“I’m glad you came back,” he said as he pulled away.
She eyed him and then her twin and her father uncertainly. Her father’s head was bowed and he was not looking at her but Isiah had risen to his feet.
“You disappeared for three days. Where were you?”
“I thought you all didn’t want me around,” she said quietly, finally moving. She shut the door behind her and walked into the room. Quickly she scooted around the table, intending to head to the room she shared with her brothers to fetch her armor.
Isiah caught her by the arm, stalling her. “Payton.”
“What do you want me to say?” she asked flatly.
“It’s not about… I wanted to say I was sorry,” he said exasperated. “About what I said. It was unwarranted and cruel and I’m sorry.”
“Simmons told the truth,” Samuel blurted coming forward.
She looked at him sharply. “What?”
“The night after you left. He and I were drinking and he admitted what happened,” her father said darkly.
“We woke up to dad punching the shit out of him. When we heard what he confessed we both got our own shots in,” Isiah added.
“Simmons was all set to throw us on the street until dad pointed out that if he tried, he’d turn Simmons in for what he did. Simmons took off and hasn’t been back since.”
“He hasn’t been anywhere,” Isiah informed. “Not to his smithy, not here, not anywhere. Some… men came by looking for him,” the way Isiah said the word implied that her twin had wished Takara or Darcy had been around when these people had shown up, “but he seems to have just split.”
“We spent the next two days looking for you but no one had seen you,” Samuel continued earnestly.
Her brothers looked at her expectantly as though they were waiting for her to tell them where she had been. But she didn’t say anything at first. Her eyes just dragged from one of them to the other before lingering on her father.
“Thanks… I guess,” she said halfheartedly.
“He was scum,” Isiah snapped.
She didn’t comment. Wanting to change the subject, she turned her attention back to her brothers. “Tonight is game night at the Pegasus. I was going to bring up the fact that we just about have our share together.”
“You made your final choices on who to bring then?” Samuel teased her indecision.
“Who else is joining us?” Isiah asked curiously.
She shifted uncomfortably. All eyes were on her again, each wanting something different from her. Her father’s green were the hardest to ignore. Closing her own, she let out a shaking breath. She could not run from this.
“No.”
“What?” Samuel was clearly startled.
“You’re not coming.”
She heard her father breathe a sigh of relief.
“You’re banning us from game night?” Isiah said in an amused tone.
“No. Kydessa.”
Her brothers stared at her in shock for several moments before all hell broke loose. “This is dragon shit!” “Are you out of your mind?! You can’t go there without us!” “It’s our money too, Payton! You can’t just up and take it and run off!” “You need us with you! You need fighters! Damn it, Payton. What has gotten into you?!” “I can’t believe you’re so selfish!”
“Shut up!” she cried, squeezing her eyes shut. “Just… shut up. This isn’t about me, this is about our family.”
“How is this about our family? You’re cheating our family and running off—“
“I’m saving you!” she shouted. Her brothers reared back, startled at her words. “You could die. I can’t… I can’t live through that again. I can’t leave your bodies in my wake.”
“Payton…” Isiah tried but she shook her head.
“Just… no.”
She turned her back on them and disappeared into the room behind her, shutting the door in the hopes of shutting out the betrayal they both felt. She was doing this for them. She tried to ignore the little voice in the back of her mind that taunted her saying that she had the same excuse when she had gone into Jarret’s room. And that had blown up in her face.
She tried to ignore the hurt and tears that welled up inside of her. Ignore it because there was nothing else she could do but keep going.
Chapter Forty-Two
The rest of the morning was worse than his nightmares.
Jarrett paced in his room restlessly like a caged wolf, wearing a path on the stones in front of the fireplace. It had taken all his self-control not to attack her. The ire pulsing through his veins had taunted him, whispering ideas of how to make the woman pay for using him, for making him trust her.
Her fleeing footsteps had caught his attention and he waited, listening. The sound of the door opening reached his ears a moment later. Go, he thought; get out of here before death comes for you. At first, he felt triumphant, running the traitorous rogue off but at the sound of the door closing something ached in his chest.
She was gone. He should be pleased. That woman, that thing that made him trust was gone, out of his life forever. Somehow that fact didn’t do anything to assuage his anger if anything it made it worse.
He spun on his heel, storming out to the front room, glaring out at it like it was the one that offended him. Her presence was everywhere. On the floor by the hearth, the table where they had shared meals, he saw her everywhere.
Anger burning hot, Jarrett let out a snarl, turning the table over, unable to get satisfaction as he watched the piece of furniture crash to the ground sending the few items atop it scattering along the wooden floor. Kicking over the chair she used, he raged.
How could he have trusted her?
His chair joined the pile.
How could he have believed she would be different!
What a fool he had been!
The bottles lined up on the wall taunted him with her memory, reminding him of the nights they shared. Grabbing one he threw it toward the opposite side of the room, the sound of shattering glass filled the air. Bottle after bottle, Jarrett fumed.
Why had he allowed her close? Why had he let himself befriend her? No one did things for nothing! No one offered help without seeking something in return.
He turned, glowering at the fire in the fireplace, his thoughts whirling madly.
He should have known; he should have known the moment he learned there was Malvatharian in her blood that she was deceitful. Malvathar poisoned people down to their very souls, their blood. There was nothing redeemable about them. Nothing.
Jarrett swung out, punching the wall. Pain radiated up his hand causing his anger to subside for a split second. He stared at his hand; blood was pushing through scrapes on his knuckles. Clenching the offending member into a fist, he dropped it at his side.
Turning to the room, Jarrett stared at the mess he had made. He had been a fool to trust her, to believe that she was unlike everyone else he had ever met. She had used him, manipulated him for—instantly his mind stalled.
What had she used him for? She had come into his room at night and sat with him while he slept for what purpose? Did she enjoy seeing him weak, he wondered. Did watching him have nightmares give her the same sick satisfaction it had his former master?
But then, Jarrett glanced darkly toward his room, a frown tugging on his face. He hadn’t really had nightmares the last few nights. It wasn’t as though he had none. His nightmares had been muted, as though lulled into submission granting him—Jarrett jerked. Granting him the first restful night of sleep he ever remembered having.
For the last three nights, he had awoken rested. For three nights he had slept, his nightmares forced away.
She claimed to have been comforting him; that somehow her presence made his sleep easier, calmer. He initially scoffed at the idea. Having people around when he slept did not calm him, it made things worse.
Memories of his master, of her husband, his life as a slave plagued his sleep. Their cruelness hou
nded him now just as much as it had then. His master’s cold manipulations, her touch. Jarrett shuddered, closing his eyes as though to block out the past.
Only, for the last three nights, he had very little of that; there had been few scattered nightmares. When she told him of what Simmons did, he had drunk himself stupid before passing out. His master had held him in his dreams, taunting him with the truth. But she hadn’t stayed, at some point during the night Jarrett’s dreams bled away and he had slept without fear. Likewise each subsequent night after, no matter the nightmare, something had dulled their hold over him, giving way to…to what? Calm? Peace?
Payton said he had been soothed by her, that she had only stayed because it somehow had given him a reprieve. The idea had seemed idiotic, a bold-faced lie that he would have had to be stupid to believe.
Swallowing hard, he thought back on the events that transpired. He had scared her; he realized a moment later. And why not? When he had attacked he had thought an enemy was in the room; if he had not paused, if he had not noticed the blue eyes staring up at him—the thought caused his heart to skip a beat. He had been ready to kill.
Jarrett scowled at the fireplace. The more he thought about it, the more his anger at Payton vanished. There had been truth to her words; she genuinely wanted to help. And he spat it right back in her face. He had lashed out at her without thinking, blaming the one thing that always seemed to screw up his life, charging even this problem on Malvathar.
Snarling, he pivoted, intending to get out of the house to clear his mind, to try to stop from thinking. He hadn’t even made it two steps when the pile of blankets under the overturned table caught his eye. Her bed when she had been here.
Three days she had been here. Three days she had stayed with him. Three days of her grace, her wit, her unobtrusive caring. Three days where his thoughts were free, his opinions wanted. Three days where the pain in his past did not haunt him as heavily.
Something ached in his chest as he stared at the lifeless space and he did not wish to see it any longer. He turned to leave, trying, to block whatever emotion that was trying to worm its way out of him when a flash of blue caught his eye.
Kneeling, he righted the table. A card circled by a loose blue ribbon sat on the floor. Picking it up, Jarrett fingered the ribbon. He had been surprised the night before when he saw she used something so… delicate to hold her cards together. Most people used a square of tin or a scrap of leather. A blush had stolen across her face and she confessed that it was a keepsake of personal value. The story behind it had meant so much to her that she kept the ribbon close, in memory of her mother originally but she had confessed that now she kept it to be reminded that she was loved. Like in the story, a silent reminder when words could not be given.
Fisting it into his palm, Jarrett stood. What had this woman done to him? She occupied his every thought it seemed. He began to pace again. Jarrett had no doubt that she would take him at his word and not come back. And what would that mean for him? Back to a life of solitude. Back to a life where the only people who truly spoke with him were Takara and Darcy. Everyone else he shut out until Payton had forced her way into his life by not being very forceful at all. In truth, he realized, there was not much of a life here without…
Jarret paused, stunned at how his mind automatically finished the sentence. Without Payton. Desperately he tried to rephrase it, change it. Without the friendships, he had formed thanks to Payton. Without getting to know people because of how Payton encouraged him. Without Payton to show him how to step outside of the world he had trapped himself in. Without Payton to—nothing worked! Everything circled back to Payton. She had drastically changed his life in such a short time. He had not lived much of a life before he had met her.
That realization unnerved him.
Payton. Payton Clark. That blasted rogue with the amazing smile and blue eyes that looked at him like no one ever had. The only person who had ever tried to be his friend without changing anything about him. The only person who went out of her way to spend time with him. And he treated her like a traitor.
No. He treated her like a slaver.
The intense need to find her coursed through him. He had to find her, stop her, talk to her before she left for Calaphine. A new pulse of fear added to the one he was already feeling. Payton was heading to forage through the icy tundra of the southern continent soon. How quickly could Nyla bring supplies together? Weeks? Days? He did not know. She had been chomping at the bit to leave since she brought the idea up.
Jarrett struggled into his armor. He had to stop her; he didn’t mean the words he had said. She couldn’t leave without knowing. Part way through fastening his second gauntlet he froze.
Knowing what?
That he was sorry? It seemed insufficient. The things he had snapped in his fit of anger could not be taken back and yet they must be. The idea of a world without her, even one where he had never met her was hard to fathom anymore. She had become a part of his life in ways he hadn’t realized. She, with her open smiles and expressive looks. She who made him think beyond his past. She who encouraged him to look toward the future.
The idea of a world without her was bleak.
Chapter Forty-Three
The sun was setting in the sky and Jarrett was in an alley, pacing back and forth; every so often glancing toward the door to the Pissed Pegasus. He had spent the better part of the day searching for Payton. Combing the slums, the lower districts, Uptown, the docks, anywhere he could think of, desperate to find her. Hours it took him to come up as empty as he had been when he started.
It had been late afternoon when he finally gave up; sharp hunger pains and lack of success sending him trudging back home. It was luck or the grace of the Creators, Jarrett would happily attribute it to either, when he ran into Takara who reminded him of the game that night. Hope had flared in him. He would go and talk to her, pull her aside before the game and tell her he did not mean what he said.
Only that wasn’t what happened.
Jarrett turned sharply on his heel, glowering at the door as though it had been the one to offend him. He had been there for over an hour, watching for her, waiting. The Malvathar showed up first, screwing his poorly thought out plan. Worse still, when she did arrive, she did so walking next to Takara. And he failed to go to her. He just stood there frozen, ducking into an alley when she started to look in his direction before the two women disappeared into the Pegasus.
What possessed him to hide?
All he had wanted to do all day was speak with her and now he had let the opportunity pass him by.
Growling, Jarrett spun on his heel. Questions plagued his mind. How was he to explain? How could he ask forgiveness for his temper? What would he do if she did not forgive him? What would he do if she told him to leave?
Why did it matter what she thought? She was nothing to him. Even as he thought it, he knew it was a lie. How did this rogue have such a hold on him? He wanted desperately to go in just as much as he wanted to flee.
He gritted his teeth. He was no coward.
That thought alone pushed past the fear that was pulsing through him. Marching toward the Pegasus, Jarrett pulled open the door. He wove past the bar and down the stairs like he always would on game nights. Perhaps… perhaps he could just slip in. Show her that he wasn’t avoiding her, that he wasn’t angry anymore. Perhaps it would be enough.
He stalled at the top of the stairs, the sounds of chatter wafting from within the room at the bottom.
“So have you decided?” Nyla asked excitedly. “Who you want along on the trip?”
“I’ve come up with a few ideas. A few confirmed yes, I wanted to lock them in before losing the chance. The rest I want to run them by you before I made any firm commitments,” he heard Payton say.
“Should we be waiting for Jarrett? He’s going to lose all his nuts.” That was Nyla again.
He nervously took a couple steps down and then hesitated again.
“Ather
ly stop stealing,” Takara ordered.
There was laughter but then it died down and there was silence.
“I don’t think he’ll be coming,” Payton said quietly.
“Bloody bastard was lucky he wasn’t arrested today. I had to extend his suspension as it was,” complained Takara.
“Arrested?”
“I had no less than seven reports of a wild man with a sword and shield tearing through Uptown, storming the Temple, barreling through the docks. When I talked to him all he said was he was looking for you. Creators, he had a bone to pick. Did he ever find you?”
“No. He didn’t.” The words were said spaced out and in a troubled tone.
“Did something happen?” Nyla asked.
“Nothing.”
Jarrett took a step back. What happened didn’t even affect her? The idea of turning and leaving was flitting across his mind.
“Ooo, I see a blush,” the redhead cooed.
He stopped.
“Setting aside things that are none of your business, let’s get back on—”
“That’s where you were?! You were staying with Jarrett?” Atherly said as if it was the most absurd thing he had ever heard. “Your brothers were tearing apart the city and you were staying with the brooding guardsman?”
“Please, can we just get back on topic?”
“I think she just doesn’t want to tell us she got lucky,” Nyla teased.
“Yeah right. Staying with that bastard. She probably is still traumatized,” Atherly dismissed.
Before he realized what he was doing, Jarrett moved forward and stood in the doorway. Payton looked exasperated as the conversation continued to speculate about what she had been doing for the three days she was mysteriously missing.
“Does anyone care that if we’re following Nyla’s schedule we only have two weeks to set plans in and hire all the people we need?”
“Your opinions don’t count,” Nyla dismissed Atherly with a wave of her hand. “You have issues with Jarrett and you have a crush on Payton.”
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