11. Orphium
Chapter 11
Orphium
D aybreak. Morning. The first slivers of sunlight streamed in between the boards hammered up against the window. Golden lines cascaded down the length of Leoric’s powerful back. I measured my breath, pretending to doze, pretending I wasn’t admiring the perfection of his physique. How much lovelier was the front?
But that wasn’t the point of opening my eyes so early — of waking, but not quite rising. Sleep hadn’t been so terrible, despite the relative thinness of the mattress, how the great, big lump beside me kept hogging the covers.
I took a precious few moments to assess Leoric’s own state of consciousness. The pattern of his breath, the swell and sag of his torso with every gentle snore. Yes. Excellent. Still asleep.
The coin belonged to me. I slipped a hand into his pocket.
It happened so fast. Leoric’s hand closed around my wrist. He yanked on my arm and pulled me out of bed, then somehow switched grips, grasping me firmly by the scruff of my shirt and the back of my trousers.
With one foot, he kicked the cottage door open. And once again, Leoric Stonesguard sent me flying through the threshold and sprawling across his front yard.
How in the blazes did he know? He’d reacted so quickly! Was it a warrior’s instincts? A soldier’s discipline? Was he watching, waiting for me too, knowing I would make my move in the morning?
The door slammed shut.
“The utter indignity!” I shouted at it, picking myself up, dusting my clothes off. “Why, I never!”
In all fairness, I did just attempt to rob the man. My outrage sounded ridiculous even to my own ears. I rushed to the well again, drawing enough water to wash my face, clean my teeth, and have a refreshing drink.
If Orphium of the Dawning Court needed to strut about town in his bedclothes, he would do it proudly, and in style. I was all smiles and waves as I greeted the townsfolk, who hopefully didn’t know enough about modern fashion to realize that I was wearing what was functionally a nightgown.
Good thing I could count on Wagon for so many things, including a place to privately change my clothes. I made a brisk beeline back to my caravan, putting on another suit of green and glittering gold. Something to dazzle the people with, something to keep them entertained. And didn’t Jeromah mention some guests rolling into town tonight? Fresh meat.
My stomach grumbled. Fresh meat, indeed. The Gwerenese would provide some much needed variety in my etheric diet, but my physical form needed nourishing, too. I looked wistfully out of my caravan’s window, wishing I could strut into the Ugly Mug for a fresh pie. Then came a rapping at the door.
I opened it carefully, certain it was someone come to scold me for making such a scene outside the graveyard. Close enough. It was Jeromah, glowering at me with her round, ruddy face. Which didn’t necessarily mean she was angry, mind — that was just how Jeromah looked all the time.
“Well?” she grunted, holding something out in one hand. “Did you want me to feed it to you too?”
I blinked at the pie clasped in her fingers. What was this? Why would she treat me so kindly after what I’d done to endanger the town?
“Jeromah, I’m not sure I understand. I’m not sure I deserve this.”
She scoffed, pushing the pie closer. “What’s there to deserve? You’re a pain in the ass, Orphium. I’m sure the others agree. But that doesn’t mean that Barrowdeep will stop taking care of its own. You’re here, for the moment. That makes you one of us. Here. Eat. Or don’t. See if I care.”
Jeromah forced the pie into my hands, then shut the caravan door herself. Heavy footsteps trod the earth outside as she muttered something else unflattering about me. I stared at the thing in my hands, an offering, a gift, its crust golden and perfect.
I crammed the pie into my mouth, chewing hungrily, stuffing it down as fast as I could, counting on the meat and crust to subdue the tears stinging at the back of my throat. They were supposed to shun me for being wrong, for misbehaving. That was how it worked back in the fae courts. I did something wrong, so they cast me out.
Why was it so different here? Were they really so stupid and gullible in Barrowdeep, or was this truly how humans worked? Warmth. Generosity. Kindness.
I choked out a stifled sob, rubbing the back of my hand against dry eyes. No tears shed. They almost got me, these crafty humans. That pie was transactional, a way to keep me in Barrowdeep so I’d serve as bait for the ghouls. Nothing more, nothing less.
My body had been fed. It was a hunger of the heart that had almost driven me to tears — that was all it was. I just needed to feed on one of my phials of dreams and memories, fill the void within. I reached for the shelf, picking out a bottle at random.
I unstoppered the phial, licking my lips as the golden mists swirled. A whirlpool of emotion, a storm of memories in a bottle. The glass burned warm beneath my fingertips, its contents so magical, and yet as mundane as a mug of tea, a cup of hot broth. I lifted the phial to my mouth and tilted it back.
My elbow refused to raise any further. I blinked, wondering how I’d suddenly lost control of my facilities. My insides still rumbled with soul hunger — a craving that not even the freshest pies or most succulent fruit could sate. But nothing, as if my muscles were rebelling, my arm locked in place.
What was this new sensation stirring within me? A strange, almost acidic pang, not quite hunger, a different kind of pain. Despite the call of the gaping void in my soul still waiting to be filled, this feeling was stronger.
Oh, no. Was this guilt?
A useless emotion, some among the greatest of fae nobles might say, one that accomplished nothing. Where would the changeling lords be if they’d allowed guilt to stand in the way of conquest? How could the kings and queens of all the courts rule if guilt had been a barrier to their cruelty?
But I was no king, no queen, no changeling lord. Only Orphium, once of the Dawning Court. I licked my lips again, so uncomfortably aware of my arcane thirst. These people — these humans had treated me so kindly. Jeromah giving me food despite my actions, Father Whiston tolerating my presence, and yes, even that damnable shovel man offering space in his home.
Though “offering” wasn’t quite the right word, considering I’d practically twisted his arm into letting me sleep in his bed. But what a tantalizing nugget of information to hold over his head, something I could readily use against him.
“Perhaps I haven’t really changed, after all,” I muttered, lifting the bottle to my lips.
Again it wouldn’t budge. The ache in my belly stirred, the dull weight of despair.
“Guilt,” I wailed. “Wagon, can you believe it? What has happened to me? Gods, am I becoming one of them?”
I clapped a hand over my mouth, casting my eyes around the cabin, as if someone might hear. “Gods,” I’d said, as if I were one of the humans themselves, adopting their swears and curses and oaths .
“No, no, no,” I said, shaking my head with each enunciation, slamming the stopper back on the phial. “This is fine. I’m simply not hungry enough. That’s all. I’ll save this for later.”
I returned the bottle to its place on the shelf, then gestured at all its friends and neighbors.
“You’ll see. I’ll be back to swallow all of you later, you little hopes and dreams. I’m just not in the mood at the moment. That’s all.”
I sniffed, raised my nose in the air, and slipped out my caravan’s back door, practically prancing. A spot of delusion never hurt anyone. I strutted down the plaza, tipping an imaginary hat at the townsfolk, promising that we could play more games a little later.
And I kept on strutting, meaning to make my way back to Leoric’s cottage, more motivated than ever to torment him. The day was beautiful. Birds twittered in the trees, birds that weren’t of my own making, singing of the blessings of nature. The sun was so balmy, the breeze so cool.
Then why was I sweating?
I doubled over, clutching my stomach with both hands. I was full enough, physically, a fine enough breakfast courtesy of Jeromah. No, this pain went deeper, an emptiness left by a longing for what I’d lost. A man, whether human or fae, needed hopes and dreams and memories. Who was I without them? What was I?
Replacements. Replenishment. I could head back to Wagon, give it another try — but what if I still couldn’t stomach swallowing the mists of memory? I stared hard at the ground, noting how the grass turned to gravel this far out from the plaza. The graveyard was nearby, and so was Leoric’s cottage — and so was Leoric.
The coin. That was all I wanted, wasn’t it? That was all I needed. Fulfill a dream. Then the void would be filled, perhaps forever, this time. I took one wobbling step forward. Pain shot through my stomach. I groaned, doubled over again.
“Mr. Orphium? Are you all right? Can I help?”
A sweet, soft voice. Familiar, friendly. I looked up into the face of my would-be savior. Beautiful eyes, a friendly face, and gorgeous golden hair.
“Mr. Orphium? It’s just me, Pennifer. We’ve met, remember?”
I tried to straighten myself up, wincing as I did. “Of course, of course, I remember. Pennifer with the lovely melons.”
“That would be me.” She swept a hand across her basket, beaming proudly as she showed off a particularly voluptuous cantaloupe. “Oh, but what am I even saying — Mr. Orphium, you look famished. Have you eaten at all?”
Not anything that would truly sustain me , my mind replied. But my mouth answered differently, producing a feeble, wordless croak.
“Oh, you poor thing. Here. Take this. Please eat something.”
She pushed an apple into my hand, a lovely ruby red, its skin smooth and perfect.
“You’re too kind, Pennifer. All of you are, in fact. You’re so very generous, the people of Barrowdeep. ”
I deserved so little of their love, and yet. They had so little to give, and yet.
“Please, Mr. Orphium. We help our own. We help where we can.”
She linked her arm with mine, patted me on the back, and motioned for me to take a bite of the apple. It would be rude not to.
The snap so crisp and fresh, the juice like nectar running down my throat, spilling down my chin. For a moment it felt as though the sting of the void had subsided — or had it subsided sooner than it should, soothed by the balm of Pennifer’s kindness?
I enjoyed my mouthful of apple so much that my compliment sputtered out of my lips in an unintelligible muffle.
“As I thought,” Pennifer said, her smile a bit smug, a lot satisfied. “From my own gardens, if you can believe it. I also carry crops from local farmers, of course, but I’m proudest of what I’ve grown myself. Will you walk with me?”
I nodded, not that I had a choice, and not that I would have chosen otherwise. This was — well, it was nice. There was no other word for it. The pain inside me truly had gone. But while the apple was delicious, I wasn’t fool enough to believe that it would permanently dull the agony in my soul.
As Pennifer went on and on about her garden, I watched her carefully out of the corner of my eye. I never did figure out how to make snake oil, but this was something else I’d heard plenty about. The milk of human kindness. If only there was some way to bottle it .
“Down this way,” she said, nudging us in the direction opposite of Leoric’s cabin.
I craned my neck over my shoulder like a stupid, lovelorn fool, still longing for a glimpse of Leoric — I meant his coin — no, my coin. But Pennifer persisted.
“Just before the graveyard, yes,” she said. “You know, I’m very fortunate that Riggs and Redginald are always nearby. The ghouls, they do frighten me, but they’ve never seen fit to invade my garden. Father Whiston thinks that the fruits of nature frighten them more. A sweetness they can never savor again, reminding them of their own undying corruption.”
I nodded in agreement. The priest was wise in his own way. A fruit orchard was something so common and humble that no human might think it sacred. But to the fae, these places teemed with life, with a quiet, unassuming magic that only nature itself could bring.
“And Leoric, oh, what a wonderful man. He’s always around when I’m in need of a strong arm and a steady hand. He did say he’d come by today to help me with my hole.”
My eyes nearly popped out of my skull. “Your what ?”
“Oh, there he is now. Leoric! It’s me, Pennifer. And look who I brought.”
He smiled when he saw her, but frowned when he saw me. I meant to do the same, to match the stupid scowl that he loved to wear so much, but I couldn’t get the right parts of my face to form the right shapes. All I could do was stare dumbfounded as my jaw dropped.
I thought I’d put it out of my mind already, the image of Leoric from the night before, his torso wet, the well water making the hardness of his body glisten obscenely. And now here he stood stripped to his waist, gleaming in a coat of fresh sweat drawn out by a merciless sun.
Correction: by a kind and generous sun. Leoric’s physique was even more impressive by the light of day, his muscles flexing and tautening as he went back to work, bulging as he dug out a hole in the ground. Sweat darkened the belt line of his breeches, no doubt soaking into his underclothes.
That is, if he wore any. I couldn’t quite recall from the night before, too dazzled when he slipped that wet rag down into his trousers, too hypnotized by the patch of hair that led from the bottom of his belly to the very root of his cock.
He stuck his shovel in the dirt, taking a moment to sweep the longish strands of hair out of his eyes, to wipe the sweat away from his chin with the back of his hand.
“Mr. Orphium? Are you all right?”
I suddenly remembered to remember myself. I balled my fists, cleared my throat, and stood upright.
“Yes. I’m quite all right, Pennifer, thank you.”
How long had I been staring? On any other occasion, with anyone else, I might have known better than to openly gawk at Leoric Stonesguard, this lost lordling, this man with dark eyes, dark hair, and an even darker past. He must have seen me staring, too, returning to his shoveling with a smirk in the corner of his mouth.
“It’s for compost, you see,” she explained, guiding me around the rest of her garden. “The hole. There’s some magic in the soil to help my plants along, but nothing beats nature. ”
“Nothing beats nature,” I echoed, struggling to rip my gaze away from Leoric. It would be impolite not to pay attention to Pennifer’s little tour. She could still prove a helpful ally, and it was the least I owed her for that delicious apple.
“And Leoric helps plenty, too,” Pennifer said.
I gave her a sidelong glance and a crooked smile. “You’re quite fond of Leoric, aren’t you?”
Pennifer chuckled, fluffing the back of her hair with one hand. “Have you seen him? It’s difficult not to be fond of the local gravedigger, yes. He’s so kind and helpful, too. But between you and me, Mr. Orphium?”
Ah, see? Already she was proving an invaluable ally. I leaned closer, catching a whiff of orange blossoms on her hair.
“Yes, Pennifer? I’m all ears.”
“Between you and me, I think he’s secretly happy that you’re staying at his cabin for a spell.”
I cocked an eyebrow. How odd. “Oh? Is that so? And what makes you say that?”
She shrugged. “Call it a hunch. Intuition. I’m not as dull as people think I am. He’s taken a liking to you, Mr. Orphium, whether or not you’ve noticed for yourself. Why, he even mentioned that you shared a bed last night.”
I tugged at my collar. Was it suddenly hotter? “Goodness gracious. What else has my handsome bedfellow been telling the beautiful maidens of Barrowdeep?”
She held a hand over her heart-shaped mouth and giggled. “Only that you attempted to steal a precious keepsake from him while he slept. Leoric can be quite the joker, and he doesn’t even realize it.”
I gritted my teeth, but said nothing. That talkative lordling bastard.
“So I told Leoric that the magnificent Mr. Orphium would never stoop to such underhanded tricks. You would definitely want to win his keepsake in a game of chance, fair and square, the way you played games with all the rest of us.”
“Rightly so,” I replied. “I take your wagers as gratuity, old bits and bobs, and trade you gold in return. Provided you win. Which you always do! The people of Barrowdeep are so very lucky.”
“And that’s why I said what I said. Then Leoric laughed, saying how funny it was that you would try and pick his pocket when all his most precious keepsakes were under his bed.”
There it was. Sweet, innocent Pennifer had given me even more than I’d bargained for. We strolled another lap around her garden, and when we passed the compost hole, we found Leoric still toiling away. I threw him a grin. He gave me a glower.
Such a wondrous relic, a coin of legend, stashed like an illicit engraving under his bed. At last it would be mine, once I secured it from the shovel man’s stash. And once it was in my possession, he could complain as much as he liked. I could still use his shadowy past against him.
We all had our own secrets, didn’t we?