Laurence nodded.
Connor picked out a murder mystery, and Laurence, who had spent the week staring at Nick like he’d vanish the second he looked away, was fast asleep and snoring ten minutes later when Trevor brought in their food. He clung to Nick in his sleep, cheek squeezed to his shoulder.
As they ate, Connor said something. Nick frowned, casting a sideways look at him, and Connor repeated it. The language was unfamiliar, foreign.
“Do you know what I just said?” Connor asked him casually.
“I have no idea,” Nick said. “Is that the language from over there? Why…” He frowned at his arms. The translation symbol looked fine. The ink hadn’t begun to fade yet.
“Just checking if they worked over here,” Connor said with a shrug. “I didn’t think they would. Adonis and Goldilocks can’t use their powers all that well this side of The Tear. I think our world doesn’t like magic.”
That very well might be true. But Nick remembered Sam saying in passing that when Goldilocks was around Connor in this world, he could use his abilities. And even without the symbol translating Connor’s words, it niggled in the back of Nick’s mind.
“Did you ask what time it is?” Nick asked.
Connor looked at him in surprise.
Nick grinned. “I might have cheated with magic, but I bet I still built neural pathways for the language.”
In Kit’s language, Nick said, “Bedtime.”
Chapter Forty
Three Months Later
Aridia was undergoing a metamorphosis. Large grooves had been cut into the granite lining of the river, and irrigation ditches carved through fields in regular rows. Furrows in the once sandy, bleached soil were earthy and brown, with the first sprigs of green growth breaking through the surface. The evening sun turned the buildings into long, reaching shadows. Squares and blocks from the flat roofs, the odd triangle when the sun caught a building at an angle. Nothing sharp or pointed; the church spire was gone.
Connor expertly navigated around wide riverboats crowding the dock, cutting the engine to slide into the nearest empty place. The waterfront was awash with activity. Kits, men, and oddities bustled along, all seemingly busy with work. Most stopped to stare at the yacht as it came in. A young kit ran forwards through the crowd, bouncing on his toes, hands at the ready.
Nick trotted the few steps to Connor at the helm. “Can’t we have Sam paint the hull to look like wood?” he grumbled. But it wasn’t just that, even the sails were a brilliant shining white, not like the yellowed canvas of the other boats. Not to mention the shape was totally different. All the boats in the dockwere clearly fashioned for hauling cargo, not speed like Connor’s vessel.
“Can you toss the rope to that kid?” Connor asked, focused on parking. The chain at the front of the yacht tinkled as Adonis guided them in.
Nick did as asked, and the waiting kit, though he looked no older than seven or eight, expertly tied a nautical knot. Nick tossed the rope from the back too. Once they were secure, he went to the middle to line up the gangplank the kit had ready for him.
“It’s busier than before,” Connor observed, joining him. “Do you remember where his house is?”
Nick looked at the busy streets and then the waiting kit at the end of the gangplank. “He’s left me a guide.” He walked down the wooden plank to the kit. “Are you here to show me where to go?”
The kit nodded enthusiastically, tail wagging in excitement.
“Right, I’ll…” Nick glanced over his shoulder at Connor.
Connor buried his hands in his pockets and raised a brow. “Enjoy,” he said, making no indication that he was going to follow.
Laurence had tried to make Connor swear, under threat of a temper tantrum, that he’d stay with Nick every second of their trip. Connor had replied with an ambiguous hum. And then Connor had let Laurence do all the sailing for the last twelve hours; exhausted, Laurence had collapsed into sleep an hour before they reached Aridia.
“Thanks.” Nick waved and then turned to his guide, who took off in an excited jog.
He led him through unfamiliar streets to paths filled with children running around with laughs and hoots, some drunk and tottering older kits, and then dancing kits. It took a few streetsbefore Nick could hear the music they were dancing to. They stopped on the edge of a large square, musicians gathered on a stage, playing to a manic, dancing crowd. The air smelled of wine and fragrant wildflowers. In the corner of the courtyard, Nick saw collected Lua casks, and older kits being led through them by children letting them taste-test their home-brewed wine.
His guide jumped in place, trying to see through the crowd.
“Can I lift you?” Nick asked before scooping up the kit. He peered around too, searching for a particular lean, elegant figure. His heart raced in anticipation. The last three months had been long. Every day was filled to bursting, yet the more Nick thought of Kit, the more time seemed to stretch out ahead of him, swelling until each day felt like a week.
“There.” The little kit pointed somewhere to the right of the crowd.
Nick followed his finger but still couldn’t see, so he let down the kit to lead him through the dancing bodies. Nick first spotted Ios and Seche. Seche was without his brilliant blue cloak to show off that he was a captain, but he seemed content with Ios under one arm and a goblet of wine in the other hand.
