Shattered

by Stef M Ensing

  “Stay back or so help me!”

  He stopped in his tracks, breathing heavily, the bloodied knife he pulled out of his arm in his hand. Carefully she backed out of the room. Hurrying about she went to the hiding place under the floorboards where the family kept the funds for the trip. She’d be damned if she left that in this place after what that man did. Dropping it on the table she waved her dagger at him again.

  “Back!”

  She edged around him and grabbed her pack. It was half filled with all that they owned. They could come back for the rest of their things later. She was walking backward to the door, her weapons still trained on Simmons when it opened. Relief filled her at the sound of it. Protection, allies, her family. They could keep the bastard away from her until they packed. They would just find somewhere else to stay. Nyla would understand why the funds would take longer to gather.

  “Payton, what the hell?” Isiah said in shock at the sight of them.

  “I came back and found her getting ready to leave,” Simmons spoke before she could.

  “What?” Samuel’s gaze went to the pack in her hands and the money on the table. “Payton…?”

  “No, you don’t understand—” Payton objected.

  “She said she was leaving on the trip without you lot. That she made a deal with that bar-wench to keep you out of it. She was taking your money and running. I tried to stop her and she attacked me!” Simmons lied. “Leon, I know she’s your daughter but I want her out of here.”

  “That’s not what happened!” Payton exclaimed.

  “Isn’t it?” Isiah growled, swiping their hard earned money off the table and thrusting the bag in her face. “You were just going to disappear, weren’t you? Run off on this adventure and come back with the riches and pretend things could all be fine. Reap the glory it had to offer and revel in your bloody name becoming legend.”

  “It isn’t like that.”

  “Then what is it like? Tell me, Payton. Honestly. Because your name is still the most gossiped thing in sellsword topics. “The refugee who killed a manticore”. “the refugee who killed two adult ahamays and took down a nest”. Nevermind Sam nearly lost his arm. Nevermind people died in those battles. You’re making a name for yourself and leaving a trail of bodies to do it.”

  She recoiled at the accusation. “You… you all honestly think that I was going to steal from you… from all of us? Just… abandon you all to chase some glory mission?” Her eyes dragged from her twin to her youngest brother and then finally to her father.

  “What other explanation is there?” Samuel asked hesitantly. “You were caught red-handed trying to leave with the money.”

  She swallowed hard, that lump in her throat never leaving. She looked at Simmons, at that spark of triumph he had. “R-right. What other explanation could there be.”

  Fighting back tears, she grabbed her pack and pushed past her brothers and father, fleeing into the crowded streets and disappearing into the night and the rain that was just starting to come down.

  Chapter Thirty

  At some point during the night, it had started pouring, a midsummer storm to remind them of their forever declining climate. Jarrett was certain that he had never seen it rain this hard in Imeryn in the entire time he had lived in the city. What made it worse was that he had been outside when it started. It wasn’t that he had taken Takara’s advice to take part in the Summer Solstice festival. No, he had been buying food, determined to go home to drink the anger and frustration away. By the time he had gotten home, he had been drenched to the bone. It had been hours and his armor was still by the dying remains of the fire, attempting to completely dry.

  The rain had done little to improve his mood. In fact, the full comprehension that he had gotten himself suspended had sunk in and he was in a worse mood than before. He had thrown a bit of a tantrum when he got home, tossing furniture about in a rage before he realized that barely sated his upset. Now he was resigned to sitting in his worn chair that he had bought second hand in the lower district, glaring at the fire as he drank the last of the bottle of wine he had opened.

  He was just wondering if he should raid the larder for more when he heard the sound of someone knocking on the door. He frowned to himself, his hand stealing back to the hilt of his longsword which he had draped over the back of the chair like he always did. Who would be at the door now of all times? In this weather. Kern, looking for revenge? Or something much worse?

  Getting to his feet, Jarrett spared a glance at his armor, knowing it would take far too long to put it on. The knocking had continued and become more fervent the longer he took. He snuck toward the window, hoping he could catch a glimpse of whoever was there. As he got closer to the door, however, he heard a curse in a familiar voice.

  Payton?

  True enough he could see her through the window, looking back at the path she had come. He frowned before opening the door, keeping a secure hold on his weapon in case there was someone she was running from. A sigh of relief escaped her, her shoulders sagging down.

  “You are home. Can I come in?”

  Blinking, Jarrett stepped aside, flinching when she accidentally touched him as she brushed by. Closing the door he turned to face her. She was drenched, head to toe. It looked as though she went for a swim and decided to bring half the river back with her. Her hair, which like always was pulled away from her face in a ponytail, had those ever-present strands that escaped its hold but now they were sticking to her face and neck. Even in the dim light that shone in from his sitting room, he could see water droplets glisten on her eyelashes.

  “What are you doing here?” The words were far more clipped than he had intended but he was not interested in company or being dragged to the Pegasus for Dragon’s Luck. Not tonight.

  “I… well… I sort of moved out of Simmons’ place for a while.” Payton fingered the straps of her pack that was slung on one shoulder. “Can I explain near the fire or something? It may be summer but that rain is wicked cold.”

  He started to say no, wanting nothing more than to send the rogue on her way but there was something in the way she was avoiding his gaze, the nervous way she stood that made him pause. Finally, he nodded. Much as she did the first time she had visited, she followed him into his main room and proceeded to plop down in front of the fire without preamble. She abandoned her backpack and scooted as close to the dying fire as she could.

  “Here.” Jarrett managed to snap from his stupor, realizing that the embers probably provided her with little heat. He added a few twigs and logs to the fire, trying to stoke it back into life.

  Sitting back, he settled in, unsure if staying on the chair was the right move or if it was somehow more polite to join her on the floor. Or maybe he should have offered her the chair. Creators, he was bad at this. Thankfully the silence between them was not as awkward as he thought it could be. She was staring at the fire, a dark look on her face.

  “You mentioned,” Jarrett found himself talking unexpectedly. “That you moved out of your house?”

  If anything the look on her face became heavier. “Not my house. Simmons’ house. Father’s friend. Or technically mother’s, apparently,” she mumbled. She seemed unusually small and vulnerable. “And yeah… not going back. It was all a little… sudden.” The final word was laced with bitterness.

  “And you came here because?”

  At first, it seemed like she wasn’t going to answer, her gaze turning back to the flickering flames of the fireplace. “To ask a favor,” she said finally and with a heavy sigh. “Can I… can I stay here for a little while? At least until I figure out where else I can go.”

  Jarrett regarded her with surprise, his mind turning rapidly with questions. “Why here? Why not Nyla or Takara? Or…” his lip curled in disgust: “the Malvathar’s.”

  Payton snorted. “You can’t be serious. If I went to Atherly, he’d think it “meant something” or some such nonsense. He’d flirt with me every second he could. I’d rather n
ot give him an inch. As for Nyla, her place is a little… occupied right now. With her girlfriend. Who just got back from a trip. And they have barely stopped kissing since she showed up at the Pegasus. I just… can’t deal with that right now,” Payton explained. “I thought about Takara but I don’t know where she lives. It kinda left here, the streets, or begging at the Temple. Not much of a choice to be honest.”

  He didn’t know why her words put him off so much. It was not like he wanted to be her top choice of places to… run to? Was that what she was doing? He did not know. He wasn’t sure it mattered. He just wanted to know why her well thought out reasoning of why she had shown up at his door bothered him.

  Suddenly her flustered voice broke through his thoughts. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to impose like this. I’ll just go.” Payton was shifting and reaching for her pack.

  Jarrett looked at her and then something on her pale arm caught his attention. The sleeve of her top had ridden up while she had been crossing her arms and when she moved it revealed something that stilled his blood.

  “Payton,” he growled.

  His mind raced at how she could have gotten those red finger-shaped marks on her forearm where her bracer normally sat. Marks where none should have ever appeared unless…

  She glanced at him before following his gaze. Her cheeks flushed and she quickly pulled down her sleeve. She started to get up, obviously intending to leave but Jarrett held his hand up to stop, his mind turning rapidly. It was then and only then he noticed a tear in her sleeve as though someone had tried to yank her shirt off her. He noticed the way she was avoiding his eye. He noticed how quick she had been to hide it. And he did not like the conclusions his mind was coming to.

  “It’s nothing,” she tried to claim.

  He arched a brow at her in disbelief.

  Huffing, she sat back down, pushing the wet strands of hair out of her eyes. “Would you believe I ran into the edge of a blunted table?” She paused as though realizing something. “Multiple times?”

  He said nothing, holding her eyes with a look of steel. While Jarrett had yet to determine how good of a liar Payton was, it was painfully clear she wasn’t even trying to deceive him now.

  “Simmons came home a little stupider than usual,” she mumbled, turning her gaze away. “It’s nothing.”

  He scowled. He wanted to march into the lower district and punch the bastard. Then arrest him. But he was suspended. He could possibly get away with one but he would have to rely on Takara for the other. To his annoyance, Payton had moved again, ready to leave. She honestly believed that he would throw her out.

  “I don’t have much,” Jarrett blurted a little too sharply, a little too fast but it at least caused her to still. “There’s only one bed so you’ll have to claim the floor out here but there are spare blankets you are welcome to.” Payton looked at him with an unreadable expression on her normally animated face. “Stay as long as you need.”

  Her eyes shut, her shoulders sagging. The relief that flooded her face caused a warm feeling to spread through him and he did not know why. “Thank you.”

  “Do you want a drink?” he asked after a moment.

  The brightness in those blue eyes as she looked at him was its own reward. “Creators, yes.”

  Jarrett disappeared and came back with two bottles. He handed one bottle off to her. “You can take my seat if you like.”

  She shook her head, dismissing his suggestion as she worked the cork out of the bottle she held. “Nah. I’m good. Closer to the fire this way. I’ll dry out quicker. Or at least that’s the theory.”

  The two of them sat in silence for a bit, passing the bottle back and forth, Jarrett watched in mild amusement as Payton wrung her hair out over the hearthstones, leaving a puddle there.

  “Thank you for letting me stay.”

  “I admit it is hard to imagine your family turning you out in such a situation.”

  “My family thinks they would have been better off if I had died instead of my mom,” she said softly.

  Jarret looked at her sharply. “From what I’ve seen, your brothers care about you a great deal.”

  “In their own way. If I wasn’t around, it’d make things less complicated for all of them. Dad, Isiah, Sammy… even Simmons apparently. I leave a trail of dead in my wake,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  Blinking rapidly, she shook her head. “Nothing. Just… nothing.”

  Jarrett frowned. It did not sound like nothing. Nor did the events of earlier in the evening sound like they should be so easily dismissed. Not when something could be done about it. His eyes drifted back to her forearm and the forming bruises he knew were hidden there. Was this the first time Simmons had done such a thing? How long had she been keeping this treatment a secret and claiming it as nothing?

  “Why have you not reported him to Takara?” he asked, trying to keep his anger in check.

  “Nothing happened,” she said firmly.

  The sheer disbelief on his face almost made her laugh. Sighing she tried to sort out her thoughts. “This is the first time he’s gotten this bad. Before it was always little things. Weird statements, brushing too close.”

  “And grabbing you,” he said pointedly

  “I stopped him before he could do anything. Besides, it’s my word against his.” And it has already proven who will be believed.

  Jarrett peered at her through the strands of his black hair in that intense way he looked at everything, as though he were trying to get a read on her, ascertain if she was telling the truth or if he trusted her word enough to believe her.

  “I shall see if I can find you a blanket or two,” he said abruptly as he got to his feet.

  She watched him disappear through an archway which led to a narrow hall. Payton quickly turned to her bag, rummaging through it to see how much had managed to stay dry. Her spare clothes were only marginally drier than what she wore – so no changing tonight – but most of the rations she had taken to tucking away had remained safe, and the rest of the supplies appeared fine. Her fingers brushed over the blue ribbon wrapped around the deck of cards she found toward the bottom of her bag, her heart stilling. Mom… Tears burned in her eyes; that lump reappearing in the back of her throat.

  “This was all I could find.” Jarrett’s voice caused her to jump and she pulled her hand out of her bag and twisted around to look at him. He was carrying two blankets. “They aren’t much.”

  “Thank you,” she said quietly, taking the blankets from him.

  “You don’t need to keep doing that.”

  “What?”

  “Thanking me.”

  Trying to avoid awkwardness and ignore the ache that was forming in the pit of her stomach, she fumbled with the nearly empty wine bottle and passed it over to him. “I think I ought to have eaten something first,” she muttered. “This stuff is stronger than I thought. It is going straight to my head.”

  Jarrett wisely did not mention that it was not the strength that was affecting her but rather that she had drunk more than half the bottle on her own very quickly. “You should get some sleep.”

  “I think I’ll take you up on that. Better that than pass out.” She looked at him again.

  He held up his hand. “So help me, if you thank me again…”

  She laughed. “Okay, no more thanks. How about just a goodnight?”

  He nodded. “Good night, Payton.”

  “Good night, Jarrett.”

  She watched him disappear back into that first hall. Shifting over, she haphazardly spread the blankets about and then rolled on top of them, reasoning they were good enough. She was out before she had fully shut her eyes.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  A loud clap of thunder was what awoke him the next day. Groggily, Jarrett opened his eyes, staring at the window and the rain beating down on the glass. Normally he would curse it, patrolling in such weather was miserable but… he had nowhere to be. It was a strange feeling. Unsettling and unsati
sfying. What would he do with himself all day, trapped here in his house by the rain that clearly had no intention of stopping?

  Sitting up, Jarrett stretched, the soreness of his muscles feeling as though they were creaking with the movements. His knuckles throbbed from yesterday’s fight and the rest of him wasn’t feeling much better.

  Groaning, he sat up. He should figure out something to eat.

  Slipping into a shirt and securing his weapon to his back as always, he stilled. There was someone moving in the front room. He cursed his stupidity of leaving his armor out by the front fire rather than bringing it into the bedroom and trying to have it dry by the tiny stove in there. His hand inched to his sword as he crept down the hall.

  Someone was in his house. He could see the figure bending over near the fireplace, fiddling with something. Cascading black wavy hair, slender form, blankets in a heap on the floor. He didn’t understand at first but when she lifted her head, shaking that long hair out of her face, that was when the memories from the previous night rushed back. Whether he had made a noise or she somehow sensed his presence.

  “Morning,” she called. “Sorry about the noise. Was trying to lay some things out to dry and knocked over your chair.”

  His eyes darted to his chair which did not appear to have been damaged or moved and then back at her. She was still in that cloth tunic that she had shown up in the night before – though now it did not hug her frame quite so snugly.

  “Do you take that thing everywhere or do you just like showing your sword off to me?”

  Jarrett regarded her carefully and he watched Payton’s face heat up when she realized what she had said. Clearly, the double meaning had not been intentional and she had not been trying to embarrass him.

  “My head feels like crap,” she announced as though it were a good thing. “Do you have any water?”

  Mutely he nodded. As she freshened up, he rummaged around in the kitchen for food. Sorting through the items he snagged the remaining apple and a loaf of bread. He went about trying to set up some semblance of a tea. Hot water and sprigs of who knew how old mint leaves was about all he had so it had to qualify.