Page 4 of Dark as the Cursed Abyss

“As always, Lo.” Mari blew her a kiss before scrambling right back into the hectic kitchen.

Chloe really did hope she could make it back tonight. She would miss seeing Marianna most days and had become accustomed to spending time with her almost sister by marriage. And even though Marianna had long forgiven Dimitris for breaking their engagement, Chloe wasn’t sure she ever would. She brushed that sentiment away for now, because there were more pressing matters at hand. Chloe would find the southern princess and lock her up in the brig herself to get her to Hespali.

Chapter Three

Chloe

The Iron Wolf was a seedy little taverna a few minutes up the road, carved right into the caldera of the isle itself. It was frequented by merchants and pirates alike and most certainly by her brother, Dimitris, who ran up a tab so high one night their father had to drag him out himself.

Chloe despised the place. Found it to be primitive and more like the rowdy places on Lesathos than the usual establishments filled with the unique and substantive culture of Nexos.

And worst of all it smelled—more foul than the stables or the pig sties in the farmlands if Chloe was being quite honest.

The entryway of the Iron Wolf was rightfully covered in two planked wooden doors bolted with thick wrought iron. Metal curled into the detailing of vines and trees, leading up the doors to the cast crescent moon embossed into the stone. Grasping the two round handles, Chloe pushed hard and the doors swung into a lantern-lit cave.

Smoke swirled in the air around her, emanating from short curved pipes hung from patrons' mouths. In Nexos, they didn’t smoke the mind-altering drug, but rather a narrow-tipped leaf that grew on the isle, kapna. Chloe didn’t mind the head rush sensation of the plant, nor the way it made her blood stream tingle, but the smell. Gods, that smell was atrocious. It clung to your hair and clothes long after being washed, but it was a frequent habit amongst sailors on the isle.

It only took moments for Chloe’s eyes to adjust to the dim light. She scanned the room for Farah, half expecting her to be hidden under a cloak or sunk into one of the dark booths near the back of the establishment. Instead, she sat dead center, empty goblets and a deck of cards strewn about the table. All but two individuals that sat near her snickered and flipped around coins, each tattooed and clad in the garb of one of the mercenary ships of Nexos, their emblem of the crescent moon pierced by a single arrow stitched above their chests.

Stomping over to the table, Chloe willed the animalistic urge to shift and drag the princess away with her teeth. The lawless snake should’ve learned better over the years, but Farah was never one to adhere to what she was told.

It used to be endearing when they were younger, but now it was infuriating.

“What in the gods’ names are you doing here?!” Chloe seethed, her teeth clenched tight as she spoke.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Farah waved her hands around the table in a childlike manner. “Playing cards, obviously.”

“More like disrespecting your duties!” This woman, who did she think she was?

“Would you like some rum? It might calm you down a bit,” Farah slurred, waving her goblet in Chloe’s face.

“It is not even the sun’s peak!” Swatting the metal cup away, Chloe leaned in, taking a sniff at Farah’s breath. “And yet, somehow, you are piss drunk!”

The southern princess chuckled and leaned back, sliding a bit down in her chair. “And your point isss, leetle wool-fa?”

“My point is, you were supposed to be at the docks. Fates, if I found you packing for our journey that would have been one thing”—Chloe plucked Farah’s arm off the table and dropped it back down with a thud—“but instead you are here drowning in liquor, barely cognizant.”

“Correction, Your Highness. Drowning in liquor and good company.” Farah scowled before pointing to the man and woman on either side of her. They were both scantily clad in the usual attire of this establishment, the man in snug breeches and an unbuttoned shirt, the woman in a black diaphanous dress barely covering her nipples. Each stunning, in the sort of way daimons could be stunning, wicked and luring.

Chloe stared down the man. “Leave,” she growled, giving the same command to the woman on the opposing side. They stood, limbs moving not of their own accord, walking toward the door and straight out to the chilled winter beyond.

“Well, you are no fun.” Farah tsked and waved her finger in the air. “Can’t a girl indulge in spirits and”—she leaned toward Chloe and brushed an escaped tendril of hair behind her ear—“other things.”

“Keep your sticky rum hands out of my hair. And yes, you are allowed to do whatever you wish in this kingdom except when you have duties to attend to. Meeting at the docks is a tradition my people do not take lightly, and if Dimitris and Thalia meet anything but clear and calm waters it will be your fault.”

Farah snorted. “Superstitions are believed to…” Hiccup. “And from the looks of your scrunched up face and pestering scowl neither do you.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!” Chloe scoffed. Did this woman drink so much already that she couldn’t speak in coherent sentences?

“You don’t make sensssse,” Farah slurred once more and attempted to stand.

The princess tumbled forward, catching her foot between the leg of the table and the chair and falling right into Chloe. Farah’s arms collapsed against Chloe’s chest and instinctively she steadied the southern princess. A buzz tingled along where Chloe’s hands met clammy skin, radiating toward her core. This woman was absolutely infuriating.

“We are leaving,” Chloe commanded, though Farah, now holding steady with one hand gripped on the worn table, did not move.

“I think I’d rather stay. Barkeep,” she called, holding up one of her fingers, “could we get two more mugs over here?”

“Absolutely not,” Chloe hissed through clenched teeth. “I repeat, we are leaving. If my mother and father get wind of this…”