Chapter 6
There’s just something really special about shoving your mortal enemy into a small body of water.
I didn’t make it three feet past the entrance before I slammed into something. Someone, that is. That same damned shadow.
Hesper Altanfall.
My protector.
Even thinking the words made me sick to my stomach.
Anger flooded my system, drowning out my fear and sadness.
They were everything I’d lost, everything that had just been pushed on me against my will, my worst nightmare personified.
Everyone who had ever said they would protect me never did.
In fact, they’d done the opposite. I didn’t need another iteration of my parents traipsing around on this quest with me.
I’d learned the hard way that it was either get along by myself or get hurt.
“I hate you.” This was a good start. Could I be considered out of bounds right about now? Perhaps. But my world had freshly shattered to shite moments ago, so.
Hesper let out a low chuckle.
“I figured as much,” they said, turning away and beginning to walk ahead of me.
“Excuse me, where are you going?”
“To your home.” Like hells they were. I didn’t care what Eldrene said, I would not be escorted back to my own cottage by this inconvenience.
“You’re mistaken,” I said, trying to keep pace with them. Goddess, how long were their legs? They were walking at a leisurely pace, but even still, I practically jogged to keep up. “I do not need you to take me back to my own house, sir. Or ma’am. Whatever you are.”
“I’m not taking you back,” they replied, slowing their pace so that I didn’t have to keep running.
“But you just said—”
“We are going back to your cottage.”
I stopped in my tracks. We?
“I—you—we—no. Just no. I don’t know you, and I don’t need you.” I poked my finger into their hard chest.
“I know you don’t, trust me. I’m sure you could more than manage the walk back.
” Their hand rested atop mine, and suddenly, they pulled me in close to them.
“But I’m on Eldrene’s orders. From this night forward, I can’t leave your side.
” Their hot breath smelled like spices. “We leave in two weeks, but my job starts now.”
They leaned in closer. “You’re just going to have to get used to me, princess.”
“Do not call me princess,” I bit back, attempting to pull away from them. They immediately let me go.
“Don’t look like one then.” They shrugged and began walking once more.
We silently made our way through Moss Wood. Usually, after the Celebration, I would rush through the trees, eager to get back home and have an evening to myself after all the festivities. Perhaps I’d even try to write. If I tried that tonight, how bleak it would sound…
She had everything, and then she had nothing. Standing in the ruins of what once was her home, she fell to her knees, parsing through the rubble of old dreams.
Lovely.
Maybe I would write that down when I got back. A memoir of the quest that ended Clara Thorne’s sweet little life… just before revealing her as a magical fraud.
I could see soft lights from the town coming through the thick trees.
Swaying lanterns cast golden light on the quiet streets, homes hummed with nighttime stories and laughter, cats rested atop the hay wagons, and even the street mice skittered pleasantly about.
But tonight, silence filled the streets, unlike the warring in my brain loudly telling me every single thing I would miss when I left.
Goddess, I couldn’t think about that right now, or my heart would break.
“I don’t even know what you look like,” I said, the cloaked protector still walking ahead of me. I needed a distraction.
“Want to see me that bad?” They didn’t even turn back to acknowledge me.
“No, I’d rather never see you again.” I quickened my pace to walk shoulder to shoulder with them. Well, more like my head to their shoulder.
“Too bad.”
“Oh yes, I know it’s bad. But I should know what you look like.”
“But what’s the fun in that?”
Fun? What’s the fun in that?
I’d just had my life ripped out from under me, and they had the gall to call any of this “fun”? Fire overtook every part of my body, red-hot wrath snaking its way out of my heart and into my bones.
So much of my life had been about struggling for carefully curated composure.
Don’t feel too much, don’t feel too little—the heart must always be protected, in balance.
Anger had gotten the best of me one too many times in my life, a perpetual flame always burning beneath the surface.
When it did, things around me, the gardens I tended, they would suffer—wither, dry up, yellow at the edges before their youth could reach toward the sun.
I’d learned to stifle it, quell whatever simmered inside of me with structure.
But tonight, it didn’t matter. This person—this protector—was unlocking every cavern of fire.
“Fuck you,” I seethed.
“What foul language for such a pretty mouth,” they tutted.
We both stopped walking, the tittering town square’s fountain we stood beside the only sound in the air.
It became increasingly apparent to me at that moment that I desperately wanted a fight.
I wanted a release. I wanted an excuse to unleash every pent-up bit of me when no one could see.
With everyone still at the Celebration, no one would hear this brawl.
I struck so fast that I thought I’d taken them by surprise, but they reacted too quickly for me to do anything else. We both tumbled into the fountain. My dress greedily drank up the cool water and pulled at me, weighing down my attempts to thrash, kick, and claw the protector.
Firm hands grasped my shoulders and hauled me out of the fountain.
I lay on the ground, coughing up water, in a sodden, pitiful mess. Coarse hay scratched my face, and a pile of dung sat dangerously close by. What was with this stranger, my face, and horse shite?
They attempted to help me up, but I pushed their arm away.
“Don’t touch me,” I spat.
“I didn’t push us into the fountain.”
“You pulled me in with you!” I screamed. My anger started to abate, the shock of cold drowning out the ever-burning fire. But I still wasn’t planning on taking their Goddess-damned help to extricate myself from the fountain.
They disregarded my protests and offered me their hand again. I ignored it and began gathering the soaking layers of fabric around me. With both hands, I finally managed to divide my dress into two huge, dripping balls.
We began walking home once more. My shoes squelched with each step, the summer wind like an icy breeze against my wet clothes, but I held my chin up high. For the first time in my life, I had let myself unlace a bit. And it felt good.
Nevertheless, anger had provided only a brief distraction before fading away. Hopelessness threatened me with each step I took toward my cottage—soon to be not my cottage. What I needed was to cuddle Warty and go to bed. At least sleep would offer some respite. I hoped for a dreamless night.
At some point on the walk home, the protector put their cloak around me. I had delved so far into my own thoughts that I didn’t even notice until the chills left my body. The cloak smelled like them—evening breezes laced with cinnamon and ginger—which I dutifully ignored.
They still had a hood over their face, but without their cloak, I could see their body in full.
They were clad from tip to toe in black leather, and the muscles underneath were impressive, to say the least. At Sylvie’s, in my half-conscious state, I’d caught a glimpse of them, but this clear view brought many other assets into focus.
Their shoulders were thick and broad—every part of them was broad, really—and a crossbow lay across their back, no longer hidden by the cloak I now wore.
They looked built for war, which was good. I intended to battle them every chance I got.
My cottage loomed closer, the protector still several paces away from me. How did they know exactly where to go? My gut dropped.
“Excuse me, how do you know where I live? Did you—”
“Follow you around? Track your every move? Stalk you in the middle of the night?”
I stopped walking. Did Eldrene just strap me with my future murderer?
“If you must know, princess, I came to your cottage to track down that squirrel. Their scent led here, so that’s where I started. Now, start walking. I would like to sleep before sunrise.”
They tracked their scent? I began walking again, my mind reeling with who or what this protector could be.
“Are you…” unnatural, I wanted to say. “Are you a creature or something.”
“I’m more of an ‘or something,’ but that’s for another time,” they replied, almost cheerful.
I swallowed down my fear. There was too much to worry about this eve. My or something would have to wait for another day.
Steps away from the front garden, my heart sank lower.
I’d walked out of there as one person and returned another…
and with another person. Not to mention, I’d ruined my dress from Rosie, which, while far from being the worst thing that had happened today, was still the linchpin in my world imploding.
The protector opened my front garden gate as if they owned the place.
“Excuse me, this is my cottage. I’ll lead you from here.” They put their hands up in surrender. I huffed past them, slamming the garden gate behind me, praying it hit them.
The only light guiding our way came from my bedroom window, which shouldn’t have been happening. I’d left the lantern candle on again. I always burned those things out too quickly.
I opened my door and wordlessly headed inside. The protector followed, and the door clicked shut behind us. A scuttling noise filled the quiet room, and the protector tensed beside me.
“Afraid of bumps in the night, are we?” I cooed.
They didn’t answer. Instead, they moved in front of me, ready to take on whatever beast lay in wait. This protector took their job seriously, at least.
A laugh bubbled up, and I chuckled before I could stop myself. I quickly grabbed a match and lit the candle on my kitchen table, casting light on the creature that had the protector up in arms.
Warty sat atop a stack of books, nibbling a cracker and getting crumbs everywhere.
“Is that—”
“A terrible monster? Yes, yes, it is. Just look at the mess he’s making. You should have demolished him already.” Warty gave a perturbed squeak.
“Well, am I wrong? How many times have I told you not to eat my books?” I kissed him on the nose, but his annoyance still stood.
Through his squeaks, he seemed to be telling me that having a stack of books as a makeshift table beside the firewood oven was the real issue here. He was perfectly correct.
I tried to interject, but he balled up and rolled away.
“Do you, uh, understand him?” they asked. They stood near the kitchen table, the candlelight casting them in shadows and gold.
“Sometimes.” I shrugged. “He squeaks at me while I garden, so I—”
The garden. My garden. A painful jolt went right through my chest.
Every morning, I woke up with a smile, knowing my day would be filled with singing to the seeds and tending to my garden beds. When batches of fruits and vegetables were ready, I’d conscript Rosie to help, and we’d spend all day delivering goods to shoppes and homes—the reason I woke up every day.
And now what would it be?
My spiraling ceased abruptly due to the protector rifling around my kitchen cupboard, making a terrible racket.
“What in the hells do you think you’re doing?”
They didn’t answer. Instead, they stuck their head farther into the shelves.
“Excuse me, what do you think you’re—”
“Your jam collection is impressive! I like that it’s color coordinated.”
“You don’t have to poke fun,” I quipped back.
“No, really.” They emerged from my cupboard, tea leaves in hand. “Absolutely genius. And pretty to look at.” They said it with such genuineness I almost believed them. “I’m going to make you a cup of tea.”
“You are not making me a cup of tea in my own house,” I said flatly.
“But you’re freezing,” they said, heading to the oven, where my pink tea kettle with tiny strawberries lay in wait.
The tips of my fingers were turning purple from holding the frigid, dripping dress, and my teeth chattered in my skull.
But that did not give them the right to do anything about it, okay?
I led the charge on my own demise and discomfort, thank you very much.
“I can make my own cup of tea,” I said. “And for Goddess’s sake, will you please take your mysterious hood off? You look like a shadow haunting my house!”
“Right, I forgot.” They set down the tea leaves and moved toward their hood.
My heart started racing and that same tug pulled at my heart again, somewhere deep inside of me—the same one I felt about the Celebration this year.
Whoever they were, they were now part of my story, and I a part of theirs.
I waited with bated breath, trying to look relaxed despite a thundering exhilaration going through every part of me.
The hood fell.
And my world stopped.