Pride: take a hike.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
Traveling on foot made for slow progress. We arrived in Oceanside as the sky turned pink and orange over the sea.
The last time I visited here, it was a thriving city. Now, it’s a war zone.
Scorched husks of wooden dwellings dot the landscape for a hundred meters between the inner township and the beach. Before, the primary location of commerce was close to the beachfront. Now, it’s behind a hastily constructed stone wall. It looks as though people dumped a lot of rocks and rubble in an attempt to protect the buildings further back from the water.
My stomach sank. Oceanside District accounted for thirty percent of the Auralian population before the war. If it still does…I have lost a huge number of my citizens. I knew this, intellectually, but here, I felt it.
It drove home for me how little margin for error I have. These people are survivors. They’ve been through a lot. As much as I have, if not more. They won’t accept platitudes or bumbling in place of true leadership.
We attracted notice when coming into town, as expected. Lorcan hovered close to me. I would rather die than admit how comforting it is to have him nearby. We’ve barely spoken since the run-in with Big Ada. I changed my shirt after the dragon attack but there’s no hiding the fact that I arrived looking less than regal.
We took rooms above the local tavern. Rustic is a kind way to describe it, but unless we wanted to camp in an abandoned shell of a house without running water, it was all that’s available. A hole had been blasted into the wall. Some enterprising soul filled the gap with woven palm fronds nailed over it. Similar mats cover the windows, and can be rolled up or down to block out light. I couldn’t figure out why one was placed near the floor until I investigated.
Noise from the public house below carried up into the cramped quarters.
I washed and changed into the purple gown with its gold belt and trim, my white slippers, and the white fingerless gloves with the celestia symbol embroidered on the backs of my hands. The belt loops twice around my middle and hangs down from my hip almost to my knee. The loose fit is comfortable. I felt reassuringly like my old self as I placed the diadem on my forehead.
Without a mirror, I cannot know how I look, but for once, I have an excuse not to care. Maybe I’ll never replace all the broken mirrors in the castle. I can be like one of those witches in old fairy tales. A vampire.
Lorcan awaited me when I came out into the shabby hallway, his hair still damp. A white linen shirt clung in places to his torso. My breath caught.
No feelings, I reminded myself. Because that always works so well.
“Are you hungry, Princess?”
“No.” I am, but food can wait. I doubt I’ve made progress toward my recovery but Saskaya will simply have to accept it. As long as I don’t backslide too much, it’ll be fine. I hope. Not that it matters, anymore. Lorcan made it clear he’s not sleeping with me unless I make an honest man out of him, and I have no intention of doing that. “I’d like to meet with the district leadership.”
I lifted my chin, daring him to question my decision to assert my authority here. He didn’t. Lorcan led me out into the streets of what was once a relaxed seaside town, and is now the site of a tense, ongoing standoff.
The mayor, Ephram, was a grizzled man with an eyepatch, ironically enough.
“I wish we had better accommodations for you, Your Highness,” he said. Keryn is in their Leader regalia, Tovian in ordinary clothing, like Lorcan, and Tahra in traditional Covari attire. Black and gray, padding at the knee, shoulder and elbow, tall boots.
“I’ve slept in worse places.”
“I find that impossible to believe, Highness.”
Smiling faintly, I exchanged a glance with Lorcan. He knows where I spent the past year. His gaze slid uneasily away. My smile faded.
“Please, Ephram, show me what you have achieved in Oceanside.”
For the next hour we toured the town on foot. I learned the origin of the stone wall—indeed, dumped there in a bid to deflect bullets from the pirates’ machine guns—and visited the local school. Too many children; not enough teachers. Or parents. So many orphans.
We visited one of the towers where Auralian lookouts keep watch night and day over the beach. They’ve developed an alarm system. The Skía-led pirates keep changing up their tactics—attacking at night, at dawn, in the middle of the day. Sneaking onto the beaches and trying to creep along the rocky exterior wall. Coming at us with machine guns whenever they have supplies.
“The ammunition we captured from Skía warehouses and pirate encampments earlier this year is running out. We haven’t been able to fish beyond the bay. There isn’t enough food stored for the winter.” Ephram showed me the empty caves at the base of the cliffs, hollowed out with time and weather. “The Grasslands District is effectively depopulated. We used the grain stores last winter.”
Lorcan, of course, has seen this before. He helped to push back the invaders. The tour was for my benefit. He nonetheless stayed close to my side.
“How can I best help you?” I asked Ephram.
“We need to drive the pirates away for good, stop them from bringing reinforcements, clear the camp on Summertide Atoll, and obtain food to get through the winter. Next summer we can begin rebuilding, assuming we can get the materials.”
I nodded. “I can assist you with that.”
