21. Chapter Twenty
21
Charmaine
M ontgomery had Charmaine cauterize a nasty wound a soldier received from fighting with another over trivial matters. One man commented on another man’s parentage, or something along those lines. Charmaine paid little attention. The stories were typically all the same variety; one soldier spoke idiotically, and another responded with equal stupidity. A fist was thrown, or in this case, broken glass. The high tension forever staining the camp exploded into a mess the medical officers had to take care of. Nothing different from usual.
Once the fool left, Charmaine returned to William. He hadn’t finished his task of ensuring the medical packs were prepared for healers. In the chance of an attack, and if they were able, they grabbed packs and set to the field. Perhaps he took a brief break. Regardless, Montgomery shared exciting news and Charmaine was eager to share.
“Montgomery spoke of Grand Mages from Heign’s Magical Society paying the troops a visit. There are rumors they have discovered something to help with the war effort,” Charmaine explained.
“Is that so?” William opened the last crate to inspect. A red tint along his neck caught her attention. Charmaine approached. A floral scent invaded her nostrils. A familiar aroma, calling to her, yet she could not place the smell. She leaned forward to take a long breath. William retreated, one eyebrow raised and lips pursed.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“You smell strange.” She wracked her mind for an answer to the aroma. A scent close by, a smell that hovered over the encampment. Not quite flowers because there was nothing so gentle in these parts, but sweet and earthy, nonetheless.
“First the herbs and now me? What could possibly be wrong with your nose?”
“I don’t know, it’s…” The words caught in her throat as the answer finally hit her. Fae. The scent always became strongest when fae were nearby. They’re floral, all of them, the sweetest scent, intoxicating. Yet another way they deeply contrast who they truly are because one smelling so sweet should never be so wicked. If that scent was here and all over William, who had gone missing multiple times through the night, then…
“The man you are seeing, is he fae?” Charmaine asked.
William shut the final crate and stuffed the clipboard under his arm. He wore apathy better than anyone, as if the expression belonged solely to him. “Why would you ask that?”
“The scent of one is all over you.”
“Do you pay attention to the way they smell that much?”
She didn’t reply, couldn’t, because it made little sense to her, too.
William sighed. “Fae are all over the camp. This place must smell as much of them as it does us.”
But he told lies. She sensed it again, this gnawing suspicion at the back of her mind accompanied by little ticks she had never noticed before. His muscles tensed and the briefest intake of his breath, so loud it rang in her ears. The headache she had all day intensified. For a moment, she thought she felt the vexation literally crawling beneath her skin.
Pressing a palm to her ringing ear, Charmaine muttered, “Why do you continue to lie to me? I do not need any more stress.”
“I am not lying. Besides, who I may be sleeping with is none of your business.”
“Implying there is business?”
“Charmaine,” he hissed. Her true name uttered angrily through his clenched teeth made her blood boil.
“Don’t call me that when you’re keeping secrets, secrets that will get the both of us in trouble. Fae are bad news. You should know that better than anyone, or has this man made you forget what happened to Hugh?”
William spun on her. He slammed her against the crates. The edge of one dug into the middle of her back, paling to the heat radiating from William’s feral eyes.
“You are overstepping,” he warned in a voice that could put fear in the Broken Soul herself. “Do not bring him up again.”
“Getting so upset makes me think I’m right.” She shoved him aside to storm out of the tent. William didn’t call for her. If he had, she may not have heard.
Charmaine hissed from the overwhelming noise and bodies hustling by. Soldiers changed positions, shoulders bumping into hers, and all she wanted was to push them aside. She barely contained the urge by rubbing her palms against her aching temple. Everything was too loud, too much. The light, too. Light, what an odd thought. She peered at the sky, bleak and gray, pondering how her eyes ached. The last few days she craved gloom, found herself more alert the blacker the sky became.
A terrible itch slithered through her. She clawed at her arm and legs. The ragged fabric of her jacket worsened the itch. She tore the attire off, eased by the frigid air gnawing at her exposed skin. Soldiers passed incredulous glances as she tugged at her shirt, dislodging the top buttons so the wintery air bit her chest. Charmaine ceased her senseless itching and made way for their poor excuse of a kitchen to appease her grumbling stomach. The damn thing had been rumbling all day. No matter what she ate, she wanted more.
Charmaine gained her rations, then sat by the fire to devour the food that did little for her hunger. Those around her licked the salt from their fingers and burped heartily after long drinks. They talked and laughed, but she could not join. All that was on her mind was food, more food, anything to eat, something juicy and red would be best. Salted pork day after day, accompanied by lackluster bread and ale, couldn’t sustain her.
“Good evening,” Oscar chirped. The young soldier plopped into place beside her. His curious gaze fell on William stalking over to the rations. He walked in the opposite direction of them. Charmaine grumbled under her breath when Oscar called, “William, where are you going?”
William didn’t answer. His silhouette fell into place at another firepit.
Oscar regarded her in hesitant curiosity. “What was that about?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care.”
The salted pork in Oscar’s hands made her salivate. She sucked on the inside of her cheeks, willing herself not to snatch the food from his hands. She hadn’t felt so much hunger since she was young when her father had a particularly bad year drinking away their coin. Her mother took any job offered. Charmaine assisted at every opportunity, tending to the neighbor’s farm, working for the elderly who couldn’t perform hard labor, stitching a neighbor’s dress, or cleaning a house. None of the jobs paid well, so they often found themselves huddled around a bare dinner table.
“Are the two of you fightin’?” Oscar muttered between bites of his meal.
“No,” she replied.
“Sounds like you’re fightin’.”
“Why don’t you ask William about it?”
“He talks less than you, way, way less.”
“Yes, he does.”
His silence made keeping secrets easier. They weren’t meant to keep secrets from each other. Out here, they had no one else to depend on. She thought he depended on her, but he’s seeing a fae, risking his life for moronic reasons, and he hadn’t told her. That hurt more than she was willing to admit. If they didn’t trust each other, then they would be alone, isolated.
“My Ma always said people who talk less tend to feel more, so maybe he’s feelin’ a lot and needs a little break. I’m sure it’s nothin’ personal,” Oscar said.
“Maybe.”
“Or are you the one feelin’ a lot?”
Charmaine’s tooth cut through her cheek. Copper fell on her tongue. “Oscar, I don’t…”
Her words fell silent. Chatter died into nothing when a man, face beaten to being unrecognizable, wandered to the rations cart. With his back turned, whispers began, talks of a traitor. Charmaine needn’t hear more to know what happened, but Oscar still said, “He got caught with a fae this mornin’. I heard the beatin’ outside my tent, real nasty.” Then Oscar spat in the snow and grumbled, “Idiot.”
The soldiers at the cart tore at the man’s rations, claiming they were running low. He was lucky to get half, lucky to have survived. The man didn’t bother sitting at the fires. He didn’t offer anyone a glance before disappearing between the tents. That would be William’s fate if anyone learned the truth, if he were lucky.
Charmaine peered toward William. His back remained turned, pretending as if nothing happened. Fool, she thought over and over until the aching in her head was too painful to ignore. She lurched away from the fire. The thick aroma of smoke made her nose burn, anyway.
“Spend your evening around William. He will make better company than me,” she said and wandered off Snow crunched beneath her worn boots. Torches lit the pathways of the camp. Brief flickers of light made her squint, so she kept to the shadows, hands shoved in her pockets and shoulders up.
Charmaine went for the tents, where she bundled up her belongings. She had no desire to see William, so she shoved her sleeping bag in a tent a few rows over. No one paid much mind to who slept where anymore. Captains had more important matters than ensuring soldiers slept on the correct spot of dirt. But as she laid down, a scent caught her by the nose; intoxicating, delicious, a mouth-watering aroma.
She stumbled outside. Campfires flickered in the distance, but the smell did not originate from them. Charmaine moved through camp and ascended the wall where soldiers shuddered under the snow. None paid her any mind, didn’t even hear her slip up the stairs. Her steps had never been so gentle, noiseless, even after she dropped to the other side where the scent called her to the woods.
A delicious meal waited in the forest. She slunk into the shadows to find it.
“What manner of creature could have done this?”
The question broke Charmaine’s slumber. Her heavy eyes opened. A soft material tickled her nose. She swatted at it, fur of some sort from the interior of her camping bag. Charmaine made a mental note to have someone look the bag over for tears. Sneezing, she sat up. Dawn light filtered in to illuminate the silhouettes of sleeping soldiers. More were awake than usual for such an early hour. They huddled together outside in a circle, shadowing the entryway.
“Don’t know, but it got damn close to our tent. Too damn close,” said another.
Charmaine rubbed the crust from her eyes and yawned. A strange taste lingered on her tongue. She smacked her lips and grabbed the canteen by her sleeping bag to drink.
“Most likely a fox, or whatever type of similar creature this wasteland has. It didn’t bother us, but I’ll mention it to the captain. Maybe the critter is lingering about the campsite looking for scraps,” another soldier said.
“With all the rabbits it tore up, I’d say it doesn’t need our scraps at all.”
One silhouette slapped another on the back. “Alright, clean this up, Ronny.”
The shortest shadow, Ronny, threw his hands in the air. “Why me?”
“Because you’re the youngest.” The group laughed. Their silhouettes walked off, leaving Ronny to kneel and clean up the so-called mess.
Charmaine eased herself out of the sleeping bag, surprised by how little the cold affected her. Others shivered beneath their covers and teeth chattered when they awoke to shove their feet into their boots. She stood and stretched, uncaring of the cool air against her skin. In fact, it felt good. Her headache faded and her muscles never felt better. Dare she say that last night was the best sleep she had in an age, since she had a proper bed, even.
The morning horn blared by the time Charmaine dressed and set out of the tent. A light brown-skinned boy struggling to grow a patched beard muttered, exhaling puffs of white smoke, while using a shovel to scoot clumps of viscera into a pile. Remnants of the deceased rodents littered the snow, staining pristine white to pale pink and deep red. No footprints led to or from the kill, merely the remains of many meals, mostly bloodied bones and pieces the creature determined too vile to partake in. Her stomach howled ferociously and mouth watered.
Ronny snorted. “How can you be hungry after seeing a sight like this?”
“Suppose I’ve grown desensitized to bloodshed,” she replied, though didn’t believe the words.
Charmaine wretched many times over the years from working in the med bay. Even after seeing the worst of humanity, her stomach always went queasy, although she hadn’t felt sick from that lately. More of a relentless hunger and that damned headache, both of which finally vanished after too many days of torment.