29 Roman
Roman
I was in love with her.
And I was ready to lose everything because of it. Something fundamental had shifted in the last few hours, but Meg made me promise not to do or say anything until she came back to the cabin.
“Why is it raining again?” Justus groaned, rocking in the chair on the porch. His greasy hair hung limply around his ears as he swatted a fly from his face. I’d never seen him look so rough.
Fresh air hadn’t done him any favors.
The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but it hadn’t let up since early this morning when I’d dragged myself wet and discarded back to the cabin.
I touched the bite mark on my shoulder under my shirt. It was still sore like the scratches and marks on the rest of me. A reminder that last night hadn’t been some fever dream.
Meg wanted me. Not Justus. Not the approval of the council—or of the gods. Me.
That made her a fool, and me an idiot.
And she’s still everything I ever wanted.
“Curse Science.” Justus scratched his arm. “Does everything out here have to bite?”
I stilled at his words, almost feeling sorry for my old friend. The wedding I couldn’t allow to happen. But the thought of what the council would do…
“You know whose fault this is?” Justus rocked faster. “Meg’s fault. That’s who. She abandoned us here, knowing what it’d be like. This is punishment, isn’t it? For me going to the club. Mother won’t stand for it when I tell her what happened.”
The grinding, gnawing feeling inside my skull was back, and I stood.
“Don’t tell me you’re going for another run.” Justus’s panicked voice chased me as I stepped off the porch.
What the hell am I doing?
I couldn’t throw caution to the wind. I had a mission. A father to support. My duty was to the city of Ethica, and to the councilwoman. Yet I’d slept with my best friend’s intended wife, and if given the choice, I would do it again.
“Whoa. What are you doing?” Justus put his hands in the air and took a wide step backwards as I grabbed the handle of the ax.
What was I doing?
I honestly didn’t know.
But the axe had been stuck in a log round, and there was a pile of split wood beside the stack of uncut rounds, and it seemed to make sense.
“Might as well make ourselves useful while we wait.” I tested the weight of the axe in my hand, hearing the thousand voices of why this was a bad idea screaming loud at me to stop.
“No, thank you.” Justus took cover from the misting rain under the shed overhang.
The screen door of the main cabin swung open and slammed closed as Maddock stepped outside, sipping from a coffee mug.
Dark clouds continued to gather above us. The drizzle of rain plastered my shirt to my skin as I motioned with the axe. “You use the sharp end to split the wood?”
The beast of a man arched a bushy eyebrow. “Something like that.”
“Be careful, please,” Justus whispered. I’m not sure how much his worry was for me, or for Maddock, who leaned one elbow on the porch railing, sipping his coffee.
I ignored them both.
The stump was heavier than it looked. I positioned it on the chopping block and readied the axe. I wasn’t quite sure what to do, but it seemed simple enough.
The first swing vibrated through my shoulders and chest as the axe made contact. Its blade stuck, and I had to use my foot to get it free. Maddock chuckled. Justus yelped out another warning.
I adjusted the axe, swinging harder with more follow through this time.
It split. Just a crack.
I swung again.
And again.
Training kept me in shape, but this was the kind of back-breaking labor that citizens in my working class had done throughout my childhood. Maybe not this intense. But the menial job took the same kind of strength that had broken my own father while the upper classes stepped on him.
He'd been the foolish dreamer. Not me. The man who thought we’d be able to rise above our station like they did in the old stories if he just worked harder. Longer hours. Took on more jobs.
Right up until his body gave out.
Ironically, I’d done exactly what he always hoped to do. Yet where was I? Still the bottom boot of the head that didn’t care about the people I’d left behind.
Meg had come into our world, ready to sacrifice herself for those people.
For what?
The wood splintered into four logs and I stopped, panting as I wiped the sweat and rain from my brow.
“Now what?” I looked up at Maddock.
He nodded at the cut wood. “Now you do it again.”
“This is barbaric, you know that, right?” Justus gathered his coat around his chest.
“You can go inside,” I told him.
It was no use trying to get Justus to understand. I’d spent years telling him what it was like on the other side, and all I’d gotten was a stern warning from Helen to not put ideas into her son’s mind. So I’d grown quieter over the years. Doing my job.
Keeping my head down.
Blisters were already forming on my hands as I repositioned the cut wood to chop even further.
I’d known it since the moment I saw her that I couldn’t let Meg go through with this. Mate or not, it wasn’t her place to sacrifice herself for Ethica—people who wouldn’t sacrifice themselves for her.
Maybe it was for the best.
The gods should burn it all down.
Lightning cracked across the sky as the axe hit its mark and the log splintered into a spray of wood chips. I welcomed the burning pain in my shoulders, feeling sweat drip into the healing bite mark Meg had left on my collarbone.
After everything I’d given them, I refused to let them have her.
“Thank science, she’s back.” Justus’s cry of relief echoed that strange tug in my chest as I turned, seeing her step from the trees.
Meg’s bare feet touched the muddy earth.
Toned legs stretched up under the loose t-shirt—legs I hadn’t fully memorized and wanted to run my hands along again.
Her hair was tied back, letting the drips of rain run off her sharp cheekbones and nose.
She looked cold, except for the fire in her eyes that burned when her gaze met mine.
I felt my heart skip, vowing to do anything this woman asked and more.
Then she turned away from me, looking at Justus instead, and it was as if my chest caved in on itself when she told him, “We need to talk.”