Chapter 31

"Every single word?"

"As fast as I could write them," Hollis said, standing at the top of the steps, holding a small book with his detailed account of my conversation with his boss in one hand and his pocket watch in the other.

"And?"

"We'll have to show it to Paesha. She's usually around for his contractual bindings."

"I agreed to nothing."

He lifted a bushy white brow, frowning at me, his thick mustache hardly moving. "He asked you to remove the hand on your blade. Did you?"

Fear rippled through my stomach as I tried to replay the strained conversation. "I don't think so, but I've dealt with Lady Visha, Old Man. I know how to guard my words."

He ambled down the steps, giant blue eyes staring into mine. "He is far more cunning than her. I can promise you that, Little Dove. Small concessions lead to bigger traps when battling the Maestro. You must be careful to avoid him."

I sighed, letting my shoulders drop. "Thank you for trying to save me."

"You are worthy," he answered, all the sincerity he could muster coiled around the sentiment.

"Why?" I asked, feeling so vulnerable after throwing up every wall possible in front of Drexel. Something in the old man had continued to bring me a sense of peace. It was as if his soft words and gentle nature gave me balance. But it was more than that. It was his time that meant the most. His instant loyalty and kindness.

"He knows you will not kill, Dey. He wouldn't have come here if he was afraid of that. And while that's a problem for another day, it also should prove to you that you're different." He took my hand, the wrinkles and age marks glaring. "There was a point when I could see that my sister had succumbed to the darkness. Her smiles faded away, and nothing she did felt genuine anymore. The fear from others had fed a dark part of her soul. She would walk into a room and those who didn't cast their eyes away became victims. When I was a child, Dahlia's predecessor gathered a group of people at the portcullis of the Silbath castle and murdered them, one by one, until the king agreed to give her an audience. And when he did, she made heavy demands. None could be denied."

"I've read about her," I said, embarrassment striking me.

"Do you see, Little Dove? You have power you refuse to wield, and that's your choice. That is why you are worthy of my friendship. I may just be an old man with a sad tale, but that has to count for something."

I gripped his fingers. "It counts for everything. But we need to find a way to make Quill see how dangerous he is. He's using her to threaten me, and that's not going to end well."

He shook his head. "She's safe with him. I can promise you that."

"No one is safe with him."

"Don't thinkabout dancing in Misery's End, Quill. Imagine you're on the stage of a ballet, and thousands of people have come to see you dance. Extend your leg… now the arm."

Sitting on the stoop of the Syndicate house, watching Paesha teach Quill while Althea worked tirelessly in her forge, had become some kind of normal. The sun bathed the large grass field in a warm glow, and the tips of the long grass swayed gently in a cool breeze. Thea's hammer struck metal in a hypnotic cadence, giving Paesha and Quill the perfect excuse to escape to the field. The faint trace of wood smoke from the hearth inside the house coalesced with sharp tangs of heated metal. This twisted form of peace, of implied freedom, settled in my bones like an ache. A longing.

We'd collectively agreed to keep the Maestro's visit from Orin. He needed no more distractions while fighting for his life every night. And though Quill had been reluctant, she'd promised Hollis, and that was good enough for me. Paesha had spent a dedicated amount of time looking over the words Hollis had written, confident I hadn't made a single mistake in my words.

Quill threw her skirts to the side, giggling as Paesha demonstrated a graceful spin, got caught in the grass, and lost her balance. The child threw herself onto Paesha, and Hollis's chuckle wrapped around my heart like a hug.

I watched for a while longer, letting the smile settle, hoping it would always be like this. But then I remembered the reason Thea was in the forge. Not because she wanted to be, but because she'd been ordered. And she hadn't slept in days.

I circled the house, shuffling past the garden, letting the heat from the fire warm my face as I stood in the doorway. The metal she was working on glinted with a fiery intensity, shifting in color from deep reds to bright yellows as it absorbed the heat. Sparks erupted with every impact of the hammer, creating brief moments of brilliance that scattered like miniature stars against the backdrop of the forge.

It was art. And skill. All wrapped into one as she swiped a hand across a sweaty forehead, showcasing her brilliant red hair before letting her hammer slide into its loop on her belt. I might've believed this was peace for her, bringing as much comfort as Paesha's dancing, had the firelight not given way to the tears streaming down her face.

"Can you take a break?" I asked gently.

Her green eyes welled with tears as she shook her head and dropped several lumps of coal into her fire, coating her gloves in black soot. "He's ordered it. The magic won't let me stop."

"For three days, Thea? Can't you use your power?"

Her legs shook from weakness as she buried a rod into the bright flames. "Of all the people in the world, Dey, you should know that all magic comes at a cost. I've used so much it's exhausted me. And the magic doesn't create the art, only moves the metal. He wants a masterpiece."

I was familiar with the bone-deep exhaustion of using Death's power. Of times when I wanted nothing more than to sleep for a week after it quieted. It wasn't as bad if I took longer, giving my target more time, but being tired seemed like a small price to pay to give someone extra life.

Thea, though? She was exhausted. It showed in the circles below her eyes, the weakness of her muscles. The Maestro would work her into the ground, and it wouldn't cost him an ounce of sleep. Yet this woman had always been kind and gentle. She smiled more genuinely than anyone I'd met. Her laugh was like a song in the belly of a temple, rare and treasured.

"Let me help you. Tell me what I can do."

"Honestly, I'm almost done. Just a few more frame pieces, and then everything has to be moved to the theater anyway."

"You sure? Do you want me to bring the wagon?"

She shook her head, wiping another bead of sweat away, leaving a trail of soot across her forehead. "I'm sure."

"I'll bring you some water."

"I've already got it," Hollis said, coming from behind with a glass. "Can you fight it long enough to take a drink this time?" he asked, skirting around the fire to stand nearer to her.

She nodded, drinking deeply. The old man came to stand beside me, bumping his shoulder into mine. "Best leave her to it. The distractions will only take her longer."

"I'm not just going to leave her alone back here to suffer. That's not right."

"Do you prefer an audience or your shadows when you have no control over your kills, Little Dove?"

I found my place on the steps once more, every strike of the hammer like a slice across my patience, coaxing a sleeping, angry beast within me to wake and stew. To pace and plot.

Paesha had changed the game with Quill, no longer teaching her to dance but to fight. I watched for only minutes before approaching.

"Feel free to jump in, Maiden." Paesha stepped back, gesturing to Quill, delivering the distraction my heart needed, though it didn't deserve it while Althea struggled mere paces away.

I circled the child once, rubbing my temple as if in evaluation. She grew three inches taller, jutting her chin out, as Boo jumped at her heels, trying to distract her.

"You have to process the fear before you can defend yourself, kid. Everyone forgets that part. If someone happens to grab you, there's a visceral reaction before logic can take over. Do you know what that means?"

She shook her head, that wild halo of curly hair falling into her pretty face.

I knelt down to her level. "If a bad man sneaks up behind you, grabs you, and runs off, it's normal for you to feel so scared you can't think of what to do. But the quicker you can get past that, the faster you can save yourself. Make sense?"

"I guess."

"The best thing I've learned to do is replace that emotion with another. Anger is powerful. It will urge you to use more strength and feed your adrenaline. Wanna try?"

She lifted a tiny shoulder. "I'm not scared of you."

I snatched Boo from the ground, and she gasped, stumbling backward. Hugging the pup before giving him a good scratch behind the ears, I continued. "That's the reaction part of your brain. You didn't see it coming, and you did nothing to stop me."

"Okay."

She knew I wouldn't hurt the dog, but still, she pulled him from my hands.

"All fine and dandy, Maiden, but maybe move on to the self-defense part," Paesha said, her eyes locked on Orin emerging from the tree line.

"Be loud, Quill. Shout and scream and make sure everyone around you knows what's happening. And then you fight like hell. You kick, you punch, you don't hold back. Aim for the nose like this." I thrust my palm upward. "Then kick them between the legs as hard as you can. Never worry about how much it's going to hurt you. Don't hold back."

"Got it," she said with a firm nod.

"Remember what I told you about trusting people?"

She held the dog closer. "Trust no one more than myself."

Orin cleared his throat behind her. "What are we up to?" The deep bruise around his light eyes was the worst of his injuries from his most recent performance. Whatever the fight had been, he'd clearly won.

"Teaching Quill how to defend herself," I answered, rising from the ground, though I still wasn't at eye level.

He rolled his sleeves to just below his elbows, nodding. "Great. Let's see what you've got, kid."

Quill snorted. "I'm not going to hurt you."

He scrunched his nose with a kindness in his eyes I'd only seen in fleeting moments. "I'm tougher than I look."

"Maybe she should practice on Dey instead." Paesha picked at the hem of her sleeve, stepping backward, the draw in her voice making it clear she thought Orin to be more fragile than I was.

"She's eight," he answered with a scoff.

I held his gaze for just a moment, lifting my brow to question him.

"Honestly, you two. Worse than my mother. Come on, Quill. Show me what you've got."

"Well, we haven't practiced it yet," she answered, throwing her hands on her hips.

"Quill, go stand next to Paesha," I said, grabbing Orin by his black shirt sleeve. "You come this way."

He followed with no hesitation. "I think she's starting to pick up on your attitude."

"Oh, right, it's definitely not Paesha's shining personality coming through."

Orin chuckled. "So, what have we learned so far? Running away?"

I'd planned to warn him, but the cockier he got, the more interested I became in the show. "Something like that. Just run up and grab her. Let's see what she does."

He rubbed his hands together. "She's just going to laugh."

"I don't think you're giving her enough credit, Icky."

He froze, rising to his full height. "Call me anything else in the world, Wife. That one has to go."

"Okay, Fluffy Bottom. Full speed, right at her."

The edge of his mouth lifted, though he tried to hide the smirk. "There's something wrong with you."

"Yes, well, aren't you the charmer."

"Depends on the day."

"I'm gathering that."

"Will you two stop flirting and get on with it?" Paesha yelled.

"We're perfecting the element of surprise," he answered without missing a beat. "Mind your business."

"Some of us are hungry," Hollis yelled from the front step.

"Fine." He turned to me, pulling his blade from his side. "Hold this. And don't get any ideas."

I flipped the weapon in my hand once and then twice. "Pretty brave to hand the Death Maiden a weapon."

"Last time I checked, you were a weapon without needing the blade."

"Let me guess, your little baby nose still hurts."

"You knocked me out, Deyanira. Out cold. On the damn floor."

"Ah, so it's your ego, then." I flipped the blade one more time. "Noted."

"I hate you," he said with a playful growl before tearing off across the yard, hesitating for a second to make sure Quill was ready, and then lifted her, spinning in circles. His laugh was short-lived as the child began screaming like a banshee, burying tiny fists into his face, and jabbing him in the nose, just as I'd shown her.

He fell to a knee, clearly trying to put the wild thing down without hurting her, but the second he let go, she screamed again and planted her foot right between his legs. He fell to the side in a heap, and she launched herself at him again. Paesha had to tear her away, fighting back her laughter as Quill turned into some kind of rabid beast.

"Good job, kid," I whispered, taking her hand as we headed inside, leaving Orin to wallow in the field.

Thea hadn't joined us for supper, but eventually, the door opened, and she dragged herself inside, came far enough into the kitchen for Elowen to hand her a sandwich, and off she went, likely directly to her bed.

"Do I have to?" Quill whined from the table, shoving a potato around her plate as she kicked her feet back and forth.

"Bath house or river, your choice," Paesha answered, rising.

With a groan and a heavy eye roll, the child slipped from the table, dropping the potato onto the floor for Boo. "Bath house, I guess."

"I'll come, too," Elowen said, following them out of the kitchen. "It'll be a nice treat."

Once everyone had left the kitchen, Orin wandered in, his tender steps eliciting a pointed grin from me. When his playful temperament shined through, I wanted nothing more than to find a way to make those moments last. I wanted him to see me, look at me. There were times when I even wanted him all to myself. Because I craved him. Even in the darkest moments. And I didn't care what that said about me.

"I blame you for turning her into a wild animal," he said, sitting carefully as he reached for the loaf of bread.

I ran a finger over the rim of my glass. "You say that as if it's an insult, but the best people are always the wild ones."

"That explains a lot about you, Nightmare. Pass the butter?"

Sliding the dish across the table, when he reached forward, our hands connected, only slightly, but neither of us pulled away immediately. He'd never been one to deny a chance to touch me, and while others may not have noticed, having so little physical contact in my past, I always would. The bite when he'd called me Nightmare had faded, though, no longer a weapon.

"She likes you, you know?"

I nodded, pulling my hand away. "I'm told I'm only medium bad."

He pinned me with a stare, scraping the butter from his knife to the bread. "Quill is a terrible judge of character."

I smiled. "She's pretty sure she's going to marry you, so I'd have to agree, Fluffy Bottom."

"Call me that one more time."

I stood, circling the table. He spun in his seat as I curled a finger under his chin. "Feeling insecure, Husband?"

He snatched my hand, holding it in place. "I much prefer Husband."

"Could have fooled me."

"Sit back down, Wife."

Shaking my head, I tried to pull away. "I don't take commands from assholes."

He held firm, rising to full height, staring down at me. "Then consider it a request."

"Say please," I whispered, unable to control the way he commanded my racing pulse. I didn't want to be attracted to him, but gods, he was stunning. The angry, possessive exterior was a hard shell around the kindness I knew to be living inside of him. Though buried deep, it called to me more than his darkness.

"Please," he purred.

I backed away, reclaiming my seat as I held eye contact for as long as possible. He leaned forward, clasping his hands before him. "Let's say you're standing at a crossroads. At one end is a child, alone and scared, and on the other an old woman, lost. You can only help one of them. Who do you choose?"

"You made me sit down to ask a theoretical question?"

"I want to know you, Deyanira. I want to understand you better."

"I'd pick the child."

"Why?"

"Because eventually, the old woman is going to run into someone who will care enough to help. She's not scared, and you never said she was alone, but you were sure to add in the anguish of the child, and honestly, a child is a much bigger target for despicable people than a lost old woman who probably doesn't have a pot to piss in. They'll get nothing from her."

"Interesting."

"You'd pick the old woman?"

"No. I'd choose the same as you did, but I'd probably have to think about it longer."

"Not too fast on your feet, huh?"

He scoffed. "Let's say you're?—"

"No. I get to ask a question now. That's how this works."

Popping a piece of bread into his mouth, he gestured for me to continue.

"One side, Icharius, the other, Drexel. And you have to choose one to save and one to die."

"Too easy. I'd kill the Maestro in a heartbeat. Too much history there."

"Icharius literally took over the world in a matter of weeks, and you still think Drexel is the bigger enemy?"

"No." He wiped his mouth with a napkin, settling deeper into his chair. "I think Drexel and Icky are in something together. I'm not sure what it is. I don't think the boss willingly gave Quill to the king, but I do think that whole thing is suspicious."

"Everything both of them do is suspicious."

"Who would you pick?"

"Is that your question?"

Lifting a shoulder, he nodded. "Sure."

"I'd pick the new king. And not because he's got a bone to pick with me. But the Maestro has been manageable for years. He's a problem and a ruthless crime lord, but he's not shaking up Requiem the way Icharius is. I don't know, the king just feels more dangerous."

"Because of the mystery?"

"I guess." I waited a beat, wondering if I should truly ask the question burning in my mind, partially afraid of the answer. "Life Maiden on one side, me on the other. Who do you save?"

There wasn't a soul alive that would pick me. I knew that. I wouldn't even pick me. But I needed him to say it. I needed him to place the distance between us again. Because this was getting too comfortable, and each day I waited for him to come home made me spiral deeper into an illusion that somehow Orin and I could find a path. But rather than answer right away, he stood and moved to the doorway. With his back to me, I felt a small piece of my heart break.

"You could lie," I whispered, letting myself be vulnerable. "You could lie, and I wouldn't be mad."

"I'm not going to lie to you, Deyanira. I'm going to choose you." He turned back to look at me, a swell of emotion in his eyes I'd never seen before. "And I think I need to find a way to process that. I should choose the good of the world. I should be their hero. But I think when it comes down to it, I'd rather be yours, because you have no one."

I don't know how long it took me to move from my seat. He'd long since gone; the room had grown cold and dark. The others had returned home. And yet I sat there, repeating those words in my mind, wondering if he had actually lied on my command or not.

I'm going to choose you.