24. Chapter 23

When I awake, his arm still grips my body, but I face towards him now and not away. His face is mere inches from mine. I carefully push his disheveled hair from his face to study him. All I would have to do is let my face fall forward, and I could kiss the freckles that line his nose. He doesn"t want me, I remind myself. He made it clear at The Charlie, and last night, he could hardly stand me so close to him, and he won"t like it now. So, I turn on my back as the sun rises. Its heat seeps into my body. I stay as still as possible so as not to wake Kirian.

We do not speak when he finally stirs. He dries his things as best he can, but the rain leaves nothing that we could use to start a fire. Then he packs away his things, and we begin again, just as we do every day.

The terrain becomes familiar, and I know we are approaching Thorn Row, but Kirian doesn"t go down the road with a sign pointing to the city. Instead, he heads for a small village. One that I do not recall seeing on any map.

As we enter, I can"t help but cough. It"s filled with a thick black smoke that comes from its core. Everyone seems completely unbothered by the stench that lays like a thick cloud over the village.

We head for a blacksmith, whose shop is in the center like the whole place revolves around it. And it does. There I find the source of its pollution as black smoke plums from the round building with a hole in the middle.

A man with bulging, veiny arms swings a hammer while a woman collects broken weapons and tools from the crowd that surrounds them. They push at each other, trying to get to the woman first. She shouts something at a man with a hammer. The man just shakes his head at the weapon in her hands, upset by something. We get closer and I hear her say "Sorry, not interested." As she shrugs her shoulders and turns to the next person. The man whose hammer lays in his hands in pieces curses but takes his leave.

The clinking of metal against metal fades as we push past men and women in what can only be described as fighting leathers. Reinforced at the elbows and knees, masks to protect their faces, and chainmail falling down their torsos.

One woman, dressed in the purest black, tight to her figure and a hood that only lets a single braid fall to her face, passes us in silent steps. She looks Kirian up and down. Her piercing blue stare and tan skin make her a unique beauty, one that many men around her seem to notice. All but Kirian, that is, who keeps his focus in front of us, busied by the thoughts inside his head, which seem to plague him. I have made it a game to keep track of his subtle change in disposition depending on the circumstances. Maybe it"s the soldier in him, being able to adapt to his surroundings. Hot and cold. Has been from the start.

I bite away the feeling of jealousy that swirls in my chest as she trails us. Then, there they are, just as I felt them seep into my body beyond the walls of Spartus. My Shadows rise to the surface at every not-so-subtle glance in Kirian"s direction. Thankfully, no one sees them or hears their promises of carnage. Some men and women, Augustine"s repulsive voice is in my head. There it is again, the darkening of my vision. This time, it was paired with a crackling of power in my fingertips. Jealousy and rage are all I can see. All I can think about. The Shadows are offering me their services. To dig their eyes out of their skulls. Then they cannot look.

The woman"s voice, the one that tells me her secrets. "Not yet." She tells me in a calm, soft voice, and with that, she has the Shadows settling back into their dark hiding places. I try not to think of what might have happened if she did not intervene.

We stop at a peddlers stand. Kirian peers down to inspect the wares. I become confused when I see the merchandise: fine jewelry, amulets and rings that are far too gaudy. With swirling bits of silver that would get caught on whatever you touch. I never much liked jewelry for that reason. In the corner of a glass covered display, I think I see the reflection of a yellow stone embedded into a copper arm band. The same as the one I gave to Lupita.

For some reason, I begin to search for her face amongst the crowd. It"s of no use, of course she would not be here. I am pulled from the thought when a short older woman approaches us from behind the counter.

Kirian tosses her a coin, which she inspects thoroughly before sticking it in her shirt. She eyes me from the corner of her wrinkled eyes. "And for the girl?" She crows. Kirian bunches his fist at his side, well out of her sight. Then, he reaches into his pouch once again and tosses another coin at her. "Follow me," she says, satisfied as she turns around without another word.

Kirian gently pushes me in front of him as we follow her to a building nearby. We do not go in through the front door. Instead, she opens the cellar, and down we go, the light of day disappearing as we descend. Thankfully, Kirian stands close. I reach behind me, grabbing the hem of his jacket so as not to lose him as we walk down a dim hallway, torches doing little to illuminate the space.

The elderly woman delivers us to a man who is meticulously running a pencil over paper. His lines precise, his eyes narrowed in complete concentration. He doesn"t stop his work as we step further into the room. A mage light hangs over his desk as he works. Illuminating the small space, a door to another larger room is cracked open. Distant sounds of shuffling feet and tinkering noises from beyond.

The man wears a contraption around his head, two thick glass pieces at the front, to help magnify his lines. The older woman stays at our backs, blocking our exit. Trapped. The word repeats itself in my head, it"s all I can think about. Trapped, trapped, trapped. The Shadows slither and shift as if waiting for a command. I try not to watch them in their dance.

We wait for a few minutes before Kirian clears his throat. At this, the man looks up at us, his gray eyes three sizes bigger thanks to the contraption. He takes them by the metal that holds them together on the edge and places them on top of his head. He then shifts his attention to the old woman, back to us, then to the woman again. "Papers?" I can"t place his accent, not that I have had the chance to talk to many people with any accents at all.

"Mmhm" she hums almost bored sounding, like it happens every day for these two. I do not dare turn my head in her direction. The door shrieks as she opens it, then it shuts, and her footsteps fade down the long hallway once more. Leaving us here. Trapped, trapped, trapped.

The man is silent for a moment. He studies me for far too long as if he recognizes me. Which is impossible because, of course, no one knows me. He tilts his head to the side. Kirian shifts uncomfortably behind me. When the man stands, he is much larger than I originally thought as he emerges from behind the worktable. He takes the few steps it takes to get close to us, his head still cocked to the side. I make sure to look straight ahead. He all but pretends Kirian is nonexistent as he looks me over. "A pretty penny in the east for a lass with hair as black as yours." His accent is harsh on the r"s with a seductive flow to it. He towers over me now as he pinches a stray strand of my hair between his lead-stained fingers for inspection.

After his hand moves from my hair to my chin my breathing becomes shallow. My heart races wildly as he lets out a low growl. Fear…and something else takes up the space in my chest. He pushes my face up so I can no longer avoid his gaze. The man has a chiseled jaw, much like the statues in House Luz, the ones of warriors. His almost silver eyes seem to see right through me.

He looks at me expectantly, like he is waiting for something. He is clearly after a certain type of response, one that I am sure women offer to him without a second thought. Afterall, it"s what all men want. To feel powerful.

"That"s why we are here." I bat my lashes, offering him what he is so desperately after. Men rarely want anything else but to know that women would fall at their feet if they asked. Disgusting. I continue my act. Hoping that Kirian catches on to my ploy. "My friend here told me you were the best in Stone." Even I am surprised at myself as I let my head lay into his palm slightly, as he still holds me in place.

Satisfaction is written on the lines between his brows. It worked. I praise myself silently. But he still looks between my eyes, searching, still rubs his thumb across my chin in a gentle stroking motion.

Then a thought must cross his mind because where I saw satisfaction just moments ago is now a knowing, lopsided smile.

Then, he lets out a laugh that echoes through the small room. The back room grows quiet, shuffling and tinkering, stopping for a minute as if whoever is beyond that door knows that sound all too well, or perhaps not at all. The confident mask I wore seconds ago cracks, but I will not let my fear to the surface. Not even the Shadows let it be known that I am afraid as they keep to their corner, watching.

He takes a step back, releasing my face but making sure that our eyes never part. "You will do just fine." Again, his gaze falls down to my toes and back, accessing me. What does that mean? Do just fine at what?

Kirian takes a safe step forward. "We don"t want any trouble," he tells him. The man ignores him, circles back to the table, and places the glasses back on top of his head. He takes a seat and nods slowly before turning in his chair to grab something.

"Don"t worry." He says as he holds out folded papers. This time, he addresses only Kirian. "I need not to draw attention to myself. Not yet." He holds his knowing grin, one half of his smile higher than the other. Kirian practically snatches the papers from the man"s hands. Silver eyes snake their way across Kirian"s features before landing back on me. "Let me know when you grow tired of this one, Love." He says through a huff of laughter. "Just call for Damien. I promise my name will sound good when coming from your lips." He gives Kirian a wink, then looks down at his drawing again.

I can"t help but to take a peek for myself. I now understand the nature of his work—an instrument firing metal from an elongated brass tube. Next to him, papers I have seen many times before. Export and import documents containing trade routes and pick up times. This man is dangerous. Just like Father.

Kirian turns swiftly for the door, grabbing my arm tightly and dragging me along. It might be stupid, but I am already doing so many stupid things so I don"t stop myself from looking over my shoulder at Damien. There are those silver-gray eyes. Straight through me. A devilish grin stretches his face, disappearing as we make our way up the stairs.

My eyes slowly adjust to the light and when they do I catch sight of Kirian, his face that of a scared boy, he takes in a large breath of air, and I realize that he had been holding his breath the entire way up the stairs. "What"s wrong?" I ask him but he just glances behind him at the cellar door and pulls me away from the building.

He doesn"t stop, his much longer strides have me jogging to keep up, and I can"t get out of the white knuckled grip he keeps around my wrist. Not until we come to a sign on the outskirts of the village, that says we"re headed towards Thorn Row, does he stop and turn to me.

He grabs my chin between his thumb and index finger. The fast movement causes me to flinch slightly. His hold is less gentle than Damien's. His calluses scrape at my skin as he twists my head to the left, then the right. He looks down at my feet and up to my hair, assessing every inch. "Kirian." I try to break him from whatever has him in such a state. "Who was that?" I try again. This time, he blinks hard and straightens his posture. He releases my face, his arm now swinging loosely at his side.

"Ever heard of the boogie man?"

I can hardly stop myself from laughing, but this is no laughing matter. Not when I see Kirian"s fear. "Like the story meant to scare children?" I ask confused when I realize there was no hint of jest to his question.

"Well, that was him." He grabs my arm, and we begin our walk again. I do not say anything more. "And you will never utter his name, Katsia. Not even once." He doesn"t look over at me when he speaks.

We just keep walking, like we always do. I think of the boogie man, the tale, the one that I read many times over. Say his name, and he shall come. But it"s not real.