Linus at Large

by Mary E. Twomey

  The chief was livid, his eyes unleashing the full force of his loathing on me for ruining his party and the kingdom’s functionality. I was wrecking the rules, and he would make me pay.

  I would force his perfect order to be broken. I’d lived without my brother before. I wouldn’t go through that again.

  The chief’s nostril’s flared. “You killed Olaf? How? How did you do it? You’ve been under my roof since you arrived! You’re clearly covering for your Tom and your brother. Noble, but foolish. Sit down, Guldy. Your kingdom is the Other Side. You can murder whomever you like there.”

  I snarled, holding up my glittery hands like vicious claws for everyone to see. “I killed Pesta with my bare hands. Do you really think Olaf stood a chance?” I looked to Foss, who was vacillating between afraid for me and furious at me. I took a leap, deciding that if I was jumping off a cliff, I might as well go down in flames. “Olaf’s the one who tried to murder my husband!” Everyone reacted to this, but I pressed on. “Olaf ordered his men to lock us in our house and almost murdered me! He deserved a slow and painful death for the scars he put on my husband’s body! Olaf put his hands on the wife of a Tribeswoman! Is no woman safe?” All the women erupted in fury, and soon there was chaos, with me in the middle. I thrust my shimmering fist in the air, pushing out the cry that resonated all through my body. “I am not a blonde in a birdcage, meant to amuse the men of the world! We demand protection! If you won’t give it to us, we’ll take it for ourselves!”

  In a single sentence, I’d forsaken Martin Luther King and took up Malcolm X’s cause. The cries of every woman in Fossegrim erupted around me. With strength they didn’t realize they had access to, the women leapt to their feet, running to stand with me and face the wrath of the chief as one.

  The chief’s raised hand took a full four seconds longer than it should have for everyone to quiet. “You admit to murdering one of the four powers, Guldy?”

  My chin was raised in defiance. He might not be able to handle sorting out his country, but I sure as smack could. I was no longer the blonde in their birdcage; I was a woman on a mission. “I do! I killed Olaf for trying to murder my husband! Jens the Brave and my brother tried to stop me, but they were too late.”

  “Stop it, Lucy!” Jens shouted, thrashing against his restraints. There was literally not an inch of clothing showing through the coarse ropes. It was rope from chest to knee, otherwise I’m pretty sure he could’ve broken free. Four of Olaf’s men wrestled him into submission, but only just.

  The chief shook his head at me, and I could see the pain it caused him that I was forcing his hand. “As you wish, Guldy, you shall die in their places. String her up, men.”

  Jens and Linus shouted their shock and agony, but Foss leapt over the table and ran toward me, his eyes wide as fear like none other ripped through him.

  Before he reached me, Erika and Brenda flew out at me from out of nowhere, and flung their bodies in front of mine.

  Erika shielded me as she’d done when Foss lost his temper when we’d first started living together. “No! I did it!” Erika screamed at the chief. “I killed Olaf! He marked my face and forced me into his bed! I killed him, and my mistress is trying to spare me! Hang me!”

  “No!” I yelled, trying to figure out how to push her behind me without actually shoving a pregnant woman. Though she didn’t look pregnant yet, I was still afraid I might wreck something if I was too clumsy.

  Brenda waved her thick arms up. “I’ll take her place! I’ll not see my mistress hanged, nor a pregnant woman who’s done nothing wrong!”

  Foss’s arms went around me in a vice, yanking me back and pinning my arms down as his hand covered my mouth. “We beg your forgiveness, Dom. My wife cares too much for her servants and her brother. She meant no disrespect.”

  I fought against Foss, making my opinion perfectly clear, even without the choice words I had locked and loaded.

  The chief looked on Erika as if she was his saving grace. “Very well, Erika, you’ll be hanged instead.”

  Viggo, beautiful Viggo, ran to Erika and stood before her, terrible in all his vicious glory. “No! I did it! Erika was to be my bride, but Olaf took her for his bedslave and put his seed in her. I killed Olaf!” He pounded his fist to his chest to punctuate his protective snarl.

  In that moment, I forgave him for being so horrible about Erika’s situation. To watch him be fearless for her so that she could live was downright heroic. I swooned on her behalf, guessing that Viggo’s lesser portion of the curse had been lifted, and he could see her clearly now.

  Foss’s hand released my mouth and clamped down on Viggo’s shoulder. My husband stepped forward like a friggin’ superhero, knocking the guards off of Jens so he could lift his beaten body up to kneeling again. When Foss raised his palm, everyone fell silent. “I did it, Dom. I killed Olaf. He touched my wife and burned my house to the ground! He sent his men to attack me and kill me. If not for Lucy dragging me out of the house, I would have died! We escaped to the Other Side to kill Pesta and let Olaf think he’d succeeded, so he would stop bringing down destruction on my household. We left to save them, and now we’ve returned to set things right.”

  The chief was purple with rage as he fought to maintain some semblance of control.

  Then, as one, all of Foss’s men stood, claiming they were the ones who killed Olaf. The men were quickly followed by all the women who’d served him.

  My eyes moistened at the show of loyalty that rang true even after a year of Foss going missing. They loved him, and it was a beautiful thing to watch the devotion. They saw what I did: that despite his curse, Foss was worth fighting beside, even till the very last breath.

  The chief didn’t know where to turn, so his eyes fell on my face. He knew I was at the root of the problem, so instead of dealing with the madness around him, he focused on me. He pointed his finger straight at me, but before he could call out my sentence of doom, an unmistakable voice floated above the din. “Papa, no!” Aren was running toward me, tears in her eyes.

  The chief paled. “Aren, go back to your mother!”

  “I did it, Papa! I killed Olaf! Don’t kill my Guldy!” Her dainty hands clasped together in supplication to her father, her young face begging him to spare us all.

  The chief’s hand went over his face, and he leaned his fist on the table, looking far older than he had at the beginning of the evening. “Are you pleased with yourself, Guldy?”

  I kept my voice steady as I addressed him, moving Aren behind me, trying not to soften as her arms wrapped around my waist. “Dom, we wouldn’t be here if we didn’t trust your rule. If you say we should all die, then we will. Am I pleased?” I looked around at the men and now women all standing for Foss, while Olaf’s closest men hung their heads in shame. “I’ll be pleased when my husband is safe, and your rule is followed. Olaf broke your rule. He disrespected you, and should die for it. He attacked one of the four powers, and then lied to your face about it. Now that you know what happened, I trust that you’ll do what’s right. I have no doubt, and neither does anyone here. Your people love you, Dom. Foss loves you.” Then I swallowed my pride and got down on my knees, taking Aren with me, and bowing my head in submission between Jens and my brother.

  It had been easier to stand and fight than it was to kneel, but that night, I didn’t let anything stop me – not even my pride.

  This wasn’t about winning; it was about establishing a kingdom with order that needed to be followed after I left. One by one, every single person bowed on their knees, save for Foss and Tomas of the Hills, who showed their respect by inclining their heads.

  The chief was silent as he took in the scope of Foss’s influence, and that it was starting to grow greater than his own. “Very well. If Olaf attacked you as you say, Foss, then justice has been served. I will hold his land and his people until a replacement is found.” He waved two fingers in the air, but the fiddlers missed their cue. “Play!” he barked, and the music started up to distract
from the horrors that had almost fallen on the land.

  17

  My Stupid Choice

  People cheered and hugged with renewed appreciation those who had narrowly escaped death. Aren clung to me as I tried to work off Linus’s restraints with shaking fingers.

  Foss cut them both free for me, since my nerves were pretty much shot. I made to fling myself into Jens’s arms, but Foss intercepted me as Jens turned away. “You’re my wife, not Jens’s,” he reminded me.

  I was shaking, and found myself caught up in my brother’s arms instead. “Linus! Linus! I thought I’d lose you all over again! Why? Why’d you do it?”

  Linus’s arms were longer now, and wrapped around me completely, encasing me in comfort I never wanted to leave. “No one messes up my sister and gets away with it. Jackwagon never saw us coming. His men didn’t even stop us. They could’ve, but they just stepped aside and let us do what needed to be done. They jumped us after the fact to save their own necks.”

  Aren looked up at Linus as if he was the sun and moon. I knew that look. It was similar to my adoration for Jens, which was fading now I knew that he’d almost gotten my brother hanged for no good reason. “You’re my Guldy’s brother?”

  “Linus,” he replied, though he still did not release me. “You were pretty brave out there. I heard you volunteer to take my sister’s place. I think that makes you the coolest kid here. Thanks for looking out for Lucy for me.” He held out his fist to her, and I showed her that she was to bump it with her own.

  Aren turned about nine shades of pink when her knuckles touched his. Then she giggled out, “Let me get you some water to wash your face!” She scampered off and returned quicker than a rabbit, tending to Linus like a groupie flocking to Mick Jagger. He sat on the grass while she dabbed at his bloody marks with a Gar-dipped rag to disinfect the wounds.

  Jens pretended to be affronted. “How did I come off second fiddle here? I’m banged up too. No fair taking all the attention from the cute girl, Line.”

  Aren was overjoyed at the attention, and began tending to both of them.

  Jens cast me a covert wink, but I couldn’t return it. He had almost died for Linus. He had almost died for me. Despite the words we would have over him putting Linus in such a dangerous situation, Jens in the grass being sweet to Aren was just about the most endearing thing I’d ever seen. I missed our house, our world, and wanted to run away with him to our bedroom at the first available opportunity.

  I sat down behind Aren and fixed a few stray hairs that had come loose from her ribboned braids in the hullabaloo. I hugged her, and she dropped the rag and clung to me. “Thank you, Aren. You saved the day!”

  She giggled again until Foss towered over us, his expression displeased. “Get up, Lucy. Tribeswomen don’t sit on the floor like commoners.” He reached for my hand and lifted me away from the others. “The chief wants a word with us after the feast.”

  Several families were already leaving, the men with haunted looks on their faces. I could tell it would be a long night for the entire island. As much as the chief had prepared for an all-night bash, decades of guilt over terrible deeds done was a definite buzzkill. Even with the lively fiddle music, the mood was only marginally lifted, so at least there was no wailing or giant public confessions.

  “I need to talk to you,” Foss whispered, a shot of Gar in his hand.

  I nodded, lacing my fingers through his. Foss led me into the chief’s vast orchard, winding us through different rows of fruits and vines, past a few couples busy making babies (who cheered Foss on to get busy with me), and down to a more secluded patch. We were surrounded by berry trees, which provided us with silence for our too many secrets.

  “What’s up?” I asked. We’d arrived at our apparent destination, but Foss looked choked beyond the point of speech. He rubbed the back of his neck and kept shaking his head. “Foss? Sit down for a second. You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

  He handed me the shot glass, his chin tilted downward apologetically. “I can’t do it.”

  “Can’t do what?”

  He was unable to meet my eyes. “I can’t drink the cure. I know you want me to, but I can’t. Did you see the way the men looked? I don’t want that. I have my part of the kingdom to rebuild. I can’t afford to go soft now.”

  I clutched the glass, my eyes sparking with fire. “Why did we go through all this, then? Why am I even here? No, Foss! You have to drink it! All of this? I did it for you!”

  “I know!” he said, his tone mournful. “But I can’t. With Olaf gone, it’ll be up to me to lead my people and some of his. I need to not care like you do, like Jens and Jamie do. Jamie gave up his kingdom for Britta! Jens gave up his life for you! I… I can’t do that. I’m afraid the cure will make me compromise the job that needs to be done.” He wiped his hand down his face, clearly exhausted. “I just wanted you to hear it from me, so you’re not disappointed when nothing changes.”

  My mouth closed as I quickly thought of a counterpoint. I softened, though I wanted to throw the drink in his face. “Sit down,” I requested, pointing to the grass.

  “What?”

  “Sit down. I need to think. The party can wait. The world can wait. This is important.” When he obeyed, I sat with my legs crossed before him, so our knees pressed together. I put the shot glass down on the grass to my left and held out my hands to him. When he took them with great reluctance, I drew his knuckles up and brushed them across my cheek, ensuring he stayed with me in the moment. “Foss, what’s my name?”

  “Don’t do this,” he whispered, his head down. “I can’t drink it.”

  “What’s my name?”

  He sighed, unable to look at me. “Lucy Kincaid.” Then he paused, a flicker of something precious crossing his face. “Lucinda Stella Kincaid. That’s the name on the divorce papers. I spent a good long time looking at those damned things, trying to find a way out.”

  I cleared my throat. “Do you remember the first time you called me by my name? It was after Charles stripped away a layer of your curse. No one thought it had worked, but I knew. I knew the curse didn’t suit you. I saw what no one else did, and what you still don’t.”

  “You see nothing. You almost got yourself killed tonight.”

  “That’s right. And if you hadn’t stepped in, I probably would’ve been hanged. Smallest adult in all of Fossegrim, swinging by a branch for carrion birds to peck at my body as it rotted day after day. Queen Lucy, indeed.”

  “Stop it!” He dropped my hands so he could scratch at his scalp. “Why do you think I talked the chief down? I don’t want that for you!”

  “Because you love me.”

  His face was pained, and I hated watching his heart break in slow motion. “Why are you doing this? You know I love you, even though I shouldn’t! Even though there’s no hope for it. I love you, even when you don’t deserve it, like right now.”

  I kept my voice low and steady. “Had you ever been in love before me?”

  His eyes narrowed, spiteful in his retort. “You know I haven’t. And I was right in keeping myself distant. It’s brought me nothing but pain, loving you.”

  “How many of your men stood with you tonight to take your place?”

  Foss blinked at the abrupt change in topic. “Huh? I don’t know. All of them, I guess. What’s your point?”

  “When Olaf’s bedslave tried to poison you, Jamie and I were the only ones who stood up for you to save your life. Now that the curse is lifted? You have an army of men – not weak ones, but loyal warriors who stood with you, even to the death. The cure didn’t make them weak, Foss! It made them strong enough to stand. Last time, only Jamie and I had that kind of courage.” I placed my hands on his knees. “You had that courage tonight, even without the cure. Imagine the courage and strength you’d have if you didn’t have to carry the weight of the Depravity around with you!” I stroked his cheek, and he closed his eyes. “Aren’t you tired? Imagine who you could be if Depravity didn’t contr
ol you.” I leaned forward and whispered, though there was no one near enough to hear us. “I can see it. I’ve always seen it.”

  “I can’t. Lucy, I just can’t.” Foss shook his head, and then covered his face with his hands. “The weight gives me the edge I’ll need to rule. I’ve carried the curse this far. I can carry it farther.” He closed his eyes and growled into his hands.

  I took my small window where he wasn’t watching me and dipped two fingers inside the shot glass, dripping the acidic liquid on my lips and tongue.

  My heart pounded as I pulled his hands from his face and closed the breath of a gap between us. Slowly, gently and with all the love I had for him, I kissed my husband, letting him suck on my lower lip and invite my tongue into his mouth. I knew he hadn’t ingested enough of the antidote to actually cure him yet, but it was a start. I would get that whole shot glass into him, so help me.

  The kiss shifted. It wasn’t about the cure anymore, it about was paying tribute to the man who loved me, despite the fact that I would never belong solely to him. I offered up the parts of me that were his – that would always be his. I took each moan into me as a sign that no matter how clean we tried to make the break, it would always be severed and splintered when we eventually parted.

  And there was no mistaking it – we would have to part.

  Foss pulled me onto his lap, wrapping my legs around his waist as he deepened the connection, not wasting any time with light kisses or teasing nips. He knew we were temporary, despite the permanent scars we would leave on each other.

  “I love you,” he pledged in a whisper. The trees encircled us and promised not to tell as they offered us privacy.

  I hated myself as my lips brushed against his. “I love you.”

  “I wish I didn’t,” he admitted.

  “Me, too.”

  His arm was around me, holding me closer as we made a perfect mess of whatever was left of our friendship, though we had never been strictly friends. There was always that note of desire, that undefinable thing that drew me closer and parted my lips before I knew what I was doing. Foss tasted like danger and desire, and for the life of me, I couldn’t turn away from the moment I had no right to be in. My back arched when his tongue touched mine in that come-and-get-it way he should’ve known better than to use on me. His other hand gripped my thigh under my red dress as my hands traced his pectorals. “I’d marry you in any world, a thousand times over, no matter what it cost me. I shared my kingdom with you, and I’d do it again without blinking.”