sitting on the sand, she said, “Did you bring me a gift to soften the blow?”
Instead of answering, Teriana furrowed her brow and slowly pulled the wax covering off the thick tome before passing it to Lydia.
“Treatise of the Seven.” Lydia traced a finger over the embossed cover, the leather warm beneath her hands. “The seven what?”
“The Seven Harem Girls.” Teriana’s voice sounded strange, and as Lydia watched, her friend swallowed hard and shook her head. “The Seven Gods of the West—the Dark Shores.”
Even now, mention of gods and the Dark Shores rang like forbidden fiction in Lydia’s ears. Like something to be denied. Something that should be denied, given the punishment associated with such beliefs. “I’ll be in all sorts of trouble if I’m caught with this.”
“So you don’t want it?” Teriana reached for the book, but Lydia hugged it to her chest, unwilling to let it go without at least reading it cover to cover. “I didn’t say that. Almost no one reads Trader’s Tongue, anyway. I could tell them it was a cookbook and they wouldn’t know the difference.”
Which wasn’t entirely the case. Her father read the language well enough, but it would be easy to hide the book from him.
Teriana rolled her eyes and flopped back on the sand, one hand held above her eyes to block the sun. “The Six preserve me from crazy Cel girls and scholars. Do you even know how to cook?”
“Of course I don’t.” Lydia flipped through the pages, eyes dancing over the illustrations of people of many different races, all wearing unfamiliar clothing. “What about the seventh god?”
“The Corrupter.” Teriana’s voice was uncharacteristically toneless. “Only a select few invoke his name, and they aren’t the sort you’d care to cross paths with.”
Teriana’s discomfort was palpable, and out of the corner of her eye Lydia could see her friend’s fingers twitching as though she’d like nothing better than to rip the book out of her hands and toss it in the sea. Which made her ask, “Why are you giving me this?”
Silence sat heavily between them; then finally Teriana muttered, “You said you needed help.”
And you promised me last night that you’d give it.
Resentment flooded through Lydia’s core, her knuckles whitening where she gripped the cover of the book. “And your suggestion is that I ask your gods for it?” Because that was not the sort of help Lydia needed. Not unless Teriana was proposing Lydia escape marriage by getting herself tossed in prison.
“There are as many paths as there are travelers,” Teriana said. “You must find the right one.”
“What does that mean?” It was a struggle not to shout the words. A struggle to keep her anger in check. Because it would’ve been better for Teriana to have not come to the beach at all than to come and try to placate Lydia with this … this nonsense.
But before she could say as much, Bait approached, his clothes and skin damp. “Captain wants to sail with the next tide.”
“I need to go,” Teriana said, and it seemed to Lydia that she was looking anywhere but at her.
“I think this is yours.” Bait held out the betrothal bracelet she’d tossed in the water, the sight of it pulling a scowl onto Lydia’s face. She’d thrown it away thinking she had a way out, but leaving it behind now would cause her more problems later, so she shoved it back on her wrist.
Teriana pulled Lydia to her feet, then embraced her tightly. “I’m sorry. I wish—”
“It’s fine.” Lydia wished she could force away the ugly emotions rising in her chest. Teriana could walk away from all of this. Could go back to her life as it had always been. It wasn’t fair. “Vibius is apparently thrilled about the union, so even after my father passes, I’ll be of value to Lucius. I’m sure he’ll treat me well enough.”
“Right,” Teriana muttered, her jaw working from side to side as though she might say more. But when Bait took her arm, Lydia noticed that Teriana didn’t resist as he drew her away, leading her down to the boat, where they pushed it into the water.
Lydia stood on the beach, watching. Waiting. Hoping.
But her best friend never looked back.
* * *
Climbing the curved iron staircase leading to a small balcony off the library, Lydia slipped inside, adjusting her salt-stained dress with one hand, the other maintaining a death grip on the book Teriana had given her.
The stupid book and useless advice that her best friend