Heretical Fishing

Chapter 70: Tempest

Chapter 70: Tempest

The world was cold and gray when I woke the following morning. Maria had once again rolled into me while we slept, and despite the blankets separating us, her slender form radiated a welcome warmth.

I yawned as I took a moment to reflect on my gratitude for her companionship. Then, with no small amount of reluctance, I carefully extracted myself from the tangle of blankets, intent on waking her with breakfast and the blessed taste of coffee.

Just as I snuck from the shelter, a powerful gust slammed into me, sending the surrounding trees’ leaves into a frenzy. I glanced up as my eyes cleared, seeing a sea of gray beyond the frenetically shifting canopy above.

“Of all the times for a rainy day . . .”

I stretched, unleashing a mighty yawn. “Oh well, at least it won’t be hot, I guess.”

A soft yawn from behind me ended in a cute sigh, and I turned, seeing Maria glancing from the tent.

“Sorry,” I said. “Did I wake you?”

She smiled at me with sleepy eyes then glared at the surrounding trees.

“Not unless you control the wind. I was having such a pleasant dream, too.”

“I can’t tell you that—it might not come true.”

I raised an eyebrow but lacking the requisite caffeine to fuel early morning banter, I just smiled at her.

“I’ll get the fire going—you can stay comfy in the blankets if you like.”

Seeing the offer as a challenge, she threw the blankets aside and emerged from the tent.

“Many hands make light work.”

She cut off as another breeze kicked up, immediately sending her body into a full shiver.

I smirked at her. “Maybe those ‘many hands’ should wear a blanket while collecting wood?”

She glared at me, but the curl of her lips betrayed her intent. She bent and snatched a blanket, then, cocking her head, bent and grabbed another.

She held it out to me, and I raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not sure I need it.”

“Nonsense,” she said, waving it in my face. “If my servant catches a cold, how will he be able to serve me? I demand that you stay warm.”

A laugh shot from my throat at the look on her face; it was full of petulance, the perfect approximation of entitlement.

I grabbed the offered blanket. “You know, your acting is a little too good . . .”

“That’s the secret, Fischer.” She gave me a haughty expression, but the corner of her lip tugged up, threatening to shatter the facade. “It’s not acting.”

She whirled, hiding her face and striding into the forest. “Follow me, manservant! Your liege demands kindling!”

The steam wafting from the pot hit my face as I poured our coffee. Its heat joined the warmth radiating from the campfire, and I closed my eyes as I poured the last drop into Maria’s cup, bathing in the moment.

She cleared her throat. “Faster, servant. This lady requires her morning coffee.”

“Of course, my liege.”

I held the cup out, bowing as low as I could without spilling the drink. She accepted it with both hands, her lilting laugh joining the passing currents of air.

“Thank you, Fischer.”

I beamed. “You’re most welcome, my lady!”

She took a sip of the coffee, letting out a satisfied sigh. I held my cup to my lips and drank. The hot liquid warmed my mouth, and as I swallowed, I felt its passage down my throat, a welcome heat traveling to my core.

After a bite of a croissant, I smiled at the world. “I could eat this every morning without getting sick of it.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Maria responded, a similarly content smile on her face.

I took in our surroundings, seeing the clouds above getting darker, not lighter.

“Are you sure you don’t want to turn back?”

She shook her head. “I’m not scared of a little rain.”

“Of all the times for the weather to turn bad . . . I haven’t seen a drop of rain since coming to Tropica, and the moment we go camping, the universe threatens us with a storm.”

“Don’t worry—I’ll protect you from the rains if a storm rolls in.” She winked at me. “I take good care of my servants, after all.”

I barked a laugh. “What would I do without you?”

With the threat of rain ever-present, we traveled at a swift clip beneath the forest’s canopy. We came upon a camp just after midday, and as Maria caught sight of it, she stopped on the spot, turning to raise an eyebrow at me.

“This is one of yours?”

“Uh, yeah . . . why?”

“You weren’t always great at making them, were you?”

I snorted, looking at the haphazard shelter. One side was lopsided, having collapsed since I used it.

“Hey, this was only the second shelter I tried to make, all right? Besides, I bet it was only knocked down by the wind.”

I recalled making it; it wasn’t the wind that caused it to fall—I just hadn’t built it well.

“If you say so . . .” she said, smirking at me.

“My construction skill aside—”

“Or lack thereof,” she cut in.

I narrowed my eyes at her.

“Or lack thereof—do you want to camp here, or should we try get to the big lake today?”

Her eyes lit up. “The big one? Where you saw the massive fish that snapped your line?”

“That’s the one.”

She gave me a broad grin. “Let’s keep going.”

A bolt of thunder split the sky above us, flooding the world in white. Through the blinding light, I caught sight of Maria slipping forward, her body pitched to the side. My hands shot out, one looping around her waist, the other gripping her wrist so she wouldn’t get hurt. I lifted her with ease, setting her back on solid ground.

Her eyes were wide, and I watched as her tanned complexion was almost immediately washed out by a deep red blush.

“Er—sorry. I didn’t mean . . .”

“No—I’m sorry. I tripped over my own feet.” She set a hand on my shoulder, her face hidden and eyes averted. “Thank you, Fischer.”

Her slight touch, innocuous as it was, made my heart leap from my chest. I stood there for entirely too long, my brain failing me as it reached for what to say. Her head was still dipped down, and I thought she might have leaned a little closer.

Was it my imagination?

My hand moved by itself, reaching to pet the top of her head—half out of a want to reassure her, half out of a desire to be closer.

A drop of water flew down, smacking into my hand and shattering my trance. I looked up at the sky just as more droplets started falling. They came slowly at first, but in the space of seconds, more and more flew down, crashing against my face and arms. I took my extended hand and ran it over her head, smoothing her hair down.

“Let’s go—we’ll get soaked if we don’t get to the next shelter.”

She nodded stiffly, still looking down.

What in Hades’s gloomy abode was that? Maria thought, chastising herself.

Fischer’s arm wrapping around her waist had caused her senses to leave, and playing it over in her mind again, heat rose to her face. She knew he was strong, but he’d caught her so easily. Not only that—despite his strength, he’d used such care when catching her. His arms felt strong enough to snap her wrist with a simple squeeze, but they’d delicately held her in place before leveraging her back to her feet.

Why did I reach out and touch his shoulder? What are you doing, Maria?

Her hand had moved out unbidden; averting her face was the only action she felt in control of. If his grip around her waist and wrist had sent her thoughts into disarray, his soothing hand moving over her hair had made her thoughts a veritable tempest. If Fischer hadn’t suggested they keep moving, she may have stood there indefinitely, just waiting and hoping for another touch.

The sprinkle of droplets had turned into a deluge as they traveled, and the surrounding trees now roared as wind and rain assaulted them. Her entire body was soaked, but she barely registered the sensation.

Another crack of thunder exploded above, and her foot caught on something. She stumbled, but before she even had the chance to trip, something caught her arm, holding her upright. She glanced over, seeing Fischer holding her upper arm and giving her a beaming smile.

“You good?” he yelled over the rain.

Maria nodded.

He nodded back. “Let’s go!”

They took off again, both lost in introspection.

She must be freezing, I thought, glancing at Maria through the torrential downpour. She looked shocked after I caught her the second time, her body stiff.

“We’re almost there!” I called over the storm, trying to reassure her.

She nodded at me with a smile; it looked forced. I returned my eyes to the surrounding forest and the creek we followed. It all looked the same.

I hope we reach the pond and shelter soon . . . I’d feel terrible if she got sick on what’s supposed to be a relaxing trip . . .

By the time we reached our destination, the pelting rain and winds had receded into a calm sprinkle. I guessed that Maria was feeling better, because as the storm diminished and we could hear each other speak again, we intermittently talked and joked about small things.

“Are you okay?” I asked, turning from my still-standing shelter to look at Maria.

She smiled at me. “Other than being drenched?” She wrung the bottom of her top for emphasis. “I’m good otherwise.”

“You’re not too cold?”

“No. I wouldn’t complain if we got a fire going, though.”

“I’m glad I decided to pack some kindling and sticks in my bag. I hope they stayed dry.”

I took the packs off and walked over to the shelter, opening up mine as I handed Maria’s to her.

Please don’t be soaked . . .

To my joy and surprise, only the outer blankets were a little wet—everything else within managed to stay dry.

Maria let out a long-suffering sigh and started emptying her bag. Her pack was completely soaked through. Blankets, clothes, food—everything was wet.

As if to rub it in, the rain had stopped falling, and the clouds above seemed a little lighter. Maria’s body shivered, the cold overcoming her now that we’d stopped running. I dipped my hand into my pack, removing a shirt, pants, and a towel.

“Here,” I said, holding it out to her.

She took them, then cast around, looking for somewhere to change. I wiggled the shelter’s sticks from their holes in the earth and tipped it up on one side, making a screen.

“Get changed out of those wet clothes and I’ll start a fire. We can dry all your wet stuff afterward.”

She smiled up at me, an unreadable mix of emotions crossing her face.

“Thank you, Fischer.”

“No worries!”

I winked. “What are servants for?”

Leroy felt numb as they walked through the tempest—it had nothing to do with the temperature. As the rains grew even steadier, they crested the top of a hill; they were greeted by a stunning vista.

A bay stretched out between two headlands, one of which had a river on the other side connecting with the ocean. A village sat right at the center of the cove, a sprawling mess of houses, buildings, and crops that stretched out into the surrounding lands.

A gust picked up, hitting the crown prince’s parasol. It turned it inside out, and as he wrestled to get it back under control, the rain splattered into him, making dark spots appear on his royal clothing.

“By Poseidon’s soaked beard—one of you help me!”

The long-haired cultivator let out a snort of amusement, one of the rare sounds he’d made since they started traveling. Leroy looked at him, noting the look of joy at their handler’s discomfort. Unlike his long-haired acquaintance, he was unable to feel any mirth. All he felt was a murky mix of hope and dread.

With each stretch of road they crossed, and each step further east, his suspicions at their destination grew. Now, both his fear and hope were confirmed.

He’d arrived back in Tropica, his home, and the rogue cultivator that the artifact sensed was one of the villagers—perhaps even a member of his family.

He clenched his jaw, not hearing the expletives pouring from Trent’s mouth.

What twisted working of fate is this?