10. Gaius
Chapter 10
Gaius
I hadn’t seen Lovette for an entire week.
Her mile-wide stubborn streak was inherited from both sides, and she had employed it without hesitation where avoiding me was concerned.
She was never at the infirmary when I peered through the door on my way to or from the meetinghouse. There was no trace of her inside, though the whole place reeked of antiseptic like it had just been thoroughly cleaned.
I spent most of one day sitting in the meetinghouse listening to a handful of the uncles trading their tired battle stories, certain I’d catch her for at least one of the meals. But she never showed. I found myself hoping she had plenty of food stashed away somewhere, that my presence there wasn’t causing her to be hungry. This, of course, just made my chest burn more. Then, one of the uncles invited me to tell my own tales, reminding me that I was much of an age as several of them, which incited a series of emotions that left me feeling enraged and like I might be sick all at once. On top of that, my leg was stiff from having sat so long, and I’d been too proud to bring my cane with me, so I stumbled out of there, cursing like the raging drunk they all thought I was.
I wasn’t so daft I didn’t realize I deserved her silence, but I wasn’t sure how to make it up to her if she refused to be any closer than opposite sides of the conclave.
Imogen gave me a kind smile as she accepted the paltry work I showed up at the forge with. I’d scrounged up old daggers and armor, just to have an excuse to go there.
“You know, the candymaker in Revalia usually makes chocolates to sell at market on Wednesdays,” she said the first day, one eyebrow raised. “I’d suggest the tin with the red ribbon.”
“Chocolates? Red ribbon?” I stared at her, unsure if she thought we’d been having a conversation already, one I didn’t remember a bit of.
She nodded sagely, and I left, worried my memory was far worse than I thought. The following day, she did something similar, mentioning how there was a teahouse that made spectacular muffins of all varieties, and they also sold loose tea. Chamomile and hibiscus flower with rosehips were listed specifically.
“Coffee as well,” she nodded, beginning to hammer before I even turned to leave. “Any roast.”
By the third day, I finally caught on. She was giving me a lesson in cheeses when the pieces finally came together in my mind. Imogen was helping me. Telling me Lovette’s preferences. I left the forge shaking my head, ready to dig in my heels and proclaim I had no use for such information while simultaneously considering how best to get into the city for some shopping.
I spent so much time sitting in the small, unforgiving chair at my table sorting jewelry that every bit of me was stiff and sore. My bed was no longer a place my mind found rest, either, not with her scent still lingering in the quilt and the feel of her lips against mine burned into my memory. When I closed my eyes, I saw nothing but the hurt and rage there’d been in hers when I’d told her to leave that night. Stone sleep was a welcome respite, but even that would not always come.
Briefly, I thought about switching huts so the memories would stop following me around quite so much, but it was not an undertaking I seriously considered.
The pile of ledgers grew smaller every day and the stack of rings taller, but I found no satisfaction in completing the task alone. All of the tools she’d left in the nooks and crannies of my hut and the board with necklaces hanging from it mocked me every time I looked at them. Never mind the burning in my chest that only intensified the longer she was gone. Ale didn’t drown it out, and no matter how I ran the situations over in my mind, nothing ever changed. It mattered little that I regretted saying several things. Even less that her words had struck a nerve so strongly there had to be truth in them.
I’d been a solitary operative for decades, alone with my secrets and the ego of my assumed persona. All that after I’d intentionally separated myself from any friendship that wasn’t related to my work. Then this little healer came along with her inability to find me fearsome and a firm touch that removed all anxiety from my body. It had only taken her a handful of days—nothing in the grand scheme—to crack every bit of armor I wore just by being herself and constantly present in my life.
It was beyond maddening.
No matter how I tried to color it differently, there was no avoiding the truth. I missed her. And it was my own fault I was in such a state to begin with.
Growling, I tossed open the door of my hut and stumbled out, my leg increasingly awkward without the cane Imogen had made for me. There was something eerie about her gift, but I’d been blessed by both her blades and her tools, and I was not about to question when she’d handed it to me one day when I came to pick up my sword. I just hated admitting outside my hut that I needed help walking.
As I sat in the meetinghouse drinking, watching the young men boast and the old men boast louder, I stewed in my own misery and tried to unknot the mess of thoughts plaguing me. If nothing else, Lovette’s absence left me plenty of time to sit in my own head.
I skulked in the memories of our disagreement, increasingly embarrassed at how I’d acted. Further, I was continually mortified by the primal urge to leave a basket of food, trinkets and baubles outside Lovette’s door. Several versions of an apology had written themselves in my mind, but my mouth scoffed at how foolish they sounded when it tried to give shape to the words. I practiced anyway, staring into a mirror in my hut like a fool. Then I realized that it would be far easier to write it out. With a shaky hand, several discarded sheets of paper, and plenty of cursing, I did just that. I still felt foolish but my conscience was eased some by the motions.
The bond, the loss of my revenge on the councilmen, the fact that my anger might not be so righteous… every bit of it left me uneasy.
After my fourth round of ale one night, a glimmer appeared in the muck.
If I planned it right, I could have the revenge I wanted in a very satisfying way. I could know once and for all what Augustus had meant when he said I “wouldn’t remember.”
So, I waited. I ate something substantial and drank the bitter brew Flora passed off as strong coffee. I left the gifts I’d finally given in and traveled to Revalia to collect outside Lovette’s door.
And I made damn sure there were no golden-haired shadows following me when I flew out of the conclave and back to the council building.
It was a very poorly kept secret that the archives master had an outrageous sweet tooth. I’d wheedled some extra slices of cake from Jorna on my way out of the meetinghouse, claiming it helped with my digestion. She’d rolled her eyes but still packed them up in heavy paper for me and sent me on my way. One I left in the basket full of things I’d set outside Lovette’s apartment door, and the other was hopefully a passkey into the archives.
Sol shifted foot to foot, visibly uncomfortable when I appeared in front of him. “Gaius. I didn’t realize your privileges had been reinstated, welcome back.” He widened his stance in front of the intricately carved double doors that led to the archives, eyeing the package I carried.
“You know they can’t ever make up their minds,” I said, offering the cake. “Jorna sends her regards as well.”
He licked his lips, hand stretching out to receive the bundle greedily. “It has been a long while since I enjoyed the hospitality of the conclave. Give her my thanks.”
“Of course.” I gestured to the doors behind him. “I’m expected.”
Sol’s head tilted to the side, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “They never have anyone else with them.”
Idiot. He’d just confirmed that they were indeed inside, having a meeting. That they did so regularly.
“They sent for me. New assignment.”
While he considered, he unwrapped the cake, blatantly salivating over the cinnamon and sugar confection.
“What’s the passcode?”
I covered my anxiety with anger. “Are you being serious?”
“Just doing my job, Gaius.” He shrugged.
I shook my head and considered making a grab for the cake. But I knew these men, knew their egos and the way they would only use something they too could easily recall.
“Clandestine,” I guessed, infusing the word with as much confidence as possible.
He smirked, shaking his head as he leaned his face into the cake. “Go on,” he mumbled over the bite, stepping aside as he pushed open the double doors.
How people who were nothing if not predictable constantly got away with the conspiracy they did was beyond me. As expected, Hugo and Augustus were in the smallest room of the archives, sitting at a round marble-topped table, gossiping loudly about their latest exploits in Revalia.
I crept around corners and hugged the shadows as they dropped my name yet again, telling me everything I needed to know about how informed the council at large was about what happened on the roof.
“No need to raise alarms, the guards have all been debriefed. They were all dosed as well. What happened will remain a secret.”
“You are too confident in that magic, Auggie. There were a dozen men up there, all of them saw two stone kin escape. Stone kin who threatened us and killed our men. Do you truly think a little potion is going to keep them quiet forever? That none of them will have even a shred of recollection?”
“It’s worked so far, hasn’t it? Lots of folks have been dosed for years, Caledon included. You worry too much.”
My blood turned to ice hearing my name. They’d been drugging me? For years? That had to be what they’d meant by me not remembering. Horror warred with relief. While I wanted to latch on to the idea that I hadn’t been fully responsible for the things I’d done, the person I’d become because it was who I’d pretended to be, it didn’t change anything.
As I crept closer, Hugo grumbled to himself, drinking from a ridiculously dainty cup of tea. I lingered in the shadows for nearly an hour, listening to them talk entirely too freely about exploits that were beyond damning. Simply killing them would not be enough. They needed to face the larger council for their crimes. And I needed a new plan.
Every nerve bristled, because this was not something I could accomplish alone. I needed allies, help, and the backing of as many other council members as I could get. Something I’d done the opposite of cultivate all these years.
Which meant at the very least, I needed to speak with Magnus. My skin itched at the thought, but there was no way around it. He had the position, the power, and the logical mind to help me sort this out.
While they wrapped up their little gossip session, I blended further back into the shadows and made my way toward the door.
When I waked back through, Sol was nowhere to be found. Cursing his untidiness, I used my foot to scatter the pile of cake crumbs he’d left on the floor and strode through the council building with enough haste to not be bothered by any passersby but not so much it would raise concern.
As I turned the final corner before the staircase to freedom, I nearly stumbled, and not because I still refused to use my cane in public. I should have known things were going far too smoothly.
Magnus stepped out of the double doors to one of the council chambers down the long hall, our eyes meeting as I continued on my way. Fate was playing games with me, that was the only explanation. It was as though my thoughts had summoned him, but I hadn’t yet even had time to settle into the idea of having to talk to him, let alone organized what I wanted to say.
“Gaius?” he asked, looking around. “What brings you here?”
“Same as you,” I groused, continuing on toward the stairs.
“I doubt that very much.” Magnus grunted. “Have a moment?”
My initial reaction almost had me blurting, “ Not really ,” but I gritted my jaw and ground out, “I suppose,” instead.
“Good. I’ve several questions I need to ask you. Shall we go to the Empty Cask? We could have a drink. I’d say like old times, but there weren’t many of those.”
His candor got half a smile out of me. “I suppose I could join you for an ale.”
He nodded, and we departed the council building together, nervous energy humming under my skin.