“We are fine on the budget?” Zan asked, glaring at the pearls on Micah’s boots.
“Of course. I will use our money from the Order for the inn and foods. The clothing came from my own pocket. I have been saving most of the gold I earned the last five years so that I might spoil my love when she was back to me.” Billiam held Micah tight while fumbling through his billfold, grabbing the Logos marks from beside his own.
“You are so sweet, Billiam!” Micah sang up to him.
“Oh. I understand. Please forgive any suspicion.” Zan looked into his stew, staring hard at it, as if it were communing with him somehow. The stew broke its spell, and he spoke again. “We are getting a late start, so I think I can adjust our path, and we will end up at another small village by nightfall. You can have another inn, Mi…. Mariah?”
“No thank you! I am quite fine; I needn’t another inn so soon. You probably ought not plan for one the next night either. After that is hopefully our last night of travel, and I shall likely be craving one, so then is fine.” He was leaning completely against Billiam at this point, reaching his arm up to touch his face. He was hoping he had not made him feel guilty again, but it was no use.
Shemmy snorted and smacked Billiam on the arm. The barkeep reappeared with a large basket of supplies and their long paper bill before she could say anything lewd or embarrassing. After settling the tab, which was a rather exhaustive amount, they collected their horses and were off.
“Zan, would you like to ride Micah’s horse today?” Billiam asked my brother politely, as they led the two horses past the village exit.
“What? No, I am faster on foot. I am too tall for such a small horse, anyhow. Micah, you don’t want to ride it?”
“Who said you could say my name, faelock? I did not correct you at the inn, simply to keep up my guise. That changes nothing when we are on our own. You are beneath us all, you pathetic worm,” Micah replied with a scowl, using Aldrious’s pet name for him on Zan. “If you must know, I haven’t the energy to keep myself on it today. So you will either walk it or ride. I don’t give a shit which you choose.”
Zan’s face fell to his chest as he grabbed the reins of the horse, silently beginning his march. The day had been quite happy so far and had tricked his heart into thinking he was near equal to them once again. He was not; he was the prince’s property.
Shemmy was up on her horse, trotting ahead to Zan, who was walking with his neck sunk all the way down. She looked over him to grin at Billiam. “Ya really got ’im that good, didja topman?”
Billiam’s heart stopped. I didn’t mean to! he screamed inside his chest.
Before he could respond to her, the prince interjected from his arms, “Shemmy, I will have none of your perverted nonsense about this. Any injury I suffered is no fault of Billiam’s; it is due to my own ignorance. I will not have you make him feel badly or delight in his torment. You will keep your ridiculous mouth shut. Are we perfectly clear?” He glared at her so sternly that she felt genuine fear for a moment.
“Yes, Yer ’Ighness,” responded Shemmy, absolutely gobsmacked.
She could not believe he had reprimanded her so, not that she hadn’t deserved it. She had thought Billiam was the one with that intensely protective, all-consuming form of love, but she saw she was half mistaken. Micah was just as ferociously and possessively in love with Billiam. It made her feel she ought to tread a bit lighter, as there was no room to cause even the slightest rift between the two. Their loyalty to each other would tear anyone apart if their love was threatened, even her. As extreme as it seemed, she was frankly quite jealous. A love that strong and also fully requited is a rare and wondrous thing.
“Oh good, then we can be pleasant again!” He kissed Billiam’s chin and whispered up to him, “I’ll love you forever, as always. Please do not fret. You are perfect and have treated me perfectly.”
“I’ll love you forever, as always, my dearest, sweetest, loveliest thing.” Billiam smiled and relaxed, nuzzling Micah’s head. Hearing those words made him feel he had the energy to walk them the whole day at last.
I’ll love you forever, as always. This was what Billiam’s mother, Ella, would say to Ackerman. In fact, it was the first thing she said to him outside of training. Billiam had no memory of his mother; she died when he was just a toddler. Pierre told him of this saying and how his mother and father would speak it to one another before each battle.
Growing up Billiam didn’t see his father much, as he spent all his time with the royal family instead. He wanted to hold on to that saying and show his love but didn’t feel that strong a love for Ackerman. He began saying it to Micah when they were still quite young. Ackerman first heard his son say this to the prince when he was ten and at first thought he was hearing Ella. He knew at that point who his son was, whom he loved, the man he would be. He always thought Billiam was hardly faelock, as one did not raise him. He was wrong, and though he was a bit shocked his strong son was the way that he was, he accepted him. Seeing Ella in him was the start of him trying to build a relationship at last.
Zan knew the story of those words, and hearing them again brought back his first pangs of jealousy. His heart was aching. He was still affected by the elfbloom from earlier, causing his emotions to be fresher and more present. Although he had developed feelings for Shemmy, Billiam was his first love. He was being further and further removed from him, and he could only watch as he was swept away completely. He began to weep as he walked himself and Micah’s horse ahead of everyone. Although losing to Micah at last saddened him, these tears were from bitter frustration. He wanted to lash out at them both. This was an extremely stupid way to feel, thus he walked alone, wishing he actually were.
Chapter 17
May 11th, 989
BACK IN Drummond, Loretta had been dusting up a storm in the dining room the whole afternoon. Every time she passed near Jessica at least three sneezes and an equal number of “bless yous” followed. There had been little to no business, and the two of them were the only ones in the giant lonely room. The inn had been so void of life, they even had to put their new chef on indefinite vacation. He didn’t seem to mind. He was as bored as the rest of them.
Jess was done trying to busy herself and plopped down in her favorite corner of the bar. She kept a soft, pink pillow on a stool there and was able to lean comfortably, practically out of view of the patrons, had there been any. Nestled below the bar was her secret stash of pulp novels, framed by seldom-used antique tankards. After she dropped hard on the stool, she reached down blindly, feeling the spines of the books.
She decided on the roughest-feeling one. The binding felt cracked, so it must’ve been old and meant it had been a while since she had read it. Grabbing it out and into the light, she turned it over to see the familiar black leather cover. Emblazoned on it was a crimson illustration of a reaper along with the words, The Goon’s Gal. It was a ridiculous and tawdry tale of the forbidden romantic journey between a woman, a goon, and his reaper. It was one of her favorites.
The Logos spent all of their study time on informative texts, scientific or historic, with the remainder allotted to classical literature. They all looked down upon the frivolously enjoyable yarns Jess loved so much. That is why they were her dirty secret, though I would let her read them to me. They were entertaining at the least, I’ll give them that.
She was ripping through the first chapter when the largest of sneeze attacks ravaged her face and lungs. She coughed so hard she all but fell from her stool, throwing the novel onto the counter.
“Oh I’m sorry, dear! Dinnae see you there!” Loretta’s cheerful voice called from above her. She had been standing on a stool, dusting the awning of the bar. She jumped off with a loud thud. Jess was inches away from reclaiming her novel when Loretta swept it from her hands. “Oh so you are a W. H. Twingles fan too, then?” she said with a small laugh, happily handing the book back.
“I’m a what now?” Jess was a bit befuddled. She wanted to hid
e the book away but instead she looked it over. Under the glorious reaper she saw inscribed W.H. TWINGLES =^-^=.
She reached down to pull up her entire collection, revealing them all to Loretta. She searched through the novels to find over half of the miniature book mountain had the same inscription. Loretta was smiling and looking through them too, and was quite impressed by her assortment.
“Huh? I guess I am. I never paid attention to the author; I would just ask the shopkeep which one was the weirdest or most humorous. What’s with the cat face?”
“Oh, that’s kind of like his signature. He does quite like cats,” Loretta replied, grinning and stacking up the books neatly. She saw Jess was not at all satisfied with her answer. She began scratching her chin in thought. It seemed her five o’clock shadow liked to to come in more around two. Jess knew she would be running to the washroom any moment now to cake up her face with more powder. Said powder came off on her finger as she scratched, but she seemed to not notice. “I suppose since you are a fan, he may not mind me telling you the real reason….”
“Yes, please tell me!”
“Okay, well he is obviously quite an odd guy. How else could he come up with such scenarios? He is a bastard and never met his father. He somehow became thoroughly convinced his father was a stray black tomcat he saw everywhere he turned as a child. Thus he feels he is a cat-man, though he vehemently refuses to show me any of his cattiness.”
Jessica’s eyes were wide and glassy, as she mused, “Why doesn’t he write about that? That would be an amazing story!”
“That’s exactly what I asked him! He told me something about the Mortanions finding out and how they’d punish him for being a heretic, some paranoid delusion like that. I think if they found out, they’d barely care enough to call a sanitarium,” Loretta informed her with a laugh. She looked in the silver sink of the bar, finally noticing the gaps in her makeup.
“So you really know this Twingles?” Jess asked excitedly. She had been so bored since the cardinal’s visit. She had hardly gone out of the lodge, not wanting to catch a glimpse of anything crimson. This provided her with the entertainment she had been craving.
Loretta grabbed a rag, wetting it in the sink and taking it to her face. She wiped off all the powder, all the rouge, while she spoke. “Winston is the first friend I made when I got here to Drummond. I knew no one here, and although I was well-off in my homeland, I had to leave everything behind to escape. I was a penniless man in a dress, so it was quite hard to get anyone to spare kindness. That plump bookworm almost trampled over me as I lay drunk in the alley by his apartment. He lives in Northwest Drummond, not too far from here.
“He thought I was going to get angry and attack him, so he started throwing all his money on me. I gave it back and told him to get me a bath and dinner instead. I had never purchased such things on my own by that point; I was quite hopeless. He was still terrified but took me in anyways. He sensed my harmlessness before long and put me to work numbering pages.”
“You had never bought yourself dinner?” Jess asked her with a look of disgust.
“That is really the part you care about? Not that I possibly worked on one of your favorite books?” Loretta tried her best to act upset, but she was excited to be bonding with Jessica. Her face was perfectly clean now, and she was tying up her hair in a tight knot. She truly looked like a man, Jess conceded. “I’m going to go change and wear some man clothes. Winston gets all weird and handsy when I look too pretty.”
“Wait what? You are going to go see him now?”
“No!” Loretta shouted as she ascended the stairs. “We are going to go see him. Go ahead and call me Ari while I am stuck having to act like a man.”
Ari…. Is that really a man’s name? I suppose it could be a nickname, Jess thought while conflict raged in her gut. She was so excited to meet this Twingles, but she didn’t want to leave. The outside world was a world where she could be preyed upon, she felt. In truth, she was first preyed on in the lodge; it was no safer than outside.
Loretta, or rather Ari, descended the stairs gracefully in a lovely tailcoat, white shirt, and black tie and slacks. “Found these in a third-floor room the other day. They fit me like a glove!” They were Billiam’s, and Jess recognized the stunning vision at once. Just the head was different. He wiggled his hips in excitement, but as soon as he dropped Billiam’s bowler cap on his head to cover his hair, almost all traces of femininity were erased. “Shall we, dear?”
Jessica was impressed. He was quite dashing and made her heart skip a few beats. She wished for a moment that he could be Ari all the time but felt ashamed. That was rather selfish of her to want to change the real Loretta, the one she was inside.
“I don’t want to run into any monks,” she said anxiously.
“We won’t! We shall have a nice, fun visit. Where’s that Roland to watch the bar?” Ari was peering at himself in the sink, adjusting all the little flyaways under his hat.
“Sleeping, right? He got stupid drunk last night. I know how to raise him, though.” Jess jumped off her stool and grabbed a broom near the bar before running to the middle of the dining room. She jumped up on one of the large tables and repeatedly bonked the end of the broom against the ceiling.
She was dancing on the table and hitting the floor above her to the beat in her head for three whole minutes before Roland finally emerged. He was pathetically leaning over the railing, barely dressed and quite pale. “What’s the big, bloody idea, Jess?” he grunted at her. He had given up going all the way down and sat on the steps.
“We are going out. Mind the bar, will ya?”
“What! You can’t go out on your own! Two lasses with the cardinal’s nose all up in your business, yer juss askin’ for trouble. Where you gotta go, anyhow?”
“Open your eyes, dummy. We ain’t two lasses,” she cried, jumping off the table and stamping her feet on the floor instead.
Roland looked over the rail, his eyes taking a while to adjust to the sunlight that seeped in all throughout the ground floor. As he peered between the wooden bars, he caught a glimpse of that familiar tail-coated visage. It was incentive enough to get him off his lazy ass, jumping down the stairs two at a time.
“Billiam! You are back? Why are you back so soon?” he yelled, never thinking he would be so happy to see him, as they were not particularly close. The climate had been both tense and horribly boring, so the familiar sight delighted him.
“Billiam?” Ari asked, turning to Roland at last.
Roland was so shocked by the mistaken identity he bashed into an oaken chair. He sat on the floor, cursing himself for being so excitable.
“Quite an uncanny resemblance, especially from behind, huh?” Jess called to him, grabbing at Ari’s coat and grinning. This made the wearer blush brightly, and he became Loretta to Roland once again.
“Oi, sorry ’bout that uh… boy Loretta?” He got himself off the ground, rubbing his bumped knee before hobbling to the bar. He buttoned up his shirt and somehow made his undershorts look like decent clothing. “Awlright, go out, then. I ain’t up to escortin’ you anyhow. Where do you hafta go suddenly?”
“I get to meet W.H. Twingles!” Jess squealed and bounced about.
“Who?”
“That’s what I said too! He’s an author of a lot of those books I like, and Ari is friends with him. Ari is Loretta’s boy name.” Jess grabbed his arm, as excited as if it were the first day of spring. She hadn’t realized how terribly cooped up she was feeling. “Let’s be going now?”
“Of course, my lady.” Ari bowed slightly, trying his best to be gentlemanly. It was quite obvious to all of them he was uncomfortable dressed as he was. Loretta was much more lively, much happier than Ari.
The streets were quite packed in the Northwest borough. It was a Saturday, so all the vendors had stalls set up, peddling their garbage. This neighborhood was primarily middle class, merchants and craftspeople who lived happily though not easily. Ari held on to Jess tig
ht, not wanting the tiny lady to be swept away. He scanned the crowd diligently for any flashes of red robes.
They were turning on Twingles’s street when an enraged though melodic voice screeched out, “Stop right there, you stupid faggot!” There was clear desperation in the voice—the only reason it was not instantly recognizable.
Ari continued walking. Whatever creature was screaming was surely not aiming it at them.
“I said stop, Billiam!”
Oh, that is who Roland thought I was…. They are screaming at me after all, Ari thought before hiding Jess with his body and turning toward the voice. As soon as his face was turned, he caught the flash of gleaming metal as it flew toward his eyes.
Ari lifted two fingers in front of his nose, catching the blackened throwing knife gracefully. “I think you have me confused with someone else, little brother.” Ari was readying himself to throw the blade back; however, it turned to charcoal dust, falling through his fingers. It was another of Aldrious’s parlor tricks.
“Oh bloody hell!” Aldrious yelled, ducking in a doorway and pulling the dingy black robe he was wearing over most of his head. He was not hiding from them; he seemed to simply be hiding from the masses. He reached out his hand, bidding them to cease their departure. In a low whisper, he tried to communicate civilly, “So that really was you at the inn, Arrikos? Ugh, I should have known. Now I feel ill.”
Ari shocked Jess by walking them closer to the disguised cardinal, yet she found herself trusting his decision anyways. They stood together in the cover of some townsperson’s stoop.
“Oh dear, you didn’t jerk yourself thinking of me again, did you, Aldy?” Ari was grinning and even pinched his brother’s cheek.
“Of course I did. When am I not touching myself thinking about strange women? You need to introduce yourself next time, dammit!”
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