Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
T he child lived on a farm roughly midway between Starlight Gardens and Klatos.
Eleksi knew the place well. He’d haunted the property like a specter since the Trogoda job, under the misguided notion that torturing himself with his sins diminished their ill effects in any way.
“Where are we going?” asked Neve.
She rode next to him on the sun-dappled path, the horses’ hooves thudding against the earthen ground in unison. They would avoid the main roads as much as possible, lest anyone recognized the sorceress. By now, her absence will have been noticed. It was only a matter of time before the mages became concerned for her welfare, if they hadn’t already.
“A farm,” replied Eleksi.
“Oh? And what’s at the farm?”
He shifted in his saddle, unused to anyone asking him questions. What if she was reviled by him once she knew more?
But then, he’d already attempted to kill her. Likely, her expectations of him weren’t high.
“Olive groves. Sheep. And a family.” He glanced across at her. “An elderly couple lives on the farm with their foster child. The boy isn’t mine,” he hastened to add. “But I feel responsible for him.”
She nodded slowly. “You want to see him?”
“From a distance, yes, and to quietly leave gold for the family. That’s all. Then we’ll be on our way to Klatos.”
He looked straight ahead, his shoulders tight. Although he felt the peculiar compulsion to say more, he reprimanded himself instead. The sorceress hadn’t asked to be involved in his grim affairs.
They stopped along the way to stretch their legs and water the horses at a bubbling stream, then arrived at the outskirts of the farm in the afternoon.
Cottages dotted the rolling green hills and birds chattered from the trees. Not for the first time, Eleksi wondered how different his life might’ve been if he’d grown up in such an idyllic place. His childhood had been anything but idyllic.
“There’s a shepherd’s hut on the other side of the rise.” He pointed. “You can rest there while I walk over to the farm. I won’t be gone long.”
Neve had been quiet during the journey and Eleksi wondered about the nature of her thoughts. No doubt she had much to process. In a short span of time, she’d nearly been assassinated, discovered that her long-lost father was a king, and used potent dark magic to drain a person’s soul.
He felt guilty for causing at least half of her problems. But then, if he hadn’t taken the job, another Spider King would have. She’d be dead right now.
Or would she? Neve was far stronger than he’d expected. Her magic had stopped him in his tracks, and she would’ve destroyed him if she hadn’t pulled back. He supposed he ought to have been glad that such power resided in a thoughtful and benevolent person like Neve, instead of mages like the infamous Levissina and Polinth.
The red brick shepherd’s hut and adjoining shed sat beneath the green crown of a willow tree’s branches, out of sight of the farmhouse several paddocks away. The tree’s long, lacy branches swept to and fro in time with the fresh breeze.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” asked the sorceress as they dismounted and unsaddled the horses.
The temperature had dropped, silvery clouds skating across the sky.
“I’m sure,” he said, ferrying the saddlebags into the hut, which was unlocked from the last time he’d stayed. “Please, relax. Eat.” He glanced around the velvety green hills. “And don’t let anyone near the hut except me.”
He traversed the farm along a fence line shaded by trees. As always, his stomach churned the closer he came to the house. Somehow, he dreaded seeing the child, and yet if he didn’t, he knew he wouldn’t rest.
Today, the boy played in the backyard with his foster mother. The father was in a barn, working a lathe, curls of wood piling at his boots.
Eleksi left an anonymous pouch of gold coins in the mailbox for the foster parents to find later, and then retreated to the tree line to study the child’s face from a safe distance.
He looked for hints of pain or, conversely, happiness. The child was four years old. At that age, the boy might’ve had no memory of the fateful day Eleksi obliterated his world. Or, as Eleksi feared, the memory could be imprinted on the child’s innate being, poised to haunt him for a lifetime.
As the boy built a castle from sand, no sadness appeared on his face. He expressed only juvenile curiosity and glee. The child’s levity should’ve heartened Eleksi, but he was heavy with despondence as he slunk away through the trees back to the shepherd’s hut.
What if the boy cried at night? What if he grew up feeling hollow and lost and even angry? That had been Eleksi’s fate, and he hated himself for possibly condemning another child to such a life.
A storm was gathering when Eleksi arrived back at the hut. Charcoal-dark clouds blotted out the sun and thunder rumbled nearby. Before going inside, he guided the horses to the safety of the shed.
Hints of Eleksi’s turmoil must’ve shown in his demeanor, because Neve stood abruptly when he walked in, her brows knitted.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Nothing.” He whipped off his cloak, then sat at the small table in the one-room hut to remove his boots. “The child is alive and well.”
Still frowning, she lowered herself back onto the rumpled bed. “There’s plenty of food left,” she said, pointing at the table.
He nodded, looking at it, but he wasn’t hungry. Lightning flashed, illuminating the window. Thunder rattled the pane moments later and a dumping rain started battering the roof.
“We won’t be going anywhere until the storm passes,” said Eleksi. “We can light the fire, at least. No one will see the smoke. With a storm like this, everyone will be indoors.”
He stacked kindling into the hearth, building a blazing fire that filled the room with light and warmth. The storm intensified, turning the sky as dark as night, except for brief and vivid flashes of lightning.
Neve turned her head, listening. “The willow tree speaks of heartache.”
She caught his bemused expression and her snowy cheeks turned pink.
“Truly?” He sat on the armchair beside the bed. “You can really hear messages?”
Fidgeting with the woolen blanket, she nodded. “Trees talk all the time. More than humans do.”
“I’ve never heard it.”
She gave a small smile, her scarlet lips like a rose. “You have. You just haven’t understood it.”
“Aye. You’ve got me there.” He sat back, the warmth of the fire and Neve’s presence easing a measure of his despondence. “I dare not ask whose heartache they speak of.”
“It doesn’t belong to one person alone.” The flames reflected in her large dark eyes. “There’s more than enough heartache to go around, unfortunately.”
A tremor passed through him, though he wasn’t sure if it was from her words or her hypnotic gaze or the sheer weight of his soul.
She’d removed her cloak and boots, her simple black dress enhancing her beauty. His heart had nearly stopped the night before when she’d curled into his body while she slept. He hadn’t wanted to wake her up and break the spell. Even now, he recalled the sweet scent of her hair on his face.
Her clever eyes drank him in. “Why do you visit this child?”
“It’s a long story.”
“You have many long stories, it seems.” She held up her slender hands, her palms facing the rain-battered roof. “Too bad we’re in such a hurry.”
A portion of the ice that’d frosted over his heart melted away. Why not tell her? Stewing in his secret shame wasn’t making it easier to bear. Neve knew what it meant to have a father-shaped hole in one’s life. Perhaps she would understand better than anyone.
Eleksi tore his gaze from her and looked into the fire, remembering.
“I spent three days and nights watching a merchant’s warehouse, near the docks in Klatos. My mark was a shipping assistant who’d been smuggling drugs aboard the vessel of the man who hired me. It was an easy job, I thought. Simple.” The fire fizzed and spat. “I entered the warehouse at dusk. I had a description of the man and I found him in a backroom, talking to himself. He was distinctive. Scar down the side of his face.” Eleksi traced his fingertip down his cheek. “And talking to himself was consistent with a drug trader who sampled his own wares. So, I didn’t say anything to him. I didn’t need to. I slid my dagger into his heart and withdrew the blade red.”
His voice was low against the howling wind. “Then, a little boy climbed out from under the desk. He’d been playing with a toy ship. I can still see his face.” Eleksi swallowed hard before continuing. “He wasn’t scared or mad. He was . . . expectant. He wanted to know what game I was playing with his dad. Before I could decide how to proceed, in walks a man with a scar on his face. My actual mark. Right away, he knew why I was there. Perhaps he was even forewarned. I had no choice. I had to stop him. So . . . ” He let out a long breath. “I stopped him. In front of the child.”
Finally, he turned and looked at Neve. Her eyes glittered with tears, and she’d placed one hand over her mouth. Eleksi’s heart plummeted. It was true, then. He was seeing the truth reflected on her face. He was a monster.
“More people arrived, and I had to leave,” he went on in a monotone. “I’d never mistaken a mark’s identity before. Spider Kings don’t make errors like that. I was given one more chance. One more job.”
“Me,” said Neve, the word barely audible.
Eleksi nodded once and turned back to the fire. “I found out the child’s name. Tracked his journey to the foster family. But there’s nothing I can really do. I can’t turn back time. I can’t return his father to him. I destroyed his life as he knew it.”
The rock in his throat expanded, forcing him silent. How could he ever move on from what he’d done? He wasn’t supposed to, he was sure of it. Monsters weren’t supposed to feel good or content or at peace.
But he’d failed to kill Neve, too. Who was he now? What could he do with his life? His poisonous, rotted, twisted life.
Lost in the maelstrom of his thoughts, he didn’t register Neve until she stood between his chair and the fire. Her soft, pale hand found his face. Her knee touched his leg and he leaned back to make room for her. She sank into the armchair with him, her cocoa-colored eyes inscrutable.
Thunder rattled the little tin roof. Part of him wanted to pull her to him and bury his face in her neck. But another larger, more wounded part of him kept his arms frozen in place.
That didn’t prevent her intoxicating cinnamon smell from enveloping him, though.
She seemed to think twice, moving her hand from his cheek and resting it in her lap instead.
“This is perhaps only the second strangest night we’ve spent together,” she murmured, the corner of her mouth twitching.
“Aye,” he replied softly, allowing himself a wry half-smile. He quickly sobered and cleared his throat, looking steadily into her eyes. “Am I a monster? I can’t tell anymore.”
She slid sideways, nestling beside him in the armchair. He made space for her. Together, they watched the flames jump and dart, their breathing slow and in sync.
“No more than I am,” she replied after a time.
“I don’t know about that. But . . . thank you. This is surely more than you signed up for.”
“Signed up for? Might I remind you once again that you kidnapped me?”
His wry smile returned. “Shaping up to be the best thing I ever did, to be honest.”
“Careful, assassin.” She poked him in the ribs. “You don’t want to get hurt.”
At the window, lightning turned the sky a blinding white. Then, just as rapidly, it faded to darkness.
Neve fell asleep first, her head resting on his shoulder and her body melting sweetly and heavily into his. He didn’t move, except to reach over with his long arm and tug the woolen blanket from the bed to tuck around her while she slumbered.