“I had to watch her marry you. Ain’t nothing simple here. Seeing a dead woman’s face on a younger girl, it’s shit. I know it as well as you but it ain’t nothing compared to—damn sorry. You know me. I run off at the mouth.”
They were silent for a moment. “I feel like I’m a failure. I should be there for her. I should be there for all of them. But I wish…”
“What?”
“It’s horrible of me, but I wish that Elaine was here in her place.”
A shuddering breath escaped Payton. Those words, something she had suspected from each of her family but she had never heard said aloud, cut deeper than any blade ever could. Tears sprung to her eyes and she trembled, wanting to deny that she just heard her father speak her fear.
“Every time I look at her, I wish it was my Ellie looking back.” Her father hunched over and began to cry.
A hand touched Payton’s shoulder and she whirled around. Samuel was standing there, a grim look on his face. Her eyes darted from him to Isiah, who was awake on the topmost bunk, supporting himself on his arm and staring down at her.
They knew.
One look at the expression on their faces and she realized they both had known about their father’s struggle, about why he had been avoiding her. Was this the real reason why they all kept her at a distance? Blame and a weight too heavy to bear because she reminded them too much of what they lost?
Suddenly the air in the room had become too thick, too constricting. She shook her head, once, twice, determined to hide from the overwhelming emotions crashing down on her. Shoving the stack of crates that were still piled in the room over, she climbed them and fiddled with the latch on the window.
“What are you doing?” Samuel hissed.
“What does it look like?” she retorted, finally getting the window open.
She crawled out and dropped down to the street. The cold night air did little to calm her aching heart and flushed cheeks. She took a moment to gather herself, to tuck those horrible emotions back behind the farthest corner in her mind where she could pretend they didn’t hurt, they didn’t exist. She was just about to leave when someone landed on the ground next to her.
“What are you doing?” It was her turn to ask the question now.
“Coming with you,” Samuel replied easily. To her shock and mild annoyance, Isiah appeared a moment later.
“Go back to sleep,” she dismissed, beginning to walk away. “I don’t need you two to look after me. I’m fine.”
“It’s okay to not be fine. What dad said… he’s just grieving, Payton. He’ll get past it,” Samuel said softly.
She wasn’t so sure. She wasn’t sure if any of them would ever “get past it”.
Payton took them through a few winding roads until she stopped at a destination she wasn’t even fully aware she had been heading toward. The incredulous look on Isiah’s face was worth it though.
“The Pissed Pegasus? Who comes up with these names?” he grumbled as she walked inside.
“Well, one day I was bored and got annoyed with what the old owner called this place, I mean the Gull’s Nest, yawn. So boring. Right near the docks, how predictable is that. So I thought for a while and then it came to me after a bottle of whiskey, people come here to get pissed!” Nyla, who had been passing by as they entered, happily shared as though Isiah’s question had been directed at her.
Payton snickered as Isiah’s cheeks flushed at being called out. “And the Pegasus?”
“I dunno. Nice alliteration?” Nyla plopped the drinks she was carrying down in front of her customers before fully turning to face them. “I see you brought company this time. Atherly will be jealous. He doesn’t like competition.”
“Ew. And no.” Payton wrinkled her nose as she followed Nyla back to the bar. “These are my brothers.”
An arm was slung over her shoulder and Atherly leaned onto the bar, placing himself very close to her. “Fancy seeing you here again.”
“You sure you don’t live here?” Payton retorted, shrugging him off and stealing his tankard. When he objected she grinned. “Flirtation tax.”
This caused Nyla to laugh. “I’ll have to remember that one.” She then motioned to the two awkwardly gawking men behind Payton. “If you both keep standing like that I’m gonna have to turn you into a game for my drunks and trust me, I’ll have more entertainment and fun with it than you will.” Hastily both of them sat down to Payton’s left. “What’ll it be for ya’ll?”
“Erm… whatever is good?” Samuel said hesitantly.
“Whiskey,” Isiah replied. “A lot of it.”
Nyla saluted the two of them and disappeared into the back. Atherly had settled on a seat to Payton’s right and was studying the two men. “You were at the docks,” he announced as though he had just solved a puzzle.
“Comes with being employed there,” Isiah almost grunted in response, clearly not caring who Atherly was.
Samuel was a different story. “You’re the healer,” he said in awe. “I never thought I’d meet one in person. There is only one in Vaelorn and even that was considered to be an unconfirmed rumor.”
“See, love,” Atherly drawled, flashing Payton a smile, “that’s the proper response.”
She snorted as Nyla came back with the drinks. “I apologize for not living up to your expectations.”
“You can make it up to me with a kiss.”
“Alright then. Sammy, kiss the healer.”
Both men sputtered, her brother turning bright red and Atherly dissolving into chuckles after a moment. “I’d prefer to save my lips for the fairer sex.”
“That’s okay, he prefers to save his for a certain redheaded guardsman.”
“I… I…” Samuel stammered. “Creators, remind me to kill you, Payton.”
This only earned him more laughter from the two tavern fixtures. “So, this is a bit late for you. What brings you in?” Nyla asked before Atherly could redirect the conversation into another attempt to flirt.
Payton’s face went blank. “Realizing truths I didn’t want to admit.”
“Payton… dad is trying. I know he is. It’s just… hard,” Samuel said awkwardly.
“It’s hard for all of us,” she whispered. “I just… wish that you all would realize that we don’t have to be alone in this.”
Chapter Twelve
Payton had been in the middle of hauling a nice, light crate over to the loading area when she heard the commotion. Things had been perfectly normal – annoying creaks and bark of orders of the dock mingling with the waves all around – one second and then the next the shouts and cries coming from the harbor wafted to dock two. She looked toward it curiously and saw a mob of a sort had formed, creating the commotion. She was not the only one who had abandoned her post to go see what was happening. But seeing Samuel and Isiah in the middle of a fist fight with a little less than a dozen men was decidedly not what she expected to find.
“What the hell are you doing?” her demand was lost in the din of cheers.
Sighing in exasperation and muttering about the unfairness of it all, Payton pushed forward, charging into the ring and yanking one of the three men off Samuel. Her knuckles did not thank her after she knocked them against the man’s jaw. Swiftly dodging an attack from one of the others, she darted around the men, redirecting their blows onto each other while she tried to find a weapon to fight with. She spotted bits of a broken crate on the ground and threw herself forward. Tumbling, she grabbed two of the boards and used the momentum to roll to her feet. Pivoting around she brought them up just in time to block a swinging fist. They were not the same length and would likely drive splinters into her palms but it would help for now.
There was little hope of actually winning. Isiah and Samuel were fairly bruised by the time she had arrived and no one else in the crowd appeared willing to help. At most, she was lucky she was able to knock out two more men, adding them to the three her brothers had downed.
Breathing heavily, the sibl
ings backed away, facing the angry attackers. “Want to tell me what you did to piss these men off?” Payton demanded, flexing her hand on the bit of board. It was going to hurt something fierce when she let it go.
“Nothing worth this!” Samuel exclaimed.
“They were trying to leave without paying. Foreman told us to stop them. They objected,” Isiah said flatly.
Payton eyed the men and then judged the distance. “The big one. Fake-out run. Spring step?” she suggested.
“Alright. They’re dumb enough to fall for it,” Isiah agreed. “Samuel, any chance you can…” He wriggled his fingers as if to indicate magic.
“It’s weak without the focus stone from my staff. I’ve been trying.”
“Keep it up. Anything helps,” Isiah stated. “On three.”
On his count, Isiah and Payton charged forward. Abruptly, as Isiah got close to the biggest threat on the field he ducked and Payton changed directions. She leapt off her brother’s back and brought her… weapons… down on the man’s head with a crack. He collapsed in a heap.
“Mother love a duck! Never do that again without me in armor!” Isiah cursed before being overtaken by another fighter.
Payton pivoted and hit another man in the neck with a loud ‘thwap’. It winded him long enough for her to strike him across the temple. “Big baby. I don’t weigh that much.”
“Next time I’m jumping off your back then,” he shouted.
She was in the process of attempting to take down another of the brutes when two burly arms circled her and started squeezing. She gasped, the air forcefully pressed from her lungs. Wildly she scrambled, her feet scraping weakly at the ground as she was lifted from it. She tried to kick, to impact the captor’s shin, his groin, something anything, but the man’s hold on her only tightened the more she struggled. Soon her grip on her boards-turned-weapons went slack and they clattered down.
Sensing her only way to get free was to go limp, she did just that, let her body fall forward as if she had passed out. The second she felt a change in the way she was being held, she reacted. Her leg swung back, this time colliding with the man’s knee. A howl of pain deafened her ear as she was dropped. She brought her elbow up and sharply dug it into the unsuspecting man’s nose. Then she dove for her ‘weapons’ to finish the job and knock the bastard out. Her fingers wrapped around the jagged wood edge and she turned around, mustering as much strength as she could—
“Stand down! In the name of the city guard of Imeryn, I order you all to stand down!” a thunder of command came from someone who had pushed through the crowd. Six people dressed in guardsmen uniforms had flooded the area and their leader was obviously the one who had spoken.
She eyed them and then her opponent. The brutes had stopped fighting and begrudgingly stepped back from her brothers. Even the one in front of her was holding up his hands as if to indicate surrender. Screw them. She followed through on her movement and nailed the man who had grabbed her so tightly just moments before in the face. His nose squirted with blood and he stumbled backward, cursing.
“I said stand—”
Instantly she dropped her board and held up her hands, backing away while grinning.
The leader of the guard was coming toward her but stumbled over finishing because Payton had already done as she asked. The dark-haired woman looked her up and down as if she could asses Payton’s threat on that alone.
“Arrest these people. And get a medic down here for the unconscious. We’ll interrogate them after they’ve woken,” the leader ordered.
Payton had her hands forcibly placed behind her back only for the guard to hesitate. “Um… Lieutenant, ma’am. We don’t… we don’t have enough shackles for all of them.”
“We’re at a dock, use rope,” she snapped as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Payton snickered, earning her a glare from Isiah. His lip and nose were bleeding and he had a nasty bruise forming on his head but other than that he seemed fine. Well enough to glare. A rope was handed off and she could feel it being wound around her wrists. Badly. Creators, she could slip that knot in her sleep. Best not let them know that.
As they were marched through the city, the guards doing their best to keep them all separate and subsequently failing – she had more than one shoulder shove from the brutes –, Payton edged closer to her brothers.
“Think your lover-friend can pull a few strings for us?”
It took a moment for Samuel to realize she was talking to him. Then his face promptly went scarlet. “Who? Darcy? He’s not my…” he realized he was almost shouting and lowered his voice: “…he’s not my…whatever nonsense you just said. He’s just my friend. And you’re not really asking for me to put him in that position, are you? To take advantage of his position in the city like so many people tried to have us do back in Aodhan.”
“I meant more put in a good word and say we’re not psychotic refugees bent on punching whoever pisses us off. We could send for Nyla or Atherly as character witnesses but somehow it feels like a tavern owner and the town’s flirtatious healer won’t hold much weight. Oh, I know, how about a drunk blacksmith and an asshole boss who blames everyone else for his own shortcomings?” Payton smart-mouthed. “No? Right. So we’re screwed. And hey, for once it’s not my fault for punching the idiots! I feel like I deserve a medal. Don’t you?”
“You punched the idiots right along with us,” Isiah retorted.
“I was coming to your rescue. Like a knight after a damsel in distress,” she declared.
“We’re the damsels in this scenario?” Samuel asked, unable to hide the smile.
“Of course.”
“You two will be the death of me,” groaned Isiah.
“But you’ll go down in style,” Samuel added, winking at Payton who grinned broadly back.
The fort that held the barracks and whatever else was located toward the center of the city and was a fair distance from the inner docks. They were escorted inside and down a hall where they were shoved inside cells. It had obviously become clear to the guard who had been on what side because most of the brutes had been divided into their own barred room while her brothers were placed in a separate one. Payton had a nice tiny one all to herself. The joys of being the only woman who had been fighting she supposed.
One by one they were plucked from the cages and taken to another room where they were for varying lengths of time before they were escorted back. By the time Payton was taken – which was dead last and she had counted how many bricks were in her cell, 421 on the floor, 654 on the wall, 312 on the ceiling, twice – she was certain she had gone crazy.
She was forced inside a room that was clearly an office. A woman she immediately recognized from the first day in the city was sitting on the other side. Dark skin, braids in her hair, leather uniform. Talika or Tyraka or something.
“Untie her hands and then you may leave.”
Payton sheepishly moved her hands and gave a little jaunty wave. The woman arched her brow, a smile she was obviously trying to conceal tugging on the corners of her lips. She dismissed the other guard and gestured to the seat across from her.
“I am Guard-Captain Takara Knight.”
“A knight named Knight? A little on the nose there, don’t you think?” she couldn’t help blurting.
The woman blinked, surprised at the interruption. “I am not a knight. I am a guardsman. Now I have gotten testimony from everyone else involved in the incident. Would you please say in your own words what happened?”
“Why?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“My brothers and I are outnumbered here. No matter what we say happened, the assholes who started the fight are going to try and pin it on us and you’ll side with the majority. It doesn’t matter if what I say lines up with my brothers’ or not. All that would matter is if the apes in the cell next to me came up with a consistent lie. There’s no out for any of us here.”
Takara placed her pen down and leaned
back in her seat, studying Payton. The seconds ticked by into minutes and Payton was growing uncomfortable. She was beginning to wonder if the woman was just going to wait her out and see if she started to talk but then Takara called for the guard again.
“Please bring the other two men, the Clark brothers, in.”
The guard nodded all formal-like and disappeared. A few moments later, Samuel and Isiah were escorted in. Takara smiled in greeting. “You three are very interesting, to say the least. Each one of you started with an identical speech on how there was no way for you to prove your story was the true story and how you were aware I might have the tendency to lean toward the majority’s tale. The difference being, both of you told me your side whereas your sister, as Isiah guessed, did not.”
Payton glanced to her twin and shrugged. Sometimes she wondered how he knew her so well.
“I took the liberty of finding your entry forms and learned that both of you were once guards which explains your knowledge of how situations like this can work.” She straightened and leaned forward. “However, what you did not know is these men have a history of starting fights and I have been looking for a reason to put them away. I instruct some of my people always to remain at a scene to talk with bystanders to learn how an incident begins. We glean a larger understanding of crimes that way. Few were willing to talk due to the foreman’s insistence to get back to work however some have confirmed the details of your story.”
“So… what does that mean?” Payton asked hesitantly. “Are we free? Since we were just reacting and protecting ourselves. There’s not a law against that is there?”
“Not specific—” Samuel cut himself off realizing the question hadn’t been directed at him.
“I see you’ve read the city ordinances,” Takara said in an amused tone. “Your brother is correct that none of you have broken any specific law.”
“But?”
“But we don’t condone brawling. It is dangerous and can cost lives. I’d prefer it if incidents like this do not happen again.”
“We’ll try not to make a habit of it,” Isiah promised.
Shattered Page 8
