Chapter 29 A Wayward Reputation
A Wayward Reputation
“Wise men do not venture into Eiden after sunset. For there is no place more unsettling.”
— Dreary Nightsong, The Onyx Scholar
As Amzee and Zephy flew away, I hiked back to the capital, eyes set on the high-perched Silver Circle.
Through streets lined with proper family homes, I passed by open curtains and dinner parties. My heart beat like a hammer in my chest.
Food, laughter, safety. There were no burn piles, no walls, no Drakers. Life carried on as if thousands of people were not locked in cages across the sea. The people here were ignorant to the circumstances of their own kind. Did they not know, or did they simply not care?
Hesitancy plagued my mind until I no longer hurried towards Xavian’s home. I swung the door to Sailor’s Tear Tavern open and fled to my room, avoiding eye contact with Gia.
With my back against the door, I slid down, burying my face in my hands. If only it were enough to block the rest of the world out.
How did I come from the bravest bloodline in the kingdom, only to be born pathetic and indecisive? The pressure to be useful was overwhelming to where I wanted to do nothing at all, but the idea of doing nothing while thousands suffered was ruinous upon my peace.
Yet, every time I tried to help, I messed everything up.
Sitara and her village had been freed from Zain, only to be butchered. Saving Luna from a Sapphire was the last time I’d ever seen her. Gathering firewood from town got me imprisoned for days in an enemy camp. All I did was make things worse.
I could only imagine what everyone else thought of me. I shook my head in my hands, squeezing my eyes tight.
The expectations were too high. I didn’t know the right thing to say to Xavian, nor what he could possibly say to me that would make up for anything.
There were so many people left behind in the Waywards, people I knew and worked with.
They were suffering and dying while I sat safe in a vibrant city.
The guilt ravaged me, tearing me apart piece by shattered piece.
I’d yet to check in on Trista, and Luna was probably dead by now. No matter how hard I tried to keep Riven out of my head, he consumed my mind again and again.
I had to stop. I’d already gone too far.
I should have taken Prince Payn up on his offer. At least then I would have been doing something helpful, though it was bold of the Blood Prince to assume my brother would care to surrender on my behalf.
My head spun. The world was closing in, and my days of being nameless were numbered. If I could simply disappear, I would have.
A knock pounded on the door.
I jumped at the vibrations against my back, scowling at the giggles from the other side.
“What?” I growled.
There were several voices, all women. “We’re going to play orb-dice. Come out of your room, Waywards girl. Don’t you want to join us?”
It was one of my new coworkers who had a clear disdain for me, but I’d yet to remember her name.
“No.” There was too much going on in my head to say anything else, and I never wanted to play another game involving an orb after the midwinter celebration.
They didn’t bother responding, but chatted amongst themselves.
“I told you, she’s a bitch.”
“Eh, I think she’s just stupid. Gia said she tried to run into the streets after closing one night.”
“She’s from that Waywards thing. Of course she’s dumb.”
“Ha! I heard Mister Guzzlesticks and his boys the other day talking about how they couldn’t bed a girl with monster eyes like hers. If they want nothing to do with her, perhaps we shouldn’t be offended that the monster won’t play.”
I winced.
“Why does Drakington’s errant garbage keep making its way here?”
“Gia, we tried to get it to play! Happy now?”
I did not need Gia’s charity, and I was no stranger to hate, but labeling me a monster? A monster would not hide away, sparing dull barmaids from her wrath. They knew nothing about what I was above or beneath. They knew nothing at all.
I had crossed a kingdom and an ocean, just to find out that even beautiful cities could be filled with the same hate that festered in Drakington.
I shot up, swinging my door open. The three women stopped and turned back, surprised—amused even. Snickering in their busty brown dresses. Their hair haggard and teased like a trio of electrocuted trench rats.
The most obnoxious one dared to speak first. “Does the monster not know the common tongue? I thought it said ‘no’? Yet now it's out of the room?” She cackled. “Can you read, Monster? Do they teach the Drakish such things? I’m truly curious.”
Her entourage of slug-bucket bitches laughed themselves to tears.
I knew their hatred well. I was foreign, and the Waywards tended to leave a bitter taste in everyone's mouth.
But I was not the Waywards.
She was bold to call me a monster to my face, even bolder to insinuate I could not read.
“Can you?” I hissed. Her eyes widened into saucers as I crossed the room, fists clenched tight. I had done nothing to her, nor the other girls in the tavern for them to treat me like an abomination.
The other two backed away as I came toe to toe with the head wench.
“Oh look, the monster is mad.” She laughed before pushing my shoulders, sending me back a step.
My blood boiled as the entire tavern fell silent. She was still smiling, mocking me.
“You’re right. I am.” I gripped her arm. Her face fell as I twisted it low to my waist. There were no Drakers to stop me, and I would love for someone to make me face the Lord of Castivian for punishment.
The entire tavern stared, but I didn’t give a slick fuck. I would give them all something to remember about a Drakish Blackheart.
“Let go of me, you Waywards garbage!” she demanded, trying to pull away. I gripped tighter, yanking her arm straight.
I am inescapable.
“I’d recommend not moving.” With my opposite hand, I traced a finger along the skin of her forearm. She screamed and thrashed, but I did not budge. It only made my handwriting worse.
Once I released my grip, ‘Elora’ was crudely written across her forearm, forged in Blackheart poison.
It was enough to burn like hell, but not to kill, hopefully.
She fell to the floor, unfortunately not dead. She screeched at the sight of her arm.
I had no sympathy to offer, only a reminder.
“That is my name, should you forget it again.”
Customers fled the tavern, as if I would brand every one of them if they stayed long enough.
Gia glared from behind the bar. Her lips a flat line as she slammed a glass on the counter.
“Get out.”
I hadn’t planned on staying anyway.
Singer beamed at my hip. She wanted a chance to be dangerous, too. If the Castivian nights were as bad as everyone said, she would have her moment. I returned to my room only to cram my few belongings into my bag. My parting gift was a green finger under one of their pillows.
The moon greeted me as I ventured out into the streets, blinded by fury and with no direction.
Everyone else in Castivian seemed to have plans. I passed house parties, taverns, brothels, and even smoking lounges.
As the night went on, I relived every miserable moment of my life while my feet guided me aimlessly.
I thought about my mother leaving. I thought about how easily I let them put me in the Waywards, like some wild animal craving capture. I thought about every man who had once tried to claim my body, as if they were owed a portion of me.
It must have been past closing hours, because as I turned a corner, there was a muffled struggle down a pathway. I pulled out Singer, gripping the handle while the orb illuminated the alley blue.
A hideous man with rust-colored hair shouted at me. “This one is mine, stay back!” He held a smaller man viciously by the collar.
“The land you walk on is mine,” I seethed.
My poison shot from Singer’s gem, smothering the man’s face in the blink of an eye. He fell to his knees, crashing to the ground.
The smaller man was grateful to be released, brushing off his stone covered palms and nodding sheepishly before running away, as if I might consider going for him next.
I crouched beside the first man's body.
His chest did not rise or fall, and when I brought my fingers to his neck, there was no flickering beat.
I may have been useless since arriving in Castivian, but I was not powerless.
I shamelessly collected every coin from his pockets, the chain around his neck, and an obsidian blade from his hand.
Striding through the night, I searched for the monster they said I was.