Chapter 19 #2
If he was ever going to get her to open up to him, he needed to offer something in return.
While he’d watched her work in the tower last night, he had the realization.
She was a woman who sought justice. She wouldn’t divulge her secrets to just anyone, let alone someone she frequently called names and screamed at.
Theo hoped the moment in the hallway had since changed their dynamic and that her desire to help heal Esaias wasn’t only because she knew it was her duty.
His father had asked him to get to know her, but it wasn’t about attaining information for him.
She wasn’t a murderer. No, it was for her protection.
Theo had spent most of the time waiting for her to bathe deciding what to share with her. It’d seemed a deep level of understanding was needed for her to reveal her abusive betrothed. The war was, unfortunately, the rawest information Theo felt even compared to what she went through.
“It’s miraculous, isn’t it?” Theo stepped toward her as she still gaped at the chandelier.
“Do you think they have to replace all those candles each day?” she asked.
Theo blinked, waiting for her to burst into laughter, but her gaze remained twisted in a puzzling expression. “You’re serious?”
“Well, yeah. That’s a shit ton of candles.”
“I would imagine so.” Theo took a moment before he spoke further. “A luxury like candlelight was one thing I took for granted during the war. We lived by the sun most days, which, in some parts of Mosfelkov, doesn’t shine all parts of the year, due to the intense snowstorms.”
“Wasn’t it dangerous to make you go in the winter?”
“Winter?” Theo asked.
Amaris sucked in her lips, her eyes darting to the shelves. “The cold…I mean, snow and stuff.”
How odd. Theo continued. “Most of Mosfelkov experiences bitter cold practically year-round. Only a few parts along the southern coast have limited snowfall and experience the full nature of the seasons like we do. We didn’t do most of the fighting during Whitereign or Darkreign, though, but it was still freezing within the confines of our camps and the fortress we held. ”
“It wasn’t that long ago?” she breathed, shifting her gaze to the abstract paintings along the wall as she tilted her head to study them.
“No,” Theo sighed. “I returned at the end of Bloomreign only a few weeks before we journeyed to Duncaster.”
“How do you forget about it? Move on like nothing happened?” she asked, her fingers tapping her thigh as her eyes stared at Theo. Those blue things attempted to pierce through every wall he’d built.
His body tensed, and he forced a deep inhale, needing to push himself to say something of value, to offer her something. He hadn’t moved on. He couldn’t. What happened in Oystein Castle would forever be etched in his mind, the atrocities committed, the horror he’d seen.
“Theodoric…”
His vision grew red around the edges. The room became shrouded in a bloody hue. Not again. He gripped the hilt of his dagger, praying to any god to pull back the red, to pull him from his head, to release him from the panic.
“Are you—”
Theo’s chest instantly released. A woman with a dirty rag in her hands, wiping the grime from her fingers, ducked her head beneath a banner and came to the front of the store. Theo attempted to shove the memory within the small crack of his mind.
“What can I do for you?” Her deep-set, silver eyes landed on Amaris leaning against the wall of herbs.
“I need bufomom,” Amaris answered. “Lots of it.” She pulled her attention from Theo.
“Bufomom?” the woman asked, chuckling. “What do you plan to do with that?”
“This is Amaris Carter,” Theo cut in, clearing his throat. “She is Luana’s new mystique and is preparing to bolster her stock. We’ve procured most herbs for her, but this is a rare one.”
Amaris shot Theo a questioning look, but he gave a brief shake of his head. Growing word of scrying fever would be as grim as the disease itself spreading through the city. Panic in the streets was something Theo didn’t wish to deal with, as he could barely grapple it in his own head.
“I see.” The shopkeeper placed the rag on a nearby shelf and came to stand beside Amaris.
She pulled her ebony hair back into a knot at the nape of her neck.
“The old man who used to reside in your tower took a liking to this shop. He frequented here often, asking for rare items and herbs. Can I hope for the same business from you?”
Before Amaris could turn her head and give the shopkeeper any reason to question why she would need to ask for permission, Theo pinched the back of her arm out of the shopkeeper’s gaze. Amaris flinched and jabbed her elbow into Theo’s ribcage with a laugh.
“Of course,” Amaris said, “I don’t see why not.”
“Perfect!” The woman smiled, turning to the wall of shelves to gather several jars.
Amaris stepped back to give her room, purposely finding the toe of Theo’s boot. She further leaned back, and Theo forced his lips tight before he snapped at her.
“For the four jars, it’ll be four silver pieces. Will you be paying up front, or would you like to open a line of credit?”
This time, Amaris did stare at Theo, and he remembered Amaris didn’t have the same luxuries as other servants of the manor with steady pay.
“Up front,” Theo interjected, reaching into his pouch to fish out the silver.
The shopkeeper wrapped the jars in cloth, placing them into a satchel.
Amaris slung it over her head. “Thank you…”
“Brelynn,” the shopkeeper finished, “but my customers call me Brela.”
“Brela?” Theo questioned. “As in the Goddess of Trickery?”
“My parents chose a ridiculous name, so I went about using an even more absurd nickname. It’s quite fitting, though, for the oddity of this shop, and I suppose the people who frequent here as well.”
Before Brela could retreat behind her banner, Theo stopped her. “The ship in the case over there…what does ‘aslorn per de eclahard’ mean?”
She inclined a brow and smirked. “Brace for her storm.” She waved them off and retreated to her back room.
Theo stepped out onto the cobbled streets. Brace for her storm. What could Isabel have meant by that? What storm?
Theo turned to Amaris, who looked all too inclined to ask what had happened in there. “Are you hungry?” he hastily asked.
“I’m fine,” she lied, while her stomach growled.
“Too bad, because I am.” Theo whisked her off before she could ask her question. He took her to his favorite tavern and ordered two silver rolls.
“What’s this?” she asked, poking the silverling meat. She must have been truly sheltered.
“It’s best to eat and not ask what’s in it. But if you must know, it’s my favorite dish,” he said through a mouthful.
“Why do you bring up the war if you don’t want to talk about it?” Her blue eyes cut through his shield, threatening to pull apart the mended stitch in his mind.
The muscles of his neck tensed, and he waited for the blood to taint the dimly lit tavern and the panic to lay siege to his heart. Maybe it was something within that food-packed smile, or his prayer was answered by the gods, but the panic didn’t take hold of him.
“It bothers you.” She lowered her voice, drawing out a whispering note.
“I presume you assessed that in the shop.”
“It’s part of my job to see that stuff too. You had this far-off look in your eyes,” she said, sucking the silverling juices off her fingers. “And you grabbed your dagger.”
Theo fought the urge to grab for it now.
“Is that what happened in the throne room?”
Theo ignored her and asked, “There are things that bother you, but you wish not to speak of them?”
“Sure,” she harrumphed, turning her nose up. For a woman no taller than a few inches past five feet, she had the ability to stifle the size of any opponent to bring them to her level.
“I lost good people,” Theo confessed. He fought back the heaviness in his chest. Their names on the tip of his tongue.
Stopping mid-bite, she recoiled deeper into the bench. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Is that where you got that?” She pointed to where the scar hid underneath his sleeve.
He paused but couldn’t bring himself to continue. “A story for another time,” he breathed. “We should get back to the manor and begin the next set of doses.”
He stood from the table, slithering through the afternoon rush. The tavern door closed as a fiddle struck its first tune, but he began the trek back to the manor with Amaris hurrying in step to catch up.