The sun wasn’t too excruciating, but lugging bricks to the border so the masons could spackle them in place made the sweat pour off me faster than I could rehydrate myself. I treated it like a personal fitness session at a gym. The more I sweat, the more I was winning. My body would be killer when Pascal was done training me. There was no play to my days anymore, only the slow, drawn-out punishment I gravitated toward. Each heavy brick grounded me, anchoring me when I felt afloat in my misery.
Unless what was required of me were unintelligible grunts, I was barely able to piece together a conversation when the day ended. I couldn’t tell if that was due to the depression, or from doing a hard day’s work too many days in a row. Either way, it kept unnecessary conversation away from me.
Since Avalon was the city that never slept, I migrated to the Town Square with Draper and Montel flanking me after we called it a day. I longed to go hole myself up in my bedroom, but Draper was firm that making friends with the locals was part of the royalty gig. Every evening after the sun dipped down, the Town Square was the height of the social scene. Tables were brought out with chairs enough for the weary workers, and the women who’d been baking, cooking, cleaning and setting up their homes came out with a simple feast to welcome their men back from the day’s work. There was an appreciation about the people, and a relief that made their merriment even brighter.
I could see the splintering off of provinces that usually happened in small segments as the evening began, but then broke into deeper divides as the night wore on. The lanterns hung on nine poles encircling the Town Square, one for each of the nine provinces. They were painted the signature colors of each one, with our green post standing tallest. They’d been put there as a tribute of unity, but the immigrants from the differing regions used those poles as a talisman, moving their chairs around so they could sit by the province they’d come from, and keep away from the others.
Draper was content to eat with the people from Province 9, since he’d given himself completely to the idea that Lane was his mother, and everything else before her just plain didn’t exist. I loved his devotion to us, but the villagers weren’t clinging to their poles out of love, but rather the precious fear they adhered to in this new land that they hadn’t quite adjusted to yet.
“Oh, he was huge. Huge and grateful,” I heard a woman say to her friend. I turned and saw Ruby, the hire-by-the-hour woman Bastien had used to cheat on me. “Bastien the Bold was exactly what I needed to take the edge off. Best lay of my life.” Her giggle was shared by her friend, and though the public hadn’t known we were together, indignation rose up in me.
Only Ruby hadn’t known we were together, so other than taking money for sex, she hadn’t done anything wrong. I kept my mouth shut, and let her have her moment in the sun, feeling the shame that came from your guy stumbling into someone else’s bed.
For some reason, that evening I’d had enough of the dodgy glances and snotty whispers the factions kept shooting each other from the safety of their poles. A bowl of thick stew was handed to me with a crust from a baguette, and I moved on down the line with the rest of the workers. I stopped my progression to the Province 9 pole, though Draper was waving me over to sit with him. I was finally invited to sit at the cool kids’ table. After going so many years as Remedial Rosie, it was a grand gift I didn’t dismiss lightly.
I shook my head at my brother and moved to the abandoned center of the Town Square, sitting in the dirt at the base of the platform Madigan had almost killed me on. My squirrel and my bear baby had bled and died on this very stage, and I’d been avoiding it ever since. Sure, Madigan had been conditioned to obey when someone used his trigger word, and in the end, I’d escaped with my life, but my bear was still dead. The loss tapped me on the shoulder whenever I came into the Town Square. The platform gave me all sorts of get-outta-Dodge feels to it that I tried to muscle past as I ladled a spoonful of soup down my gullet.
The whispers ramped up to out and out pointing now, as my scandal spread through the factions like a crowd at a baseball game doing the wave. Odd as I felt eating alone, I knew I had to do something about the separation that was happening right under my nose.
Draper trotted over to me and offered his hand, but I shook my head in response. He frowned down at me, and then crouched to get on my level. “Everything alright, Pumpkin? You don’t have to eat here where you almost…” He cleared his throat. “You’re torturing yourself being so near the stage. You don’t need to do that.”
I started tearing off bits of bread and tossing them in my stew. I kept my head down so he didn’t have to see just how rattled I was over being so near the platform. Hamish and Abraham Lincoln had died there at the hands of my fake fiancé. I could still hear my bear’s last, agonized howl as he gave his life to protect mine. I cleared my throat and tried to straighten. “I can’t take it anymore. Everyone’s together, but we’re not one nation yet. If Morgan pounces again, there’s no guarantee they’ll all fight together. We can’t even get them to eat together. I don’t belong to a province. I belong to Avalon, I guess. So I’m going to eat here with anyone who feels the same way. They’re all displaced, just like I am. But they’re still clinging to anything familiar, so they don’t have to admit the old ways are over. They have the chance at a new start, but part of them still isn’t taking it.”
Draper’s mouth fell open, and then he ran his hands through his black hair – a thing he did when his brains scrambled, and he needed to rethink his process. “Wow. I guess I didn’t think of it like that. I, um. Hold on. I’ll go get the guys.”
Draper was beloved among the workers. He had a caddish smile, the experience of both a pimp and a businessman, and the grace of a prince. No sooner had he told them my reasons for eating in the center of the square did forty men take up their chairs and drag them over to form a half-circle around the platform I was leaning against. The wood at my back was rough, but I liked the stiffness and the slight scratch that didn’t bother being tender to my spine. A flock of sparrows alighted on the platform behind me, nudging as close as they possibly could so they could chirp greetings and encouragements in my ear.
Several men offered me their chairs when they came over, but I waved them all off with gratitude and kept to the dirt where I felt I belonged. Draper sat on the step at my left, and Montel took the spot on my right – the two gargoyles fielding the questions that flew at me by the dozens, as they did every night.
Only tonight, the entire square started gathering around me, seeing this as their opportunity to ask all the things they’d been wondering about me – the new girl in town. They started shouting out questions about Common, wondering about small things and important ones in equal measure. The factions disappeared with the simple act of me facing my grief by sitting at the foot of the stage. It was kind of amazing.
“Do all women sit in the dirt up there?”
“No, just the awesome ones.”
“What’s the schooling like?”
That one was followed by a basic breakdown of the educational system I was most familiar with.
“Does everyone sleep, like you? Or do they not have to use as much magic?”
On and on the questions went until one made my spine stiffen. “Who broke off the engagement? Was it you who left Madigan the Formidable, or the Untouchable who shamed you?”
Draper fielded that one while I tried to scrape my chin up off the ground. I noticed all of the women looking away, as if the mention of me being jilted by Madigan was something that reflected poorly on me. I didn’t understand it, but let them have their strange customs all the same. As I mulled this over, I realized none of the women had spoken to me since word of my broken engagement had spread. They weren’t cruel, just treated me as if I wasn’t there.
Usually it was just the people gathered around the Province 9 pole, but tonight all the men got their chance to get their interview questions answered, even the uncomfortable ones. I was beyond exhausted, but I didn’t care. The r
egions were finally doing something together, aside from building a wall to keep Morgan out. The lantern light flickered on the faces of the men, women and children alike as they all listened with rapt attention to the mundane details they couldn’t get enough of.
Two hours passed, and my head found its way to Draper’s knee. His position on the step above me made his leg the perfect pillow. His fingers ruffled the curls that had fallen loose from my ponytail. My hair had been a rich brown when the morning started, but now I’m sure it matched the lighter dust of the road. “Time to turn in, kiddo. Let’s get on home.” He hoisted me up, steadied me with his arm around my shoulders, and held up his free hand to the people, who didn’t bother to hide their “Aw, man!” responses that I had to end Q&A time for the night. “She’ll be back tomorrow to talk to you all.” Draper smiled when he looked out at the intermingling of the provinces. “Everyone look to your right and to your left. Greet your new neighbor with a kiss on the cheek. You’ve all traveled a long way, and could use a friendly face.” He squeezed my hand for me to take the wheel, but my verbal well came up empty. I wanted to find my personality and speak to the people, but my face remained unchanged and impassive, my mouth shut.
Draper took over for me. “No matter where we all came from, we’re one province now. Love the people who came to you from other places. Honor the long road that brought them here, and be grateful when they honor yours. We’re family now, and families eat together at the table. My sister and I will see you all out here tomorrow night.”
There was no easy way through the crowd, so Montel flagged one of the dudes who’d worked with us on the wall, Orval. He was stocky, had copper hair, and a get-off-my-lawn attitude that made him the ideal worker, since he had few friends and just wanted to get the job done. Orval and Montel acted as sentries for Draper and me, moving without incident through the crowd that parted at their bodyguard-like stances.
I wish nothing made me think of Link and Mad, but that sure did. I’d depended on my ex-guy’s two besties to have my back in crowds like this. They were gone now, and I tried not to feel the sting of the gaping hole they’d left in my heart.
I glanced down at my wrist, frowning at the black script tattoo that was supposed to offer me protection, to be the Untouchables’ signature that kept all the bad things away from me. It matched the more obvious one on my neck, and I wished I could erase them both from my skin. I’d been so excited to get inked – my first tattoos. Little did I know my boyfriend had been nursing his hangover in a whorehouse while I’d been getting marked to declare his loyalty to me. Like a dummy, now I was stuck declaring to Avalon for the rest of my time here that I’d had a guy, and now he was gone. The ink felt like a public shaming now, instead of something I’d been proud to wear. I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jeans, feeling stupid at the constant reminder that all three of them had ditched me, and that I’d trusted in a lie.
Draper’s arm around my shoulder kept me upright as we walked toward the mansion, but the throngs of people that wanted to see us safely home did nothing to quell my nerves as they pressed in merrily around us. Crowds had never really bothered me before, but lately I was becoming more uncomfortable with a great many things. It seemed a constant tumble of anxiety churned in my gut, making me skittish as I reached over and clung to my brother.
Draper squeezed my shoulder. “Hey, it’s alright. They just want to see you. We’ll be home in a few minutes.” He kissed my temple, much to the audible gushing of the women who relished in each bit of affection the handsome prince lavished on me. Draper was the most eligible bachelor in the land, now that the Untouchables were gone. The fact that he wasn’t embarrassed to be sweet to his sister skyrocketed him to Justin Timberlake level of fandom. I was happy for him, probably, but the largest emotion that resonated through my bones was that I just wanted to be alone.
3
The Diversion
A few evenings of eating together as a united province started to solidify many of the smiles that stretched beyond territory borders. People were starting to become neighbors, laughing together as they shouted out questions at random for me to answer. The women didn’t talk to me, though, which I didn’t understand. They didn’t seem angry at me, just avoiding my gaze, and refusing to speak to me. I wasn’t sure what to make of that.
As the night wore on, I grew more and more tired, as these things tended to go. Finally I begged off any more questioning, wanting to just hang out with them instead of being on display. Actually, what I wanted was to go home, but Draper was having too good a time. I didn’t want to ruin his fun just because I wasn’t a people person these days.
Draper patted my shoulders after about three minutes of shooting the breeze with a few of the women who ventured near me. “Let’s call it early tonight. Dad would be thrilled if you came home and washed up before court. Let’s surprise him by bringing you home before you pass out.”
I yawned, but was holding my own alright. “Okay. Yeah, he’d like that.” Draper helped me to stand, both of us turning when we caught wind of an argument that started to escalate not too far from where we stood. Even my ravens that had been circling overhead noticed the disturbance. Shouting turned to shoving, and others joined in the growing fight. Pretty soon, over a dozen men were throwing punches. “Stop that!” I shouted, indignant that people could act like jackholes after having such a kumbaya kind of night together.
The brawling grew, and pretty soon I found myself too near the fight that I still knew nothing about. Draper ripped two men apart, with Montel and Orval taking his lead and barreling through the jags without apology. Still, there was chaos, and the disquiet only grew from there. My ravens cheeped angrily at the men, and then cried out in unintelligible panic when a second unkindness of ravens flew in from the west to join them. One of the newcomers dropped out of the sky and landed somewhere behind me, but I was too turned around by the fight to locate him on the ground.
My heart seemed to stop beating when a beefy arm wrapped in a black cloak coiled around my neck from behind. “Stay very still,” the low voice warned. When he spoke, I heard the sound of wings flapping and something metallic, coming from the direction of his mouth. “I don’t want to bleed ye out here. Too many witnesses.” I clawed at the arm as it tightened around my throat, choking me without mercy.
I’d been choked in this very place by Madigan, who’d been mind-controlled by a hooded man in a black cloak. Fear lit me from the inside, and I bucked against him, feeling the bite of his blade slice across the back of my hip. I tried to scream, but I couldn’t get a sound out – so firm was his hold on me. I dragged my heels in the dirt as he started to haul me backwards, toward the outer edge of the Town Square, and away from the light. I tried to reach up and gouge at his eyes, but he was too tall for me to get at his face.
His skin smelled like old makeup, and his breath stank like rotting fish. “I could stick ye right here and let ye bleed out in front of your brother, but I won’t. I just want ye to know tha I can. I’ve got big plans for ye, little flower. Your life is mine, and at any moment, I might come to collect it. Sluaghs always collect what’s owed them.” He spat over my shoulder in disgust, his voice low and laced with a gravelly cadence to it. “Disgrace to the throne, both ye and the prince. Sitting in the dirt like peasants.”
I reached up and tried to claw at his eyes again, but the stupid hood was blocking my clumsy fingers. When the knife scraped over my hip again, I thought the scream that filled my ears was my own, but luckily, it was from one of the villagers who’d caught sight of me being dragged away from the fray. “The princess! Someone’s grabbed the Avalon Rose! Help!”
A fierce affection rose in me as a group of nearby villagers ran toward me, fearing nothing as they charged the armed man without swords of their own to attack with.
Draper bolted through the crowd, attuned to the sound of my name. He knocked anyone in his path out of the way when he realized with horror the goal of the fight that had started
seemingly out of nowhere. The brawl was the diversion. I was the target.
He rushed the man, joining the people who wouldn’t let me be taken away in the dark of night. “Sleep well tonight, Princess,” the hooded figure snarled in my ear before he let go of me. Then he quite literally vanished into thin air before I could catch sight of his face, leaving only the stench of his breath behind.
4
I Get All the Chickens
Security around the mansion was tightened, and a search was sent out through the province to see if anyone could find… a faceless man in a hood who was jonesing to shiv me. If you can believe it, the search didn’t turn up any promising leads.
The slice on my hip was treated and bandaged by Jean-Luc, but other than my anxiety growing tenfold, nothing much changed. Urien ordered that I not be out after dark anymore, which I couldn’t argue with. We stuck closer to each other after that, him peeking in on me when I was sleeping, and me sneaking out of my room at night to make sure he and Draper were safe and sound.
I returned to the wall two days later, after much debate. Work was pretty much the same, and the days passed without event, though the men were more protective of me on the job. The hard labor gave my hands purpose and helped me calm myself down in the few weeks that followed my attack. I was supposed to go straight home by midnight, which was when my dad held court. I usually adhered to the rules of the house, obeying instead of carving my own path. I had no need to find my own way anymore. I needed the hole in my chest to fill itself, and hoped manual labor and usefulness might do the trick.
Broken Girl: A Fantasy Adventure Based in French Folklore (Faite Falling Book 5) Page 2
