Chapter 46
Thealina
The bell above the door chimes, the hinges creak as I step inside.
The air loaded with the scent of crushed herbs, bone dust, and something metallic lurking underneath.
Sour, like wet, rusted nails. A dozen glass vials catch the candlelight, liquid bending it into strange, oily colours.
It’s warmer here than outside, the morning mist pressing against the glass panes, leaving them beaded and fogged.
I tug my hood lower, though no one follows me in.
A few candles clutter the counter, their wax pooling.
Behind it stands a man who peers up from his ledger.
Tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair tied back with a loose strand escaping, brushing his cheekbone.
His face clean-shaven and sharp. Handsome with his blue eyes, but when his gaze snags on mine, something in me recoils.
Cold. Empty but hungry. Unease clenches my core, and an itch breaks under my skin.
My expression remains neutral, though my throat is dry. I swallow, pulling my book from my pouch and scribble.
‘Sleeping serum, please. Potent. No taste. No trace.’
I slide it across the counter.
He reads it slowly, one corner of his mouth lifts and an unsettling beat passes.
“Quite the request. Trouble at home?”
I shrug. Not his business.
He turns, moving to a cabinet of small, stoppered bottles along the back wall, unlocking it with an iron key he draws from the chain at his belt.
Glass vials clink softly as he touches his selection.
I take a moment to scan the alchemy shop.
Shelves lined with labelled jars, bone-dry herbs hanging from the rafters, and something dead with too many teeth grins from a dusty glass case.
The itch at the back of my neck worsens.
He sets a vial down between us. Clear, almost luminous.
“This,” he says, setting it gently on the counter between us, “is what you want. Two drops will see a man dead to the world for six hours. Four, gone till tomorrow. Anymore… well,” he shrugs, a flicker of darkness behind his eyes. “Unwise.”
I nod, fishing a coin from my pouch and setting it on the counter. His hand closes over mine as I reach for the vial. His skin cold. And his voice drops, barely audible. “You’re not from around here.”
A crack of panic snaps through me. I pull my hand back, slipping the vial into my pouch in one movement, turning to leave.
“It’s not the lack of voice. It’s your smell.” He leans over slightly, enough to make my skin crawl. “You smell like… tonight’s dessert, perhaps?”
Gross.
The bell above the door rings again.
Sam.
His eyes meet mine first, then the alchemist, a tightening in his jaw I don’t miss, and a twitch of disgust in his nose. Unusual for Sam who’s always sporting a casual grin or clever quip. But not now.
‘Everything ok? Problem?’
‘Big one.’ His thought is sharp. He steps between me and the counter, arm grazing mine, filling the space like he owns it.
“Found you, Sweetheart,” he says, forcing cheer into his tone. “You know I hate when you shop without me.”
The palm at the small of my back holds me steady, protecting me in a way that feels natural between us now. I play my part well, glancing up at Sam and give him a smile, but not the one I only ever give to Rafe.
Those are just for him.
“Well, well,” Sam says, voice light but edged. “Still lurking in corner shops, Jack.”
“Samuel,” Jack tilts his head. “was wondering when you’d crawl out from whatever stone you’ve been hiding under.”
“Still desperately mixing potions for innocent girls to sniff?”
Oh, my.
The tension between the pair coils tauter. Neither breaking their glare. Jack grips the counter till his knuckles turn white.
“We’ll be off.” Sam drops a few extra coins on the counter. “Pleasure as ever.”
“Do send my regards to your brother,” Jack murmurs, eyes lingering on me as if trying to peel back my skin and read what lies beneath.
“He doesn’t need the regards of a leech.”
Without waiting for a reply, Sam grabs my wrist, leading me out into the pale morning light. The mist clings low to the cobbles, curling in thin ribbons around our feet. When we’re a good street away, he rounds on me.
“What in the embers were you doing in there? Alone!”
‘Getting what we need. You can’t just break bones and let poor Maxim feel it.’
“He’s dangerous, Thea.”
‘I get it, Sam.’
“I mean real dark. The kind of bloke who smiles while he stabs you, and you end up thanking him for the favour.”
‘YEAH, I GOT THAT!’
I don’t need to hear this from a male. I have woman’s intuition; I know a predator when I see one.
Feel one.
Didn’t miss the signs of your husband, though.
Shut the fuck up!
“I didn’t say anything.”
‘No, sorry. Ignore…’ Words die in my throat.
Rafe.
Mist wraps around him, softening the edges, but his shape is unmistakable. Not 830’s Rafe. My Rafe. My breath catches and my body leans forward. Sam grips my arm.
“No.”
He moves with the same steady stride I remember, his shoulders tense, head swivelling left to right, searching for something.
Or someone. My heart burns so sharply I can barely think. It’s different from seeing 830’s Rafe; that Rafe isn’t mine. This one is. Or could be.
‘Let me just…’
“You can’t.”
I stare at Rafe, unable to look away. He’s yet to spot us in the back alley we stand in. Sam tugs me further, hiding us in the shadows.
“Don’t mess with the ripples of time, Thea. Whatever he’s here for, leave him be, we don’t know the consequences. It could blow everything we’re doing here to pieces. You wanna take that gamble?”
The ache in my chest sharpens. A desperate part of me wants to run after him anyway, to risk it.
But I don’t.
‘I miss him.’
“I know.”
I watch as his figure gets smaller and smaller the more he moves away, he pauses, looking back around the streets as mist eddies around him, and when his gaze passes right over us without seeing, my stomach lurches.
Steadily, he moves. Head swinging in all directions, and a part of me wonders if what ever he’s searching for is me.
Sam releases his hold, our breaths choppy.
‘Promise me, Sam.’
Promise to visit our echo and tell him about me.
“I promise. But we’ve got to finish this. I’m due to report for duty soon, and if I miss roll call, I’m not a soldier, I’m an objector.”
‘Let’s go ruin a man’s morning then.’
“Yes, Brawler… lets.”
We hurry through the maze of streets, sticking close to the walls as merchants set up their stalls and the town shakes itself awake.
Near the barracks, Sam pulls me into another alley. His face pale now.
‘I don’t think I can watch.’
The thought has this morning breakfast of ham and eggs threatening to regurgitate.
“And that’s totally ok. I’ve got this. Serum?”
I pass him the vial.
“Stay here. No noise. No movement.”
‘Yes, Chuck.’ It slips out my mind before I can take it back, but Sam’s grin tells me he didn’t mind and quite liked me using his nickname.
He climbs up a gutter with effortless grace, the veins in his forearms bulging as he grips the iron pipes before disappearing through an opened window.
Minutes crawl. Every sound heightens; the clatter of hooves, the dull ring of bells marking the hour, and the low murmur of early traders.
Come on, come on, come on.
‘What’s happening?’
‘He’s sleeping, just poured the serum in his gob.’
‘Don’t pour, Sam! Drop. You drop the serum in. Two drops to be exact!’
‘I hear ya, I hear ya.’
‘He’s out. Cover your ears, you might hear it through the window.’
I can’t decide whether I want to cover my ears or grip my stomach, but I’m too late.
A sharp tug. A distant grunt. A stomach-churning crack.
My hands cover my mouth in a bid to stop the eggy breakfast but it’s no use, the contents pours from me the more I concoct the images of Sam breaking poor Maxim’s leg.
“You’re good, all over now,” Sam says, his palm rubbing soft circles on my back. I hadn’t even heard him climb down the pipe. Tears burn, and I’m not sure if it’s from vomiting, or because we hurt someone.
What am I becoming.
“He won’t be on his feet for at least a few new moons.”
‘Comforting.’
“Hey, come on, stop the judgement. Maybe you should choose between my life or Maxim’s, huh.”
‘Another good point.’
“I am good at them.” His chuckle pulls a garbled snicker of my own as I wipe my eyes.
“What now?”
This next part makes my soul hurt. ‘Now, you report for duty, and you come home alive, you hear me?’
He nods. “And you?”
I glance back into what I think is the direction of Rafe, the ache still there.
‘Now, I go back to 890. See if we made a difference. Then get my tongue back.’
“And if we haven’t?”
I shrug, not knowing the answer. Would he want me to try and save him again. I don’t think I’m brave enough.
‘Then maybe she was wrong, and your fate was carved into the stones after all.’
Sam bobs his head, wearing the face of acceptance.
“Death doesn’t scare me.”
He clenches his fists, like he wants to reach for me but respects what me and his brother share. I make the decision for him and barrel into his chest. His arms wrap around me, holding me tighter, shoving his face into my hair.
“If I come back alive, I won’t break my promise.”
I sniff back the burn of tears threatening to stream out of my nose.
‘Thank you, Chuck.’
“Go, Brawler,” he pushes me away, eyes red-rimmed. “Go get your voice back, then come say hi.”
I walk away; his sad eyes burn into the back of my head. For a selfish moment I wish time would stop right here. Just long enough to keep him safe, to stop what might come for him.
But it never does.
And I don’t look back.