Chapter Three #3
The male voice was familiar, but I couldn’t grasp on to a thought long enough to remember who it belonged to. Someone clapped my back, and I was barely conscious enough to swat them off of me.
“Leave me alone,” I slurred, shoving Sprigs into his hands. “And take him with you.”
“I mean, sure, I could let you sleep here on this tile covered in traces of horse shit all night, or I could carry you up to your quarters and get you into bed. What’s it going to be?”
“I’m sure you’re handsome, but I’ve got a wife.” I’d nearly forgotten she’d asked for a divorce. All I could remember was that I loved her. I didn’t care if we were ending. I’d never share a bed with anyone else, not as long as I lived.
“As much as I’d love that, I’m here as a friend.”
A friend? I wasn’t sure I had any of those left.
I lifted my head slightly as I realized who the voice belonged to. “Chancey?”
“Yeah, it’s me, dumbass. Gods, how much have you had?”
The bartender rattled off a number I was too drunk to process. It occurred to me that maybe the bartender wasn’t pouring drinks as a sign of sympathy, but trying to kill me himself. I’m sure alcohol poisoning could circumvent the Emperor’s magical orders. I wouldn’t blame the guy if he succeeded.
“Ugh. Get me some ice,” Chancey demanded.
The next thing I knew, ice-cold water was splashing over my head, and cubes slid down my shirt. I gasped in surprise and sprang upright to a sitting position.
“Fuck you, Chancey.” I took a swing at him, but I was so disoriented it must’ve taken a full second for my fist to reach the spot where he’d been kneeling. By that time, he’d already leapt out of the way.
“Thataboy!” Chancey clapped me on the back. “Let’s get you up and back to your room.”
Chancey looped an arm around me and dragged me to my feet.
That resulted in my arm draping around his shoulder, and I did the only thing that made sense.
I hugged him as hard as I could while I turned into a bumbling mess of tears.
Sprigs hopped onto my shoulder and nuzzled into my cheek, as if offering sympathy— which I certainly didn’t deserve.
“Come on, buddy, you gotta pull yourself together,” Chancey said as he yanked me along. “Gods, you reek. Did you piss yourself?”
Probably. Chancey dragged me out of the bar and up the stairs to my quarters.
I couldn’t keep track of where we were in the palace, so I was surprised when he dropped me onto my bed.
Sprigs jumped off of me but came back a moment later, rolling a water bottle across the pillow.
I turned away from him and curled into a ball as I pulled the quilt on the bed to my nose.
It was the one that Ava’s grandmothers had made us for our wedding.
It should’ve hurt more than anything else, but the smell of raspberries brought more comfort than the liquor ever could.
Chancey must’ve realized what I was doing, because he yanked the quilt from my grasp.
“It smells like Ava!” I whined as he folded it up and tucked it away in a drawer across the room.
Chancey stripped off my shoes. “That’s probably not the best thing for ya right now.”
I started shivering. I was so used to having Ava’s Fire to warm me at night. It took me a minute to realize Chancey had stripped off my trousers and shirt as well.
“Ivy won’t be happy about this,” I mumbled.
“For fuck’s sake, I’m not trying to sleep with you. I’m trying to get you comfortable.” He tossed a clean, thick blanket over me. He must’ve gotten it from the closet. It felt soft, but it lacked Ava’s scent, which made the entire room feel empty.
I curled the blanket up around my shoulders, shivering.
Chancey patted the blanket. “All tucked in. You sleep it off, Charlie. And don’t try anything. We’ll be taking turns babysitting your room so you don’t sneak out.”
My guts clenched as the first wave of nausea hit. I threw myself over the edge of the bed and retched onto the marble floor.
“Oh, godsdammit,” Chancey mumbled, and he went to fetch a waste basket, shoving it in front of my face.
After a few sickly heaves, I wiped my lips with my wrist— the very wrist I realized still had Ava’s name inked on it.
Of all the things I regretted, that tattoo had to be one of my biggest. She could leave the palace, and I could get rid of everything that had her scent on it, but the reminder of her would always be there on my skin wherever I went.
I threw myself back into the pillows. “Believe me. I’m not going anywhere even if I wanted to. Sorry I—”
I puked again, heaving into the wastebin. Chancey replied, “It’s fine. I’ll get this cleaned up. You sleep.”
Chancey wasn’t giving me a choice. I felt bad about making him take care of me, but it was best that I purged some of the liquor, because doing so might actually give me a chance to make it until morning.
Not that I wanted to.
I fell asleep within seconds, because the alcohol knocked me out.
I was roused awake hours later by the muffled sound of two voices exchanging words.
I was still coming to and couldn’t make them out.
I pushed myself upward to try listening in, but I found that my head was pounding.
A good deal of liquor had worked its way through my system. I was dizzy, and still felt sick.
Sprigs stirred next to me, but didn’t move. He’d fallen asleep. I’d bet Chancey made him stay here to make sure I didn’t bolt, or take a tumble off the balcony. Not sure what it said about me that I needed a plant to keep an eye on me, but it certainly couldn’t mean anything good.
Chancey’s voice out in the main sitting room finally came into focus. “Charlie should be out for a couple of hours. Thanks for coming, Marcus.”
“Anytime,” Marcus replied. Then he paused, and added, “I’m surprised you’re still here for him, after what happened.”
“He’s still my pal. Though I’d love to knock him around a couple of times in the ring for the shit he pulled, I know he was fucked in the head when everything went down.
You don’t find buddies like him often, so I still want to be here.
Though I’m not coming back until I know for sure he’s changed. ”
“What do you mean?”
Chancey’s voice got thick. “Ives and I… we need some time away from the group. And each other, probably.”
“Damn. Are you guys no longer together?”
“At this point… no.”
I cringed. Marcus’ tone dropped as he added, “Shit. I’m so sorry, bro.”
“Yeah. Shit sucks. We’ve been down this road before, and we aren’t getting along. Best to just call it quits before we drag this out longer than we should.”
Chancey took a moment to pause. I assumed he was inhaling a cigarette before he added, “I heard Ava gave Charlie divorce papers.”
“She did. She really wants to leave him, I guess.”
“Good. He needs them. Maybe that’ll wake him the fuck up, because nothing else has.”
“Yeah, but… do you really think they should get divorced?” Marcus asked.
“Hell if I know.” Chancey took a long, drawn-out breath. “But if they wanted to divorce, they didn’t have to split everyone else up with them.”
“Yeah, I get it. You go get some rest, man.”
“Later, Marcus. I’d say I’ll see you around but… you won’t. Not for a while.”
The main door to the suite closed, and I heard Marcus shuffle across the room. The couch outside my bedroom creaked as he sat to keep watch.
The tattoo on my wrist of Ava’s name pulsed, burning through the core of me. Marcus.
I didn’t give it much thought as I kicked the covers off myself and stumbled toward the door. I threw it open. Rishi gave a hiss like I’d startled them both.
“Charlie, you should be resting,” Marcus insisted. “You’re still drunk. Get back to bed.”
“I need you to get rid of this.” I shoved my wrist in his direction.
The skin had long since healed, so I couldn’t feel the tattoo, but just knowing it was there was enough to make me want to scratch my skin off.
The least I could do with my last half a brain cell was get Marcus to remove it before I made another asinine decision I couldn’t take back.
If he didn’t get rid of this tattoo, I was sawing my arm off.
“Um… what?” Marcus sounded dumbfounded.
I’m not sure what he didn’t understand. I was pretty direct. “Ava and I are getting divorced. I want this gone.”
Marcus’ tone was scathing. “You want me to remove it? I thought I was clear when I gave you this tattoo— it’s permanent. Yet you and Ava insisted.”
“No shit it’s permanent,” I growled. “Use some of your fancy witch magic to dissolve the ink or something.”
“I drew this tattoo with an enchanted quill,” Marcus reminded me. “It’s not coming off.”
“Then cover it up!” I snapped desperately. “Please, Marcus. I can’t live with this reminder.”
“Can’t you just pretend it isn’t there?” Marcus asked.
“Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean I can ignore reality,” I said. “Just knowing it’s there is a reminder of what I did to her!”
“Maybe…” Marcus started tentatively. “Maybe that’s not a bad thing.”
“Not a bad thing?” I gaped at him. “Marcus, do you realize what I’ve done? I took Ava’s soul in my hands and snapped it in two!”
“And maybe you need to live with that regret for a minute!” Marcus challenged. “You’re just gonna have to get over it, because I’m not removing shit!”
Marcus had never stood up to me like that. I should’ve admired him for it, but I was annoyed he chose this moment to put on his big boy britches.
I turned toward the door to the suite. “If you won’t do it, I’ll find another artist who can.”
“Charlie, hold on.” Marcus grabbed my wrist— ironically, the same one that had Ava’s name inscribed onto it.
I’d have yanked away if I didn’t feel that burning sensation subside for half a second.
“I’m not trying to be an ass. I’m trying to be reasonable.
I don’t want you doing something you might regret. Again.”
It hadn’t occurred to me that I might regret erasing Ava’s name from my skin. Why should I, if our relationship had already ended?