by Tara Brown
I would find the answer to the question of my abilities in the other room.
I took a final breath, and when I reached the door with the moaning and giggling, I kicked it in.
The filthy scene shocked me. I nearly forgot why I was there, stunned at the horrors I saw. I had never seen people being intimate before.
I nearly got lost in the display of odd behaviors but then I saw him, the fat man. He stood off to the side in his breeches that were undone.
It was horrifying, all of it.
The plump lady shrieked at the sight and covered her face. I looked back at her, feeling her pain, but for the moment, I needed to stop myself from vomiting.
My eyes narrowed and my jaw set.
The fat man's jowls shook with rage. He screamed as if to frighten me. "GET OUT!"
I smirked at him from under the hood. He couldn’t see my eyes. Only my grinning lips.
He grabbed his own sword from the bureau next to him and leapt at me. His fat, sweaty, half-naked body was repulsive.
When he lunged at me, I twirled and kicked him in the arse. He was sent out into the hall, where the plump lady cried and tried to cover her face more.
With one sword I pointed at the door and the two nervous-looking whores. "Get out," I shouted.
Both girls screamed and ran from the room.
The fat man recovered and charged at me again. I allowed our swords to meet. They clanked. I let him feel like he had the upper hand so I might judge him.
He wheezed as he exerted himself. "I'll kill you. You little son of a whore." His dark eyes looked crazed.
My grin grew. "You will no doubt die of an attack of the heart first, fat man. I'm not sure what you thought you were going to do with both those girls, but I feel like I might have saved them disappointment of the egregious kind."
He seethed and frothed, obviously struggling, but never did he come close to besting me. I moved as if it were a dance, meeting each attack and allowing for his many errors. He was all force, no grace.
I glanced past him to the woman who had stopped crying, and instead watched, befuddled. "Is this what he’s always like?" I asked, disgusted.
She covered her mouth, wide eyed.
His red face shot crimson. He growled, "You insolent little bastard. Did she hire you? After my money, no less. I'll pay you double to just kill her and be done with it. She is a useless witch. Not even fun anymore, just look at her. Look how disgusting she is." His eyes grew cruel and amused. "Let me live and I'll get those girls to come back. We'll have us a party. I'll show you mine if you show me yours." He waggled his eyebrows at me. I nearly let him run me through with his sword just to stop the images flooding my mind.
Heat rose in me. I had entertained the idea of sparing him, but his words were too much. If I let him live, his poor wife would suffer the remainder of her days, watching him and his whores defile her home. Defile her heart.
He attacked with what was meant to be a crushing blow, but I swiped it aside and drove my steel into his chest. The feel was similar to gutting a pig, but seeing his crimson blood made my heart ache.
What had I done?
My lower lip trembled.
He dropped to a knee. His eyes never looked back for her. He was a selfish man, even in death. He fell to the floor. I looked down at the blood staining my blade, stuck in the horror of it all for one moment before wiping the stain off along his back. It made streaks I was certain I would never forget. Patterns my eyes would find in clouds and grass and simple pleasures, reminding me of the terrible person I had become so easily.
I looked down the hall at her. Her mouth and eyes made it appear like she was crying but she made no sounds. Her hands covered her face. Her eyes flooded her face.
"You were robbed by a crazed man with a sword and a dark-brown cloak. Shout for the patrols in five minutes." The words were as easy to come by as killing him had been.
She trembled, but nodded.
I turned and closed the bedroom door so she didn’t have to watch me rifle through his pants. Men like him liked to keep large sums of money on them. It was a show. I pulled a large wad from his pants, knowing he certainly would have kept more money in the house, but the widow deserved every bit of it. I turned and ran to the back window, whistling as I opened it and smiling when I heard the snort in the rain. When I looked back at the bedroom I knew I had found the answer to the question. There was no doubt in me that I could kill a fat man who humiliated his wife for sport. A man who wouldn’t even meet her eyes and beg for her forgiveness as he died.
I could kill that man again. I sheathed my swords and turned as the hot breath was in the window, and jumped.
I wasn’t certain I liked the answer to the question but I had it no less.
Chapter Eight
My fingers gripped the handle of the door of the inn once again. I pulled the stack of notes, took two from the top of the pile and shoved the rest into my pocket.
I turned to the right as I walked inside and braced myself for the evil gaze of the innkeeper. Instead, as I rounded the corner, the brightest blue eyes I'd ever seen met mine. It was a young man my age. He looked at me and tilted his head. “Good day?” he asked as if he weren’t sure.
I pulled out the two notes. "I would like a room."
A sly grin crossed his lips. "You must be the disheveled boy I should definitely not rent a room to. The one trying to scam all the inns into free accommodations."
I tried not to look too desperate. I swallowed hard. "I have money. I had it before. She was just so rude. I wanted to wait until she was gone," I lied.
He laughed softly, sneakily. "Of course she was. She is evil. My evil stepmother, Mabel. Rotten to the core. My father would have given you a room with the servants if we hadn’t been able to accommodate you. He never saw a starved and homeless person go without." He took only one of the bills and passed me a long thin key. "Room has a door with a horse on the front and a small girl pulling him. Third floor."
I gripped the key and fought the tears I felt on the verge of as I forced a smile and a nod. "Thank you, sir."
“Sir?” His grin played with his lips, like he wanted to say something else but decided against it.
I turned but fought the urge to run the stairs as he shouted after me, "Hot water will be brought up in ten minutes then, yes?"
My hand waved but my eyes dared not look back in case the red rims were showing. "Yes, please." I walked away and slipped up the stairs slowly, forbidding myself to cry. I had finally gotten a room. No more sleeping on the streets. No more eating garbage or whatever we could steal. No more worrying about how to take care of myself, something I had never had to do before.
The room was small and clean, with a view of the market, but it was the bed that was the glorious sight.
I waited in the silence for him to bring the water. I refused to allow myself to process any of it. Not yet.
If I started to let in one feeling or emotion, they would rush me like a flood. My tears would burst from my eyes and I would never stop crying. I didn’t want to be crying when he came.
I had zoned out, lost in the exhaustion when a small knock at the door startled me. My feet ached when I took the step to the door. I didn’t know how long I had stood in the room, staring at nothing.
"Water?" A young voice questioned from the other side of the door. I opened it to find a young man with a tub on wheels. It was the cleverest thing I had ever seen. He dragged the large basin on wheels into the room. "Leave it in the hall when you're done." He seemed cheeky. I liked him. Street smart perhaps.
I frowned. "Is it clean?"
He scowled. "We don’t share bathwater, sir."
I looked at the water and then my filthy clothes. I nodded. "Thanks." I passed him a note. His eyes widened. A grin crossed his lips. I pulled a second note from my pocket and held it in front of his little freckled face. "Find me some clothes. Clean clothes. Keep whatever change you get, but they better be clean and not off t
he dead. I will know. When you bring them back I will give you another note. Come after I have slept for some time."
He nodded and turned, running from the room before I could change my mind.
I closed the door and locked it before turning and looking at the steaming water. It was a huge basin. I could squat in it and clean myself. I pulled off my red cloak and held it to my face. It smelled like him but it looked like it had been dragged through horse dung.
I peeled the wet filthy clothes from myself. They fell to the floor revealing new smells with each layer. When the smoke of the village and the pyre hit my nose, I felt the sting of tears. I couldn’t stop everything from hitting at once.
I never got to watch the fire burn. I never got to pay my respects to Maddox as the ash lifted and carried his soul to the gods. He burned alone. He died alone. My last words to him singed my mind. If I had only stayed, he would still be alive. If only we had not fought, I might have been there to protect him as he took the horses.
The tears turned to fire and burned inside the hole in my chest, where my heart should have beat. I feared it had been replaced by something evil. I could kill. I could kill anything and anyone involved in the deaths of my family and Maddox—my Max as I always called him.
I slowly scrubbed with the lavender lye soap, dragging it up and down my long, thin arms. I would never be clean of the things that the day had entailed.
Grandmother had saved me, but sealed her own fate. How had she been able to do it? How had she known what was coming? How had my father not known?
I had no idea how things had unraveled. How my own brother could betray us so savagely. My father was dead—dead at the hands of my own flesh and blood, his own flesh and blood. The betrayal was more than one could comprehend.
My thoughts drifted through the faces of my loves. My two brothers, my father, my mother, my grandmother, the villagers who always had time for me, and my trainer who taught me to fight and read people. My Max. All of them dead or betrayed, and only me left alive and free with at least some of the skills needed to make everyone involved pay. I looked to the ceiling and shook my head. "Was it your plan all along or am I paying for my sins as a daughter?" The gods were known for having strange senses of humor. I bowed my head and sobbed into the steaming water.
Nothing could ever take away from the fact I would be a broken and hollow shell of a girl the rest of my life. At least my mission would suit the fact that I was now a heartless savage. I just wished I knew how to start. Who to kill? Where the trail of blood for my vengeance started?
The hot water and the soap mixed, making a slick on the top of the bath.
The idea of Herrick’s army coming back here and boarding boats had plagued me, but no ships had lined the harbor that I checked every day. And the golden soldiers had not shown up yet, though I suspected they would.
I could board a boat with them and find my revenge in his homeland. I could take away the ally my brother had secretly been creating. Then I could come home and avenge my father, mother, and grandmother. I could free my brothers if they still lived. Either way, I would avenge them all.
My skin shivered with the anticipation of driving the sword into Herrick and then my brother. My vengeance would be sweet and disturbing. Then one of my other brothers could be king, and I could move to the woods and live the life I had always wanted with Maddox.
I scooped water and cleaned myself with a new resolve. I may always be broken and I may always be a shell, but I would get my revenge and I would start with Herrick’s homeland.
Then I would return and avenge my family and help my brothers take back what our father had worked hard to create. He might have been too busy to see me, but he damned well knew his country and how to keep it peaceful and safe. My father loved his people. He loved his country. He always ruled with his heart. The heart Roland broke.
Roland would destroy everything our family had worked for. He would be a merciless ruler with a stone heart and a cruel hand. He would ruin everything that was our legacy and I was not going to allow that. I owed my father that.
I climbed from the tub, dripping and nearly waited for the maid to dry me. I shook my head and grabbed the huge bath sheet from the table beside the water. I dried off and soaked my beautiful cloak in the water to clean it. The smell of burnt wood and ash filled the room. I wrung it out and hung it in the window to drip onto the wet sill.
When I climbed into my bed, naked as a babe, I smiled at the smell of Maddox. It was everywhere. It was mixed with soap but at least he was still there.
I grabbed my swords and lay them next to me. My dreams were plots and my sleep was restless.
When I woke, the sky was dark. I wasn’t certain of where I was or if I was alone. I looked around the dark room, just able to see. The bath was gone and a pile of clothing sat on my table. I jumped up and looked for the stack of cash I had. It was in the drawer where I had left it. The smart kid didn’t steal from me.
I pulled on the shirt and pants. The breeches were tight tanned leather. The shirt was loose white linen. I looked down at my breasts and bit my lip. I would have to get something to hide those. My hair was loose around my shoulders. I pulled it more to the front to hide my breasts and stuffed my swords under the bed and shoved the money into my pocket.
My belly rumbled as I rubbed it and left the room.
The smells of food and wine wafted up the stairs as I climbed down them carefully. I had killed a man. Would the guards come if they found out it was me?
I glanced about the pub. No one was there but a couple of men drinking in a corner. They noticed me, but it was the long hair and breasts catching their gaze and not the invisible bloodstains on my pale white hands.
I walked to a table and sat down.
"You look a lot less like a dirty little boy and a lot more like a pretty girl."
I glanced at the cheeky guy from earlier at the desk. His blue eyes were on fire when he looked me over.
I shrugged. "I cleaned up. What can I say? It’s been a couple of hard weeks."
He arched an eyebrow. "You clean up nicely."
"What's for dinner?" His idle chat held nothing for me.
He sat across from me. I sat back, appalled a man would think to sit at my table. I had to force myself to hunch again and relax. Only royalty would be offended by that.
He looked at my chest and then my lips. He licked his and nodded his head back. "Those men in the corner are going to come over and say things that will offend you. Go to your room, and I will bring food up to you."
"No. You’re already offending me and I want food down here. I'm not as tender as you think I am. You are not the boss of me." It was something I had said to my brothers often.
His grin was deadly. "I wasn’t worried about the tenderness. Trust me. I was worried about having to be chivalrous and save you when they try to manhandle you. I don’t want to have to spill blood in my own bar. Then I have to clean it up."
I arched my eyebrows back at him and leaned across the table, hoping to shock him. "Maybe I enjoy being manhandled." It wasn't the thing I should have said. I needed to learn to keep my tongue but I was hungry.
He laughed. "You definitely give off that suggestive quality sensual women have." His sarcasm was duly noted. "Go upstairs."
I shook my head defiantly and crossed my arms. "Food. Drink."
He looked angry. "It's your pyre. Back in a jiff, love." He got up and sauntered off.
The animals at the table in the corner watched me. I sat and waited, ignoring them and glancing out the windows, wondering where Artan was. I hoped he was finding food. I wasn’t certain I would have many leftovers. My belly felt as hollow as my chest.
I noticed movement in the corner of my eye and looked down but watched them in my peripheral. The bigger one got up and stumbled toward me.
He smiled from ear to ear. "You're a pretty little thing just sitting there all alone."
"No, thank you."
He frowned
and wiped his nose on his sleeve. It reminded me of Herrick. I felt an instant hatred for the man, even though I didn’t know him.
"What?" His face turned on me. He was insulted.
I looked up at him again and shook my head. "I want to eat alone and sit quietly. No, thank you."
He laughed and looked back at his friend at their table. "She says no, thank you."
"I've got your drink here, love." The innkeeper’s son walked up quickly.
I had never been so grateful to see another human being. I smiled. "Thanks."
He put it down and looked over at the huge man. The innkeeper's son was tall and thick, but the man leaning on my booth was a beast. "You need another round?" he asked politely.
The beast pointed at me. "I want to drink with her. Bring her drink to our table. I want her to sit on my lap. Bring her to me."
"Charming patrons you have here," I muttered from my lowered gaze.
The innkeeper's son looked at me. "Had to be difficult, didn’t you?"
I lifted my gaze and nodded. "Yes." I sipped my drink slowly, taking a stance. I was done being shoved and told what to do.
"Neil, go back and have a seat. I'll call over to Mr. D's and arrange for a couple of girls to come here and sit with you."
He shook his big dark mat of hair. "No. I want that one."
I frowned. It was like speaking to a two-year-old.
"Right. Well, let's just see if Mr. D has anyone then. Frank, you want to come and help me here?"
The friend at the table filled with animals pretending to be men put his hands up like he was not getting involved.
"Okay, Neil, over there we go." The innkeeper’s son put a hand on the huge man's massive bicep. The beast roared and took a swing at the innkeeper's son. He ducked and charged him. He drove him to the floor and rolled him onto his belly before the beast had a chance. He moved with speed and skill I had not seen—except from my trainer—as he pulled the big man's arms up his back. The man's muscles weren't flexible, and he screamed in pain.
"Go to your room.” He turned and seethed at me while holding the huge man down.
