Chapter 31
Tal’s dagger landed in the wooden pole with a solid thunk. She turned her smug grin to Carrick. “Oh? What were you saying?”
Carrick answered with a perfectly placed dagger in the next pole. “I was saying that you’re going to pay for tonight’s round.”
Sunset glared off the Taralin, painting the pier in red and orange hues. A warm breeze gusted on the water. It stunk of trash and seaweed, and Tal breathed it in gratefully. Each exhausted exhale pressed heavily on her sternum, but she welcomed it.
A week had passed since her afternoon under the willow tree. She found the town’s guardian in the distance. The leaves hung motionless despite the breeze at her back. It seemed that the willow always lived in contrast to life below the hill.
Unease turned Tal’s stomach. Every night since that afternoon, she'd had nightmares filled with images she hadn't known to fear until now—a ship with sails as black as death approaching her shores, Faron eyeing her with nothing more than indifference, the palace in ruins, Carrick's beautiful face marred with a bloody grimace.
Every night, Tal's dreams ended in the same devastated forest. She opened her eyes to gray skies and charred remains. Her heart hammered in her ribs—or was that her magic? Echoes of screams rang in her ears, and bodies lay at her feet. Panic gripped her by the throat. She couldn’t breathe.
Ash coated her lungs. She collapsed in still-warm embers, coughing and retching.
Her hands turned black as they searched the ground—for what, she didn't know.
At last, they connected with a power so great, it pulled her in and sent a shockwave through her, jarring her from the dream.
The last thing she saw before the panic dissipated was the willow tree looming over her.
“Are we finishing this game, or what?” Carrick’s voice cut through her exhausted haze.
Tal blinked. It's just a dream. She retrieved her daggers and joined her friend at the other end of the pier. “Maybe I can trick Faron into paying tonight,” she attempted her usual flippant tone.
“You won’t even have to try. He pays every night.” Carrick’s dagger landed high. “So, are you going to tell me, or do I need to drag it out of you?”
Tal’s throw landed square in the center of her post. “Tell you what?”
“If you two had a chance to talk or if you’re both pretending you didn’t want to break his nose.” The next dagger landed low, and Carrick swore.
“We talked.” Tal flipped her blade in the air, feeling like herself once again.
“And?” Her friend turned his broad chest to her.
“And he’s an ass for keeping it a secret.” She paused to take her turn. “But I guess he’s made up for it.”
His thick arms crossed over his chest. “You guess?”
Tal sighed. “Okay. Yes, I forgave him.”
He bit his cheeks to stop a smile from splitting his lips. “Good. So, I expect to see him around—with his eyebrows intact.” He added the last part as Tal threw another dagger and sent it wide.
She pushed his arm, but the brute didn’t budge.
“I told you tonight’s round is yours!” he chuckled.
“You did that on purpose!”
“I most certainly did—Hey!” He dodged Tal’s next throw.
Laughter came easily in that moment. She grasped onto the feeling and let it embrace her. There was no telling how long it would last. Tal balanced on a knife’s edge, and the blade demanded that she fall.
“So, what about all that marriage business?” Carrick’s throw bested Tal’s again.
She answered with an impeccable throw of her own. “He’s got the council off his back for now.”
“And later? Will they let him choose?”
Tal flipped her weapon in the air. “If you’re suggesting I marry him, don’t. Marriage is not for me, least of all to a king.”
“Even if that king is Faron?”
“Forget it, Carrick. I am not fit to be a queen.” She threw her next dagger with more force than she meant to. It soared past the intended post and embedded in the next. Tal sighed heavily. “I am not fit for marriage at all.”
“He might be able to convince you otherwise. Besides, you really know how to turn heads in a dress.”
Tal elbowed him in the ribs, and Carrick retaliated by shoving her off the pier.
She shrieked before hitting the water. It chilled her bones.
The river engulfed her, and she stilled in its weightlessness.
Despite the sun overhead, darkness filled her senses, the kind that swallowed all thought and left her with only silence. It was peaceful.
She paused a moment longer, relishing the coolness caressing her skin. When she resurfaced, Tal let the water brush across her face and smiled at the sun’s contrasting warmth.
“Hells, woman! Don’t scare me like that!”
Tal grabbed his outstretched arm and let him pull her to the pier. “What? Did you think I forgot how to swim?”
“Or something.” He stepped back and leaned against the nearest post.
“Or something? Are you alright, Duckie?” Water pooled beneath her while she checked her weapons and wrung out her hair. His frown gave her pause. He wedged a dagger in the wooden post and twisted it audibly. “You’re going to split the wood if you keep at it.”
“I’m strong, but not that strong.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Alright.” She sat cross-legged and slapped the wood in front of her. “Sit.”
Carrick sighed heavily. “You know—”
“Sit.”
He plopped in front of her and folded his legs, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Now, spit it out.”
He hesitated. The corners of his eyes wrinkled against the emotion he refused to release. “When you—” He frowned.
Tal held his gaze for three long breaths. She rested a hand on his knee, waiting.
His head fell into his hands. “When you were taken, it was—it felt wrong. You’re supposed to be here. I didn’t—” He lifted his head. “How are you so okay?”
Tal knew Carrick heard her screams every night. He knew she wasn't okay—that she was pretending nothing had changed. He needed to hear the truth. She steeled herself with her next breath. “In truth? I’m not.” She willed herself not to think of the visions she’d revisited just moments ago.
Carrick’s hands fell on top of hers.
“I cry every night. And when I don’t cry, I have nightmares.
I see cloaked shadows in the dark. I smell Ed’s blood on the wind.
I spend every moment waiting for the next blow to bludgeon my body.
And when my power surges in my chest, I wonder if this will be the last time.
Will it finally drive me mad with the need to consume.
I’m not okay, and I don’t know when I will be.
” Her words grew thick. She struggled through her next breath and felt the sting of tears waiting to fall.
Carrick squeezed her hand. His eyes glistened with tears of his own, and Tal couldn’t muster the energy to tease him.
“I don’t know when I’ll be okay again,” she repeated.
Her next breath washed through her like the water that crashed over her head.
It crested over her aloof facade and left her vulnerable.
She swallowed the sobs that left her broken and raw each night while Faron hummed a deep melody.
She hadn’t opened up about this. Not to Faron. Not to anyone. Not until now.
It terrified her to admit she had no control over her thoughts, her fears, her own magic.
She would do anything to go back to the Talwyn that drank herself into a stupor and stumbled over the cobblestones until trouble found her.
The world around her had become foreign.
She awoke from the terror only to fall asleep to a sense of foreboding.
She couldn’t navigate this alone, and Faron wouldn’t be there for every moment of it.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Carrick frowned. He opened his mouth to speak, but Tal stopped him with a shake of her head.
“I’m sorry for my stubbornness, and that I couldn’t see how my actions had consequences…
for all of us. I’m sorry for making you worry and having to save me because I couldn’t follow my own damn rules.
I’m sorry you got this shit life. I wish—” She inhaled against the tightness in her chest. “I wish I could give you something more, that I could wave my hand, and we’d have everything we could ever want, or at least that I could stop being such a dewberry. ”
“Hey, if anyone is a dewberry around here, it’s Daire.”
Tal laughed through her tears. “Don’t get me started.”
“Once Faron has no need of him, I’ll enjoy breaking every single one of his bones.” Carrick’s eyes lost their light at the mention of the traitorous captain.
“And then he’s mine.”
Their fickle alliance with Daire, if they could call it that, still made Tal uneasy.
It felt more like they had to threaten the man into feeding false information to the council while reporting back to Faron.
She hoped, at least, they would learn who hired the mages and ensure the danger had passed.
“I’m sorry too.” Carrick broke Tal from her thoughts. “You shouldn’t have been left alone. With everything you’ve been through this summer, I should have been there with you.”
Tal wiped her nose with her wet sleeve. “You have nothing to apologize for. And I wasn’t alone. I had Ed and Waylon.”
“And they were still no match for the mage. It was too much to ask them to protect you. Waylon is devastated enough as it is. He still hasn’t come by.”
“And you think putting yourself in danger would have been much better?” She nudged his arm.
Carrick released a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know.
I just—” He curled his hands around hers.
“I just wish I could change it all. When I thought something had happened, I was lost. Don’t look at me like that.
I need to say this,” he chastised her when she grimaced.
“We built this life together. I don’t want it if you’re not there to see it through. ” His eyes pleaded.
“Are you confessing your love to me, Duckie?” Tal tried to hide her grin.
“I confess that if you die on me, I’ll beat you to a pulp.” He released her hand and poked her shoulder.
“There he is.” Tal rubbed the spot that would definitely bruise. “Don’t make it awkward. Apparently, I’m taken, and I’m not made for sharing.”
“Faron can have you.” He pretended to turn away.
“Hey!”
“As long as he brings you back by dinner,” he said with an ear-splitting grin.
“I can’t promise dinner. Definitely sunrise… give or take an hour.” She tapped her chin in pretend thought.
Carrick sighed. “Don’t leave us, Tal. Okay?”
“Are you kidding? You aren’t that lucky. I’m not going anywhere.” Tal stood and offered her hand.
Carrick took it and stood beside her. He wrapped his muscled arms around her and squeezed.
Tal closed her eyes and returned the embrace.
When he didn’t let go, she said a silent prayer to the gods to protect them, all of them.
Whatever dangers lay ahead, she prayed they would face it together.
As she fought the tears that threatened to spill yet again, her fury lapped at its walls in a gentle caress.
We’ll be okay, she told herself, and her fury swelled for a heartbeat before quieting.
They gathered their weapons in silence and left the pier. Tal busied herself with securing one of her sheaths when she was tugged toward the water with a force that had her stumbling into a newcomer. Something cold and sharp bit into her neck. Tal released an exasperated breath.
"Alisaire wants to speak with you."
Carrick tilted his head—an offer to step in—but Tal had already resigned to handle the situation herself.
She lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug before saying, "Fritz, I told you, if you put your hands on me again, you're dead."
The blade bit into her neck as the thug shook. Warm blood trickled down to her collarbone. A dark room with a wooden ceiling filled Tal's mind. She held Carrick's gaze to steady her thoughts.
"You're coming with me."
"Good-bye, Fritz." Tal fisted her hands.
She didn't bother removing his knife. Pain didn't register in the recesses of her power where she traveled.
It didn't take any effort at all. Between one breath and the next, pure fury exploded out of the man.
He collapsed in a ball of flame before he could cry out.
Carrick gaped while Tal brushed remains from her sleeve. "Blazing pigs, Tal. You didn't touch him. You barely moved."
She picked Fritz's blade from the ashes, inspecting it and deeming it worth keeping.
"Are you at all fazed?"
She met his stare. No. She was not fazed. In fact, she was so unaffected by the use of her fury that she was terrified. The magic coursed through her, enticing her to use more. And she would.
Something changed in her on that table, and Tal didn't know whether to cling to her friends or tell them to run. So, rather than admitting the war within her, she said, "I'm fine."
“Uh huh." Carrick grabbed a nearby bucket and washed away the evidence of Tal's fury. "Looks like the gangs are getting restless again?"
"I'll deal with Alisaire when I'm ready. We have other plans tonight."
"Well then, come on." He dropped the bucket and threw an arm around her shoulders. “I hear the king is at Gale’s. Something tells me he has a thing for redheads.”
Tal smirked. “Is that so? Do you think he likes stubborn bounty hunters with a healthy appetite? Maybe I can swindle a round of drinks out of him.”
“Something tells me he’ll offer more than that.”
Tal shoved Carrick again, and still the man was unmoved. They turned north toward her favorite tavern.
“Do you think he brought dessert? I’m starving.” Carrick’s voice echoed over the Taralin.
“He better have. And if Sybil eats my custard again, I’ll be furious.”