Chapter Fifteen Wren #3
The thick column of his neck bobbed. “Same, sunshine.” He rolled his eyes. “Even Ruby doesn’t know. She’d laugh her arse off if she did. Me, a farmer.” Damien sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as if embarrassed. I swore I glimpsed a hint of red on his cheeks.
“I like her,” I said decidedly. “Maybe you should tell her. You seem to be quite close.”
Being alone, repressing your true self as he did…my heart twinged with sympathy. I couldn’t help it.
“Don’t even get me started,” Damien smirked, and I smiled in return, taken aback by how genuine he looked. “I will never properly introduce the two of you. I may be a thief, but I’m no fool. You’d gang up on me in a heartbeat.”
While Ruby aided Damien in general depravity, it would be nice to have someone else to team up with me when Damien and his ego got in the way of common sense. I grinned just as Damien shot me a knowing look.
“See?” He chuckled, a lightness I’d not seen illuminating his features. “You and her would send me to an early grave.”
“Scared?” I teased.
“Of course I am.” The other corner of his lip lifted, turning his smirk into a full grin. Fates, when he did that…my heart skipped a few beats. “Two powerful women sicced on little old me? Anyone would be afraid. And you have a weapon.”
“A letter opener!” I shoved at his chest, and a deep noise of discomfort left him.
“And apparently a decent arm.” He rubbed at his side, making a show of it. “Where did you learn that? Etiquette lessons?”
“All I learned from those were which fork I shouldn’t stab someone with during the salad course.”
His eyes gleamed with mischief, and I felt my own smile broaden.
“You and household items make a dangerous combination. Almost admirable.”
“One must be prepared,” I said, attempting to tease back, but it came out more somber than I’d planned.
His lips twitched slightly, losing some of the joy. “I imagine the lords you deal with aren’t exactly humble. Must think they’re owed whatever they like.”
I swallowed thickly. He was right—they acted as if ladies were the entertainment and we should keep our mouths shut and accept their actions, however unwelcome.
As if he sensed my distress, Damien lifted his hand, like he planned to reach for me, maybe hold my hand in his, but at the last moment, he let it drop.
“I hope you never had to go through that,” he murmured, gaze narrowing.
He seemed protective then, the concern in his voice like a soothing balm to my ears.
“We all have our troubles,” I said instead. The truth was, I had encountered men who’d ignored proper behavior. Who had placed their hands on me when no one was looking. It was the reason I carried my letter opener.
Silence filled the room, heavy and tense. Damien looked away, back to the ceiling, an unreadable expression twisting his face. Deep in thought, he didn’t notice as I observed the steady rise and fall of his chest, how while he appeared at peace, the arms crossed behind his head tensed.
Time passed, and I delighted when the muscles in his arms relaxed, his lashes fluttering. The thief was surprisingly at ease with me. In his bed. His room. His private space.
Why that thought made me forget all his earlier teasing was a mystery. Or maybe it wasn’t at all.
When his eyes shut entirely, his breathing too close to sleep, I tapped his chin. “No time to fall asleep,” I said quietly. “You haven’t told me what you found that had us rushing here in such a hurry.”
Damien craned his neck, his eyes opening to greet me. For a moment I was startled by how handsome he was, devoid of a scowl. His face free of creases and exasperated lines. His eyes soft. I brushed my hair behind my ear, my throat tightening as I looked just above those haunting eyes of his.
“Well?” I pressed.
He sighed. “It’s not good.”
“I suspected that.”
“No.” He groaned as he sat up, wiping the exhaustion from his eyes. I followed suit, my back ramrod straight. Untucking his shirt, he yanked out two pieces of paper shoved into the back of his trousers. With his chin lowered, he handed them over. “Look for yourself.”
I scanned the first page, taking in the stark black-and-white photograph and the odd notes. It was short and confusing, and I had no idea what it meant…other than something was very wrong.
“The missing people from the Void,” he supplied. “Both of these people have been missing for months, and there’s an entire room with more papers like these. I always assumed people just got sick of the place and left, but…”
“There’s another reason,” I finished, inspecting the papers in a new light.
“Your father was there.” I flinched. “And some lord I didn’t recognize,” Damien cautioned. “They went into that room, which is why I followed. I’d been searching the records of magical gifts given to the northerners when I got sidetracked.”
A low droning sounded in my ears.
“My father?”
My own father had been found in a room filled with these horrid papers. Bile rose as my stomach churned, the small room suddenly too small, too claustrophobic. The walls closed in, the image of my father hovering before my mind like a taunt.
All his secrets.
All his power.
And he was involved. Involved with whatever had killed these people. Or, at least, he was aware of it.
I hadn’t known about the missing people in the Void, but now that I did, and with these documents in my hand…
I couldn’t help but picture my father as he once was. Holding me in his lap as he read the Sunday paper. Teaching me to hunt, scooping me onto his shoulders when I killed my first duck. Running through the house, chasing after me and Callie, his booming voice making us giggle.
How could that man have changed so drastically?
I was in shock. No, denial.
Not that I didn’t believe Damien, but to accept that my father was involved sickened me to the point that I held my stomach, nausea threatening to send me hurtling across the mattress to retch.
“If these are being recorded, then someone from the Registry of Magical Gifts is required to be there to witness it,” I mused aloud, dazed. “And based on these recordings and photos, why do I get the feeling these poor souls didn’t leave Andalay of their own accord?”
It was a silly thought. Obviously they hadn’t left of their own accord.
I anxiously scratched at my nose, willing away the shivers that wracked my spine. My father’s being complicit in these crimes twisted my world. Flipped it upside down in a way I didn’t know how to process.
His late-night meetings. All the secrecy around his job. His sour mood.
Cameron Hayes was not known as a warm man, but he looked like a shadow of his former self.
An imposter wearing the skin of a man I had loved.
Maybe that person was gone forever. Maybe I just grasped at straws, hoping against all hope to be wrong.
Who in their right mind would wish for their parent to be a villain?
“That’s why I took the papers. As proof.” Damien held out his hand, and I placed them in his palm. “People don’t care much when we go missing,” he added, shyly peeking up at me.
He’d just told me a perilous secret that I could use to hurt him. Have my father use to hurt him.
He trusted me.
I cleared my throat, swallowing my emotions. Not an easy feat.
“Which would make the southern people perfect for what? Experiments?” I wondered aloud, silently aghast to think it might be true.
“Were they being tested with something classified, and that’s why the experimenters recorded the time they lasted until death?
This is serious, Damien.” Much bigger than my gift.
Much bigger than whatever someone stole from him at the ball.
My world tilted again; pictures of those two dead faces hovering in my mind’s eye like ghosts.
I felt like I was on the verge of fainting, black spots clouding the edges of my vision.
Damien’s arms grabbed my shoulders. “Easy there, sunshine,” he whispered, carefully turning me to face him.
“We’ll figure it out.” His brows pinched together like he couldn’t believe what he’d offered.
It wasn’t what we originally agreed upon, and he’d just promised his commitment to solve this. With me.
“These are your people. My people too, really. Aurilia shouldn’t be turning its back like it does.
” I ran my fingers through my hair and tugged at the roots.
“And I’m part of the problem. My own flesh and blood could be doing this.
Helping kill people.” Fates, I could hardly get that word out.
It tasted sour, and more bile rose. I cradled my head in my palms, my elbows propped on my knees.
I dug the sharp points into the flesh, the slight pain grounding me.
“People need to know. There are some from society who’d care, who could help. We just need to show them.”
No matter if it ruined my family in the process.
Damien hummed deep in his throat. “I hate to say this, but they really just wouldn’t care.”
I rose. “They have to! These are people our age! Or damn well near to it. Why wouldn’t they care if people are being abducted and having Fates know what done to them? Hell, I care. There have to be more. Maybe the younger nobles who aren’t under their parents’ thumbs.”
My stomach roiled again, and I feared I’d end up retching all over Damien’s bed. It was a fifty-fifty chance at this point.
Damien inspected me, his stare a mixture of confusion and a hint of irritation.
“You really do live in a bubble, don’t you?
” he asked, and it felt like a punch to the gut.
“I keep forgetting who you really are, and that’s on me.
” He abruptly stood. My mouth fell open as he ventured to the window, avoiding me.
“I—”
My words caught in my throat. His accusation had been correct. I hadn’t known about any of this. But…
“I’m sorry,” I said, so softly it surprised me when he canted his head my way.
“There’s nothing I can say but that I’m sorry for my ignorance, for ignoring things right in front of me.
But I plan on doing better. I will do better.
” Yes. I’d enlist Callie’s help once I got home, and ask if she could provide me with any information.
From there, I’d go to Father himself. I might be some na?ve noble who’d lived in a luxurious bubble, hidden from the atrocities of the world, but the bubble had just burst. Now I couldn’t ignore the outside world.
If I did, I’d be just as horrid as the people who actively sought to use those without gifts to their advantage.
I didn’t wish to be a person devoid of basic humanity. That was no life. Not one worth living, anyway.
“You’re sorry?” Damien repeated, stepping away from the window and to the bed. He hovered over me, a looming giant. “Why?”
It was only a question, but a heaviness burdened each single word.
I tilted my chin, desperately wanting him to understand.
“I’m sorry because I allowed myself to be blind when I had the choice to do otherwise.
I’m sorry for being a part of a society that uses people when they’re desperate.
That forces them to remain desperate. Afraid.
Hungry.” I thought of the too-thin people of the south.
The children running in the streets, begging for coin.
They hadn’t put themselves in that position.
The politicians and leaders of the north had made it impossible for them to support themselves properly.
They enjoyed the near-free labor too much. It padded their own pockets.
It provided me with a home. Gowns. A full dinner table.
And you never wanted to question it.
I hadn’t. Fuck me, I hadn’t. Not until those faces became real.
I supposed seeing them in black and white, knowing their names, and reading their last moments written on paper like an afterthought, finally pushed me over the edge.
How could I ignore Elizabeth and Henry? Both young and hopeful and killed without remorse?
At home, I’d told myself the south was just where the workers lived.
I told myself they were fine. They weren’t slowly dying from hunger.
I told myself so many things so I didn’t have to face reality.
The fire sparked inside my chest. I wasn’t ignorant enough to assume that I alone could help. I needed a horde of witnesses. Of people from the south and north. Lords and ladies themselves, to stand up to whoever preyed on the innocent. I just had to figure out the identity of our foe.
Damien hadn’t budged an inch, his heavy gaze like fire on my skin. I shrank in on myself. The last thing I desired was for him to think I apologized out of pity. I wanted him to understand that I didn’t agree with the injustices that occurred.
I stood, shifting around his body, trying to get him to look at me.
I’d struck a chord inside him, and I feared he would continue to see me as a pompous highborn until I showed him I cared. And I did care. My body blazed with anger, burning my skin and undoubtedly turning it a shade of red.
I realized that only action mattered. Talk was easy; it didn’t take anything from you.
We’d solve both mysteries while adhering to the original plan. I might not survive it all, but I’d die inside if I didn’t try.
Clearing my throat, I said, “There’s a ball this Friday night.
I’ll bet the person you’re looking for—that we both may be looking for—could be attending.
” It would be too simple if the thieves were one and the same, but a girl could hope.
“Please meet me in two days at the tailor. I’ll cover the cost of your suit and you’ll blend right in.
People won’t ask much if you tell them a simple backstory.
” I already had one planned out, the gears in my head spinning.
Silence reigned, making my skin itchy. I ached for him to turn around. To grunt. To speak. To do something.
Finally, “I’ll be there,” he muttered, giving me his back.
I nodded, even if he couldn’t see. “It’s the one at the intersection of Serende and Whisperwood Drive.”
He nodded.
That was all I received before opening his door and slipping out into the hall.
I’d opened up some box I shouldn’t have, and I feared I’d ruined our partnership. Which was tenuous at best.
Now I wasn’t even sure he planned on coming at all.