The glow of lanterns lit the streets as they ventured towards River’s End, the tavern they sometimes frequented. The inner city was heavy with music and laughter, and the chant of the late night merchants.

  Arévis’ eyes lit up at the livery, prowling like a cat for entertainment.

  Althea smiled secretly to know that she did enjoy the spectacle.

  Black tree branches sat like shadows upon the sky, weaving their patterns of growth like lace. And behind the depth of clouds the twinkle of starlight gazed down upon them. They were like eyes to Althea, always watching. She could feel their warmth even from their great distance.

  “It looks awfully crowded tonight,” Arévis said, discouraged.

  “Oh, that’s even better!” Althea promised. “More to enjoy the music.”

  The River’s End sign hung, slightly crooked, with a brightly painted fish spattered on slapdash. The friendly glow of a fire lit the windows and cracks of the door. Althea had to admit that it did sound a little obnoxious in there.

  Bravely, she opened the door anyway, and beckoned Arévis. A wall of warmth and music hit her like a crashing wave. A merry flute cut through the rowdy calls of the crowd, and more subtly, the sound of a lute strumming.

  Terran, a freckled boy with fair curls sang at the top of his lungs about the prowess of the local artisan who made lutes. Which as the song proudly declared, was very poor. Althea was smitten.

  “You ungrateful scoundrel!” Came just as loudly from the audience.

  “You mustn’t misunderstand!” Terran shouted desperately, gesturing to his lute in concession. “I got this lute from a foreign merchant!”

  He cackled loudly, and suddenly the music stopped abruptly as a mass of drunken protesters climbed onto the stage like ravenous sharks.

  The plump, bright-eyed bartender covered her mouth in horror.

  Althea and Arévis stared at the spectacle, jaws dropped.

  “Just in time for the show,” Arévis said.

  “Terran does love to entertain,” Althea said, cringing.

  It was a foreigner in a black cloak who climbed onto the stage and smiled, breaking up the brawl in hushed tones. Arévis watched with narrowed eyes, though Althea suspected she was intrigued.

  “I bumped into him on my way back from the academy today,” Althea said, remembering the tall man she barely caught a glimpse of. “He didn’t even shout at me about it.”

  Arévis glanced at her, then stalked through the gradually settling uproar. Althea leapt to follow her, not wanting to miss this.

  “That’s quite a talent for diplomacy you have,” Arévis proclaimed to the stranger. He towered above Althea, looking rather menacing swathed in black. But that was offset by how affable he was. Althea could only describe him as striking; he was not handsome in the way a masculine, square-jawed Gaitherian warrior was, but rather pretty like an Aridian courtesan. He had the high cheekbones and angular jaw of a Valerian politician, framed by loose black curls that clung to his face and neck like a shroud.

  His youth surprised her. He couldn’t have been more than a few years older than her. What kind of a foreigner traveled alone at his age?

  He gave Arévis the strangest look, assessing with his black eyes. But again, his mouth split into a wide smile.

  “I offered them some Valerian crystals. Very valuable,” He said, amused. She could detect only the faintest trace of an accent.

  “Not so impressive after all,” Arévis amended, aloof. Althea looked between the two of them, not understanding her best friend’s cold demeanor.

  “Well,” The stranger said in a deeper voice, more quietly, “I also told them if they hit the lute player again, I’d break their arms.”

  “And just in time!” Spoke the lute player, Terran, slapping the stranger on the back jovially and sporting a bloody lip and a black eye.

  “Terran!” Althea all but squealed, pouncing on him with glee. Terran spun her around like they were dancing.

  “It was an amazing performance!” Althea gushed, slightly dizzy. “Hilarious and quite lively.”

  “Why, thank you!” He cried, bowing theatrically. He kissed her hand like an honorable knight. Althea felt a flutter of warmth, caught up in the rush of the moment.

  “But did you have to be so inflammatory?” She said in quiet tones, as a few members of the crowd scowled at her recovering companion.

  “Of course he did,” The stranger chipped in. “It’s more entertaining.”

  “And memorable,” Terran added, grinning like an idiot.

  “Why help him?” Arévis asked. “You don’t even know him.”

  Althea and Terran’s smiles died quick deaths.

  The stranger smiled, “And yet I feel like a close friend already. I quite enjoy his music.”

  Arévis looked unsatisfied.

  “And I find unprovoked violence terribly unjust,” He added.

  “Your virtue is surprising,” Arévis remarked.

  “Why? Because I’m a Volarite?” His eyes twinkled and the corners creased like he was about to smile.

  “No,” She said, unsmiling, “because you’re a stranger.”

  “Oh, my apologies.” He grasped Arévis’ hand and shook it. She flinched.

  “My name is Nevic.”

  Arévis looked appalled. She furrowed her brow, and stared just past him as he slowed the shaking motion.

  “…That is the custom here, correct?” Nevic asked, pulling his hand away.

  Sheyn, the flute player arrived beside him, holding a rag to his bloody nose.

  “We owe you one!” He said, shaking the stranger’s hand vigorously. Nevic looked reassured by this.

  “It was my pleasure.”

  One of the bigger looking men who had attacked glared unblinkingly at their small group. His gaze seemed to promise retribution later. Sheyn paled and gave the stranger and Terran brief pats on the back.

  “I better get out of here.” He said. “Hope you liked the performance, Althea and Arévis!”

  He stumbled out of the tavern, a skip still in his step. Terran just laughed like a mad man.

  “What a coward!” He cried. “We have this guy right next to us!”

  He gestured toward the stranger.

  “Although, how you planned on breaking their bones, I’m a little baffled at. You’re a tall fellow, but a little on the scrawny side for a tavern brawl.”

  “There’s more than one way to break bones,” He suggested, still smiling.

  “Let’s get some drinks, Althea,” Arévis declared, tugging Althea’s arm to the bar.

  “I’ll take a pint!” Terran called after them.

  Without music, the bar’s noise died down to a reasonable ruckus. Althea ordered pints for them all, shilling out some silver.

  “Don’t worry,” Althea said at Arévis’ look of concern. “I have a little spending money from my parents.”

  “Althea…” She started, clearly uneasy.

  “Are you about to tell me why you’re acting so weird? Yeah, that guy’s a little forward, but he did help Terran out of a tight spot, didn’t he?” Althea blew a long curl out of her face, feeling giddy without even having taken a drink yet.

  “You said you bumped into him at the market earlier today?” Arévis confirmed, sitting at a bar stool next to Althea.

  “Yeah, I was in a hurry to get you to the river,” She said. Four leaking pints hit the bar in a satisfying thump. Althea took one and gulped down a few mouthfuls.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “I wonder if he knew you had plans to be here tonight…” Arévis trailed off, trying not to stare at Terran and the stranger talking and gesturing in good spirits.

  “How could he know? I didn't even speak to him.” Althea shoved a mug into Arévis’ hands. She took it, but refused to drink.

  Arévis’ eyes darkened. “He’s a black mage. He can read our minds.”

  Althea nearly crossed her eyes at this declaration. Then she burst into laughter, interrupted only by another gulp of beer.

  Arévis just waited patiently for her to stop laughing.

  “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” Althea hiccupped a little. “Why do you think he’s a black mage?”

  “You’re telling me he doesn’t look suspicious? He looks exactly like…” Arévis trailed off, sighing.

  “I’m pretty sure most Volarites have never even heard of magic. There is no way a random mage from Volarach stumbled into Lantris,” Althea said.

  “You’re right,” Arévis agreed, “this was no accident.”

  “Besides, the way he looks isn’t an indicator—”

  “I could feel it, Althea,” Arévis interrupted.

  Althea got quiet.

  “Not just his presence, but… when he shook my hand, I remembered things that I don’t normally think of. Dark things. I know it was him—reading my thoughts.”

  “Arévis,” Althea looked at her, worried. “Are you okay?”

  “He makes me nervous.”

  Althea was concerned, but it didn’t seem likely that what Arévis was describing was black magic. Maybe the guy just reminded her of someone unpleasant.

  “If he really knew I was going to be here tonight, why didn’t I feel him reading my thoughts?” Althea asked, puzzled.

  “I don’t know,” She said after a moment’s hesitation.

  Althea paused, thinking deeply.

  “Let’s say you’re right, and he’s a suspicious black mage from Volarach. What on earth would he want with us?” Althea asked, genuinely curious.

  Arévis shrugged.

  “Maybe it’s nothing,” she backpedaled, finally taking a sip of her beer.

  “Let’s go enjoy ourselves, Arévis. If he really does want something, I’m sure he’ll make that quite clear to us. And if you think we’re in danger—we’re two of the most gifted students at the academy, aren’t we? I think we’ll be able to defend ourselves,” she reassured.

  This seemed to brighten Arévis’ mood.

  “I guess he wouldn’t stand a chance against the both of us,” she conceded.

  “You’re damn right,” Althea agreed, grabbing the extra beers and walking towards their jubilant companions.

  On closer inspection, this Nevic guy wasn’t so strange after all. He was friendly and accommodating. He told them more about himself after they’d all gotten quite cozy at a table and downed their drinks like pirates.

  He claimed to be a simple drifter, which Althea found fascinating. It was clear that Arévis wasn’t buying it, though. She stayed mostly quiet, piping up every now and then to throw a barb at the Volarite. He didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he seemed to enjoy Arévis’ probing insults like they were exquisite little challenges to overcome. He was clever, that much was certain. There was a sharpness in his gaze that he reserved for rebutting Arévis’ digs. The people of Lantris had learned by now that to argue with Arévis was to invite public humiliation. As a foreigner, he had no such knowledge to warn him of the cold edge of her contention. At the very least he seemed immune to humiliation.

  Arévis could only stew in defeated silence when he smoothly overrode her comments with wit and grace. Althea had to admit that to see such a rare thing was amusing. Or perhaps that was the beer.

  At the moment, he was showing off the jewelry that adorned his fingers, wrists, and neck. Even his ear had a ring pierced through the lobe.

  “How barbaric!” Althea declared with delight.

  He chuckled. “It’s a common practice in Isrun. That’s where I got this one.”

  Arévis interceded without derision in her voice this time, “what about that one?”

  Nevic looked down at the tarnished bronze ring, a brilliant malachite jewel in its socket.

  “It’s from Aridia,” he said.

  “Such brilliant stories for the carbon steel bracelets etched with script from ancient Orsas, and the silver ring with the fine metalwork, yet this one’s only story is that it’s from Aridia?” Arévis prodded.

  Nevic flashed a small, closed smile, but it was fleeting. “It’s because that one is very special. It was from an old lover of mine.”

  Althea purred, interest piqued, “You must tell us about that.”

  “What are lovers in Aridia like?” Terran asked, in awe. He stared wide-eyed, expression open after who knows how many pints. It came to her attention that Terran was not only endearing, but quite attractive. His nose was speckled with adorable freckles and she wanted to count each one.

  One side of Althea’s mouth quirked up, and she crept her hand up under the table to trace up Terran’s leg. He nearly yelped.

  She could have sworn that Nevic’s attention darted to her for a moment, but if it was true, he kept it well hidden.

  “You should ask your friend, here. She’s Aridian, is she not?” He suggested.

  Althea’s hand stopped at Terran’s upper thigh, taken by surprise.

  “I’m not from the mother land, I’m afraid, but I’m certain I’ve read a book or two about lovemaking in the queen’s harems,” Althea said, giving Terran her best bedroom eyes. He took a swig of his drink and floundered a bit like a fish out of water.

  She took a bizarre pleasure in catching him off guard. Not that she blamed him; she had never expressed any romantic interest in the past. But that was a thought best left to sober Althea.

  “They don’t have queens there, actually,” Nevic corrected. Did Althea detect a tinge of annoyance?

  “There is only the ruling sovereign. Queen and king here refer to a ruler of either gender. In Aridia, there is no word for king.”

  “I stand corrected,” Althea conceded, undaunted in her quest to fluster Terran.

  “What was it like traveling to a land where you’re looked upon as inferior?” Arévis asked. If Althea wasn’t mistaken, she was starting to enjoy prodding at Nevic. It was a challenge to see if she could break his veneer.

  Nevic had no smooth retort to this, it seemed. Arévis smiled, sipping at her drink. She looked quite pleased with herself as Nevic tried to conceal his vexation.

  “They look busy,” Althea whispered in Terran’s ear. She could feel his breath stutter.

  “Then perhaps we should leave them be?” He whispered back. Her insides did a flip.

  They slipped by without a backward glance out of the tavern and into the deepening night. Althea dragged Terran behind a shadowed tree and pushed him against it.

  “Ow!” He winced. “You know I just got beaten up by an angry mob, right? They take lute craftsmanship very seriously.”

  Althea smiled mischievously and kissed him anyway. The slight tang of blood was the only reminder of what she had witnessed earlier. Her head swam with alcohol and the dizzy rush of love.

  Terran’s lips followed hers as she pulled away.

  “Here,” she said, running a finger over his split lip. She could feel every process in his body: his quickened breaths that brought a portion of air into his heart, that madly beating organ that didn’t stop until death. She could feel the rush of blood sending its vital components to every part of him. Every tiny, autonomous unit that worked in tandem to guide the twitch of his finger, the gentle flutter of his eyelids. She could even feel the sweet alchemy that left his nerves singing. It was a chorus, perfect in its execution. Althea touched the wound and felt the energy flow through her and to his lip. The torn flesh fused itself together like a kiss.

  Terran was breathless. He touched his hand to his sealed cut and smiled in thanks.

  “I’m pretty sure I’m going to live through the night,” Terran said, “so I’m a little confused…”

  Althea smiled, still pressed close to Terran’s familiar warmth. She struggled to dull the overwhelming rush of her green senses.

  He smelled like tree sap.

  “Why hold it in any longer? I want you. I’ve wanted you for years!” She leaned in, only to have Terran pull away.

  “That has become apparent,” he said. The stars lit up his smile-scrunched freckles. “But why now?”

  “Why now?” Althea asked, nuzzling into him happily. “What about you? If you feel the same, why wait for me to do something about it?”

  “I didn’t think you were interested,” he said, baffled.

  She threw her head back and laughed.

  “Well, we’ve cleared that up,” Althea kissed him again, drowning the uncertainty in whatever question he was about to ask.

  Terran embraced her fully, a hand tangling in her wild curls.

  And before Althea could truly enjoy the bliss of their first kiss and however many beers, a deafening crash rang through the streets of Lantris like a tidal wave.