“Listen to me, fool boy. They took the right fork. The look on their faces…I think they mean to hurt your family.”
The words sank in. His mind fell blank.
“This happened just now?” Roena spoke up.
Bokta nodded.
“We won’t get there in time,” Tasha said, barely glancing up from her ale. “I told you not to antagonize the fuck out of him. Did you listen? No, hey? We had a good thing going and you fucked it up. If I were you, Luc, I’d just steer clear.”
“Didn’t…didn’t you just hear what he said?” Luc asked. He could feel cold sweat on his palms. “That’s my family there.”
“Too bad.” She took a drink and wiped her lips with the back of her hand.
“Report to the guards,” Roena said.
Tasha set her mug aside and drew her sword. “You’ll do no such thing. The last thing we want is to call more attention on us.”
Luc came up to her. “It’s already happened!” He turned to the other mercenaries. “Help me, then. I need to go back there. I need to make sure my family’s safe.”
“You can go alone,” Tasha said. “See if Jona doesn’t murder you along with the rest of them.”
“I wanted him gone for your sake, Tasha. For Cate!”
Tasha’s face remained impassive. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your daughter that you left back in Cairntown. The Boarshind’s holding her hostage. Ylir told me everything. Please, Tasha—”
“What the fuck is he saying?” Demon broke in.
“Sit your ass down.”
“No,” he snarled, making his way through the tables to her. “You’ve been stringing us along far too long, bitch. Who the fuck is Cate?”
Tasha stared at him blankly.
“Agartes help us,” Roena groaned. “It’s her and Oswyn’s daughter. Don’t you idiots talk to each other?” She walked up to him, pushing his sheathed sword into his hand. “They’re not going to help you.”
He realized she was speaking the truth. They were arguing amongst themselves now, Demon barking at Tasha for her lies, at Hana for keeping this from him. The others had gone back to their drinks. They knew Jona, knew what he was capable of.
Gods…
He managed to strap his sword belt on and started for the door. Roena was one step behind him.
“Luc!” Tasha called out.
He turned to her for a moment, catching the warning in her eyes. He bit back against the bitterness building up inside of him before racing down the street.
~~~
There was no time for words in the time it took for them to run into the darkness, leaving behind the flickering lights of the town. Roena wouldn’t have known what to say, anyway. She hadn’t seen Luc this upset before. A part of her was curious if she’d react the same way if it was her family they were running towards. Probably not. Her father had guards, soldiers who would give their lives for him if they had to.
Luc’s family was…well. She realized she’d never even asked about them. She knew about the grandmother and he had mentioned a brother. A cripple. What chance did that one have against Jona? She felt a twinge of panic when she gazed up at the horizon and saw smoke.
“No,” Luc gasped.
They started to run faster, past a grove of trees that bent over them like arches and around the fences. The house ahead of them was in flames.
She reached for him in an attempt to hold him back. He wrenched his hand out of her grasp and kicked the door down. A shot of fire cracked the windows at the exact moment, sending a shower of sparks and embers. He thundered into the house, heedless of the risk.
“Da!”
There was a moment of silence. Ignoring the good sense to stay back, Roena took one step across the threshold. She saw Luc on the ground, holding a crumpled body in his arms.
She grabbed him through the choking smoke. He moved then, as if somehow just awakening from a dream, hefting the body over his shoulder and dragging it out of the house. He laid it on the ground. “Da,” he repeated, patting the still face. “Wake up, Da.”
“Luc, I don’t think he’s alive.”
He ignored her. “Da. Please, Da.”
“Luc—” She placed her hand on his cheek and looked him in the eye. “He’s been dead a while. He’s gone, Luc.”
Tears streamed down his soot-stained face. He dropped to the ground beside her, one hand clutching her arm like his own life depended on it. Maybe it did. She knew nothing about grief or loss or sorrow, only that she had never before heard the strangled sobs coming from his throat. She didn’t think she’d ever forget it.
Chapter Eighteen
In the calm that came between the wave of tears and the numbing weight of grief, Luc struggled to remember the last time he had seen his father.
It was the morning before he left for Crossfingers. He had gotten up early to do his chores, wanting to get to town as soon as he could. Jak had caught him in the yard, heading for the road even before the sun could creep over the treetops. “You’ll be having breakfast first, yeah?” he asked, his eyes all but disappearing the way they did every time he smiled.
“I don’t really feel like eating,” Luc replied.
“Didn’t eat all of last night either.” Jak pinched his cheek. “We’re all starting to worry a little, my boy. Ceri’s been wanting me to fetch a healer for you and everything.”
“Why would she want to do that?”
Jak gave a smile. “You really don’t know? Ah, to be young again. Come on now. Back to the kitchen with ye. I’ll make something quick and then I’ll let you go on your way.”
The gnawing sensation in his stomach wasn’t something that could be filled with food, but he turned back around the path to follow his father into the kitchen. He seated himself on the bench as he watched Jak pull out a pan and drop a side of bacon into it. After it began to fry in its own juices, he cracked open a couple of eggs on the side before turning around to give Luc another grin.
He couldn’t remember if they talked about anything else during that meal. Empty words, probably. The weather. Things that needed to get done around the farm. If he had known it would be the last time, he would’ve tried harder to remember everything…the way his father’s face grimaced whenever he told his jokes, or how he gazed at Luc. He saved me, Jak liked to tell everyone who listened. Told it like it was true.
And he killed you in the end, Luc thought, once he was able to conjure up words again. His father’s face was now still in death. Cold. Pale. His eyes were half-open, empty. If you hadn’t gone into that sea for me, you’d still be alive.
He heard Roena’s footsteps behind him. He couldn’t remember how long he had sat by his father’s side, but it must’ve been long enough. “There’s no one else,” Roena said. “No other…bodies.”
“He was alone,” Luc murmured. It brought him both relief and sorrow. The others must’ve been in town somewhere or with the neighbours. But the thought that a man like Jak could die without a friend beside him was more than he could bear. The priests had lied. There were no gods, or at least if there were, they didn’t walk through those lands with them. He placed his hand on the open wound on his father’s stiff chest before getting up.
“You probably shouldn’t…” Roena began.
“Any sign of Jona?” he asked.
She shook her head. “They’d gone and trampled the garden. It seems like they broke the chicken coop, too. I don’t know how many you had in the first place, but I think most of them are safe.”
“Da’s gone but at least the chickens are fine,” he murmured. “Small comforts.”
“Luc…”
He fell silent. There were torches in the distance. Voices. Familiar voices that filled him with a moment of warmth until he remembered his father’s cold body behind him. He saw Bokta first, leading the mob, before his eyes fell on Alun.
“What did you do, Luc?” Alun cried out.
He stood still as Alun
rushed past him. Shadows danced as the torches approached, followed by screams. He saw Kasia in tears, and then Grandma pulling Jak up, sobbing hysterically.
Someone dragged him by the collar. He found himself looking into Alun’s eyes before his brother struck him. He let him. The pain was nothing to the gaping emptiness inside. Blood was running down his cheek when they finally dragged Alun off him.
“What do we do with him?” Bokta asked.
“Let him go,” Kasia replied. Her voice was cold.
“Mother…” Luc began.
She never even looked at him. “Don’t call me that. You were never my son.”
“You heard her. Leave now,” Bokta said, clasping his shoulder. “Go back to your friends and take them with you. I did what they asked. The guards don’t know anything. Not yet. But get the hell out of town before I decide to have you all brought in.”
“I didn’t do this,” Luc whispered.
“It doesn’t matter, boy. It’s too late now.”
He turned back to his family. “Loma…”
The old woman continued to weep, deaf to his words. It was as if she didn’t know him.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, allowing Roena to lead him away.
~~~
When Roena was young, she remembered saying—after a particularly nasty argument with her father—that she wanted him dead.
Harsh words. Angry words. She didn’t really mean it. She had been ten years old and words were all she had, but her mother had slapped her for it, locking her up in her room until she had time to think about what she’d said. Later, when Roena was more composed and Iorwin was in a more amicable mood, she’d been forced to go up to his study to apologize.
She did so with the sort of grace and tact that would’ve made the ladies at court weep, which was enough to make Iorwin know it was a lie. They were alike in that, father and daughter, staring at each other with the same hard, grey eyes. Branna had clapped and cried and told them they ought to never fight so much again, but they both knew what was really going on. The only thing that matched Iorwin’s will was Roena’s. Daughter and father were like the sun and the moon—neither could light the sky at the same time.
And so she didn’t know how to respond to Luc’s loss. Her own relationship with her father left her little room to compare. She had spent her whole life battling Iorwin that she couldn’t even fathom what losing him—actually losing him—might feel like. A part of her wanted to tell Luc to get over it, even though it had only been hours. She understood that he was in pain, but there were other things to worry about. Jona skulking about and out for Luc’s blood, for one thing.
There was also the matter concerning the other mercenaries. She managed to get Luc back to his room, noticing along the way that the tavern was empty. She found one of Bokta’s servants and learned that the mercenaries had fled not long after Bokta left. Tasha wasn’t going to take her chances with the guard. That bitch. A smart, wiley bitch, but a bitch nonetheless. They were probably on their way to Blackwood by now.
She gathered her own things and returned to Luc. He was staring at the ceiling. “Tasha and the others are gone,” she said. “We have to catch up to them. It’s almost dawn, anyway.”
Luc didn’t reply.
She took a deep breath. “I know it’s hard, but you have to get up. We don’t want to be alone when Jona finds us.”
“What makes you think they want us with them?” Luc asked.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Without Jona, they don’t have nearly enough men. Besides, they can’t get rid of us that easily. One word from me and they won’t get paid at all.”
“You mean Ylir.”
“Of course I meant Ylir. All I need to do is talk to him.”
“You’re that confident he’ll listen to you? Because you’ve…” His face coloured and his eyes dropped down.
“Because I’ve fucked him?” Roena asked. “Agartes, Luc, stop acting like a child. He’s afraid of Iorwin. Of course he won’t want to cross me, not with all the dirt I have on him.”
“You said you didn’t want anything to do with your father anymore.”
“Well, I’m stuck with him. I might as well use him once in a while.” She threw a shirt at him. “Go get changed. No use crying yourself into a stupor.”
He slowly removed his wet shirt and stared at it in his hands. His father’s blood was still all over it.
“Agartes—” Roena started. She tore the stained shirt away from his hands and helped him get into the dry one. Then she tipped his chin towards her. “You can’t let Jona get away with this. He’s still out there somewhere. Would you have your father’s death be in vain?”
He slowly nodded, though she could see in his eyes that he didn’t quite understand her. Vengeance must’ve never crossed his mind. It was inconvenient, but perhaps not surprising for what she knew about him. But when she called for him to get up, he did so, taking small, faltering steps after her.
Somehow, they made it to the road.
Luc didn’t speak much the whole time, which was strange for him. Roena didn’t mind. She preferred complete silence most days and Luc had always been on the chatty side. She had to admit after the second day of it, though, that it was a little grating. By then Luc had stopped crying, but when he wasn’t numbly going through the motions, he would be staring at the wall, oblivious to everything.
A part of her told her to abandon him. What was she doing playing nursemaid to a man she’d barely known for a few months? She wouldn’t even do it for her own brother, and Agartes knows, her mother had begged her often enough. She could take the money Ylir had given them and go start a life—truly start a life—somewhere. It was probably enough coin to buy passage on a ship. Somewhere across the sea, where her name wouldn’t be able to follow her anymore. She could change it, too. She’d always been partial to Cordelia, or Charlotte…
And yet she couldn’t even get up to leave him alone in their room for very long. It felt strange, but she was actually a little concerned for his well-being. There was the nagging thought in the back of her mind that he had been nothing but kind to her all this time. Even his betrayal of her to Draigar had good intentions. Idiotic and irritating, but…
“Get angry,” she told him when she finally felt herself growing tired of him staring back at her empty-eyed.
His jaw quivered. “Over what?”
“What Jona did. He hurt you and your family. Pick yourself up and swear that when you see him, you’ll stick a dagger into his eye.”
“What would that do?” he asked.
She stared at him for a moment. “Don’t be ridiculous, Luc.”
“I’m not,” he breathed. He clasped his hands together. “Jona was…the way he was. With or without me. I was the one who made this choice. I was the one who brought this on my family.”
“You actually believe that?” Roena grabbed him by the arm. “Look at me. How can you seriously blame yourself for what happened?”
“Because—”
“Because what? We don’t hold the fates in our hands, Luc, whether you want to believe otherwise. I don’t know what they teach you back in Crossfingers, but sometimes it’s not supposed to make sense. Sometimes you’re fucked and you can’t unfuck it so you just learn to live with it. Hana was just telling me this the other day. Did you want your father dead?”
He looked shocked that she would even say it. “No,” he said. “Of course not.”
“Then it’s not your fault!”
“Roena…”
She shoved him to the bed, kissing him hard. He resisted for a moment, attempting to turn his head away. When she forced her tongue into his mouth, he eventually ran his fingers down her buttocks before moving to unlace her trousers with a fervour she had never seen in him before. She pulled away to catch her breath and laugh at his attempt. “You’re so awful at this,” she sneered.
He managed to remove her trousers and dragged her towards him, his fingers finding their way up her sh
irt, brushing past her nipples before going down. He was becoming more confident now, remembering nearly every little detail she’d taught him over the last few weeks, his tongue and fingers working tirelessly for her pleasure. Still so much to learn, but…
When they were done, he fell asleep almost immediately, his head on the crook of his elbow. It was the first deep sleep he’s had since that night at Crossfingers, and she watched him breath softly with a measure of satisfaction. After a moment, she even dared to brush her fingers over his hair, wondering a little at how soft they felt, the stubble that only grew around his chin and upper lip, the mole on his cheek, and how long his eyelashes were with his eyes closed.
“We could live like this, can’t we?” she asked.
He murmured in response, still asleep. He did that at times, with no memory of it in the morning. It amused her. She wrapped her arms around her legs and smiled. “We could,” she continued. “We’re mercenaries now. We could make our own rules. No bastards like Jona, and we stick up for each other because—well, because who else have we got? When we catch up to those idiots, we’ll teach them a thing or two.”
He sighed. She fell back against the bed beside him, one hand on his smooth chest, and followed him down into a dreamless sleep.
~~~
Luc couldn’t remember much of the trip back to Blackwood. Snippets of the mundane, interspersed with his nights with Roena, kept the worst of his grief at bay. He wasn’t sure if he ought to be thankful. By all rights he ought to be back mourning with his family, preparing his father’s body for the burial. But they wanted nothing to do with him. The distraction was all he had.
Which made it difficult for him to know what to do with himself once they reached the city and she left him in the inn in search of the mercenaries. She was convinced that she could set things right with them, and he didn’t have the heart to tell her that he didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care. If he had been wise enough to leave before it was too late, his father would still be alive. He had brought ruin upon the very people he would’ve died a thousand deaths for.
Blackwood Marauders Page 26
