CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE #3
There Vayen stood, hovering over Kroul. But Kroul was no longer sitting at the table with Merl.
Instead, his face was pressed into the flagstone, directly where the brandy glass had shattered.
I could already see shards of glass digging into the side of his face as he mewled in pain, but when my eyes landed on the unnatural angle of his arm, I doubted it was the glass that compelled his cries.
Vayen held the back of his head with one hand, pressing his face deeper into the shattered glass, while her other strangled his wrist, holding it in the air at an impossible angle.
His hips and shoulders thrashed as he tried to remove himself from her grip, but he may as well have been a child beneath her—she seemed wholly unmoved by his attempts.
I stood there, statue-still, attempting to reconcile what my eyes perceived.
Was this display in my defense? And how could she possibly have reacted so quickly?
The questions swirling in my mind were quieted by the frozen expression on her face.
The man beneath her was making some of the most dreadful noises I had ever heard a human make, and yet not one single emotion pulled at her features.
“P-please,” he whimpered.
“Come now…” Merl pleaded, palms up in submission. “He was only—”
Vayen’s eyes snapped in his direction and he was silenced at once. I couldn’t blame Merl as he bowed his head to stare at his brandy glass—I would have withered beneath that gaze, too.
“Vayen,” Winnie said, gentle and coaxing. I had never heard her use that tone before, and it was disparate from the rage I expected as patrons began funneling out of the Ugly Tankard. “Vayen, I need you to calm down.”
But it seemed Vayen couldn’t hear Winnie. Her focus was singularly locked on Kroul, who had gone limp beneath her. Without the agonizing groans still sputtering from his lips, I’d have thought he’d lost consciousness.
“Look,” Winnie tried once more to get her attention.
Slowly, she made her way past Vayen and Kroul, sidestepping now-empty tables to reach me.
She wrapped her arm around my shoulder and offered a comforting squeeze, but all I could manage was to stand there in a state of shock.
“She’s fine, Vayen. You can let him go.”
No response was offered. The only evidence I had of Vayen’s consciousness was her downcast eyes still focused on the man beneath her and the way her temple thrummed, as if she were contemplating what to do with him.
“Lyssa,” Winnie said, trying to meet my eyes. When I couldn’t tear myself from Vayen’s stony countenance, she thumbed my chin to draw my face away.
“Lyssa,” she repeated. “Are you hurt?”
“Am I—?”
“Did he hurt you?” Winnie asked, casting her eyes towards Vayen before returning them to me. She was trying to tell me something I could not interpret.
“No, he… he didn’t hurt me,” I managed, swallowing hard against the thickness in my throat. With an upturned brow, my attention volleyed between Vayen and Winnie. Was that supposed to have some sort of effect on her?
Winnie leaned in closer, and her eyebrows lowered seriously, casting shadows over dark blue eyes. “She needs to hear you.” With that, Winnie gripped my shoulders and ushered me forward.
I had absolutely no desire to near Vayen in her current state, but Winnie seemed to think I might be the only one to calm her.
And if I didn’t, Kroul might not survive it.
He deserved to have the starlight knocked out of him, sure.
But he didn’t deserve to die. So I steeled myself with a shaky inhalation as I took a step forward, tipping my chin to try to meet Vayen’s gaze.
“Vayen,” I said, and before the final syllable left my lips, her eyes were on me.
It was all I could do not to slink back to Winnie’s side.
Instead, I held her attention, searching for the silver-green hues now swallowed by expanding black pupils.
“He didn’t hurt me. I’m perfectly fine. Would you… would you please release him?”
She hesitated there. If it weren’t for the way she searched my face, I might have thought my words had not reached her.
A long moment passed where only the sputtering hearth and Kroul’s low moans permeated the silence of the once-lively tavern.
The kitchen door swung open and a blanket of black hair colored my periphery, but it didn’t feel safe to withdraw my focus from Vayen.
Slowly, she released Kroul’s arm, never wavering in her fixation on me.
He whimpered into the pool of blood freshly drained from his face, not daring to right himself as Vayen removed her knee from his back and stood to her full height.
I was vaguely aware of Merl kneeling to the ground, an outstretched hand hovering over his companion. But I was consumed by those black eyes.
Vayen took purposeful steps my way. I held her gaze as long as I could, but as her shoulder brushed against mine on her way towards the door, she suddenly stopped.
I closed my eyes and willed my heart to cease its gallop; despite what I had just seen, I knew, somehow, that Vayen would not cause me any harm.
I did not need to be afraid.
Vayen stood there, our shoulders in alignment, the warmth of her seeping through the linen of my dress.
She drew in a deep breath through her nostrils and I imagined her entire chest expanding with the intensity of that breath.
Without another word, her warmth disappeared, and the ringing bell split through the tavern’s silence.
And just like that, she was gone.