The skiff drifted close to the canal bank, where flowers overflowed their window boxes. The water had already risen, but not all the way. The low waterline bared wards carved in the stone.
Riuh leaned close to shield her movements as Xinai drew a slender chisel from her sleeve. She tensed as his lips brushed her shoulder, but managed a giggle. With one careful motion she dragged the blade across the stone, gouging through crusted moss and grime to mar the sigil beneath, then palmed the chisel and reached up to pluck a violet blossom from the vine. She barely felt the shiver as the ward-spell broke. With an aching smile, she threaded the flower into Riuh’s hair.
Something splashed softly beside them. Xinai looked down, and found herself staring into the flat face of a nakh. She stiffened; she’d never been so close to one before. Skin pale as a snake’s belly, hair a weed-tangled cloud. Black eyes blinked, flashing white as pearlescent membranes slid sideways. Xinai’s hand dropped to her knife.
The nakh grinned, baring rows of bone-needle teeth, and lifted one webbed hand from the water. A ruby glistened blood-black in its palm. It hissed softly, then sank beneath the surface.
Riuh touched a charm-bag at his throat. “Ancestors,” he whispered. “I hope my grandmother knows what she’s doing.”
“So do I.” The nakh had no love for the warded city, or the invader mages who had driven them out of their delta, but they weren’t allies Xinai would have sought out. Gold skin or brown made no difference once someone was at the bottom of the river.
The steersman pushed farther into the city. They’d finished their section of canals and now there was nothing to do but wait for the others, and for the nakh.
The skiff neared the Floating Garden, which was full of barges and workers swarming to set up platforms and hang lanterns. As Xinai watched the construction, movement on the far bank caught her eye. A flash of white skin and a familiar cloaked shape. Adam and the witch. Her stomach tightened painfully and she swallowed. She brushed a charm, vision honing, and watched the Laii girl lead them toward the temples.
“Let me off here,” she said, before she could think better of it.
“What is it?” Riuh asked.
“Something I need to take care of. Wait for me behind the temples.”
The steersman pulled up to the nearest steps. Riuh reached for her arm as she rose, but she dodged easily. “Don’t worry, I won’t be long.”
She waited for Adam in an alley beside the canal. Rain dappled the murky green water, and low clouds cast an early twilight between the walls. Marks covered the stone, children’s pictures drawn in charcoal and chalk, scrawled names and vows of love. A handprint stood out in the midst of the smeared scribbles, red brick dust not yet streaked by the rain—another of the Dai Tranh had already been here.
Rain dripped cold against her face and hair, warmed as it trickled down her neck. She didn’t have to wait long, as she’d known she wouldn’t. Adam could always find her. He’d thrown his hood back and tendrils of hair clung to his cheeks. He grinned when he saw her, but her own face was stiff and numb.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Her control slipped, brows pulling together. Nothing was easy now that she faced him. “I’m sorry.”
“Xin? What is it?” He glanced around, hand dropping to his sword hilt. Afraid of an ambush, and that left a bruised feeling in her chest. Voices drifted from the temple yard and rain pattered against the water. He moved closer, laid his hands on her shoulders. She fought a flinch, but his eyes narrowed and she knew she’d failed.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I’m staying here.” A clean break was always best.
“Here?”
“In Sivahra. I won’t become a pirate with you after all.” Her mouth twisted.
“I’ll stay with you—”
She shook her head, short and sharp, and shrugged off his touch. “No, you can’t. I’m sorry.” The words fell like stones from her mouth, but she kept on. “Please, stay away from the festival tonight. I don’t want you hurt.”
Wariness diluted the pain on his face. “What’s going to happen?”
She didn’t answer, only reached up and unhooked a heavy silver hoop from her ear. “It’s been…good.” She pressed the earring into his palm, the metal warm as flesh, and let her hand linger against his for a heartbeat. “Thank you for bringing me home.”
She leaned up and