Against her better judgment, she allowed the seamstresses into the room. Although they hadn’t had a chance to speak since she left him on the ship deck, Thade held true to his insistence on having something made. They measured her every which way imaginable, assuring that they would have the garment to her before dinner the following day. That left only the need to keep out of sight for the remainder of the afternoon through the evening. It sounded simple enough, though an excuse to avoid leaving the room for breakfast the next day might be a little more difficult. She could always feign some sort of headache. The girls at Faustine’s had used illness to find their way out of most anything they didn’t want to do.
There was only one thing on her mind that she wanted to do. It would be dangerous, and a great risk to her own safety given what she’d heard, but the threat couldn’t change her mind. She had to get out of the palace and see the city for herself. To see what had become of her old neighborhood.
The servant assigned to her chambers seemed confused by Leyna’s request for a sword. She wasn’t certain of the directions back to her old home, if it was even still there, but from what Thade had said regarding the neighborhood, it would be foolish of her to go there without some form of protection. Not that it was any less foolish to go there alone. Sword or not.
A horse was being prepared for her while she finished getting ready. Her clothing couldn’t be too restricting in case she needed to fight. There would be no corsets or tightly laced bodices. If she could’ve had access to a pair of pants, she would have accepted them gratefully. But that would have been too convenient. Instead she had to settle for a simple summer dress which hung loosely from her hips, hugging the curves of her upper body while still allowing ample movement. It was far from fitting for a woman of court, but her intentions were not to be seen by anyone in the palace.
Strapping the sword belt around her waist, she adjusted the sheath on her hip, checking the grip and ease of draw. Satisfied, she hurried through the door into the hall, wrapping her cloak around her shoulders while she walked, hoping to conceal her strange wardrobe from view.
She felt like a thief trying to escape the scene of a crime. If anyone recognized her, she would be risking word getting back to Thade which would raise more questions from him than she was ready to answer. He meant well, which was why it hurt her to think that she was now running about the palace behind his back. No, he couldn’t be allowed to know she had left. It would be easier that way. For both of them.
Richly clad men and women meandered through the various halls of the palace. Their pace was relaxed, their eyes glancing over to Leyna in passive disapproval as she hurried by, her face cast downward to the floor to avoid looking at them directly.
Getting through the front door had been her biggest concern, though it proved easier than finding her way through the winding halls. Only the guards were stationed there, nodding to her with curious expressions.
She could hear voices coming from the courtyard outside, distant enough that she was comforted to think they were too far away for anyone to notice her as she climbed into the saddle on the horse, snapping the reins sharply.
Her sense of direction was better than most. She’d always prided herself on it during the war, but now she would have only that to rely on in finding her way to the old docks. Based on where their ship had come to port in comparison to where Thade indicated the bad part of town to be, it seemed easy enough to deduce which way to go. It was just a matter of determining which streets would take her there.
The fading light from the sun would make her task more difficult. There remained enough illumination to estimate at least a few more hours of natural light, but she had no way of knowing how far the old docks were from the palace. The city was large. If she lost her way at all, it would add more time to the travel, costing her precious daylight.
The nicer homes and shops were arranged closer to the palace gates, forming a busier section of town for the upper echelons of society. Further out, the streets were more cluttered with wagons and stalls where the middle classes peddled their wares, calling out at Leyna while she passed. None of it really sank in for her, oblivious to the outbursts and attempts to catch her attention. All she cared about was the city gate which loomed up ahead in the distance. Thade had mentioned something of a gate situated between the poorer neighborhoods and the main streets. She couldn’t stop moving. If her instincts were accurate, her destination was close at hand.
The guards made no move to stop her as she approached the gates. Getting out of the city wasn’t a concern to the Mialan government. It would be getting back in that would pose a problem. Anyone who left the safety of the city walls did so at their own risk.
Immediately upon passing through, Leyna was aware of the drastic change in scenery. Windows were broken out of most of the buildings, roofs caved in or patched, though some still appeared somewhat capable of functioning. Trash lined the gravel road, the eyes of peasants staying on her as she rode by, their figures wrapped in mud-covered rags. Many of them looked almost angered by her presence. There was no welcome in their gaze.
A shudder ran through her at the sight. What had happened to this place? It had never been anything like the lavish streets of the inner city, but it had been respectable enough for the lower classes to raise their families. There was never any fear for safety when traversing the roads. The citizens had kept the area clean. They’d taken pride in their land. This looked like a completely foreign world to Leyna, dwindling her hopes of finding any semblance of the place that she had once considered home.
Battered wooden signs pointed to the left toward the old docks. Vague memories floated through her head. There had been merchants back then who set up at the docks. Her mother took her to visit them every few weeks. They sold fruits and vegetables, along with handmade toys and dolls. When she’d been particularly good, Leyna might be rewarded with one, and she had cherished each of them, regardless of the poor design many had been constructed with.
An occasional abandoned wagon could be seen along the deserted docks. She didn’t dare take the horse over the rotting wood for fear of falling through into the murky water below.
From there it was only a mile or so to the house she’d lived in. Though the area had changed, she could never forget the way there from the docks. It had been ingrained in her mind even before that fateful night when she’d led Reina to the ships. No amount of time could erase it.
There had been a walking path pressed down through the grass of a nearby field. They used it to get to and from the docks, avoiding the busy traffic of caravans along the road. Time had taken its toll on the landscape. Most of the earth had been either torn up or overgrown, making it impossible for there to be any remnants of the old path. Steering her horse into the taller weeds, she slowed her pace. She didn’t want to risk missing any detail.
Up ahead she could see the familiar outline of a house situated on the other end of the field. Her heart pounded, echoing hollowly through her head. It was still there. The walls still stood, weathered with age, but unmistakable.
Emotions welled up inside her at the mere sight of it. How could she ever have thought she was ready for this? It was like she was a child again, facing the horrors of that night. She didn’t want to relive it. But she knew she had to. This was the last place which might hold some proof of her existence. Some reason why she couldn’t give up, when the idea of doing so was more tempting than ever. She had failed to get her revenge. The depression hindered her desire to keep trying, but it was still there, deeply implanted in her heart.
A post was dug into the ground outside the back of the house. Reina’s father had tied his horse there when he would come home from the docks for lunch. Rohan. The name floated into her mind from somewhere. She could hear Aviden’s voice speaking it to her mother. It amazed her it still lingered with her in such clarity.
Tying off her own horse, she stood in silence, frozen. It was as if her feet had rooted themselves int
o the ground. She hated how afraid she was of this little house. It couldn’t do anything to her. Physically. Mentally it held the power to break her down from the inside. It was more threatening than the menacing stares she’d seen on the faces of the townspeople. Men she could fight. The past was untouchable.
Concerned some homeless peasant could have made the rickety house into their home, her hand moved reflexively to the hilt of her sword. Unlike the last time she’d been there, she knew how to defend herself. Things would have been so much different if she could have done so then. If only she could take herself back to that night with the knowledge she had now.
The back door hung at an angle on its rusted and broken hinges. It looked dark inside. Tearing her feet from where they had sunken into the moist soil of the yard, she moved forward. One foot at a time. Each step took every ounce of will she possessed to keep from turning back and running to her horse. She couldn’t let herself run. She’d already come so far.
Gently pressing her hand against the dilapidated door, it creaked with age before the corroded hinges gave out, sending the heavy wood crashing to the ground. She felt her heart leap in her chest, choking back a scream. It was just a door. If anything, the noise might scare off anyone else who could be inside.
Stains were visible on the wooden floor inside. Blood. Leyna had seen enough of it since that night to know what it looked like. Nasha’s desperate last words rattled through her skull, seeing the place where her body had fallen, the final breath of life exhaling from her mouth. A part of Leyna’s mind had feared her bones would still be there. The skeleton decaying from the elements over time. But it wasn’t there. Someone must have found the body and taken it away. She could only hope it hadn’t been collected by Damir as a trophy. He may not have succeeded in seeing them all dead, but he’d been victorious over her mother and Nasha.
It wasn’t just her fear which filled her now. Anger threatened to take her over, nagging at the edges of her mind. Squatting down beside the stained wooden floor, it spoke so much to those repressed memories inside. To picture Nasha handing her that tiny pouch of coins, pleading with her to take Reina and escape to the docks. Closing her eyes to push away the images, Leyna rose back to her feet, taking a deep breath to ease her racing heart.
Her whole body was shaking. She wanted to see more. Details of that night came to her like theatre performers coming to life in her own memories, playing out the graphic scene for her to watch. But she saw it now with the clarity of her adult mind. Things that hadn’t made sense to her back then seemed to fit into place.
The layout of the house was simple. There was a closet a few feet from the back door where they kept their coats and shoes. She could already see it, the door ajar to reveal a small trunk on the inside. It was so much smaller than she remembered. She had grown significantly since then. It was doubtful she could fit into it now, even if she found some reason to try.
Making her way to the trunk she ran her fingers along the lid. Leyna lifted it up, finding the task less strenuous than it had been in her nightmares of being trapped inside. Blood still clung to the latch where it had fallen against her. The scar on her back tingled uncomfortably at the memory. Though it came back to her easily, it couldn’t prove anything about who she was. Lowering the lid down, she tore her eyes away from the closet. She needed to keep moving. There was still so much to see and the sunlight wouldn’t wait for her.
Her feet knew exactly where to go, moving down the narrow hallway toward the front of the house. Several items were missing, though it came as no surprise. It was obvious no one had actually lived there after the attack. No one in their right mind would have wanted it. It was to be expected that things would have been looted.
Bypassing the dining room, Leyna stepped into the living area, bracing herself for the worst. There, at the center of the floor, was the stain she’d been dreading, circles of pooled blood having soaked deeply into the grain of the wood. In her mind, she saw her mother lying there. The blood was everywhere. It flowed freely from wounds all over her body, fresh, deep. Impossible for anyone to have survived.
Slowly, she moved toward the image. It was so real to her. The blue of her mother’s lips telling of the blood loss she endured from the wound which ended her suffering. Kneeling down, Leyna reached out toward the face, her fingertips moving through the image, meeting nothing but the gritty, cold floor.
She wasn’t there. She hadn’t been there for years. But her spirit felt close by. Lingering in the room with Leyna. She couldn’t see her, but sensed it the way she had by the Lake of the Gods.
Warmth from salty tears filled her eyes, winning over the anger that had been building to that moment. It dissipated, replaced by an unbearable emptiness. It had been more than two decades since she’d shed any tears over the loss of her mother. Reina had been the most important thing then, and Reina couldn’t see her cry. That would have made Leyna’s promises hollow when she assured Reina everything would be alright. But Reina wasn’t here now. Leyna was alone with the sadness that had haunted her for every waking moment of her life.
The tears ran in streams down her pale cheeks as she was racked with an uncontrollable fit of sobs, bending forward to bury her face in her hands. She couldn’t remember if she had wept to find her mother lying there that night. Now, twenty-six years later, she returned, soaking the blood-stained floor with her tears.
She reached out to where the image of her mother had been. In her mind she could see her hands from those years ago, clutching at the blood-soaked fabric of her mother’s dress. Yes. She had wept. Though she had no understanding of death, somehow she had known her mother would never be there to comfort her again. Never would she rise up, take Leyna in her arms, and assure her everything was going to be alright. Nothing was alright. It never had been since that night.
Her tears fell harder, sobs heavier, soaking through her fingers which covered her face. Nothing could cut through the misery now. It was like a flood gate had opened to let years of latent emotions escape. When the sound of someone quietly speaking her name cut through it all, her irrational thoughts sent her into a panic. She could see the man coming toward her as she cried over the corpse of her mother. Kyros. The memory of his name and face rekindled her anger again. He needed to die. Anyone who could do such unspeakable things to another person didn’t deserve to live the comfortable life he reveled in.
She was on her feet in a single fluid motion, her hand drawing her sword from the sheath before she could turn to look. Through her tear-filled gaze, she recognized the silver glow of Thade’s eyes, staring back at her, no trace of the malice in Kyros’s face from that night.
Her sword clattered to the floor as she collapsed to her knees. There was no point in trying to hide from him now. He had seen her there, weeping like a child. Nothing could convince him he’d seen anything different. She lacked the clarity of mind to even begin thinking of excuses. Truthfully, she no longer cared. He would have to accept her loss of control and composure. It was his own fault for following her. If he would have just left her alone.
Words wouldn’t form on her lips. A tiny shred of her being wanted him there. She desired to be alone while at the same time she couldn’t stand the thought of enduring these memories without someone there. But why did it have to be him? The one person she had tried so hard to hide her inner torment from all these years. And now he was standing in the very house it had all happened in. Staring at her sympathetically. The confusion in his eyes said it all.
She waited for the questions to start. To her surprise, they never came. He was in front of her, kneeling, his arms wrapping around her comfortingly, pressing her head gently against his shoulder. He said nothing, hushing her lamentation while running his hand lightly through her hair.
Thade’s embrace was the downfall of her tenuous hold over already wild emotions. Breaking down, she leaned into his hold, her sobs muffled by the soft fabric of his shirt. Silk. Her tears had likely already ruined the garment. B
ut he didn’t seem to care.
It was nothing like she’d envisioned his embrace to be, though the circumstances were far from ideal. Everything was wrong. Yet she couldn’t stop her tears. The mess in her head made it impossible to dwell on such trivial emotions such as love. Or pride. All that mattered was that someone was there for her. She was grateful for it. This would have been impossible to bear without him. It felt good to simply be held. To let her tears that she’d kept in for so long fall, without being judged. She felt safe with him. As if in his arms, everything really would be alright, the way he whispered to her now.
“It is alright. I am here, Leyna.”
Time felt nonexistent while listening to his gentle assurances. The sunlight still glittered through the grime on the windows, filtering in with an eerie shadow along the floor. She knew she needed to collect herself. Maneuvering the streets back into the city would be far more difficult once the sun had set. And she still had so much she needed to do while she was there.
Slowly she pulled away from Thade, embarrassed at the thought of how she must look to him. Her eyes felt puffy and red from crying. On his shoulder, a large stain from the moisture spread out over the surface of his cream tunic, adding to her humiliation. “I am sorry, sir,” she breathed, cut short by a harsh sob coursing through her body. Her hand reached out to touch the damp fabric, retracting quickly at the sound of his uncomfortable laughter.
The Myatheira Chronicles: The Vor'shai: From the Ashes (Volume 1) Page 63
