Chapter Nineteen

Frederick wasn't joking when he said everyone wants to meet me. It's not as bad, being pulled to every table to meet these people, as it would've been staying in the upper district and meeting the nobles. These people want me to save them, while the noblemen and women in this city would probably only think about how they could use me to their advantage.

I still don't think I'm their savior. I'm just a normal girl. But I don't tell them that. I… I suck it all up, and I do it for Prim. This is what she'd want. This, the community coming together, is what she would've wanted. If only she was here to celebrate with us.

After a while, a group of people pick up old instruments and start playing, filling the bar's interior with music. Music I've never heard of, but everyone else seems to enjoy it. The day grows late, the sun setting in the sky.

I don't leave Frederick's side for a while. It's strange, watching him interact with the people here. Everyone seems to know his name, know who he is—and he has business with a lot of them. He might live in a shack, but he's well-respected among these people. He helps them when he can, does favors for them with no hope of getting paid. The people respect him.

Eventually, I find myself outside the bar, watching a group of kids play some game on the stone twenty feet or so in front of the bar. Groups of people line the area, but the kids are having their own fun time playing a game similar to hopscotch, from what I can tell.

I sit on a crate, watching them with a sad smile. My hands are empty; I finished my drink a while ago and don't really want any more. The ale, as Frederick called it, is very sweet. Not my kind of drink.

Prim should be here. She should be playing with the other kids. She should be over there, having not a care in the world.

But instead she's dead, and there's no bringing her back.

"Children are our future," a soft voice speaks behind me, "and yet we cannot provide for them as we should. It is not right, but then again, few things in Laconia are as of the moment."

I look over my shoulder to find Aolia has come down from the upper city to join the party. She looks out of place here in her regal blue and green robes, with the jewels around her neck. She moves to stand beside me, watching the children alongside me with a serene expression on her face.

When I don't say anything, Aolia whispers, "I am sorry about the girl. I wish there was more we could've done for her. Frederick and our healers did their best, but…"

"I don't really want to talk about her," I say, picking at my jeans absentmindedly. I can feel Aolia staring at me, but I ignore her. Whatever philosophical shit she's about to wax, I don't want to hear it.

Aolia moves to sit beside me on the crate, her tall, slender figure dwarfing mine in the process. Her hands fold on her lap, a soft smile on her face. "I hope you do not begrudge us for how we treated you in the beginning. Laconia has never been trusting of newcomers."

Trying to make nice with me now? It's a little late for that.

"It's fine," I tell her, wishing she would go away.

"It is not, and how Ravenno and the others spoke of you is not acceptable. He follows the teachings of his empress, while Kretia and I follow our own. Hazor simply wants what is best for Laconia, but he does not know what that entails half the time."

Seeing as how she doesn't look like she's getting the hint that I don't want to talk to her, I decide to ask, "What did your empress teach?"

Aolia answers without a thought, "Empress Morimento believed in the sanctity of life. All life, big or small, from the great beasts of the plains to the smallest fly. All life is significant. All life is worthy. My empress believed in the good residing within each person, and she taught her followers accordingly."

"So I take it you heard about what I saw in Acadia's castle?"

She nods. "I have. My empress's son sits on the throne, trapped. If what he asked of you is true, I do not blame you for denying him his request. Perhaps Empress Morimento lost her grip on reality, much like Empress Gladus, for the empress I knew and loved would never dare ask for death to be delivered to her, let alone the deaths of her fellow empresses."

Aolia tilts her head in thought. "However, things are not as they used to be. If her son is trapped and he truly believes the magic that holds him there lies with the others, I can understand how desperate he might be."

She turns her head toward me, her blue eyes boring into me, even with the shadow of the night around us. "Will you return to him now that Empress Gladus is dead? Perhaps the tides have shifted already."

My eyes survey the area around me. From the kids playing to the groups huddled around the space in front of the tavern, to the people inside the tavern. Through the open door, I can see Frederick talking to a group of older men and women. He wears a soft smile, and it looks like he's making them all laugh.

My answer to Aolia is, "I don't know."

She's quiet for a while, but she does turn her head in the same direction. A minute passes, though the air is anything but silent around us. "He is a good man, Frederick LaRoe. His father was, too. It is the only reason Ravenno listens to what he has to say. His father was close to Empress Krotas before she pushed them from Magnysia."

"What was his father like?" If she heard about the Emperor, she must've heard that her precious empress threw Fred in the dungeon once he reached the castle.

"I only met the man briefly in passing, but I hear he was wise. Noble. Willing to sacrifice everything for the greater good. Empress Krotas trusted him with her life. He was like a brother to her. Now, his son has taken over his mantle. Frederick is a fine young man."

I frown. "I guess."

Aolia looks at me for a split second before returning her stare to Frederick in the tavern. "He speaks highly of you to anyone who will listen. He has calmed Ravenno's anger over you on more than one occasion. Perhaps you inspire more than hope inside him."

What… what the hell does she mean by that?

Maybe Frederick feels us talking about him, because he glances in our direction. Whether he's looking at me or at Aolia, I don't know, but I move my stare so I now gaze upon my lap. I'm still pissed at him for lying to me, for saying he would help me when he's just as clueless as everyone else is when it comes to portals.

I want to ask her if she's ever heard of anyone being able to summon portals, if any of the empresses in the past had been able to do something like that, but her comment about Frederick feeling more than hope makes me uncomfortable in ways I can't describe, so I stand and excuse myself from the conversation.

I don't know where I'm going. Just away from Aolia. My feet take me across the marketplace, to the path that eventually leads down into the field where the livestock is kept. I don't go down the path; I hoist myself up on the ledge that overlooks the field and swing my legs over it to sit there.

The sky is dark above me, the moon shining its silver light, illuminating the land in front of me. From here, I can see where the outer wall follows the natural landscape beyond the large cemetery. I can see over it, at the land beyond the wall, and I can't help but wonder what this place was like before the woes hit.

And then I think about Frederick and what Aolia said.

Even if I wasn't pissed at him, he's not exactly my type. Just ‘cause he's the only guy in Laconia who's near my age doesn't mean anything. If I inspire more than hope in him, that's his problem, not mine.

Footsteps on the stone behind me tell me someone followed me here. A gentle voice speaks, "I was wondering where you wandered off to."

I hold in a groan. Frederick, of course.

He climbs onto the ledge with me and sits beside me, his legs hanging off the edge like mine. "Are you all right? Don't like the party or did Aolia say something to you? I saw you two talking."

What Aolia said did bother me, but I don't want to admit that to him. Instead, as I gaze out at the cemetery, at the animals calling the field their home, I say, "I don't think we should be celebrating anything."

"Why not? Because of Prim? Rey, these people have lost their loved ones, their homes, their history—they've lost everything. You came back, victorious, against an empress who attacked the city. If you think Prim would not want us to celebrate—"

I close my eyes, and a sad smile grows on my face. He's right. What little I knew of her, she'd be the center of attention at that party. She'd be so happy. Me defeating Gladus proved her right.

"We can mourn her and celebrate what she would've wanted," Frederick whispers.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." I bite my bottom lip and turn my head to look at him. Don't know what I expect, but he's staring at me instead of the field we're overlooking. I use this opportunity, with the quiet air around us, to take him in again.

Half a decade older than me, maybe in his mid-twenties, with light brown hair that's maybe an inch or so too long, a little messy. His amber eyes seem blacker in the night, but with the moonlight overhead, I can see the way his brow is furrowed as he looks at me, how his mouth is tugged into a concerned line. His jaw is dotted with short stubble, the kind of thick stubble only a man could have, not some teenager who just hit puberty a few years ago.

He's cute. Not drop-dead gorgeous in a pantie-wetting way, but very cute. Bookish, kind of nerdy, but cute.

I don't know what gets into me, but I let my gaze fall to his mouth. It's been a long time since I've kissed anyone. Even longer since I did more. His hand did feel nice around mine earlier, so maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

It'd be nice to feel good for the first time in forever…

I don't think about it. I lean into him and press my mouth against his. The action must stun him, because he doesn't kiss back right away. It's like he's temporarily frozen, his brain needing time to put two and two together.

And then it finally clicks in his head, and he brings a hand to the side of my face and kisses me back. Softly, sweetly, a tender touch that warms me everywhere.

Of course, it doesn't even occur to me that maybe he didn't kiss me back immediately because he's never kissed anyone before, since there aren't exactly a lot of women his age left in Laconia.

It's a nice kiss. Not super passionate, but given everything that happened, everything I went through to get here, passion is the last thing that'll come naturally. This is more of a letting-down-my-walls kind of thing, relaxing when I've been on-guard twenty-four hours a day, each day, since I got here. This is me wanting to let go.

The kiss deepens, and it's then I wonder what it means for Frederick. Maybe it means more. Maybe it means too much and I'm only leading him on.

But, fuck, it'd be nice to let go for a night. To find a bed somewhere and get some real stress relief.

I don't know what it is, if it's the possibility that I'm using him, that I'll only hurt him, but I pull my mouth off his and look away, causing his hand to fall from my face. My lungs burn, my breath coming up short. I can't look at him, can't see the expression on his face. If I do… I don't know what'll happen, and that scares me more than I want to admit.

"I'm sorry," I mutter. "Can I have some time alone?"

Frederick must watch me for a few moments, though I can't tell how he looks at me since I refuse to meet his eyes after that kiss. But he's a gentleman, because he eventually moves off the ledge and says, "Of course." He leaves me after that, though I do swear I hear hesitation in the rhythm of his footsteps.

After a while, I glance over my shoulder just to make sure he's gone—and he is. I'm alone on the stone ledge overlooking the field.

Alone, like always in this fucking place.

The tattoo on my arm lights up as Rune's annoyed voice comes alive in my head, "Well, well." Two words—one, really, repeated twice—and yet never before have two words irritated me to no end.

"Shut up," I hiss.

"Of course. You want me to be quiet while you chase after him."

"Says the man with no body," I snap. "Jealous again, I think. So jealous of the man who actually has a body and who can use it. Do you even remember what it's like? Do you remember what it's like to kiss or get laid?"

Rune is silent, but I can practically feel him seething.

"That's what I thought," I tell him with a frown. "If I want to go after Frederick, I will, because I'm human. I have needs. I'm allowed—"

"Don't you think you have other, more important things to take care of right now rather than chasing your animalistic urges with a man who will never understand you?" The tone he uses is one laced with a mixture of superiority and aggravation, a jealous sort of venom. "You do realize that, don't you? Frederick is a nobody. He—"

"And what are you?" I'm practically yelling at my own arm now. "You're an ex-wizard with no body trapped inside a fucking tattoo." God, this guy pisses me off so much. I want to scrape off the goddamned tattoo just to get him off me.

"A rune," he corrects me, but I keep going.

"An ex-wizard with no body because, in case you forgot, the empresses of Laconia decided they hated you and wanted to strip you of everything you were, so they put you into a fucking crystal!"

The tattoo on my arm shimmers. "Soul gem," he hisses, his accented voice heavy and acidic. "So yes, forgive me if I'm not content with sitting idly back while you chase after a man when you could be doing something to help us both!"

I bare my teeth at the tattoo, like Rune can see me. "Maybe you don't deserve help."

His reply is ready, and it cuts through me like a knife: "And maybe you don't deserve to go home."

My nostrils flare. "Fuck you. Fuck you and your attitude."

"I'm the one with an attitude?" he scoffs. "Please."

"You're lucky you're a tattoo—" I ignore him when he tries to correct me again. "—because if you were easily removable, I would've thrown you away the moment you first opened your big, nonexistent mouth and tried telling me what to do."

Rune growls out the words, "I saved your life."

"And you only did it because your survival hinges on me. I'm not stupid. I know we're not friends. You're only helping me because you want me to help you. Just like Frederick. All men are fucking liars, body or not."

"You… are…" Rune, for the first time ever, sounds like he's at a loss for words. "You're…" A good thing, probably, because I don't know where else this argument could go if we keep it up.

Seconds go by, and when Rune speaks again, he's calmed down, and his voice is strangely gentle when he says, "You push me to madness, Rey. A feat I never thought possible."

I don't know how to respond to him, so I ask, "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Merely the truth."

As I sit there, I think about apologizing to Rune—I said some pretty mean things—but the dude's an asshole, so I don't really want to. If anyone should apologize, it's him. He should apologize to me and then maybe, maybe I'll do the same to him.

No promises, though.

But Rune is as stubborn as me, so in the end, neither of us apologize to the other. All I know is, I can't sit there anymore, not after that fight with Rune, so I scoot off the ledge and get to my feet.

I guess I should go back to the party, try to cool myself off. Stay away from Frederick too. Don't want a repeat of what just happened.

Heaving a sigh, I follow the stone path to the market area. The drinks might be too sweet, but I think I need another. I reach the kids playing a weird form of hopscotch without chalk when something odd sweeps over me.

Something intangible, instinctual. Something that tugs at my nerves, causes my palms to clam up. The hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up, and my mouth gets dry on its own. It's a feeling I've felt before, and now I know what it leads to.

I grab the nearest kid and say, "Find Frederick. Tell him to get everyone to run to the upper city." They can't leave Laconia; their only hope is it doesn't breach the entire city. When the kid only looks at me, I let him go and shout, "Now!"

The kids all burst into action, making a beeline toward the tavern. I shout to the people crowding the tavern's entrance, telling them to go. If they want to keep their lives, they need to go.

A shadowstorm is coming.