When Payton returned her face was somehow a bit brighter. She motioned to the table and the kettle waiting on it. “What’s this?”
“A poor attempt at being hospitable.”
A smile softened her lips. “You don’t have to do that. I know I’m inconveniencing you. I promise I’ll stay out of your hair. I even have some food. Well, rations. It’ll last for… a day or two.” She wrinkled her nose and looked to the window as a crash of thunder sounded loud enough to rattle it. “Yeah, best not wade that.”
“You are not an inconvenience, Payton.” He paused when she arched her brow at him in mimicry of his own expression. “Simply an… endearing bother.”
This made her laugh again. “At least I’m endearing.”
He gestured for her to sit and she immediately took one of the rickety chairs. He had not meant for her to take that one but did not know how to tell her to take the better chair. Instead, he went about pouring the tea.
“Here.” He broke the loaf of bread in half and handed her the larger piece. His hand hovered over the apple for a second, not sure if he wanted to give her one of the few pieces of food he thoroughly enjoyed. Deciding to buy twice as many apples next trip, no matter their expense. Too early in the season for them be damned.
He handed her the red fruit. She looked at the offerings and a soft smile bloomed on her face. Taking the food she set the bread down in favor of the apple. “I love apples,” she confessed pulling a knife from the sheath hidden in her boot. “My mother always said it was like eating a piece of the heavens,”
Sitting in his chair, Jarrett watched as she cut the apple in half, not vertically like most but horizontally.
“A star,” she declared happily holding out one of the halves.
Confused, Jarrett stared at her. “A star?” he repeated puzzled.
“Look,” she insisted.
Leaning forward he glanced at the apple and then blinked in surprise; in the center of the apple where the seeds sat a star.
Payton put the piece in his hand and settle back on the bench. “I was five when my mother first showed me that,” She bit into the other half, closing her eyes, obviously enjoying the crisp flavor.
“I have never seen an apple cut like this,” Jarrett mused before trying to give it back to her.
Shaking her head she gave him a smile that, if he was honest with himself, he was beginning to like seeing. “Yours,” Payton insisted. “I refuse to eat the heavens alone,”
Despite himself, Jarrett chuckled. As she ate the apple, Jarrett found himself watching her. With each bite, her face seemed to take on a new expression, as though each piece really was a slice of heaven to her.
“You have no idea how much I’m enjoying this,” she professed.
Silently he objected.
“We’ve been working so hard to save for a house and now for the trip to Kydessa that we have scrimped in other areas. Specifically food.”
He looked at her quizzically. “With four incomes is it truly that difficult?”
She shrugged. “We had nothing when we ran. Dad’s business, most of their life savings, it was all lost because of the attack,” Payton explained as she savored another bite. “We used a lot of the coin we had put in our emergency packs to help the other refugees and to book passage here. When we got here… we barely had anything left to buy food while they held us in processing. Everything we earn either goes to saving for a house or helps dad set up the whitesmith connections for metal deliveries. We don’t have the credit or the name we did in Vaelorn, so we need the coin. We lived off of salted or dried meats and half spoiled items because of costs. It was simpler that way. Logistically it meant we could get out on our own faster but… Creators I’ve missed a fresh meal. This apple is divine.”
Jarrett held out the apple she had given him. “You may have it if you wish,” part of him hoped she would take it just so he could watch the look on her face as she ate it.
Shaking her head, Payton refused. “I wasn’t telling you because I wanted that piece back. I was just talking.” She gave him a cheeky grin. “I do that a lot,”
To be honest, Jarrett was beginning to mind her rambling less and less. Her freedom to talk about whatever came to her mind was refreshing and often brought amusement at the paths her mind took.
A comfortable silence settled over the two of them as they ate. She finished before him and was playing with her hair and staring at the dying fire, a deeply pensive look on her face. Jarrett couldn’t help but watch her, mesmerized at how her fingers ran through the hair, working out the knots with practiced ease. In moments her fingers were combing it back and then twisting the tie through the long strands, securing it back until only small, strands that were too short to reach the leather strap hung down. As she dropped her hands down she realized he was staring.
“Do I pass inspection?”
His face burned. He was still uncertain what he was supposed to do with her. He wasn’t exactly the entertaining type.
“Am I keeping you from work?” she asked suddenly.
“No.”
“No?” she questioned the way he said it.
“I have… been suspended.” He clenched his fist, drawing attention to the bruised and battered knuckles.
“I’m sorry.”
“It is my own fault.” He shifted awkwardly. “I’m afraid I don’t know what to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re in my house. Isn’t it standard that I am supposed to do something?”
She laughed, that smile of hers brightening her face. “Only if you feel like it. I’m invading your space. I don’t want to get in the way of your daily habits.”
He frowned. His daily habit was going to work or training at work. But he was banned from doing that. Payton was already distracted, pulling a journal from her bag and setting it on the table. Uncertain what else to do, he cleared the empty kettle and mugs and disappeared to his bedroom. Maybe he could practice sparring in closed quarters?
It took less than a second to find the page she had left off on, the smudge marks from her graphite pencil leaving a blaring reminder of what had interrupted her. Pushing that memory aside as best she could, she focused on the task at hand. She still hadn’t finalized the list of who to bring along.
She figured she needed ten people to make a solid team, not counting herself. Or better phrased that was all she and Nyla could afford. If she counted Nyla – who had demonstrated to Payton a basic grasp of dual axe skill – and herself that left nine slots that needed filling. No. Eight. Atherly was coming. He had confirmed with Nyla almost immediately after the idea had been proposed, which meant the cost of aloeroot and other healing potions could drop drastically. But she had never seen him actually fight. She didn’t even know if he could fight. So she would need another mage or two for sheer mass damage. And at least three warriors to control the fight…
She scowled when she realized she had instinctively written her brothers’ names in each of those slots. Swiftly she drew dark lines through their names. If they didn’t trust her how could she trust them? How could they believe Simmons without question?
Giving her head a firm shake, she tried to focus. Calaphine. Kydessa. Fighters. She had asked Ioannu to come along and he had agreed along with one of his friends. Maybe she should ask Kathleen as well. She knew her talent and it would be more than a little satisfying to take another Wyvern with her. Between the three of them, she’d have all three skill sets. It should give a decent play of strength since they knew each other’s styles. It would make it harder for the enemy to throw them off and that applied to animals as well.
Hands grabbing her. Weight pinning her down. Fumbled touches. A strength far greater than her own—
It took all her self-control not to jerk back and jam her pencil into whatever appeared to be closest to her, part of her suddenly expecting Simmons to be there. Her forearm burned with phantom pain, taunting her. Mocking her.
Damn it! Cl
osing her eyes, she counted backward in the hopes of regaining control of herself. There were details that needed planning. Things that needed finalizing. She needed a strong unit so that they bettered the odds of everyone making it back alive.
“You’re making a name for yourself and leaving a trail of bodies to do it.”
Anger and frustration burned in her stomach and she tossed her pencil down, closing her journal with a snap. How could she get any work done if all she could think about was her family? Bastards who took a stranger’s word over hers. Who wouldn’t even listen to her!
Irritation boiled in her as she began to pace. She had known since meeting Simmons he was a slimeball. His constant drinking, his bizarre behavior toward everyone but their father, the way he managed to seclude their father from them. But this? Never had she thought in all the times she had caught him giving her those long strange looks would he have done something like this.
Payton turned sharply. She shoved the table to the far side of the room, followed by the chairs, clearing a space in the center. She did not have her armor but protection be damned. She yanked her blades out of her sheaths and took a stance in the center of the room.
Exhaling she began to move. Twisting and turning in the air, slashing and hacking away. Desperate to burn the energy that was building up in her away.
Jarrett nearly jumped out of his skin at the loud scraping noise coming from the front room. He rushed to see what had happened only to slow to a stop in the archway. Payton was moving about the center of the now cleared space. For a moment, he just watched her, mesmerized by the fluidity of her movements. She moved with precision, each attack controlled but delivered with a swift force that would no doubt be deadly to a foe. Spinning around, Payton abruptly froze, looking very much like a deer caught by a hunter.
“It appears we had the same idea,” he said lifting his own weapons. He watched her large blue eyes flicker to his sword and shield and then back to his face. “Would you like a better sparring partner or are you content with the invisible air enemy?”
The heavy look on her face faded for just a moment, the corner of her lips tugging upward. “You think you can outmatch it?”
He stalked forward, coming to a stop in front of her. “Afraid I’ll beat you?”
“Not today,” she said, her voice had more of an edge to it than she intended.
Without warning, she launched herself at him. Payton was amazed at how fast he could move. Until she had met him, she would have never thought to describe a warrior as agile and yet here he was, a contradiction in terms.
Strength was undoubtedly on his side, especially since they were not actually trying to harm each other. Payton leapt back, avoiding his blows, and trying to funnel her frustration into the sparring match. It was like an intoxicating dance as they moved around the room. A sequence of their blades clashing, again and again, echoed around them.
Simmons’ face flashed in her mind causing her to misstep.
She began to lose ground. No longer attacking, her main objective was to block and duck his onslaught. Her back found the wall when he swung to attack again. Locking her blades to an ‘X’ she trapped his, absorbing the brunt of his blow with a wince. His shield was coming up to clip her weapons and knock them free from her grip. The sensation of being trapped gave her a moment’s pause, her mind jumping to the terror she had felt the night before when she tried to escape.
Enraged as though Jarrett was the one who made her feel that way, she kicked out. He stumbled back, bringing his sword up just in time. He was hiding behind his shield now, deflecting the flurry of blows directed at him.
Payton slashed at him, twisting around his attack with an expert of ease. One of her daggers that would have hit his neck if she hadn’t changed direction was blocked by his sword. Simultaneously he redirected her other with his shield to prevent her it from slicing along his abdomen.
With a burst of energy, he drove her back, slamming her into the wall with determination. Her dagger slid down his blade to block. Payton couldn’t help but groan when he knocked the blade from her other hand and threw it aside. Funneling as much strength as she could, she grasped her remaining weapon with both hands, trying to force him back.
Pushing harder against the locked blades, Jarrett suddenly stopped. She could feel the cool razor smooth edge of her dagger teasing her neck ever so slightly. For a moment the two of them stared at each other, their breathing rapid.
“Do you yield?”
Blowing a strand of flyaway hair out of her face she huffed. “Yield.”
Jarrett took a step back, releasing her.
Raw frustration still turned in her, not because she lost, but because she still wanted something to hit. Stalking over to her other dagger, she picked it up and turned back to him.
“Again?” she requested.
He hesitated before giving a small nod.
Again, without warning, Payton launched herself at him. Fueling each blow with as much force as she could muster, she was only vaguely aware of the look of surprise on his face. He backed up to accommodate her flurry, able only to block her because she was aiming at his sword rather than him.
How could they do that to her? Any of them? All of them?
She blocked a forceful blow from Jarrett and jumped backward.
Her brothers. Why did they not listen to her? Why?
Whirling she lashed at Jarrett, remembering to pull her attack just in time. There was little need to worry, he had seen her use that move on the sparring grounds often enough that he knew how to block it.
How could her family believe that she would abandon them like that? How could they have abandoned her like that?
Raining blows down, Payton was barely aware Jarrett was backing her into a corner again, using both his sword and shield to block against her barrage of swift attacks.
How? Why?!
Payton hit the wall with a thud, knocking the wind out of her. Blue eyes focused on the warrior again. She exhaled sharply, audibly. She pushed away from the wall and moved to the center of the room.
“Again.” The word came out as more of a plea than she had intended.
Jarrett wordlessly restarted the battle, this time leading the attack with a swift blow she had to quickly dodge. Her daggers made a crisp clanging noise as she hit his blade, challenging him to attack again.
The damned bastard, she wanted to break every bone in his hand; one at a time.
Two steps forward, one step back, they danced around each other.
James Simmons. How dare he call himself a friend of the family!
Her blows were getting sloppy and at one point Jarrett would have hit her arm if he had not pulled at the last moment.
How dare he turn her family against her!
With a surge of anger, Payton swung her dagger at him. He brought up his sword meeting her blade. In a split second, she lost her grip, the dagger clattering to the ground away from them, her wrist aching with the exertion.
Using the distraction, he advanced on her again, swinging. Throwing herself to the side, she gasped when he managed to catch her other blade, forcing her to release it and leave her weaponless.
Letting out a string of curses that would make a sailor blush, she did something incredibly foolish: lunged at him. Her hand wrapped around his wrists, trying to pull the sword from his grasp. Startled, he reared backward. Tripping over tangled feet, he let out a grunt as the two of them hit the floor, his own weapon now out of reach.
Payton showered blows down, trying to punch him for all she was worth.
The stupid son of a bitch tried to rape her!
She caught him with a particularly hard punch across the jaw sending pain radiating up her hand. He growled, bucking under her causing her to fall forward. In one swift movement, he flipped over and pinned her to the ground. For a moment she fought wildly, trying to claw at him before stilling, his heated gaze catching hers. Incomprehension filled her. Simmons had amber eyes, not deep brown. Br
eathing heavily reality slowly came back to her as she stared at the person holding her down.
Several strands of black hair were sticking to his forehead, damp with sweat. Two monolid deep brown eyes stared unblinkingly at her. His lip was split, she noticed abstractly. Blood was bubbling up through the wound and dripping down his chin.
Horror filled Payton as she realized what she had done. “Creators,” she whispered, shame replacing the anger. How could she do that? She could have seriously hurt him! “Jarrett, oh shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean… fuck.”
She squeezed her eyes shut as if that could block out what she had just done. How could she say she didn’t mean to hurt him when it was clear that she had? How could she explain it wasn’t him that she had been trying to hurt? He would never speak to her again. That idea in of itself saddened her more than she wanted to admit.
“Do you yield?”
Her eyes flew open. “What?”
Instead of judgment and condemnation in the eyes of the warrior restraining her, she saw understanding. “Do you yield?” he repeated.
Nodding slowly, Payton watched the tension in him relax slightly as he released her wrists. Climbing off and pushing upright, Jarrett offered his hand to her. Hesitantly she accepted, allowing him to haul her to her feet.
“Again?” he stated, not breaking eye contact.
Her eyes flickered to the cut on his lip that she had caused and then back to his face. How could he ask if she wanted to spar again after she let her anger take over?
Wordlessly he fetched the weapons, handing her daggers back to her and retaking his position in the center of the room. Payton stared at him. The barest hint of a smile was given, encouraging her. Slowly she moved toward him, gripping her daggers tightly.
“Unless you’d rather contend with the invisible air enemy,” Jarrett said glibly in his deep brogue, a touch of challenge in his tone.
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