43. Fenric #2
Fenric couldn’t argue. That was absolutely true.
The sound of someone sniffling brought his head up, and he startled when he realized Maxie was only ten steps away.
And had clearly heard the last part of the story.
Tears rolled down those cheeks. The devastation and guilt on Maxie’s face were palpable. Which didn’t make sense? Why would Maxie feel guilty? It wasn’t his doing.
“I am so, so sorry,” Maxie managed, his voice threadbare.
“To think you suffered like this all because of those who should have protected you. And your mother. A saintess! A holy servant of The Box. How could anyone dare to lay a hand on her? She should have spent her long life being revered and protected. If only I could turn back time, I’d do whatever I could to reverse this fate. ”
“Hey, why are you talking like you did this?” Fenric pulled out of Lirion’s arms to give Maxie a quick hug because, apparently, his adopted younger brother needed one. “You didn’t kill my mother or steal from her; this isn’t your fault.”
Maxie’s face twisted up into a grimace. He said nothing, but there was an air about him as if he didn’t agree.
Which, frankly, was strange. Although he did take too much of other people’s problems onto his shoulders, so maybe that was it.
Lirion came in closer, resting a hand on Fenric’s shoulder. “With the way he’s talking… Fenric, have you not told everyone else why we’re here?”
“They know we’re here to recover my treasures, but I’ve never told anyone they belonged to my mother.”
“Don’t you think you should? You trust all of them, and you should tell them.”
Fenric sat still, his mind turning that word over and over again like a shiny coin reflecting the sunlight.
Trust. He’d not given it much thought. After what happened with Lance and the other heroes, he’d sworn never to fully trust again.
Besides, who would trust a bunch of villains? That was insane.
But Hapi, Malfas, Rain, and Bel had steadily built up a trust between them like bricks being laid for a wall.
At first, it had been trusting them to do a job.
And then another job. And another. Until he was trusting them with his life and Maxie’s life and Lirion’s life.
It had snuck up on him and only bashed him in the head when Lirion finally pointed it out.
Why couldn’t he trust them with some of the secrets of his past?
Especially when they were willing to put their lives on the line for him.
Sure, there were parts he wouldn’t be able to tell them—not for a lack of trust, but because they still ached like a rotten tooth—but he could tell them some of it.
The part that applied to this situation here and now.
Fenric straightened and nodded. “Probably should. All right, I’ll do it. Uh, you want more time to study the fog?”
“Not for now. I may need to think about this and sleep on it. Give my hindbrain a chance for brilliance.”
“Okay.”
They were a pensive, quiet trio as they made their way to the campfire.
In the time Fenric’s back had been turned, someone had gotten a fire going, Hapi had one tent up, Malfas had fetched out the portable kitchen counter—which was really just a nice wooden plank made for this purpose—and Rain had tossed down their bedrolls.
They had making and breaking down camp down to a science at this point.
Still, Belstrom was paying attention, and when they approached, his eyes were keen as he studied them. “What ill tidings do you bring us?”
“Not bad news per se, but I need to explain something.” Fenric came closer, then dropped onto his haunches, just sitting near the fire. The warmth soothed him.
Everyone else stopped what they were doing and gathered around.
Belstrom hauled over two fallen logs from the woods, which Fenric appreciated, as the log was easier to sit on.
Once people were situated, he looked from face to face.
Everyone was focused, some openly concerned, but all were willing to listen.
His gaze paused on Hapi, recalling so many of their conversations in the dark.
There was a little smirk on the elf’s lips, as if he knew Fenric had finally come to the realization he trusted these men absolutely.
Still, it was so fucking hard to talk about how na?ve he’d been. How those stupid decisions in his late teens were still impacting him now. No one wanted to think about their big mistakes in life. Especially those that had cost them the lives of people they’d loved.
All right, they were listening, so it was time for him to talk. “The reason we’re here is personal to me. You know that much. I need to explain why. The story only makes sense if you know something about my mother. She was a saintess for five years.”
Different reactions across the board—Hapi almost fell off his log; Rain let out a long, low whistle, as if several things now made more sense to him; Belstrom looked like he was trying to swear but couldn’t think of an oath strong enough; but Malfas just appeared confused as he clutched his club to his chest like a security blanket.
Shooting up a hand, Malfas said, “I don’t understand.
I thought all holy orders issued from Mineas came from The Box?
Wait! You’re telling me your mother had direct contact with The Box.
She heard the word of the constellation Mineas and handed down the constellation’s prognostications that affected every life in Moorwood. That was your mother?”
The disbelief was palpable in every word Malfas spoke, and Fenric wanted to reach across the fire and smack him on the back of the head.
“Yes, my holy mother went on to give birth to and raise a foul-tempered, immoral thief,” Fenric grumbled.
“Don’t forget sexy,” Lirion chimed in. “You’re also very sexy.”
“So, she was one of the prepubescent girls who acted as the voice of a god, changing countless lives all across the globe for good and ill?” Malfas looked in danger of having his brain leak out of his ears. “And none of that sounds strange to you?”
Hapi grinned darkly and stuck out his hand toward Malfas. “Mal, the fire is getting low. Hand me your club. I’ll toss it in.”
The warlock gasped and clutched it tighter to his chest, looking at Hapi like he’d lost his mind.
“Ezlan does not think your joke is funny. I can hear my god speaking through the club, and he only assists my actions. The Box is designed to run an entire kingdom, affecting millions of lives, putting them on paths where they don’t belong without so much as a by-your-leave! ”
Fenric shrugged. “I grew up hearing about it, and it was presented as normal. Then again, an entire country being run by what a box says sounds absurd to me, yet they’re doing just that.”
Maxie flinched.
Sighing, Fenric scrubbed a hand across his face.
If not for the jewelry box, this was a part of his life he would have moved on from and never looked back.
But he couldn’t let it go until he had his mother’s treasures and he could be sure her spirit was at rest. “When my mother retired, she received all the benefits any other saintess got—namely a house, a standard of living that continued until her death, and several keepsakes. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except for some reason, heroes visited her house, killed her, and took the keepsakes.”
“Gods below,” Hapi murmured, eyes full of sympathy. “Fenric, that is horrid. Why?”
“I don’t know. Wish I did, but I honestly have no fucking clue.
Lance Carrington and Gale Reeve were a part of that group, but I’ve never been able to get a complete list of who was there or why.
What I do know is that while some of the keepsakes were given to a black-market auction and sold to different bidders years ago, some of the items were more recently sold to a fence.
Lord Mire has one of them. That’s why we’re here. ”
“We’ll get it back,” Malfas swore. “Gods, I’m so mad, like, I hate the heroes anyway, everyone here does, but to think they murdered a retired saintess, and for what? Trinkets they sold anyway?! Make it make sense; I don’t understand any of this.”
“I don’t either,” Fenric admitted with a shake of his head.
It was on the tip of his tongue to admit he’d once been a hero, riding with Lance and the others, but he swallowed down those words, not ready to share that ugly part of his past. Not yet.
Questions of whether Lance had brought him into their group simply because he wanted to learn more about his saintess mother still nagged at him.
Until he learned for sure, he wasn’t ready to talk about that part of his life.
His right hand tightened into a ball until his knuckles turned white.
Lirion placed a hand over his, dragging his thumb across his knuckles in a soothing caress.
“My mother was more reclusive than most saintesses were after returning to normal life. A retired saintess will usually volunteer at the church or go out and do good works in the capital or neighboring cities, but not my mom. She rarely, if ever, left the house. She didn’t ever return to the church of Mineas.
I sometimes wonder if maybe she knew something…
or…” Fenric’s words faded off and he shook his head again as if to clear it.
“I don’t know. Maybe my brain is just making up excuses so it will make sense. ”
“There’s no making sense of violence like what happened to your mother.
Heroes have been known all across the kingdom for abusing their power and clout,” Rain snarled with a wave of his hand.
“They’ve protected Count Pierres for years and he’s just the tip of the bloody iceberg.
Those bastards could have killed her simply because they were bored and wanted the thrill of destroying something pure and good.
” Rain winced as if realizing the horrific things he was spouting. “Sorry, Fen.”