Chapter 19 Hell
Irritation flared. Not at Liv; she was right to wake me. But at this so-called intruder. The interruption was wholly unwelcome and entirely frustrating.
“An intruder?” I wiped the sleep from my eyes. Liv stood over me, all wide eyes and panic.
“We found a man on the grounds. Ezra is with him now; he tied him to a chair in the root cellar.” She turned and headed out of the room, expecting me to follow. And I did.
“Do we know who he is or what he is doing here?” Liv shook her head. “Was he peering in the girls’ windows? Or gathering information for Stanhope? What are his intentions?” Liv raised a hand to stop me.
“We do not know what his true intentions are, but... he says he knows you.” I blinked back at her in confusion. “He said his name is Rafael.” The name meant nothing. And yet something inside me tightened.
“I do not know a Rafael. He is probably only trying to save himself. What was he doing when you found him? Was he trying to get into the manor?”
“Oddly enough, he was sleeping beneath a tree…” She let out a small chuckle at the absurdity. It made no sense. If he were only a traveler passing through, why had he come here of all places?
“This is not exactly a place that you stumble upon. We are too secluded, too inconvenient… I want to question him.” I followed her through the halls toward the cellar.
“If there is anything left of him.” She said.
“Ezra was the one who found him while walking the horse. He is fiercely protective over these girls...”
She pushed the root cellar door open, and it struck the stone wall with a sharp crack.
Ezra stood waiting beside the prisoner, arms folded across his chest.
He looked calm. That frightened me more than if he had looked angry.
I caught Ezra's eye and pointed two fingers toward my own eyes before gesturing to the prisoner.
Can he see me? Ezra gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.
Then he tugged lightly at his ear and cupped a hand behind it.
No. Only hear you. Satisfied, I stepped farther into the room.
The prisoner's hooded head lifted at the sound of my footsteps.
Hidden beneath the hood, he could not see me.
But the moment I spoke, he would know I was there.
I intended to learn everything I could before then.
I smirked at Ezra, then waved a hand toward the prisoner in invitation.
He answered with a smirk of his own. Perfect.
Liv sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes.
“Children,” she muttered under her breath, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.
She pretended our competitions irritated her.
Secretly, I think she enjoyed watching us far more than she cared to admit.
Shadows fell from Ezra’s hands and swirled across the floor, wrapping around the man’s ankles and creeping up his arms. His body jolted with a shudder. I rolled my eyes at Ezra. Showoff.
“Who are you working for?” Ezra’s voice was low and dangerous. The man winced at the sound.
“I work for myself, I swear. I wasn’t doing anything; I was just curious!” His voice cracked beneath the fear, and a strange unease settled in my chest. I had heard that voice before. Hadn't I? I cocked my head to listen better and waved Ezra to keep talking.
“Do not lie to me,” Ezra growled. “Are you spying for Stanhope? Are you an enemy of the Celestial Rebellion?” Celestial Rebellion? I mouthed at him. Since when do we have a name? Ezra shrugged. There wasn't even a vote. He shrugged again, and I rolled my eyes at him.
“I do not know who that is! I swear to you, I meant no harm. I simply followed a friend and ended up here!”
The man’s hands moved frantically with his plea, despite being bound behind his back.
“Please just get Hell; she will tell you that she knows me!”
Hearing my name in his voice stirred something deep inside me.
I had heard him say it before. I was certain of it.
“How do you know my name?” He froze, and his head snapped in my direction, his shoulders relaxing a little.
“I… uh…” He became restless as he struggled for an explanation.
I grew tired of the game. I stepped forward and reached for the sack that covered his head.
Liv caught my hand before I could remove it.
She shook her head and held up one finger.
One more question. I sighed dramatically but stepped back.
“If you truly know Hell, tell me one thing about her that only a friend could know. Something you could not have learned by spying on us.”
Liv crossed her arms, satisfied with herself, and waited for his response.
For a long moment he did not respond, or move, or even breathe, it seemed.
His shoulders slumped, and his head fell to his chest.
Then he let out a small chuckle and his head popped back up.
“She fancies herself a master bladesmith, but will not share how she crafts them.” Liv’s eyes shot to me, her brow creased. Heat rushed into my cheeks, but embarrassment quickly gave way to fury. The nerve of this absolute ass. I tore the sack from his head, then stepped back and crossed my arms.
“What are you doing here, blacksmith?” I practically spat the name.
“...Blacksmith?” Liv tilted her head.
“Wait... you know this man?” Ezra sounded genuinely bewildered.
I sighed. “Unfortunately.”
The blacksmith pressed a hand dramatically to his chest. “That is a cruel way to greet a friend.”
“We are not friends.” I glared at him.
“Acquaintances, then.” He smirked.
“Barely.”
“So there is hope.”
The corner of Liv's mouth twitched upward. “So... this is the man.” She wiggled her brows suggestively.
“Do not start.” I held a finger up to her. “There is no ‘this man’. He followed me home. I do not know him well enough to say whether he can be trusted. I only know he is a blacksmith from Forsgeth. We crossed paths during my supply runs.”
“To be fair, I stopped following for a moment after she threw fruit at me.” I shot him a look that dared him to keep speaking.
“We cannot afford to be careless,” Ezra said. “Either he stays here... or we must be rid of him permanently.”
The blacksmith cleared his throat. “Ahem.” Three pairs of eyes turned toward him. “First,” he said, “I am sitting right here.” His gaze shifted between us. “Second... I really think killing me is a bit of an overreaction.”
“No one said anything about killing you,” Ezra replied evenly.
“You implied it very loudly.” He shook his head.
“We are not killing him,” I interrupted.
“We can at the very least hear him out. He is nothing but a harmless oaf.”
As irritating as he was, I found I did not particularly care for the thought of him dying.
He muttered something beneath his breath.
I caught only two words. “...that kiss...”
I frowned, unsure if I heard him correctly.
“How could you possibly help us? I already told you I have no need of your poorly crafted blades.”
The humor finally left his face. I took out my blade from the holster at my hip and watched in amusement as his face sank.
I tossed it a few times in the air and then flung it toward the shelf in the corner.
It sliced cleanly through a small sack of sugar and was embedded in the wood behind.
His eyes widened. The teasing grin disappeared, replaced by genuine admiration.
It was gone a second later. “Whatever this Celestial Rebellion is...”
His eyes flicked between the three of us.
“I assume people trying to overthrow dangerous men tend to benefit from good information.”
Liv and Ezra glanced at each other, unsure how much he knew or how much they wanted to divulge.
I urged him to go on. “I can help you with this Stansmith person. Knowing how your enemy thinks is usually an advantage.”
“Stanhope.” I shot back coldly, “How do you assume you will be able to help?”
“I can get you information.” He seemed confident.
“We have no need for a spy. The borders and the Great Wall are heavily guarded. There will be no way to get information in or out of Verith.” I moved to put the sack back over his head.
“No! Wait! I can get you information directly from him.”
I looked to Liv and Ezra; both stared intently, eager to hear what he had to say next. So I nodded for him to continue.
“I have dream magic. I can manipulate dreams, enter his mind, and coax him into telling me his plans when he is most relaxed and vulnerable.” Liv and Ezra straightened immediately, but I scarcely noticed. Dream magic.
My eyes lifted to his. Cerulean. Warm. Tiny lines at the corners from smiling too often. My gaze drifted to his hands. Rough and calloused, a small freckle above the knuckle of his left hand. My breath stalled.
He chuckled softly, “So... what do you say? Do you trust me?” I froze at the question. That laugh. The slight rasp beneath it. The whisper in the forest. The heartbeat beneath my cheek. The kiss that never came. The moments collided until I could no longer tell one from the next.
I took one slow step toward him.
“...It was you.”