Chapter 8 Audryn
AUDRYN
Even after a full week had passed, I was still the topic of conversation.
Benton must’ve talked about the ball dozens of times, each story more ridiculous than the other.
One patron asked if I truly slapped Prince Sutton across the face, and another asked if I had thrown a small cake at him.
People even assumed I was involved in the slap fight between two of the guests.
As luck would have it, I was exploring the hallways attempting to locate the royal chambers and missed the brawl.
The bell above the door rang as Jaspar marched through, two new fae flanking his sides. He grinned at me from a distance, his eyes brighter than before. With facial hair growing in, he’d started to shed the meticulous facade from the ball.
“Still turning me down, Audryn?” Jaspar stopped at the edge of the bar.
“Still don’t have a name for me?” I snapped and poured a glass of wine for the female waiting at the end of the bar. His next words stopped me in my tracks.
“I don’t have a name, but I have a lead.” The skin around the corners of his eyes crinkled. “You going to kiss me again?”
I set the glass on the counter roughly, letting it teeter. “What do you mean? What’d you find out?”
Jaspar gestured to the glass, pushing me to serve the woman, but I stood and waited for his answer.
“Come to the back?”
I shook my head. “No. Tell me here—now. What do you know?”
He moved in close and lowered his voice. “You never know who’s around. Come to the back. Please?”
I blew out a breath and asked Benton to cover for me. Even though he didn’t work there, he spent nearly as much time at the tavern as I did. I ducked through the door and immediately stopped on the other side.
The tiny, windowless room was packed full of people and filled with the stench of stale alcohol and body odor. The conversation among the group stalled the instant Jaspar entered behind me as if he were the prince himself—though for the group of thieves and liars, he probably was.
“Continue, I’ll only be a moment,” he said to the crowd, waving a hand. A small whirlwind of air surrounded just the two of us, blocking his words from everyone else. I was grateful for the privacy from peering eyes and eavesdropping pointed ears.
“It may be nothing, but it may be something.” He looked around before returning his face to mine. “I don’t want to get your hopes up.”
“Great Divine, just come out and say it,” I pleaded.
“There’s a book. It documents every public execution. The name of the person, the offense, date.” His voice lowered. “And the name of the executioner.”
I stared in disbelief. “Where do I find it?”
He scratched at the stubble on his jaw. “Thing is, I’m giving you this information nearly as soon as I’ve heard it. It's incomplete. I don’t know where the book’s kept, but if I had to guess, it would be in the royal library. I’m still working on getting—”
“At the fucking castle? The one we both were at just last week? You’ve got to be kidding me.” My voice pitched higher than intended, but the swirling wind he’d conjured still muffled our conversation.
“Yeah, the timing is shit. But if you wait, I’ll let you know more as soon as I know, okay?”
My breath caught in the back of my throat, nearly blocking air from entering my lungs. I was a step closer to finding the person responsible for changing my family. Destroying my family. Not just the death of my brother, but my mother too.
I leaned forward, took Jaspar’s face in my hands, and kissed him. Breathing him in, I released the tension that had been sitting on my chest for months. Tears threatened at the corners of my eyes, relief washing over me.
He pulled away and scanned my face. “I was only joking. Though I don’t expect you to—”
“I know, I’m just happy.” I rubbed my eyes. “Apparently even happy enough to kiss … you.”
“Keep your expectations low. Many times, information leads to nothing.” He tilted my chin up. “I can’t bear letting you down any more than I already have.”
“I suppose I should invite you over and hold up my end of the bargain now?” My attempt to change the seriousness of the conversation worked; Jaspar barked out a laugh.
“I wouldn’t say no.” He paused. “But you’d kick me out afterwards, and I’d prefer to sleep next to you as much as I’d prefer to sleep with you.”
There was a knock on the door, and he dropped the wind encircling us. I cracked it, revealing an eyeball belonging to a flustered Benton.
“I could really use some help here. Your customers are demanding and won’t let me get even a gulp in before wanting something else,” Benton whined.
“Let me know if you hear anything else,” I said to Jaspar over my shoulder as I bent down and passed through the doorway.
Laughter filled the rest of the evening. Benton kept us entertained for hours. I even indulged a few people with a story or two about the ball and my interaction with the prince. Nothing could've possibly pulled me from the high I was on; even the customers in foul moods weren’t bringing me down.
With bellies full of food and sloshing wine, Benton and I walked the empty streets home. Usually, I’d only partake in a short glass of whiskey, but there was cause for celebration. And though I knew I’d wake up with a headache the following morning, it was worth it.
Coming to a stop, I readied myself to say goodbye as we stood outside the perimeter of our adjoining fences, but everything looked …
different. My mind was dizzy with alcohol, and I couldn’t quite figure out what was out of place.
Benton’s wheat field stood high, tall stalks with wide heads ripe for harvesting.
I scanned my backyard, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. My yard was flat and ravaged.
Tomato vines were ripped from the lattices and trampled.
My pole beans were decimated, lying lifeless on the ground and already beginning to shrivel.
Heads of lettuce were ripped to shreds, their leaves scattered among the soil.
Even the trees were bare, luscious fruit pulled off and left to rot in the dirt.
“What. The. Actual. Fuck.” The words crawled out of me as I took in the devastation.
“What happened?” Benton repeated several times while steadying himself on the fence post.
I looked around for rogue children, maybe teenagers, but the streets remained empty and quiet.
The produce was seemingly assaulted by nothing but the earth itself.
Climbing over the wooden fence, I fell to my knees, feeling the full weight of the burden this would place on my father and me.
For several minutes, unable to do anything but take it all in, I drew in deep breaths, attempting to steady myself.
I’d need time, but I could fix it. With darkness masking the destruction, no one could’ve witnessed it. It would take me all night to regrow the produce without drawing any suspicion, but I could do it.
As the child of two land wielders, the amount of effort it would take to regrow everything might drain me. I’d never needed to use so much magic to replenish the fields, but I couldn't afford to let anyone else see the damage. And if I tried to let the field grow naturally, it would take months.
I went to work. Fumbling around with the ruined vines and produce, I started throwing scraps to the side to make room for the new fruits and vegetables.
“What are you doing?” Benton swayed over me.
“Everything needs to be cleared. I have to make space. The new growth can’t be intermixed with the damage, otherwise it will rot too.”
My friend began working diligently in the dirt, nearly falling over as he bent down to move the ruined items. This would have been an easier task if we hadn’t consumed so much alcohol. Instead, it was like trying to solder a ship in a storm.
“I’ll take care of it.” I waved him off.
Benton stood, surveyed the damage, and grimaced at the field. He shook his head and walked through the wheat toward his house. I continued digging and cleared half a row quickly, leaving dozens more to go. A quarter acre of property to farm wasn’t huge, but the task felt insurmountable.
Sitting back on my feet, I huffed a few breaths. I hadn't even started the actual task of regrowing, and I was already losing steam. I was moving too slowly. Shadows moved in the distance, growing taller as they approached.
I squinted, trying to see past my blurry vision and the slight tilt of the earth. Not only had my best friend returned, but Orion followed just a step behind. Shovels in hand, they stopped in the row closest to their own field. Working in tandem, they discarded leaves and mush.
“We’ll clear, and you grow behind us,” Benton slurred out, far louder than necessary.
I stood to my feet and staggered across the field. The wine was dissipating, but not quickly enough. “This isn’t your mess to clean up.”
“Isn’t it though?” Orion gave a tight smile. “We’ve been in this together since the beginning, and we’re not going to leave you.” I went to protest, but he cut me off. “Don’t refuse our gift.”
I swallowed hard before dropping onto my knees.
The vibrating magic moved through me, just under my skin and out of the tips of my fingers into the fluffy, churned soil.
It echoed into the air, the thick hum bouncing against my body and back into the lively dirt.
One by one, heads of romaine sprouted down the line as I begged the land to respond to my request.
For hours, Orion and Benton worked with me to restore the field. My friends cleared, I planted, and then they both moved behind me to dampen the ground with their water magic. Our bodies ached, and sweat poured from our brows, but my friends didn't issue a single complaint.
As we worked, we kept our eyes peeled for any sign of the people who’d caused the damage. If they were so heartless to destroy my field, they’d surely jump at the chance to earn a few coins by reporting our use of magic to the Rivale Guard.
As the moon dipped, I hugged my friends. For the second time that night, tears filled my eyes, but I held them back.
“Thank you.” I smiled, trying to ignore the pit in my stomach. While I truly appreciated their help, I wasn't sure I could ever repay them.