Chapter 47 #2
Nicostratus laughs. “You played the flute so . . . uniquely.”
“Get out of here.”
Nicostratus stands. Pauses. “Uncle’s reach is growing,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing the ribbon tied around his head. “Hinsard is crawling with his men, and they’re not just watching—they’re preparing for something.”
Quin’s voice is clipped. “Then we’ll be ready.”
“My unit is moving south after this. I’ll break from them and head to Hinsard. Many of my people are there, too. I can send some to help you.”
“Too loud. When the gates reopen, I’ll slip out.”
“They have your image. There will be checkpoints everywhere.” Nicostratus laughs on a sigh. “Of course, you’ll have a way. What’s your plan from here?”
“The southern border—Commander Thalassios of the Wyvern division.”
Nicostratus’s eyes flicker as if in recognition. “You have dated information. Uncle has ordered half to retreat into Hinsard until further notice. Wyvern division is among them.”
“What is he up to?”
“Anything that saves him money.”
“He messes with our people’s lives and now he dares mess at the border?”
“That’s why I’m going. For more information; to find out what the situation is like.”
“Good. We’ll meet there in ten days. Wait—”
“If we cross paths publicly, I won’t know you.”
“That’s best.”
“One more thing,” Quin says.
Nicostratus hesitates at the door, glancing back. “Your mother? . . . Or his akla?”
I hold my breath. Quin waits for Nicostratus to continue, and he does. “Your mother wears a ribbon for you, too. His Akilah is saddened, but his vitalian friend visits her.”
I sag onto my haunches.
Nicostratus hesitates, then lifts his chin higher. “May I ask you a question?”
“Go ahead.”
“He tried to kill you under our uncle’s orders. Will you ever forgive him?”
“Brother—”
“No. What I really mean to ask is, will you ever forgive me?”
“What for?”
“For this.” He gestures to his silver ribbon. “For mourning him. Missing him, wishing he were still alive.”
Quin remains quiet for long beats, and my heart bangs so hard I wonder they can’t hear it.
“Was your love that deep?” Quin finally asks.
“I can’t explain it. He made me smile. I’d light up inside. I’d want time to pause so I could have him with me longer.”
“You’re saying you’ve forgiven him?”
“Do you forgive me for it?”
Quin speaks slowly, as if still deliberating. “If he could hear you, I’m sure he’d be relieved to know your feelings.”
“What about your feelings?”
Quin laughs hollowly.
“I used to think you . . .” Nicostratus shakes his head. “Then I thought you must resent him. Now you’re curious about his akla. . . . You’re not filled entirely with hate.”
“I’m not filled with hate.”
Nicostratus lets out a long breath. “It’s a weight off my chest. I can go on without feeling guilty.”
I shut my eyes.
Quin murmurs, “Travel safely.”
“If the day comes when you need me, brother . . . know I’ll be there.”
My chest tightens as I watch him leave, his red cloak disappearing through the doorway. Something about his words, his tone, sits uneasily in my chest. I glance at Quin, but his expression is unreadable.
When his footsteps have long faded, Quin says, “Come out.”
I slip onto the same chair Nicostratus had sat on. It’s still warm. A soft ache fills my chest. The silence between us is heavy, Nicostratus’s presence still palpable.
I open my mouth to speak and press my lips tight again.
“Say it,” Quin demands.
I point toward the screen where I’d been hiding. “Why don’t we tell him? He’s played out his natural reaction to my death. He’s made it look real to the royal city . . .”
Quin’s fingers curl around the arm of his chair. “I needed to gauge his situation. Need to make sure knowledge of your continued existence won’t hurt him, or you.”
“Did you gauge it?”
“I’m confident he’ll keep your secret and be safe doing so.”
“You can see how much he’s hurting; how much he’s missing me . . .” I choke on my words.
A pained expression flickers over Quin’s face and he quickly masks it. “I could have revealed you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Quin speaks simply, “I like having you to myself.”
“Quin . . .”
A sharp look. “You must have some idea how I feel about you.”
I expel air in a rush. I recall the royal city, asking him if he had feelings for me, his responding outrage. “You told me I was being arrogant.”
“That you were arrogant. Not that you were wrong.”
“Your brother—”
“Is he really the one you love?”
I swallow. His gaze is firm on mine, insistent. Tightness pulls at my chest. My breathing alters, uneven. “I . . .”
“Is he?”
“Yes!”
Quin sinks back with a huffed laugh before growing quiet. He doesn’t look at me, but it feels like all his awareness surrounds me, analysing my every shift.
“If you’re certain,” he says finally, sitting upright like he might be talking to any of his subordinates, “forget this conversation.”
I swallow, stomach uneasy with . . . with guilt.
Quin waves his hand, a clear dismissal. “I’ll tell him the truth about you in Hinsard.”
“You are my friend.”
His snaps his gaze to mine. “Don’t console me. These feelings came unwanted; they’ll go easily enough.”
“I don’t want things to be awkward.”
“Lean in!”
I buckle over the desk before him.
He flicks my forehead. “I’m past it already.”
It’s to this scene that Bastion and his men enter the office. Quin swiftly shifts his attention to them, while I slump back to my stool with clammy palms and butterflies. Ticklish . . . relief.
“. . . calculations. As long as we’re careful, the food should last.” Bastion is a whir of movement as he draws out a short sword and points it at the king. His men unhook their whips and they unfurl to the floor at the ready.
I leap to my feet, knocking over my stool, and snatch Bastion’s sword-wielding arm.
“Let go,” he snaps at me.
“What are you doing?” I demand.
He answers, staring hard at the king, who hasn’t so much as flickered. Almost like he expected this. “Now that everything is under control, we have scores to settle.”
“Is it not enough your men have been saved?”
He tries to shake me off, but I wrap myself around his arm. He looks at me and jerks his arm so I fall inwards, face to his face. He bares a toothy grin. “Feisty too. You’ll be fun.”
I don’t let his schmoozing shake me off. I grit my teeth and hold on. “Do you have no honour?”
“He has the good will of the townspeople. It’s not enough to pay for decades of neglect.
” He looks over at the king. “If the gates open and you get away, they’ll be relieved for a few weeks, but then they’ll see nothing else has changed.
Our stores will keep being taken for the benefit of the royal city, leaving us scraping by for food, for herbal supplies, for medicinal help.
The magistrates who abandoned us will return to their costly homes and their wasteful consumption. All on the backs of us.”
Quin keeps his gaze evenly on Bastion, lets him continue, “You see this sword as a threat. I see it as our fight for salvation.”
“What will killing him help?” I cry.
Bastion laughs tightly. “The bounty for handing him over will keep the entire town afloat for at least a year.”
“Money? Money’s all you want?” I release him and step back. “If you get the same amount, will you let him go?”
Bastion lowers his sword, looking at me.
“I can give you that money.”
He prowls closer, the tip of his sword dragging along the floor.
My stomach knots, but I force a calm smile. “Enough to make sure you won’t need to touch him.”
His fingers lift my chin, and my pulse races with a mix of fury and unease. “You’re a pretty face. I’ll have more fun taking it from you.”
I grab his wrist, my grip firm despite my shaking fingers. “You won’t. Not because I’m pretty, or a healer, but because you’re better than this.”
For a moment, his grin falters, something genuine flickering in his eyes. He steps back with a bark of laughter, and I exhale sharply, my shoulders dropping. Quin’s gaze lingers on me, unreadable, but my chest tightens under its weight.
“When I give you the bounty money, you will let him go.”
Quin quietly observes this scene, his gaze shifting from me to Bastion, awaiting his response.
Bastion huffs out a laugh. “You really are his man. Fine. I agree. Give me the money, and I won’t waste any more time with him.”
From my cloak, I pull out the purse Megaera returned to me.
Quin leans forward to take it, his gaze pinning Bastion in place. “You raised a sword against me, and I let you. Because I know the weight you carry for your people.”
Bastion opens his mouth, but Quin cuts him off. “Don’t mistake my leniency for weakness. I could leave this town tomorrow, but I choose to stay because I understand the people here need support. Accept my offer, and ensure your people are cared for.”
Silence stretches between them, heavy and charged, before Bastion sheathes his sword. “What offer?”
Quin picks up a few sheets of paper from his desk. Magic leaks from his hand, pulling blood from his finger and staining it into a pattern at the bottom of each sheet. When he’s done, he hands them over.
Bastion reads the first sheet, his brow furrowing. As he flips to the next, his movements slow, his expression shifting from suspicion to disbelief.
“Do you mean it?” he asks, voice rough.
Quin’s tone is steady. “I certainly won’t allow the previous magistrates to return to their posts. You’ve proven your sincerity.”
Bastion clutches the papers like they’re a lifeline, his eyes darting between Quin and me. “You’re either a fool or braver than I thought.”
Quin inclines his head. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“This document is enough?”
“It has the royal seal. Anyone looking upon it will know its validity. Those magistrates are as good as exiled from this town, and you and your men are rightfully instated as the governing members.”
“We have authority?”
“And a quarterly budget to manage. Alongside fair wages.”
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll defy you?”
“If I ever fail my people, I expect you to defy me.”
Bastion rocks back. He gestures and his men roll their whips to their belts.
Then he rests a foot on the upturned stool and leans forward against his knee.
To the king, he says, “After all the meritorious deeds I do for you, you’ll want to reward me.
” He glances pointedly at me and bestows a wolfish grin upon Quin. “I’ll ask for him.”