Shattered

by Stef M Ensing

Jarrett’s eyes narrowed at her as though assessing her honesty. “Not even Atherly?” he spat the name as if it tasted foul in his mouth.

  “Creators, no. Even if you gave me permission, I’d never bring it up. Do you realize the last time you were brought up in conversation that man ranted about you for a good twenty minutes? The two of you are worse than children.”

  The thought was equal parts amusing and annoying. He had always striven to avoid the Malvatharian as much as he could but lately, he had found himself in the man’s company more and more. Then it became a balance of gritting his teeth and trying not to punch him or sharp retorts that sent Atherly off into a tizzy. Why he chose to endure it for the sake of Payton and, now he must admit, her brothers and Nyla’s company, he was not sure. Either way, the fact Atherly would be bothered even when he was not there was somehow a bit amusing.

  “Oh, you can laugh. You’re not the one who has to listen to him,” she complained good-naturedly.

  “You would not have to either if you simply removed the scum from your presence.”

  “Ah, but then where would I get free healing from? Face it, he’s saved me a fortune in aloeroot potions.”

  “So that’s why you keep him around. Free health care.”

  “Well, it wasn’t for his looks or charming personality.”

  Jarrett laughed, surprising himself with the sound. How had she managed to change such a sour and bitter mood into the complete opposite?

  “I really do have to go.” She took a step back. “You’re still coming tomorrow night for cards right?”

  Slowly he nodded. The bright and vibrant smile that lit up her face was his reward. She gave a little jaunty wave in farewell and hurried off. Jarrett watched her leave, disappearing into the crowd. He was no closer to understanding her than he had been when he started and yet, the tension that had been coiled about the incomprehension had eased. Despite her unusualness, the many layers that seemed to make up her character, he was beginning to trust her.

  And that in itself was strange.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  It took Payton a couple of hours to find Isiah. When she did she wasn’t entirely sure why the Pissed Pegasus wasn’t the first place she had checked. She had been looking for him since she had got off work. The news had been all over the city since noon: the Templars have spread further, claiming three more cities in Vaelorn. She had known in an instant that Isiah would not take it well and when she got home that evening Samuel said that Isiah walked off the job they were the moment he heard. No one had seen him since. Until now.

  Spotting Isiah at the bar next to an exasperated Takara, she hurried forward. Takara looked at her as she approached. “Will you please get your brother home before I am forced to arrest him? I’ve heard four different reports on him today. Fights, drunken misconduct, threats against guardsmen. As it is, I should be bringing him in for punching one of my men before he ran in here.”

  “He punched a guard?!” Payton said aghast.

  “He deserved it,” Isiah grumbled.

  “He was only trying to get you home,” snapped Takara.

  “I’ll take care of him,” she said with a long sigh.

  “This is the only favor he ever gets. You understand? I get that he’s had a hard day. Most of the refugees aren’t taking this news very well but it doesn’t excuse—” Takara was interrupted midsentence.

  “Very well? Very well?! Tell me, Guard-Captain,” Isiah slurred. “How exactly should we be taking this? Our country is being overtaken by an army of mage-murdering psychopaths and the Caliph continues to do nothing! Nothing! She just sits there in her palace in the west while her people are being murdered!”

  “Take it with some decorum at the very least. You have every right to feel betrayed but acting like a drunk and an idiot is hardly the way to deal,” Takara tried.

  “How would you feel if your… what do you call him, the boss judge… how would you feel if your boss judge was just standing by letting hundreds and thousands get murdered by a band of thugs? Some say she’s actually working with the Templars!”

  “You’re buying into conspiracy theories now? Creators, how much have you had to drink?” Payton asked in disbelief.

  “The Moderator,” Takara supplied.

  “What?” both Payton and her brother said.

  “The title you’re looking for. The Moderator.

  “Moderator. Caliph. It’s all the same,” Isiah dismissed. “People above who don’t care about the ones below them. Rivers of blood turn to seas and still no one does anything.” He slammed his tankard down on the bar and looked at Takara. “When are you going to do something about it?”

  “Do what about what?” Takara looked a little surprised by the sudden change.

  “Come on, let’s just leave the nice lady alone and go sleep this off,” Payton tried, moving the stein out of reach and wrapping her arms around her brother’s biceps in an attempt to steady him as he stood.

  Isiah attempted to shrug Payton off and waved a finger in Takara’s direction. “When is Estaria going to do something about the Templars? Because they’re coming. They are getting closer to the border. Is… is… is Estaria just going to roll over and let a band of murderers slaughter mages because it’s the popular opinion at the moment?”

  “Hardly,” Takara said dryly.

  “I don’t see you or anyone else doing anything to stop it.”

  “The Templars have not come here,” she retorted.

  “Isiah, just let it go. We can talk about this later,” Payton attempted but was still ignored.

  “And that’s what has to happen for you people to do something. They have to come here for you.” Ge made a mad gesture around. “Damn everyone else.”

  “Isiah, I swear if you keep this up I will tell everyone the story of how you shit yourself in public.” By this point, neither one of them were paying Payton any attention.

  “If we did do anything about the Templars the way they are now there would be a full-scale war. Not with the Templars but with Vaelorn because Estaria would be seen as invading, you moronic twat!” Takara almost shouted.

  “If you two don’t keep it down, I’m going to have Payton kick you both out,” Nyla growled as she came over.

  “I’m not even working tonight!” Payton exclaimed.

  “That’s just what they want you to think,” Isiah mumbled. “You’re just useless, aren’t you? All of you guards. You just lay down, roll over. You’re just the same as Vaelorn. Just the same. You don’t care about the people. You don’t care that there was almost a slave trade happening in the city to cart off the refugees. It didn’t matter because we didn’t matter to you. Just like mages don’t matter to the Caliph. To anyone else. Fuck you. Fuck all of you!”

  “That’s it!” Takara grabbed Isiah by the arm and hauled him forward. Her brother nearly lost his balance. “You’re under arrest. Payton, you can pick him up in the morning.”

  She glanced at her brother. Isiah was spewing profanities and struggling in the iron cuffs that Takara had placed around his wrists. “Nah. You can keep him.”

  “I’ll send more guards back to help you deal with the discontent, in the meantime, make Payton clean it up.”

  “Hey!” she squeaked indignantly.

  But Takara had already marched Isiah out of the Pegasus. Payton grabbed Isiah’s tankard and drank it down. Isiah was going to be angry tomorrow. Angry and hungover and embarrassed. What fun.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The knocking on his door pulled him out of his reverie. If the act of going through intense training positions while drinking could be considered reverie. Jarrett had stilled at the sound of it, uncertain he had heard it correctly the first time but the second utterance of it was unmistakable.

  Weapon in hand, he cautiously approached, hugging the wall so he could peer out the window. To his surprise, he saw Payton standing there. Uncertain what else to do, Jarrett opened the door a crack, just enough to allow them to see e
ach other.

  “Uh… yes?”

  Those luminously large blue eyes blinked at him and a smile stretched on her lips. “Hi. I… um… right. So, I know this is a total imposition and I haven’t got any right or… what I mean to say, Isiah got arrested last night because he’s a bloody idiot and Takara just released him an hour ago and I’m kinda trying to hide from him so he doesn’t get angry with me for his own stupidity and I couldn’t think of anywhere else that he couldn’t find me so maybe pretty please could I hide out here with you?”

  He stared at her. She had spoken everything very fast and it was a whirlwind to try and comprehend it all. Apparently, he was taking too long because the hopeful look on her face fell, the smile became a bit forced.

  “Nevermind. This was stupid. I’ll just go hide at Atherly’s.”

  Jarrett stiffened, jerking slightly which inadvertently caused the door to open more. The action caused her to pause mid-turn. He would not wish a Malvathar’s company on anyone. Even one she apparently deemed as a “friend”.

  Exhaling slowly, he pulled the door open the rest of the way. He lacked anything to say but it seemed his action was enough and he was rewarded with another one of her brilliantly bright smiles.

  Payton slipped inside and let him shut the door behind her, hovering awkwardly in the tiny foyer beside him. He hesitated, uncertain what to do, before moving forward, leading her into the main room. If his lack of verbosity bothered her, she did not say anything. Her eyes were going over the nearly empty room.

  He shifted his weight, uncomfortable with her scrutiny. He did not have much. Nothing but his overstuffed chair with repaired rips in the blue fabric, a table with a rickety pair of chairs, all of which were shoved back against the far wall due to his need for room as he practiced his swordsmanship. The only other furniture in the room was the bookcase that was built into the wall that held four pitiful books. Wine bottles were spread about on random surfaces – the mantle, the hearth, the shelves of the bookcase, the table, even lined along the wall, anywhere there was room and yet still out of the way.

  “Starting a bottle collection?” she teased.

  He could feel himself turn red in response. The mortification doubled when she discovered the half-drunk bottle resting on the hearth.

  “Wait…” Her brow furrowed and then she looked at him. “You drank all these? Not in one sitting but… wow. You must really like wine.”

  “I must,” he said helplessly.

  “So is this what you do? Fight bad guys, guard the city, and drink wine?”

  Jarrett made a face. The way she said it made it sound so… odd. “I have other things that occupy my time as well.”

  “Like?”

  His grip on his blade tightened as he felt his cheeks heat once more. Her gaze dropped to the weapon and then raised comprehension appearing.

  “Fight bad guys, protect the city, train for more, and then drink wine.” She grinned. “You sound like a storybook hero.”

  “How so?”

  “Dashing hero dedicates his life to protect the innocent, fight for those who cannot defend themselves. But he’s not as serious and brooding as one might think because he has a secret passion for the good things in life.”

  “Like wine?”

  “Exactly!”

  He shook his head, unable to keep from smiling faintly at her ridiculousness. There was an awkward silence that passed and he realized it might be because of him. He had never had a guest before. What did one do with guests?

  “Do you want a drink?”

  “You have more?” she teased.

  He fidgeted a moment before leaning his sword against the wall and disappearing toward the kitchen. He lifted the trap door beside the cool box and climbed down into the larder. It wasn’t a large storage space but he had carefully filled it with shelves for his collection. The light from above shone into the blackness, allowing him to see just enough to scan the labels.

  “Holy mother of a dragon. How long have you been collecting wine?”

  Jarrett jerked, looking back sharply. Payton was leaning over the edge of the larder’s opening, peering into his hold. He looked from her to the rows of shelving that he had filled with wine bottles. The only thing he ever purchased besides food and the house – the second of which Takara had helped him with when he first arrived in the city, for protection sake. He was not sure how to process her reaction. Instead, he pulled a bottle from the collection and then ascended the steps.

  “I have to admit I never would have pictured you for a wine connoisseur.” Payton helpfully nudged the trap door shut.

  “You pictured me as some other type of connoisseur?”

  She blinked owlishly. So many expressions, he would become dizzy trying to keep up with all of them.

  “I suppose not. I haven’t quite figured you out.”

  He arched his brow as the two of them made their way into the main room. Her statement was remarkably mirroring of his own toward her. “I wasn’t aware I was that much of a puzzle.”

  “I highly doubt that, mystery man.”

  Despite himself, he smiled. It took him a moment to realize they were both standing in the somewhat empty space of his living area. “Right. Uh… let me just move this back toward the fire…”

  She snickered. At him? He was not sure. “Don’t trouble yourself.” She plucked a bottle from his hand and promptly plopped onto the floor by the hearth.

  He stared at her. She was voluntarily sitting on the floor. Why? His confusion must have been clearly expressed because she stilled in the process of pulling the cork from the bottle. She appeared equally bewildered before she looked down and then back up, finally connecting the pieces. And then there was another laugh.

  “Growing up with two rambunctious boys you learn that it’s actually safer to not be on higher surfaces. Less pain when they knock into you.” The cork made a pleasant popping sound as it finally worked its way free. “Besides, I find it’s easier to get up in a hurry when you’re on the floor. With chairs and benches, there is always something in the way. Legs that aren’t yours, armrests, blah, blah.”

  Jarrett watched her take a long sip from the bottle before offering it to him. Taking it, he lowered himself down. He did not like sitting on the floor unless he could help it but it would be awkward to take the time to drag his furniture out to its proper place. “I suppose the ability to get up in a hurry would depend on how armored you are.”

  Payton looked at him quizzically.

  “Heavier plate and floors do not mix well.” He offered the bottle back after drinking.

  A soft giggle bubbled out from her. “True. Isiah looks like a right idiot when he tries. He got stuck once.” Letting out a full laugh, Payton grinned. She wagged her brows at him, admitting only to herself how much she liked the ease of tension that was coming over his face. “I kid you not. He sat down to talk to a kid at the docks one day on the job and when the kid ran off, he couldn’t get up. Armor Wyverns gave him wouldn’t let him!” She made a face after taking another sip. “I hate plate armor.”

  “As a rogue plate armor would be impractical.”

  “Can you imagine trying to sneak up on someone while wearing that? Crash, clang, crash, crash.” She chuckled at the image in her own head as they continued to pass the bottle back and forth. “What is this stuff?” she asked looking at the seal on the bottle for some indication. “It’s not bad.”

  “Estarian wine from the western sea,” he responded after glancing at the label.

  Is this a normal practice of yours, then? You spend your money on wines and memorize their seals.”

  “Is this a normal practice of yours? Hiding from your family in whatever sanctuary you can find.”

  She quirked her lips to the side in a peculiar expression and then gave a shrug with one shoulder. “Sometimes. Used to be just when they annoyed me. Normal teenage stuff. We were a close family. Mom kept us that way but…” her voice trailed off, darkness coming over those b
lue eyes of hers. She took the bottle back and took a long drink. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “No. I didn’t.”

  Payton studied him for a moment before appearing to give up and take another drink. She savored the flavor before swallowing and handing the bottle back. “Can a wine be considered sweet? I’ve never had sweet wine before. Vaelorn wine was always a bit sour or bitter.”

  “It can be.”

  “You are being very evasive.”

  “Am I?”

  “For someone who has over forty bottles of wine in his cellar and thirty empties in his front room, I’d have thought you would have more of an opinion on the subject.”

  Jarrett frowned as he sipped. “The flavors of wine are often described as either sweet or dry or somewhere in between as the ever-inventive off-dry. There are four major break downs of flavor after that: fruity, oaky, soft, and tannic. Fruity does not actually imply sweetness as one might suspect but simply means you smell the fruitiness with your nose as you drink. Oaky which is also described as smoky or toasty comes specifically from storage in oak barrels during their fermentation process which imparts a robust flavor on the wine. Soft has a smooth and crisp feel with a low amount of acidity. Tannic is firm and always leaves the mouth feeling dry and occasionally bitter.”

  Her lips parted, jaw dropping slightly as he spoke. “That was… wow.”

  “I can give you a list of appropriate pairings of dry, sweet, and rich wines for food dishes,” he said dully.

  “Not necessary.” She shook her head, still in a bit of shock. “I’ll never doubt your knowledge on your wine hobby again.”

  “I did not acquire the knowledge on my own pursuits.”

  He did not know what possessed him to say such a thing. He had no desire to explain the topic further though had encountered many curious people who questioned his knowledge. But even as he sat there drinking down what was meant to be a triumphant pleasure he could see the wheels turning in her mind as she processed the accidental clue he had given her.

  “Malvathar,” she stated in a low tone.