Chapter 4
Four
Oaklin’s skull felt like an overripe melon dropped from a ladder, nothing but shattered rind and mushy pulp. Something…
Something happened. They’d…passed out, maybe? Everything was fuzzy, like there was a thick fog obscuring their thoughts. There were hard cobblestones beneath their head and three blurry faces hovering above them, with voices that drifted in and out of Oaklin’s perception.
“Are they okay? My place is right around the corner and—”
“Thank you, Clem, but we’re good.”
“Are you sure? I can—”
“We’ve got this.” A pause, then footsteps. “That man would do anything to be involved in the gossip of the day.”
“I have some scones back at the shop that might help.”
“You kinda have to be awake to eat without choking to death, though, right? Shouldn’t we get the healer?”
“No, I’ve got this, give me a sec…”
A moment later, a wash of soothing warmth flowed through Oaklin’s whole body, like easing into a hot spring on a cool autumn night. Slowly, the fog cleared from their mind, and they blinked again and again until the faces came into clear view.
“There! Oaklin, are you okay?” Lior the paladin asked, pulling her hand away from Oaklin’s forehead, still ringed with a golden glow. “How do you feel?”
Oaklin sat up with a jolt, barely stopping themself from recoiling from the lingering flush of paladin magic.
Magic.
“The Enchantrix!” they gasped as the power of the memory, of that voice, came rushing back.
Ryn, Jules, and Lior frowned at each other as Oaklin’s gaze darted to the crowd of concerned, gawking villagers gathered around.
Oh no.
So many people to hide their secrets from. They never intended to let that hateful name cross their lips in this new life.
How could Oaklin salvage this?
Ryn shot a scolding glare at the assembled folk and flapped a sharp gesture for them to disperse, then turned back to Oaklin with a much softer expression.
“A lot of people were deeply affected by the reign of the Enchantrix,” he said, slow and cautious. “It’s okay to still be struggling.”
Jules nodded his agreement. “Did you lose someone?”
“Or were you hurt?” Lior asked.
Oaklin’s mind raced, looking for the right lie or half-truth to sail through this awkward situation.
This dangerous situation. The wrong words right now could lose them the brand-new life they’d only just begun to build, not to mention the farm they’d just spent all their money on.
All they had to do was take the low-hanging fruit Jules had offered.
Lots of people lost loved ones. That would do.
They squeezed their eyes shut and took a shuddering breath, forcing the words out.
“My hometown and all my family are gone,” they said in a rush, hoping that would suffice. It was true, after all—in a sense, at least. Not an answer to what they were really asking, but it wasn’t an outright lie.
Ryn, Jules, and Lior winced and nodded. And, blessedly, they didn’t ask any further questions, nor did they look on Oaklin with pity.
It was hard to find someone who wasn’t affected somehow, though it certainly seemed more rare in Mossley’s Rest. Before they could question Oaklin further, the library door banged open, and the grumpy, toe-stubbing Sibling of the Order came striding out, simple but fine robes flapping behind her.
“Good morning, Sister Talla,” Ryn said, his tone cooler than Oaklin had heard it thus far, though still unfailingly polite. “How are you—”
The woman completely ignored Ryn, instead stomping right up to Lior with fists propped on hips like a scolding governess.
“Paladin Lior, you are supposed to be working the front desk this morning,” Talla said with a scowl. “Or are you planning to shirk that duty too?”
Librarian drama? How unexpected.
Lior drew her shoulders back, expression fierce. She opened her mouth to fire back, then visibly checked herself.
“Call it my lunch break,” she said through gritted teeth.
Sister Talla narrowed her eyes, then cast a skeptical, evaluating glance at Oaklin, as if just noticing them for the first time. Her dismissal of them was just as swift. She whirled around and stomped back inside without another word.
The second the door closed, Lior grumbled under her breath. “Get stuffed, Sister Pain-In-My-Ass.”
Jules clicked his tongue and glanced at Lior sidelong. “Well, that’s not very holy.”
“Hey, the Order may hate me, but I’m right with the Three and that’s all that matters. Sister Talla can go fu—”
“Anyway,” Ryn interrupted, casting a glance around at the still-milling crowd of villagers pretending to not eavesdrop. “Oaklin, I really hope you’ll let one of us walk you home.”
Shit. The walk home was long enough to allow for so many awkward questions that Oaklin truly did not want to answer.
“Oh, no, that’s not necessary,” they said. “I can walk back myself—”
“After passing out and hitting your head on rocks?” Jules said dubiously.
Ryn shook his head. “That doesn’t seem safe.”
“We just want to make sure you get home okay,” Lior said. “It’s no trouble.”
Oaklin winced. They wanted friends in their new life, and these people were being so kind…but right now, all they wanted was to slink away and lick their wounds in private.
“But you all have things you need to be doing,” Oaklin said in protest. “Ryn, the shop is still open, right? I don’t even know what you’re doing here.”
“I take a morning break every day to have tea with Jules,” Ryn said. “Left the shop not long after you did.”
“And I live just over there,” Jules said, pointing back down the side street Oaklin had walked through to get to the library. “Imagine Ryn’s surprise when he walked up to knock on my door—”
“—and there was all that commotion,” Ryn continued.
“Okay, okay, I get it,” Oaklin said, cheeks burning. What a scene they’d caused! Great way to make an impression in a new place. “But still, Ryn, you should get back to the shop. I couldn’t bear you missing out on sales because of me. And Jules, don’t you play at the tavern soon?”
“Not for another two bells, but…” he trailed off, obviously reluctant. “I did promise Sammy I’d help him bring in some new furniture between the breakfast and lunch rushes.”
“It’s fine, really,” Oaklin said with a glimmer of hope. It was working! They might actually get away. Now, to bring it home. “Lior, I obviously don’t know you, but it seems like you really need to get back to the library. I’ll be fine on my own, promise.”
Ryn reached out and took Oaklin’s hand, squeezing gently. “Oaklin, I say this with all the respect and kindness in the world: If you make me find your passed-out body in the middle of the road being pecked at by vultures, I will never forgive you.”
Oaklin winced at the image, and Ryn smiled.
“But it’s your choice,” he continued. “Either I close the shop for a bit and come with you, or Lior walks you home and you get to know one of the best people in Moss.”
“Oh, you,” Lior said, shoving Ryn’s shoulder. For the first time, Oaklin noticed the easy camaraderie between the three of them. Lior was clearly a friend of Ryn and Jules.
“But seriously,” Lior said, leaning in close and lowering her voice. “I am glad of any excuse to get the hells out of there. You’d be doing me a favor.”
“You hate working at the library that much, huh?” Oaklin asked, stalling for time. A paladin. Could they really walk home alone with a paladin of the Three?
Lior barked a laugh, which was unfortunate, because her eyes sparkled with humor in a terribly alluring way. Deeply unfair.
“Oh, Oaklin, I actually love the library. Talk books with me sometime and you’ll see,” she said.
Then the smile fell straight off her face, and she leveled them with a frank gaze.
“Sister Talla, though, is an absolute donkey’s ass, and it’ll ruffle her fur if I go.
That delights me. Please give me this gift. ”
Oaklin coughed a surprised laugh at that, mind swirling with confusion.
Lior was…not at all what Oaklin expected from a paladin of the Three.
They glanced over at Jules and Ryn, whose expressions were sympathetic and understanding…
but also unflinching. Oaklin was clearly not getting out of this without a chaperone home.
Not without protesting to a degree that would only raise more questions.
And okay, Oaklin was…curious about this very un-paladin paladin. Librarian. Libraradin?
“Okay, fine,” they said with a sigh. “Lior, I’d appreciate the company. Might be handy to have your healing if…well, just in case.”
At that, Oaklin paused. Lior’s magic had healed them. It had felt warm, comforting, like a wash of relief and reassurance, summer sun on skin, or a bite of Ryn’s baking. You’ll be okay, it had seemed to say.
And it was magic borne of the Three Above. Oaklin knew where paladins derived their spells. They waited, bracing for a wave of fear, or revulsion…but none came.
Huh.
“I’m happy to help,” Lior said, standing and holding out a hand. “Lead the way.”
With one last moment of hesitation, Oaklin took the offered hand and stood, dusting themself off and gathering their few possessions from the street.
Incredibly, the cake they’d bought that morning was unharmed. Small miracles. They’d take what they could get.
Oaklin’s vision swam a bit once they were on their feet, but all in all, they felt wildly lucky to not be bleeding from the head. With everything accounted for, they turned to Lior and nodded.
“You sure you’re okay to walk that far?” Lior asked. “We can stay in the village for a few hours and—”
“No! No, really, I feel okay,” Oaklin said, eyes darting around the other people in the square. “The healing spell helped. Just need to shake it off.”
Truth told, they were feeling a powerful need to get the hell out of there, to physically flee from all the people who’d witnessed the incident…
and from the echoing voice of the Enchantrix, so vivid it was like they were still alive and projecting those terrible words directly into Oaklin’s brain.
But that wasn’t possible. The Enchantrix was dead. The war was over.
At least, it seemed to be over for everyone else.
But there was one tiny doubt that couldn’t be erased, one last bit of hesitation in their mind.
Was the Enchantrix really dead? Was it just paranoia…
Or did Oaklin see something back then, on that last horrible day, something that they couldn’t quite remember?
Oaklin’s brain had blocked out almost everything from their time as a cultist—or else their brain had simply become holey cheese from too many years of mind-control magic—but maybe their intuition still picked something up. Maybe it was more than intuition.
Maybe the Enchantrix was still alive, and some part of them knew it.
Or maybe they were just traumatized. Who knew?
Oaklin managed to not look over their shoulder the whole way out of town, but the prickling at the back of their neck never completely went away.