Chapter 28 #3
His chuckle dug dimples around his mouth.
“Oh, it was scandalous; you heard Sir Ulrech’s reaction!
I should not have, I know, but … I saw the gloves, and I wanted …
I wanted you to forget him.” Themas kicked his feet in the dust. His gaze turned wistful as his smile slowly fell.
“Do not mistake me. I am not bitter. I knew it couldn’t last. My …
my profession would have gotten in the way sooner or later. ”
“Delightful.” Semras scoffed. “Your words earlier were just a feint, then? You never intended to leave the Venators.”
He smiled sadly. “No, I meant it. Acting like the perfect knight becomes a bore after a while.” Taking a deep breath, he turned away from her. “If that’s all, I really need to—”
Semras lunged in front of him, cutting off his path. “No, that’s not all. There’s something I wish to clear up.”
Themas sighed. “I am listening.”
“There is nothing between the inquisitor and me. And there will be nothing. Regardless of what I want—and I am not saying I do—what he made me suffer will always hang between us.” Semras glanced at where she’d last seen Estevan.
“Even if I tried to ignore it, it would fester like an internal wound and rot the foundation of anything we may have. I am not an idiotic, besotted girl, Themas. I know there are things that cannot be forgiven.”
The knight smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Good to know you still have your wits about you. Rejecting me is fine, but I’d hate to lose to someone like him.”
Semras’ face twisted into a scowl. “Did you see me as just a prize to be won all along?”
A gallant knight once chased away guards for her; the witch wondered where he had gone. He certainly didn’t stand before her right now.
His hazel eyes softened. “No, I—I sincerely wanted to keep you safe from him. I told you I was worried about you, and I still am.” Themas lifted a tentative hand, then rested it on her cheek. “It would have been brief, but I would have loved you all the more fiercely for it.”
Semras shuffled on her feet but didn’t move away. Even as she knew it was only a foolish dream, even as she was certain Themas couldn’t have fulfilled what she yearned for, she had still wanted to hear someone choose her.
But he had never intended to keep by her side. Even if she had chosen him, he’d have just ended up joining the long list of people passing by in her life, staying and then moving on while she remained behind and alone.
Always alone, even when surrounded by a crowd—as if a wall stood between her and them. As if she were waiting for someone to come reach out for her.
Themas glanced at her lips. “Your beauty is stunning. It’s a weapon you could wield to make any man kneel at your feet.
You could have anyone.” He hesitated before continuing.
“Do not fall for him. He manipulated you, and he never stopped doing it. If you have made a deal for your freedom, Semras, Velten will break it. Everything he wants, he spoils and takes for himself. And I … I fear he may yet break what he cannot have.”
Semras looked away. Themas’ plea mirrored her own deepest fears. Estevan wasn’t the monster he had wanted her to believe in, but he had still acted like one. Part of him was capable of it.
She shuddered to think of what else he might be capable of.
“He won’t take me.” Semras smiled bitterly. “And as long as his debt toward me remains unpaid in kind, I won’t take him either.”
The knight softly gripped her chin and turned her attention back to him.
Fondness and longing fought for a place in his eyes.
“I don’t regret trying my chances with you, as futile as it ended up being.
I only regret never knowing the depths of your passion.
May I be so bold as to request one last kiss from this bewitching witch? ”
She hesitated. A deep guilt still haunted her for deceiving Themas in order to use him. For the way she was still using him as a shield between Estevan and her. “I—”
“I hate to intrude upon lovers, but time is of the essence,” Estevan said, voice cold and quiet.
Semras stepped away from Themas, and the knight groaned lowly.
Estevan was standing next to Pagan, fist clutching the reins firmly.
It wasn’t needed—next to the other, ear-twitching horse, the half-fey was eerily still and silent.
A demure, prune-coloured shine rippled through its damp coat, betraying its kelpie blood.
From it, drops of water fell one by one onto the inquisitor’s feet.
Estevan looked equally drenched. By all evidence, he had to retrieve his temperamental steed by wading into the pond himself.
His damp shirt was now clinging to him, moulding itself against the defined lines of his muscles.
Under the moonlit night, the see-through fabric left little for the imagination, and the way his hair now fell over his eyes intensified his gaze in a way Semras hadn’t expected.
That man looked far too stunning for one who’d just walked into a pond, she thought. She tried to hold back a coy smile.
“Laugh if you wish,” Estevan said flatly.
“I wouldn’t dare to,” she replied. “Wrestling a half-blooded kelpie out of the waters is a feat worthy of praise.”
Themas blinked. “A what?”
“Do they teach anything at all to the new Venator knights these days?” Estevan grumbled, shaking the water off his clothes.
Reflexively, Semras grabbed the wefts of water entwined in them. Her stiff fingers surprisingly obeyed, and she wrenched the threads out, letting them fall onto the soil at the inquisitor’s feet.
Her heart skipped a beat. She had woven. The bones in her hands now rang with a searing, pulsating pain, but she had woven. An array of emotions overwhelmed her at once. Wonder and relief twirled within her heart as fear and dread receded at long last.
Semras searched for Estevan’s gaze—only he could understand.
An amazed smile had spread across his lips. Clearing his throat, he asked softly, “Could you … for Pagan, as well? I would quite appreciate a dry ride too.”
Just as she had done before, Semras twirled the threads around her fingers, letting the cool sensation of water pulse around them before throwing them away.
Annoyed, the half-fey horse whined with a startling shrill, but the witch didn’t care.
She could weave—not as gracefully as before, and not as strongly, but it worked. Nothing else mattered.
Semras wiped discreet tears of relief away from her eyes. The leather of Estevan’s gloves brushed her cheeks, leaving behind a trail of musk and wood essence. It seemed like a lifetime since she had last smelled that comforting scent.
The inquisitor nodded his thanks, then turned to his stallion to verify its saddle. “Do not take it the wrong way,” he said, “but you are not a good enough rider to make the trip on your own horse. You will ride with me, and Maldoza will take the other horse. We cannot afford any delay.”
She’d have protested had their trip to the city-state of Castereina not taken twice as long because of her.
“That’s really unwise,” Themas said, frowning. “A horse cannot take the weight of two riders for such a long trip.”
Estevan threw Semras a pointed look. “In your expert opinion, can Pagan carry both of us with ease?”
She raised an eyebrow, then surveyed the stallion’s broad shoulders and thick muscles. “Obviously.”
Kelpies were unnaturally strong and sturdy. They had to be, to carry as many travellers as they could to their watery graves.
The thought made her shiver, and she added, “I bet the three of us would be no problem for him, either.”
The inquisitor made a face. “I will only take you. Maldoza, you can follow on your own horse.” He gestured to Semras to approach. Once she did, he rested his hands around her waist. “My apologies for offending your lover.”
“He’s not—”
Estevan lifted her onto the stallion, then slid behind her into the saddle. “Lover’s spat?” he drawled next to her ear, making her shiver. “I hope I was not its cause.”
Beside them, Themas mounted the chestnut horse. “May I know what we are after, my lord? You spoke of following a lead.”
“Stop meddling,” Semras whispered back. “If you have to know, I rejected him.”
Estevan slowly grinned. “Poor man. I would not want to be in his shoes. I feel sorry for him.”
“No, you don’t. You hate him.”
Themas walked his horse to their side. “Inquisitor?” he called out.
“I admit I did, once.” Estevan slid his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “But no longer. Now I only feel sorry for him.”
Semras elbowed him, and he laughed.
When he answered his knight at long last, he was all smiles. “We ride to find the poison’s supplier.”
A truth hidden in a lie, Semras felt grateful for it.
They departed right after, reins prompting the horses into a trot through the black metal gate and down the cobblestone streets of Castereina.
She might have—somewhere deep within her heart, where secrets and desires and things that cannot be spoken of were kept secret—have missed that too. Their banter, their touches, their smiles and teases …
It made the festering wound between them throb painfully in her heart.