Chapter 18 #2
“Really?” Sesto twisted in his chair with a tentative glance. “You mean that?”
“Why not?”
“I’m just...” Sesto brushed his hands down his vest with a short, emotive sigh. “I’m honored. That’s what I am.”
“We can tell him tomorrow. If he likes it, it stays.” If that wasn’t compromise, then Jesstin didn’t know what else to say. At the very least, it spared him another hour of enduring a long-winded soliloquy. He gave Sesto another second to counter before standing.
“I thought you were going to bed?”
“I sleep during the day, remember?” Jesstin said as he headed for the door. “I think I’ll take a walk though.”
“In this weather?”
Jesstin grabbed his coat and made an exaggerated show of putting it on.
Sesto sighed in exasperation. “You’re an insolent boy, but I suppose it will take more than a few months in the netherworld to sort that out.”
No one clarified when Elloven asked about a “Jesstin.” There was only one along Mythgarde’s entertainment row, the son of the Jesstin who’d lost the Azure Haunt after he’d been accused of mishandling a Virtue over three decades ago.
Jesstin had evidently bought the old establishment for almost double its value and renamed it the Golden Spiral.
The tall barkeep in the Ivory Virtue, the only Mythgardian tavern Elloven had ever been in before, told her the owner had been looking to sell anyway and would’ve taken a fair price for the place, but Jesstin paid to obliterate any competitive bids.
It was that one or none, seemed like, the barkeep said.
Then the man had offered to cover her drinks all night if she stayed at the Virtue, a free room too, which she graciously but firmly declined.
Back outside, Elloven bundled her shawl around her face and disappeared between two groups moving in the direction she was going.
She remembered so little about the small village.
That whole evening, and the tense morning that followed, were one continuous stream of blurred fragments.
She’d been so annoyed with Taven, and so intrigued by Jesstin, that she’d acted completely out of character in going at all.
Compliant was the word Mathias had used when he’d handed her over to the Reliquary for “rehabilitation.” Even then, it had been such a damning description that she’d vowed to be anything but compliant.
Then she’d learned they were right after all.
But something had splintered in Elloven the night Fabrien and his friends had died.
It had snapped as she’d weighed her own life against Jesstin’s on that windy day as he’d awaited his fate on the dais.
And it had disintegrated when she’d thought, at last, I’m where I need to be, where I was always meant to be, only for him to say the one thing, the only thing, capable of pushing her away.
She was not that Elloven anymore. Her mother’s words were a reminder, but she’d known before she got there. She didn’t know what she’d find at the Golden Spiral, but she knew what she was bringing with her.
Elloven stepped inside. It was much busier than the Ivory Virtue, but the clientele seemed more comfortable and seasoned.
Body language near the card tables and at the two bars suggested most were regulars and knew each other well.
The women offering their trade looked nothing like the fancifully plumed or scantily clad ladies walking up and down the Row.
They were dressed like any other woman there, identifiable only by their matching gold-colored fans.
One of them smiled at a man she’d been talking to at the bar and moseyed over to Elloven. “Your pleasure, madame?” the pretty blonde asked with a sweeping gesture at the many offerings.
“Oh, not tonight,” Elloven said genially. “I’m looking for someone. Your proprietor.”
The woman’s brows frowned. “Jessie?”
Elloven bit back a frown. “Yes. Jessie.”
“Family? Friend? Lover?”
“None,” Elloven answered truthfully.
The woman tossed a look over her shoulder at the bar. “Rufus, is the boss here tonight, or out with the redhead again?”
Elloven’s stomach sank. They weren’t talking about her.
“Neither,” Rufus yelled over the din, waving a hand through a waft of smoke. “He’s out back.”
“Out back?”
“Yeah, out back. You know.”
“Ah.” The woman returned her attention to Elloven. “Out back.”
“Out back?”
She pointed toward a hall separating the two bars.
“Door is through there. Mind the trash piles. You’ll see a fence, then a field behind it.
Head toward the trees but not into the forest. You’ll find him on the edge in his little.
.. tent. Tent? No, it’s more of a gazebo. Or is it a trellis? I should ask.”
Elloven gave her a strange look. “Are you taking the piss?”
The woman scoffed. “You asked for Jessie. I told you how to find him. If you prefer to argue, we can discuss my hourly rate.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Elloven said quickly. “Thank you.” She went to lift her skirt unconsciously, then remembered she’d dressed like a man. It explained the looks she received as she made her way toward the back hall.
She found the door easily enough and had to step over the aforementioned trash piles. It was a few yards to the fence, which she easily climbed over, but the field seemed endless in the dark and snow. She could just make out the haze of the forest’s edge to the west and headed that way.
Elloven spotted the structure the woman had described. It did seem to be tent, gazebo, and trellis all in one, built against a tree with a broad trunk. And within the enclosure, on a bench, sat Jesstin, bent over his spread knees, with his hands joined in the middle.
Her boots crunching in the snow announced her arrival. Jesstin looked up. Sat up. Bewildered dread molded his expression. “Elloven? What are you... What are you doing here?”
“I’m not here to kill you,” she said lightly. “Can I?”
“Can you what?”
“Sit?”
“Ah, I don’t—”
“Please?”
Jesstin nodded vaguely and moved over to make room for her. “That answers a question, I guess.”
Even being so near him again sent her heart into a fit. Him standing over Castien’s nearly decapitated body had stirred many, many emotions within her, but desire was not one she’d expected.
She looked down, unsure where to begin, but at their feet was a stone placard with dozens of names engraved—including Gennady’s. “What is this?”
“The names of everyone who died at the Edevane estate, or because of them. It, uh...” He scratched the back of his head. “I buried Bellessa here. The girl who...”
“Who took her own life the night my brother died,” Elloven said, finishing for him.
He squinted at her sideways. “That’s one interpretation of events.”
“Poor Bellessa took her own life. You reacted in horror and without thinking, presuming it was Gennady who had done the deed, responded with violence, resulting in an outcome that was far more brutal than you intended. Is any of that an incorrect interpretation?”
“Simplified, surely.” He still hadn’t settled or stopped fidgeting.
“Did you bring her here that night?”
Jesstin nodded.
“Is this why you bought the place?”
Another nod.
“To keep her close?”
His whole body leaned into his exhale. “As a reminder.”
“A reminder?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Jesstin’s head shook at the ground. “You’d think after all these years, Sesto would learn to mind his damn business.”
“Don’t be upset with him.”
“Between this and the stuff with the children...”
“What stuff with the children? The ones you rescued from the fire?”
“No. Nothing. It’s nothing.” He swiveled his head her way with a haunted look. “Why are you here, Elloven?”
“My mother died today.” It wasn’t the answer, but she hadn’t said the words aloud yet, and he was the only one she felt should hear them.
“Damn,” he whispered, sitting straighter. “I’m sorry. I went to see her a month ago, and I knew she was close then.”
“You saw her?” Esme had conveniently failed to mention it.
“I wanted to see if she needed anything. Halfway there, I decided to tell her about Gennady, then lost my courage, but...” He looked astounded. “Then she he brought it up. She already knew. I assumed you’d told her, but she said she hadn’t seen you since we’d come back. Said she’d always known.”
“I wasn’t ready,” Elloven said. She closed her eyes. “But I stayed with her until the end.”
“And you? How are you holding up?”
“Better than I expected. But thank you.”
He smiled halfway. “You could have sent a note.”
“No, Jess,” she said slowly and turned toward him. “I needed to see you.”
“You saw me two days ago,” he muttered.
“Without a bloody dagger in your hand,” she replied with a sigh.
“Sorry for ruining your plan.” He cleared his throat. “Ah, actually, that’s a lie. I’m not sorry. Can I be sorry for not being sorry?”
Elloven laughed to herself and tightened her scarves against the chill.
There was so much to say. She saw him sneaking searching glances at her, but it took courage to forgive, as much or more than to ask for it, because he had no obligation to accept it.
It had been months since they’d last spoken.
He might have moved on. He might never have loved her at all.
It wasn’t uncommon for strong bonds to form in high-pressure situations, and it would be more than her tender heart could bear to learn she was the only one to have carried the love back into the real world.
“If you don’t want to tell me why you’re here, that’s fine.” He seemed uncomfortable in the silence, heavy with expectation. “But it’s fucking cold, and you should be inside.”
“I’m fine. Out here.” She breathed deep and said the words. “When we last spoke... in Rivenholde... I told you my mother had warned me about you.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Now we know why.”