Parting through the haze of the ocean morning, I squint to spot the domed buildings, the large palaces, and the structures wrapped delicately, and thick, with lime mortar. They're pale and smooth in comparison to the rough stone of Esaria's craft, but beautiful all the same. The colored accents of towering peaks and rows upon rows of latticed windows takes my breath away.

This is Saebia. I can hardly believe the sight before me, a different kingdom other than where I've resided my entire life. This isn't Esaria, a place I know like the back of my hand. This is a different world filled with bright colors, awestruck streets, small villages, and looming palaces.

"I have to say, this is quite beautiful," Renit expresses when he appears at my side, a satchel slung over his shoulder. The corner of his mouth tugs up in a smile, his eyes twinkling when he studies the layers upon layers of civilian life before us.

Already, the smells of a port town are finding their way to the ship. Fried fish seasoned with strong curry spice, masala prawns, crab soups...my mouth starts to water. I squint harder, trying to find the source of the delicious smells, and find the docks lined with ocean fish of all types. Surmai, rawas, red snapper, bangus—everything the mind can think of.

Through the cracks of the lime mortar buildings, lush gardens and pastures fill empty spots. Every space is put to use, and everyone moving about is not subjected to lack of task. They move quickly, seemingly a blur, their kurta's of reds and browns swaying through the crowds and their sherwani's, buttoned and clasped at the throat—too fine for such a port town.

There's more life in this city than anything I've ever seen in Esaria. There's a difference here when comparing the two kingdoms and I can't say my home has put me in such awe. Glancing across the deck, Tesha's chin is held high and her frown is deep upon recognizing the kingdom she once called home. She doesn't jump for glee, doesn't smile, doesn't jitter with nerves.

Tesha's stony expression hasn't changed from the moment we left Esaria to the second we've arrived in Saebia. Her lips are painted bright red, her hair braided and hung over the side of her shoulder, the frayed ends catching in the port breeze. Her shoulders stand square and the quiver strapped to her back is fully stocked with arrows. Nothing has changed.

Alaric comes to her side, says something in a hushed tone, and claps her on the shoulder. She doesn't ruse, hardly moves other than to take a deep breath, and flares her nostrils in disappointment. I don't have to be near to know what Alaric just told her. The one leading us to the palace should be the one the king won't kill and that's not the royal family of Esaria, but Tesha. Still on his side of the alliance.

The merchant crew we stowed away with makes quick work of docking into the harbor, jumping off onto the docks to tug on the rope to stop the ship while others scramble for dropping the anchor into the water. It doesn't take long for the gangplank to come out, followed by the clunking of boots and the rock of the ship against these gentle, yet well-constructed docks.

We are nothing of importance. Not to the residents of this fine port town. But to the guards, we pose a threat. Two guards of Tesha's matching skin tone, an olive with red undertones, stroll to us across the docks and demand for identification and merchant number.

I'm too far away and too preoccupied with ensuring Silas doesn't wobble off the side of the gangplank that I don't hear what she has to say. But the two guards exchange a glance, one of them looking back to study where Renit and I stand, along with Silas, and my heart leaps in my chest. If they recognize something is amiss...no, they won't. My leather gloves hide the truth to my identity and the two princes to the kingdom of Esaria aren't spotted easily.

Not unless they've shown their faces around here before. They haven't.

The two guards shout, demanding for back-up, and my blood chills. Tesha looks over her shoulder, rolling her eyes in annoyance, but this is not a time to display such a fickle emotion. Attention is shifting, people are realizing we aren't a simple merchant ship, and when they see the huddling of guards around our group...

I grab both Renit and Silas's hand when the guards circle us on the docks, their weapons drawn; their focus attentive. "I had to reveal to them we're from Esaria," Tesha shouts, shrugging a failed apology.

"You are traitors to Saebia," a guard behind me growls. I don't dare turn to meet his stare for fear of a spearhead in my throat. "We sentence you to the dungeons."

"I told you!" Tesha shouts once more, one guard with his hand wrapped around her arm. She yanks it away and brushes off her already smooth tunic. Never a hair or shred of fabric out of place. "We are here on business with the king of Saebia. I request an audience after fleeing the war. I bring information about our enemies to the north."

Her smile conceals daggers and is nothing short of being utterly kicked. Even I'm thrown off by it when I understand what play she's attempting to make. There isn't a mask on her face, but she's pulled an invisible one over her features to make herself belong here, to make herself stick out amongst an entire crew of supposed merchants. We never considered what Saebia's forces would do when we arrived; we were more worried about finding safe passage here in the first place. Once that was no longer a problem, no one considered the backlash we'd face from sailing to enemy land. Clearly, we should've considered it.

My muscles are tight but I continue to grip onto the hands of the two princes. Neither of them will move if I have anything to say about it. For their sake, I don't think they're even breathing beyond a shuddered inhale and delayed exhale. Silas keeps his stare towards Tesha, but his brother is willingly surveying the guards that surround us and the rest of our crew.

They patrol the end of the docks and block us from entering the port town. Weapons are drawn, and from my brief surveying of the tops of buildings along the edge before the docks, snipers are waiting to take us out if we make one wrong room. I've never quite had so many weapons trained on me at once. And I've been to war and back.

"And who are these people?" The guard before Tesha asks, waving his hand about in our direction.

Tesha squints at us over the guard's shoulder, not a care in her stare. We're nothing to her. "These are my assistants. My apprentices, if you will." Her close-lipped smile is even more convincing than I'd like it to be.

The guards confer, whispering amongst themselves, and an order is called off to drop all weapons. A simultaneous dropping of spears, swords, shields, and bows ricochets off the walls of the port town named Imbole—my guess from the sign at the end of the docks. Once the weapons are down, I can finally see past the guards.

"You are treading on enemy territory," we're reminded once more. The guard standing in front of Tesha can't be a few years older than her and watches her with predatory intent. She claims to be an ally, but that is not always the case. Technically, the story she revealed isn't entirely true. The only thing we have going for us is her similarity in appearance to the citizens of Saebia. If it wasn't for her, we might be in the dungeons already. "We will accompany you to the palace."

Tesha purses her lips together. "I expected nothing less." She swivels off to the side, extending her arm out for the guard to lead us where we need to go, and reaches back to grab Citlali's hand. It's common knowledge now; they need to be around each other at all times.

Although we're not actually touched, the guards at our backs push us in that direction. We will have eyes all around us at all times; Saebia accounts for nothing less. I'm sick to my stomach but with my hands tightened in the grips of both princes', that nausea wavers in the slightest.

It's all right. They're both here. The muttering behind us doesn't do me any good, but I focus on what is before me. We're led through the port town, through the winding streets and past filled gardens with hardly a walkway to pick through. Baskets are carried on heads, fish are fried and vegetables are chopped. Spices fill my nose and clog my nerves, but the relief is only secondary.

Once we're out of the port town, have been stared at enough and paraded around, it's clear what we're facing. More travel. We didn't bring everyone with us, some are still at the ship and will ensure we're not abandoned here in Saebia, but we're distancing ourselves still. I suppose it isn't the wisest idea to stash the king in a palace surrounded by enemy waters, is it?