The Darkest of Dreams

by Emigh Cannaday

  “Was there any reasoning with him?”

  “No,” Asbjorn said, shaking his head. “There was none.”

  Greyson nodded and returned to his seat beside Talvi, whispering quietly into his client’s ear. Thinking there would be a reprieve from the intense questioning, Asbjorn looked towards the panel of three judges, hoping to be excused from the witness stand. Unfortunately, Mr. Hancott rose from his chair and approached him for another round.

  “Has there been a history of violence between the Marinossian brothers in the past?”

  Asbjorn grimaced ever so slightly.

  “Er…I’m not certain how to answer that. You know how brothers fight.”

  “Well that’s just it,” Mr. Hancott said with an arrogant and clearly overacted shrug. “I don’t know how the Marinossian brothers fight. Neither do the judges, which is why I need you to elaborate on what that entails.”

  Asbjorn took a drink of water and gave a nervous sigh.

  “They’re country lads…they’re just a wee bit more rough and tumble than boys from the city are.”

  “When was the last time prior to Finn’s death that they had one of these so-called ‘rough and tumble’ fights of theirs?”

  “Oh, it was around the back-half of June, I suppose.”

  “And how did that fight turn out?”

  “They both walked away from it…well, more like stumbled, but they were on their feet afterward…eventually,” Asbjorn said with a hopeful smile. Mr. Hancott folded his arms across his chest and gave him a dark look.

  “What were they fighting about?”

  Asbjorn closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

  “It was a misunderstanding about Annika’s honor.”

  “Oh really?” said Mr. Hancott, feigning surprise. “I’d like to know which one of them won that fight.”

  Asbjorn’s desperate gaze darted over to Ambrose, whose shoulders had fallen as he nodded for his son-in-law to tell the truth.

  “The thing is…I can’t rightly say who won because I had to break it up before it ended.”

  The prosecutor shot him an incredulous sneer.

  “But you just told me that these are tough country boys who fight all the time. Why intervene during this particular fight? Why did you have to break it up?”

  Asbjorn hung his head, then closed his eyes.

  “I had to break it up because Talvi had pulled out a knife and I was afraid he’d use it on his brother.”

  Mr. Hancott faced the judges directly.

  “Your honors, I’d like to point out that there is a clear history of Talvi Marinossian using excessive force with weapons—knives in particular—as a means of conflict resolution. We know of the incident a number of years ago where he cut off the hand of a man at a paper mill, although that crime was tidied up rather nicely.” Mr. Hancott walked over to his desk and picked up a newspaper with a picture of Elden showing off his right hand to the photographer. “How convenient for a homicidal maniac to have a judge for a father.”

  “Objection!” Greyson cried out. “That last remark is an inflammatory statement!”

  “One more question, and then I’m through,” said Mr. Hancott as he whipped around to face Asbjorn one last time. “You have small children living at home, don’t you?”

  “I do,“ Asbjorn said with a tender smile. “Two little ones, and a third on the way.”

  “Yes, that’s why your wife couldn’t be here today, isn’t it? Because the travel would place a great deal of stress upon her, isn’t that right?”

  “It is.”

  “Given her delicate state, and given that you have young children at home, how would you feel if Talvi Marinossian were set free today? Would you be comfortable having someone with a short temper and a fondness for knives living alongside his niece and nephew? What about someone like that living with your newborn child?”

  Asbjorn’s jaw fell as he struggled in vain for a response.

  “Objection!” Greyson burst out again. “That calls for a conclusion! Mr. Hancott is asking the witness for an opinion when he should be asking for facts!” The prosecutor gave his opponent a smug smile and returned to his chair.

  “I rest my case.”

  The judges called for a recess, and when Asbjorn joined the others out in the hallway, his hands were shaking.

  “I can’t believe how mean Mr. Hancott is!” Runa said. “He acts as though he wants to lock Talvi up and throw away the key!”

  “It’s not personal, Runa. He’s merely doing his job,” Ambrose told her. “Unfortunately he’s very good at it.”

  “I can’t believe I walked right into Mr. Hancott’s trap and brought up the other fight. I’ve made such a bloody mess of things,” Asbjorn lamented. He wiped a tear from his eye and sniffed before glancing away from Talvi’s parents.

  “No…Talvi’s made a mess of things,” Ambrose told him. “All you’ve ever done is try to clean up after him.”

  “Still, it looks worse than what I expected,” Asbjorn argued.

  “Especially the low blow when you were asked about your children,” Nikola added. “I didn’t see that coming.”

  “Nor I,” Asbjorn agreed. “After hearing testimony like that, I wouldn’t be surprised if the judges give Talvi three hundred years like Greyson warned us about. Why didn’t you use the letter that Finn wrote to the Court of Korvaaminens? That would’ve helped prove to the judges that he was mad enough to try and steal Annika from Talvi by whatever means necessary.”

  “I didn’t mention it because it would’ve paved the way for the prosecution to suggest that Talvi had a less than honorable reason for asking Finn to be his korvaaminen in the first place,” Greyson hissed back at him. “Korvaaminen law states that the sacred oath can only be broken by death, which must be delivered by nature or the same hands that shook on the agreement. It would’ve been too easy for Mr. Hancott to argue that Talvi was planning on this outcome all along. Premeditated murder would earn him a death sentence without question—that’s why I worked so hard to suppress that evidence. It was wise to leave the Court of Korvaaminens out of this, and they wouldn’t be on Talvi’s side anyway—his agreement with Finn is nonexistent without any witnesses to it happening. Now then, I better go in and speak to Talvi.”

  Greyson hadn't been gone for more than ten minutes when a woman approached Ambrose and spoke to him quietly before heading back into the courtroom. He shook his head and turned his weary eyes to his wife.

  “The judges are done deliberating.”

  “Already?” Althea gasped. “That’s not a good sign, is it?”

  “There’s only one way to know for certain,” he said, and took her hand into his.

  The small group filed into the courtroom and took their seats at the bench behind Talvi. There wasn’t time to speak to him before the judges emerged from their chambers and faced him.

  “Are we all agreed?” the lead judge asked.

  “We are, your honor,” the other two answered her.

  “The prisoner will stand,” instructed the lead judge. Talvi slowly rose to his feet, dreading what he was about to hear next. “Talvi Marinossian, the court has determined that you did not act in self-defense on the night of your brother’s death. You have been found guilty of deliberate and willful murder.”

  Runa cried out, her voice echoing in the courtroom as it erupted in loud whispers. The judge cleared his throat as he turned to face the defendant’s corner.

  “You will be transported from here back to Bleakmoor Island, where you shall remain in confinement for the remainder of your natural life, or the next seven hundred years, whichever comes first.

  Talvi felt cold and sick, like he’d been punched in the stomach with an iron sledgehammer.

  “Seven hundred years?” he gasped through his clenched jaws. The judge continued to speak as if she hadn’t heard a word.

  “Let this life sentence be a reminder not only to you and your family, but to the citizens of the Estellian Empire th
at physical relations between fae-kind and humankind are expressly forbidden. It bears repeating that this law also applies to modern humans as well. For the sake of your soul, may the gods have mercy upon you.”

  Runa burst into sobs, with Hilda following suit shortly after her. Althea threw her arms around Ambrose, who could only stare at Asbjorn and Nikola in disbelief.

  “Take him away,” the lead judge ordered, and before he was given a chance to tell his family goodbye, Talvi was led out of the courtroom.

  10

  Guilt by Association

  Somewhere in an alternate reality of space and time, the soul that once lived on the other side of Finn’s mesmerizing, all-encompassing deep brown eyes had to be alive in some form. Even if his body was dead, his spirit had to live on somewhere. It just had to. Maybe he was floating through space as a wisp of stardust. Maybe his consciousness lived on in another dimension, finally free of the body that plagued him with its propensity towards addiction for so many years. Maybe he was truly at peace. Maybe he was like the Little Prince, who caught shooting stars in a butterfly net and traveled to new and different worlds? Maybe Finn’s next adventure was to experience death? Maybe leaving one’s body behind was the biggest adventure of them all? That seemed like the sort of approach that a student of science would be likely to take. He would see things that transcended the ability of those who still lived. He might go places that the world of the living could never have dreamed of.

  As Annika stared at the mysterious dark blue abyss in front of her, she thumbed the shooting star wrapped around the ring finger on her right hand. She knew that meteorites were highly magnetic, being made of iron. She wondered if her own fallen star was powerful enough to pull her out of her sadness and launch her closer to the purpose and meaning of her own life. Without knowing she was doing it, she gave a heavy sigh. It was asking an awful lot of such a small thing.

  “Annika…what the hell is taking you so long in there?” James griped from nearby. “It shouldn’t be that complicated—that jacket’s only got three buttons, for shit’s sake!”

  Annika blinked her watery eyes and found herself sitting on a small bench in one of the women’s dressing rooms at Nordstrom, in downtown Portland, Oregon, United States of America, planet Earth. The deep, dark, oceanic nebula of life’s mysteries instantly evaporated. Now she was suddenly staring at a midnight blue velvet jacket which was hanging on the hook across from her bench. It was covered in thousands of shimmering crystals which appeared to have been poured directly over the shoulders until they scattered down the sleeves and bodice.

  “Annika, did you hear me?” James called again. Annika was in no shape to argue with him. The only thing that mattered was having a fresh package of tissues in her purse at all times. She rummaged through her bag until she found one, and gently blew her nose.

  “I’ll be out in a minute,” she choked while wiping away the tears from her cheeks.

  “Everything alright, hon?” asked a deeper voice. “I need confirmation, or I’m coming in there to see for myself.”

  “It’s alright…I’m fine,” she assured Tripp, who was only doing his job. Even after a month, having two personal bodyguards follow her every move was still taking some getting used to. James, on the other hand, was enjoying every second of being surrounded by big, strong men. There was a learning curve, however, and he was quick to correct the Sanctorum Militum when they fell short of it.

  “Are you shitting me? She’s not fine!” he informed Tripp with an incredulous look. He practically shoved his clothing selections into the knight’s massive arms before ducking into the women’s dressing room to investigate. He quickly found Annika’s purple kitten heels planted behind a door on the right. He gave a soft knock. “Annika, it’s me!” he hissed. “Let me in before someone gets the wrong idea. I do not want to get kicked out of Nordstrom!”

  She opened the door and let James dart through it before locking it shut again. He took one look at her and then glanced at the jacket.

  “What’s wrong, hon?” he asked, pulling it off the hanger. “Did it not fit? Well, that’s nothing new. The sleeves are always too long for you, but we can have it altered. C’mon…it can’t be that bad. I think it’s the last jacket they have in this style, but it’s not worth crying over if it’s not meant to be. Seriously. Your eyes are getting puffy.” He guided her arms into the sleeves and slipped the midnight blue jacket over her shoulders, then spun her around like she was a marionette hanging from a string. He pulled the front corners together and zipped it up halfway, making sure to stop right below her breasts, which made her waist look even smaller than it already was. Then he spun her back around to face the mirror.

  “Oh my god, Annika! The only way I can describe it is Alexander McQueen meets Victorian London, and you nailed it!” His bright expression traveled from the silk lapels to the long, loose ruffles that gathered just below the small of her back. “Look at how it’s draping on you! And the sleeves! There’s just enough puff in the shoulders to balance them out perfectly! Oh, you have to get it! You look so hot!” Unimpressed by what she saw in the mirror, she sniffled and reached for her crumpled tissue. James raised a skeptical dark eyebrow at her. “Actually, you look more like a hot mess. What’s wrong? Did you just notice the price tag?” He rolled his eyes and shook his head, laughing quietly under his breath. “This costs almost as much as the rent at the art gallery…although it’s not like Talvi will give a shit,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve seen your bank statements.”

  Annika blinked and looked up at him quizzically. James held up his forefinger in protest.

  “Don’t get mad at me—it was an accident! Sometimes you forget to log out of your account after using my laptop. Oh, just wait ’til Talvi sees you in this jacket! If you wear it with nothing but a thong and some heels, he won’t give a rat’s ass about how much it cost the minute he comes home.”

  Annika covered her face with her hands and sank down onto the bench, sobbing into her tissue.

  “He’s not coming home,” she wept, trying to reign in her emotions, but the voicemail from Asbjorn was too fresh, too raw. While she’d been chatting with James about what city they should end their tour in, Asbjorn had called with terrible news from back home…that Talvi had been sentenced to seven hundred years for his crime, or the rest of his life; whichever came first. He would die in that horrible place. She could tell that her brother-in-law was close to breaking down as he forced out the words. He explained that the courts were determined to use Talvi as an example because evidently, it was becoming more and more popular to break tradition and mingle with humans.

  Now there was nothing this human could do but hope and pray for something miraculous to happen. Her heart ached for the Marinossians, even Talvi. Every room in her house had been touched in some way by his presence. His favorite mug for his tea was still sitting on the windowsill in the kitchen. The new set of stairs to the basement were there because he’d built them. The cracks in the plaster were perfectly repaired, thanks to him. An arrangement of dove orchids sat near the large bay window of the living room, gazing through the glass longingly as if they were waiting for him to return. Everything in Annika’s bedroom smelled like Talvi, too. He’d left his mark everywhere. A few strands of his black hair had been left in the tub, near the sink, and even woven into her brush. A pair of his socks were hidden under the bed, along with some of his shirts, and his books were still lined up neatly on her shelf. It was obvious that he’d never planned on leaving her house long-term. When she climbed into bed at night, a whiff of his spiced wildflower shaving soap met her nose. She would lie there and replay the way he gazed at her the day they were married. They’d been lying in white pillows, outside on a cold winter’s morning, surrounded by candles as they watched the sun rise.

  Eventually, the morning would come, and every time she opened her closet, a hint of stale opium and Finn’s clean sweat rose from the Chanel garment bag stuffed in the back. Then she would think
about lying with him in richly colored pillows, far below ground on a summer evening, with only a few dim lanterns to light the way as they descended further into darkness. Sometimes she would unzip that bag and take a few strong breaths of her desecrated dress. It reeked of sin, yet she couldn’t bring herself to part with it. That dress was all that she had left of him. While the ring was made by a third party, the handprints in paint and the other stains he’d left upon that dress were all from his body. She could almost feel where those fingers had traced languid lines along her ilium, and she recalled the overwhelming need to press her body against his own. Had it been actual love between them, or merely obsession?

  Then again, the same could be wondered about Talvi. What was the force that brought them together in the first place? Or the second or third place, for that matter? Certainly not a poorly-timed chemical reaction caused by Mother Nature. What always stopped her from changing her sheets? Love or obsession? What compelled her not to wash his dirty clothes, and leave them in a pile on her bookshelf instead? What made her wedding ring from him heat up from time to time? And what was it that brought about such heartfelt confessions and forgiveness from him on that wonderful and horrific evening at his home? What force made her warn him against leaving her after they’d just been reunited? What force made her weep to hear the sadness in Asbjorn’s voice as he conveyed Talvi’s fate? Surely it was something more noble than obsession. Nothing else could hurt like this…nothing except love.

  Once her sniffles died down, she heard James hum to himself.

  “Yeah, I know you said Talvi was assigned to some long-ass work assignment, but you’re an army brat. You should be used to that sort of thing,” he reminded her, trying to sound upbeat and practical. “What’s the longest that a soldier gets deployed away from home? Isn’t it usually for a year? Or is it a year and a half? Either way, it can’t be that long for someone working in finance. It’s not like he’s never, ever coming back.”