Chapter 22
‘Liar,’ I spit. That’s the most ridiculous, impossible thing he could have said.
And yet …
He knew my mother’s name.
I shove off him, breathing hard. ‘Explain everything. Now.’
Rufus stretches his neck from where I was choking him. ‘I was a trader when I met your mother at the gates of Kingsland.’
Gates. Another piece not just anyone would know. My chest feels like it’s caving in. Truth or not, Rufus already knows too much.
‘I was a trader, except Kingsland wouldn’t deal with me. They only used their own.’
Also true.
‘But my foot was injured, so I asked the soldiers if I could at least get some stitches before I went on my way. Your mother was my nurse.’
A storm builds inside me. He’s a conman. This is what he does – sells things. Stories. Lies. Whatever he has to.
But my mother was a nurse.
‘I’ll be straight with you – she was real pretty.
’ He nods. ‘So I started coming around again, and we met outside the gates, in the forest. Luckily, she had a soldier friend who would help her slip out on his shift. We met quite a few times.’ His head bows.
‘And, well … then she told me she was pregnant.’
I shake my head. I know my parents never married, but that’s not how the story goes. We were a family until the attack. Dad was just gone a lot on the road.
Being a trader.
Just like Rufus. I wince. The details have aways been foggy, so Mum filled in the rest. But I know for a fact my dad died that day.
‘I’m telling you the truth, man.’ He exhales, then laughs. ‘I panicked and left. Then years later, I heard a rumour about how Kingsland has something special about it. A magic. This connection deal if you get married.’
I think I’m going to be sick.
‘They said, you marry somebody there, you can heal each other. Talk in your heads and all these crazy things. And by then, I was needing some fixing, and I was sick of fighting all the time, trying to survive. So I came back to see if it was true. Talk to her, you know?’ He looks off into the distance. ‘I remember her bringing you.’
I’m sure he does, because he isn’t my father. He’s the murderer.
‘You stay over here while I talk to your daddy,’ Mum said. We were outside the gate.
I rear back at the faint memory that comes out of nowhere. One I’ve never seen before.
Rufus sneers. ‘Her nose was all out of joint right from the start, but I almost won her back … until I mentioned the connection. Then she got angry. Drew her knife. Started screaming about how I just wanted to use her. Again.’ He pauses. ‘She pushed me. I returned the favour.’
Mum falling to the ground flashes in my head. She screamed and launched herself back at Rufus, clawing his face. But in my memory, there’s a third person. I don’t understand.
‘She scratched my face up good. I’m not proud of it, but I punched her. Next thing, she’s swinging her big old knife with everything she’s got, and my hand was lying on the ground.’
No. The attacker was missing a hand from the start. That’s been consistent in all my nightmares. But then I hear it echoing in my mind – the hair-raising scream. The moment my father was stabbed.
I scrub my forehead. Could the scream have come from another cause?
I try to dredge up something to fill the infuriating gaps in my memory, but there’s no fixing the recollection of a four-year-old standing dozens of feet away.
Still, I try, and what I remember plays out in hazy, broken flickers in my mind.
I feel myself being scooped up. Then we’re running. There’s blood on Mum’s dress and face.
‘But you said Daddy …’
‘Your father’s dead,’ she cried with a sob.
She had chanted that over and over the whole way home … until I believed it was true. Did she rewrite the story? Or did I invent it after she refused to talk about him after that day?
‘Anyway,’ he says, rubbing the gnarled stump at the end of his wrist. ‘I knew I had a kid somewhere. One about your age. Then you show up from a mystery place with my blue eyes, looking like the heart-stealing version of my brother who’s been dead for twenty years.
Of course, you’ve got some of your mother in you, too. ’
My gut knots as I stare at him, and there it is – all the proof I’m not going to find in my broken memories.
I have his eyes.
‘You need to remember, it wasn’t me who lied to you all this time, though.’ He chuckles, all too pleased with himself. ‘So no need to be a stranger now.’
I mutter a curse. Mum’s always been adamant that she didn’t want another partner, even though she had the connection. Can’t be trusted, she’d say about men. Yeah, I guess – if her experience was with Rufus. That’d also explain why she treated the connection like the plague. Both for her and for me.
Slowly, it’s sinking in that this is plausible – the way Rufus is telling it.
It means Mum lied.
Betrayal seeps into me, expanding like a sinkhole, until I look back at Rufus. The man just admitted to running from his lover, abandoning his baby, and coming back only to try to use them again.
I swallow hard. Can I really blame her for protecting me from him?
Maybe not back then, but I’m also not four years old any more. ‘I’ve … gotta go.’
‘Just be sure to let me know if you need any more supplies,’ he calls after me. ‘I’m your guy, especially now.’
I struggle to weave around people. Piles of burned rubble. Tables. I bump into a woman. Apologise. I need to get out of here.
‘Ryland,’ Agatha calls from behind me. ‘Ryland, wait.’ She grabs my arm, pulling me to a stop. ‘Hey.’ Her eyes narrow. ‘What’s wrong?’
Where would I even begin?
‘Tell me.’
My mouth opens. ‘I just … met someone I thought was dead.’
‘And that’s not … a good thing?’
A choked sound slips past my lips.
‘Come on, let’s go to the pond and get cleaned up.’
Agatha dips her hands in the water, washing them.
I remain back, even though I’m the one who needs a bath. Two women and a handful of guardsmen swim about seventy-five yards away, closer to the waterfall. One jumps off a small rock ledge, but the sound of the crashing water smothers their laughter.
All of it chafes.
How long before Rufus sells what he knows about Kingsland? The location. The general idea of security. The connection.
I roughly scrub my face. He knows more than even our traders do.
Although secrets getting out isn’t a new problem; a lot of people know something about Kingsland.
Vagabonds stumble upon it all the time and have questions.
Or they’ll attack. But not all of them are as organised or as highly motivated to conquer us as the Commander.
Agatha trips on a rock as she walks back to me. I grip her elbow, steadying her.
She exhales a laugh. ‘It’s slippery.’
I force a grin. It’s painful. Why am I even here?
I should find Marian.
‘The water is wonderful,’ she says, still holding on, even though I’ve let her go. ‘Oh, you’ve got some soot on your face.’ Her fingers brush my forehead.
I try to rub it off.
She giggles. ‘You made it so much worse.’
I glance at my hands. Yeah, I’m a mess. Reluctantly, I untie my boots and roll up my trouser legs.
The water draws the heat from my skin as I wade up to my knees and wash as much of my body as I can.
My shirt melts to my chest after splashing my face and head.
Agatha’s gaze jerks away when I turn back around.
It’s obvious what she wants from me, and that’s not a conversation I’m eager for. Now or in the future. ‘I’m not very good company at the moment. I should go.’
Her lips press together. ‘Not yet.’
‘You’re not letting me leave?’ I huff a small laugh. I’ve met my share of persistent women, but I didn’t think Agatha was one of them.
‘I’m not leaving you alone. Yet.’ She lowers herself to a boulder and pulls her long hair over one shoulder. ‘You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but … I know you’re going through something. I also know what that’s like.’
My jaw tenses.
Her fingers comb through her hair. ‘I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but my father doesn’t like me very much. Sometimes.’
‘I may have seen some things.’ With a squint, I count the people. Three in the water. Four on the sandy part across the way. ‘I wasn’t sure if it’s always like that, though.’
‘It is. Well, when we’re not alone, that is.’ Her hands stop moving. ‘As predictable as the clouds running out of rain.’
I should probably respond, but my mind is dragged back in time to old conversations. I try to think of the exact wording Mum had used to answer my questions. Did she explicitly lie, or just omit information, leaving me to come up with my own conclusions?
It hits me that the reason no one remembers my father isn’t just because he was always gone as a trader. No one knew him. And the ring! Did that keep coming up in my nightmares because Rufus actually proposed with one? I exhale harshly … until I remember I’m not alone.
Agatha meets my gaze, or maybe she was waiting for it. ‘Don’t you wish you could run away from your problems sometimes?’
The water laps against the rocks from the light breeze, and I turn to watch it.
She chuckles humourlessly. ‘But I guess if you can’t escape it, you find a way to endure it.
Or even join in the game. Unless, of course, you’re you, who gets to leave whenever he wants.
’ She sniffs. ‘Would you ever …’ She pauses, biting her bottom lip.
It reminds me of her sister. ‘Would you ever consider taking me with you? When you leave?’
Oh. I bow my head. Truthfully, it’s crossed my mind for a lot of people.
Marian. Little John and his mum. Some of the other Dresden.
But the logistics of travelling and defending that many people would be a nightmare.
Not to mention the fallout of stealing the Commander’s daughter from here.
Also, with the population hitting six hundred, Kingsland isn’t taking in strangers. Not without a marriage.
She laughs nervously when I don’t answer. ‘Never mind. That was a stupid question. That could ruin your coal deal, especially if you’re caught.’
There’s that too. ‘It’s pretty dangerous out there. Leaving would mean risking your life.’
‘Oh, I know.’
I can’t tell what danger she’s referring to – her father or vagabonds. But if she’s dead set on trying again, she should take an escort of real soldiers. ‘Maybe if Marian –’
‘I don’t want to talk about Marian.’ She takes a steadying breath. ‘I actually … want to ask you another question.’
‘You’re making me nervous,’ I say truthfully.
She laughs. ‘This one’s easy. Or should be, because it’s hypothetical.’ Her eyes roll to the sky. ‘Can a man be attracted to a woman who isn’t classically beautiful? Or is that a myth?’
I resist a curse under my breath. How do I get myself into these situations? ‘Not sure I should be speaking on behalf of every man.’
‘Then speak for yourself.’
I pick up a flat rock and fling it across the water. ‘I’d rather not.’
‘Why?’
‘Because …’ I am fiercely attracted to your sister, and I can’t imagine it any other way.
Though that’s hardly the only reason for the gravitational pull I feel to Marian.
‘It’s okay if a person’s appearance matters strongly to you.’ Her sullen voice says the opposite. ‘I understand. It’s something I’ve experienced all my life. It would be so much simpler – better – if I just had a more pleasing face.’ She stands. ‘I’ll leave you.’
‘Agatha.’
She takes her time meeting my eyes.
‘You’re not unattractive,’ I say. ‘And I kind of want to punch whoever taught you that you were.’ It’s the truth. The more I get to know her, the more beauty in her I see. There’s a lot to love and some man will be lucky to have her.
We stare at each other for a few seconds before she dips her head, fighting a smile.
‘But to answer your question …’ I’ll probably regret this, but it feels like I’ve rolled too far down the hill to stop now. ‘For me, the most beautiful parts that make up a person aren’t what you can see.’
I think of Marian’s compassion for the Dresden and her willingness to sacrifice for them. Her loyalty. Her sense of honour. She lives by a code to protect people – the same one as m–
Agatha kisses my cheek.
I suck in a sharp breath.
But before I can say anything, she dips her head and leaves.