Nyx noticed her, and the look was as sharp as an icicle. She disregarded Pen and approached the baby.
“No, wait,” Pen darted between her and the babe. “Wait, please.”
“Move,” Nyx demanded.
It didn’t matter if Nyx chose to look like a child. With her strange black and white eyes and the voice of a full grown woman, she expected to be obeyed.
“What?” Erenos asked confused behind her.
“Nyx is here,” Pen told him, not looking away from the goddess.
He didn’t reply, and Pen couldn’t see his expression. Lume started crying.
Pen had no idea what to say or do. Any words stuck in her throat around the cold rock.
“Spare this child,” Pen begged. “I know it was too late for my own but—”
“Are you going to lock me away again if I refuse?” Nyx asked with the clear indication in her voice that it was not going to work this time.
“No,” Pen said, “but I took away this man’s family already. I don’t have any means or argument even to stop you, but please, and I know I have no right in asking.”
“No, you don’t,” she replied. “You’re not the first one to beg.”
“He’s just a newborn,” Pen tried. “He’s barely three days old. At least give him a little more time.”
The baby wheezed.
“Hush, now. It’s okay,” Lume stuttered. She clearly didn’t believe her own words.
Pen stole a glance behind. The frail babe was safely tucked between his parents.
“I don’t do this to be cruel,” Nyx said a little more softly.
Pen was outright shaking now and frozen.
“Look at me.”
Pen obeyed and turned to Nyx.
“Keep looking this way,” she said. “Make the parents think you’re holding me off.”
Nyx approached her left side. Given the size of the tent, they were all huddled together anyway, and she was still in Pen’s line of sight.
Nyx actually stood on her toes to see the baby. It was such a childlike and innocent gesture, Pen almost forgot to be scared. Nyx’s expression changed too. She smiled at the babe, and her white eyes were kind.
“I’m sorry, little one,” she said.
She raised the bone and held the end of it towards the baby. Pen knew what was happening.
Lume shrieked.
Nyx backed away and regarded Pen again. She couldn’t read the goddess’s eyes, but they weren’t as harsh.
She vanished and Pen could finally breathe, or try to at least.
Turning to see the family, she stumbled back. Lume was on her knees sobbing and rocking back and forth with her son in her arms. Erenos held her, his own tears falling into his beard.
Pen’s legs nearly gave out too as she knelt before them. The child was still tucked between his parents, but he was gone.
“Get out,” Erenos growled, ripping Pen out of her numb thoughts. “Just get out.”
Chapter Nineteen
Raisa
Raisa watched Pen, feeling more than a little unnerved. Earlier that night, she had finally found Pen wandering around the city gate square. Raisa had practically shouted to the stars in triumph at seeing her, but Pen’s expression killed that joy.
The crowd between them was thick in places, so Pen probably just lost sight of her when they entered the city. Raisa pushed down the shame and even guilt at the thoughts of Pen abandoning her at the last moment. The thought had been there, though, when Raisa realized she was gone. She couldn’t deny it.
She paused only for a second when she saw Pen’s face. The lost misery was enough to make anyone break down, and Pen did. When Pen finally saw her, and that wasn’t until Raisa touched her arm, she came out of that despondent haze.
She just broke. Pen started sobbing and would have sunk to the ground if Raisa hadn’t held her, shocked and scared herself.
She managed to get Pen into a small space alone for a bit, behind an inn that was giving away soup.
Sitting Pen on an overturned barrel, Raisa knelt before her. Pen buried her face in her hands, taking slow ragged breaths.
“What happened?” Raisa asked holding her shoulders.
A bit of Pen’s sleeve slipped, and Raisa noticed the red welts. Reaching out, Raisa pulled the sleeve down more from her wrist.
“Pen, where did these scratches come from?”
Red lines on tender skin streaked down Pen’s arms, focused on her wrists. There was one line about an inch long of broken skin that had just dried.
Pen didn’t respond to anything she said, and Raisa wasn’t sure if she even could right now. A weight settled over Raisa’s shoulders as she sat next to Pen on the barrel and just held her. Pen laid her head on Raisa’s shoulder and just shuddered.
Raisa didn’t know how long they had stayed there, but the moon moved considerably. She tried to stretch, but it was awkward.
Pen shifted then and left her shoulder. The tears were gone for now, but her eyes were red. She still didn’t reply when Raisa asked questions.
“We should find somewhere to sleep,” Raisa said. Pen wasn’t talking about anything tonight, so she would have to trust that Pen would in the morning. “There’s a small inn around the corner.”
Pen nodded and followed Raisa as she stood.
“Are you okay?” Raisa tried regardless of Pen’s demeanor.
Pen shook her head and looked away. It wasn’t exactly a distant stare that Raisa had seen before, and her eyes widened in fear. Raisa followed her line of sight but didn’t see anything.
She touched Pen’s arm to get her attention again. “Come on.”
Pen jumped at the touch but followed, glancing to the side often.
Raisa paid for a spot on the inn’s floor, which was cheap, but very crowded.
They settled by the wall away from the entrance, with Raisa stretching her back as much as she could. She kept a closer eye on Pen who lay on her side staring terrified at something Raisa couldn’t see.
The next morning, Raisa’s back creaked along with the floorboards. Pen was still asleep, though she wasn’t exactly at peace. Her eyes and fingers twitched with dreams. Raisa hoped she wouldn’t wake up screaming again. She had only witnessed it twice as they traveled, but Pen always brushed off questions, claiming it was only nightmares.
When Raisa asked how often they happened, Pen did pause to consider the question. She admitted that they weren’t too common, but bad enough around the anniversary of her family’s death.
From what Raisa could tell, that time had passed, but last night was bad.
The other guests around them began to stir as dawn broke. They hardly looked at her as they left, but Raisa didn’t think it was anything personal. This place was harsh, and too much eye contact could even cause an argument over anything. Tensions were always high here because of sickness and lack of food.
Raisa followed their lead and kept her head down as some left. One man didn’t move, though. He was curled up in the corner, and Raisa remembered hearing him cough in the night, but he wasn’t now.
Pen gasped and jerked in her sleep.
Raisa’s heart also jumped at the movement. She reached out to touch Pen’s shoulder again, but Pen was already sitting up. Shadows were still under her eyes, but the tears were gone, for now.
Leaning against the wall next to her, Pen finally met her eye.
“I’m sorry about last night,” she said hardly loud enough for Raisa to hear.
“It’s fine,” Raisa said. “Do you want to talk about it? What exactly happened?”
Pen looked down to her hands, hesitating. After a moment, she said, “I ran into someone I knew, and he wanted me to save his child. I couldn’t.”
Hundreds of other questions jumped to the forefront of Raisa’s mind. It explained the scratches if she had watched a child die.
Pen started scratching again, but Raisa pulled her hand away.
“All right, but don’t do that,” she said i
ndicating to Pen’s wrists.
Concern lined her voice, and she hoped Pen heard it, because she just took her hand back.
“So, what happened after I left?” Pen asked.
“Well, I didn’t realize you had gone until I reached the city gate. That was still after I talked to the captain about letting us in because the queen needed you. Then I noticed you were gone.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry.”
Raisa shrugged. Pen didn’t need any more stress right now, and her own anger at thinking Pen had vanished turned to shame. She didn’t need to know that.
“The captain said she’d send a message to the queen about us, but it probably wouldn’t be back until morning.”
“We should head there, then,” Pen said standing.
Raisa followed suit, and they left the inn, not bothering with breakfast.
She made sure to walk beside Pen to watch her. They weren’t far from the gates, and to Raisa’s relief, she saw the woman she needed right away.
“Captain Androu,” Raisa called.
A shorter woman with olive-toned skin looked up at the call, distracted from the soldiers in front of her. Raisa saw her sigh before dismissing the soldiers. Her dark green hair was almost black in the shade of the gate.
“Has there been word from the queen?” Raisa asked.
“Not yet,” she said. “This your friend?”
“Yes, this is Pen.”
“Why can’t we get in?” Pen asked suddenly.
Raisa was glad to cut through the small talk but tensed. Captain Androu bristled at the question, irritated already.
“We can’t just let anyone in without proper documentation or permission,” she explained.
“The queen asked for me,” Pen said.
“I told her that,” Raisa said to Pen.
“And as I mentioned last night,” Androu said, “without seeing the royal seal, I cannot take your word.”
“I’m the Blood Warrior.”
Raisa stared at Pen, taken aback. She’d never outright confessed to it before or used it unless it was a last resort like in Kression.
Androu’s eyebrows knit together, but she didn’t pause for long.
“You were at Mount Xiphos and the sanctuary,” she said.
“Aye, that was me,” Pen said looking a little more awake now.
“We had a raven from them a few days ago warning us that you were coming.”
“Warning?” Pen caught. “I’m not invading or anything.”
“Pen,” Raisa held a hand out to stall any further comments. The captain no doubt would catch the term ‘invading.’ Turning to Androu, she said, “We can wait for word from the queen.”
“Right,” Androu said before walking away, still watching Pen carefully.
“Why did you mention the Blood Warrior stuff?” Raisa asked rounding on Pen.
“It worked getting us out of Kression,” Pen shrugged.
“I thought you wanted to lay low?”
“I also want to get this bloody over with,” Pen snapped.
Androu found them again several hours after the sun rose by the communal well.
Pulling them aside, she said, “You two can go inside but quietly. The soldier stationed there knows who you are, so just tell him your names. I hope everything goes well with this meeting honestly. This city doesn’t need any more problems.”
Chapter Twenty
Pen
The room Pen stood in could have easily fit her entire cottage inside, and it held only one table. Everything was lavish and shining, even the windows looked polished. Pen was very aware of her own attire the moment she entered the room. It never bothered her before, but now she was acutely aware of the fact that she hadn’t bathed in months.
Queen Aethra looked up from a pile of parchment before her at the head of the table. Pen felt the queen’s eyes skim over her. They weren’t judgmental, though she might have been hiding it well.
“Pen,” she said standing, “so good to finally meet you.”
Everything was elegant about the woman, from the beaded yellow dress to how her light brown hair was tied back.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t meet during your last visit here,” Aethra continued, crossing the room to greet Pen.
“I think we were both … indisposed?” Pen said hoping she was using the term right.
A laugh erupted from Aethra, but it sounded genuine.
“Indeed, we were.”
Pen remembered that visit. She had spoken with King Aegeus while he sat rotting away in another parlor, unable to die.
“I’m sorry about your husband,” Pen said. She had basically let him die by releasing the goddess of death again.
“You have my thanks,” Aethra said. “Now we should get to business. I don’t want to rush things, but I have several other meetings today. Come sit.”
She led Pen back to the long table and took the head chair. Pen sat to her right and instantly wondered if she should have. It was usually the second most important seat by the ruler. Right hand of the queen. Pen didn’t belong there.
“Are you all right?” Aethra asked pulling her out of the spiraling panic.
“I’m fine.” Though it felt like she was still spinning.
Clasping her hands under the table, Pen practically heard Raisa telling her not to scratch her wrists. It was pretty bad this time.
“You look a little nervous,” Aethra said plainly.
“I, um … I’ve never dealt with royalty properly before,” Pen admitted, “other than your husband of course.”
She tried to swallow the awkwardness, but it stuck like a burr in her clothing.
“Ah,” Aethra said smiling, “Well have a drink, then, try to relax. I don’t mean to intimidate you. I hope we can become allies.”
Helping herself to the narrow silver amphora of wine and a crystal goblet, Pen noticed the dirt under her nails. She didn’t even want to touch the goblet. She’d just get it dirty.
The wine slightly calmed her nerves, but Aethra’s words stuck in her thoughts. They were too formal and a little clipped at the end.
“Allies in what exactly?” Pen asked still aware of how direct she was being.
Aethra sat forward, hands folded over the parchment. “I need your help uprooting a killer in the city.”
“That’s it?” she couldn’t help but ask, taken aback.
“It’s more complex then I originally thought,” Aethra said. “He’s evaded any attempt at a trap, and he’s killed eight women so far, three are being kept in a safe location. The rest had to be buried. He tears their throats out, and I think that’s part of why we can’t find him. He silences these women first. I’m worried things will get worse, and tensions are high in the city as is, what with the new town of refugees outside, and a possible illness rising there.”
“Can’t you send out soldiers to hunt this man down?” Pen asked.
Aethra sighed. “There’s nothing to hunt down. He leaves no trace of himself or his intentions. If I send guardsmen to bring in anyone looking odd or being a little violent, that will cause chaos. Innocent people might die by accident. I don’t know how to go about this, so I was hoping you could track him down discretely.”
“You don’t want one of your innocent soldiers to catch the wrong person, which I get,” Pen was surprised by the new boldness, but the situation was odd, “but there must be some ideas how to find this person. Why do you need me in particular?”
“Is this not important enough for the great Blood Warrior?” Aethra’s tone faded from calm and professional to vigilant and very dry.
That irked Pen, but she held her tongue. She was talking to a queen here, so she had to watch her footing.
“I will help,” Pen said, “but I assumed it was worse than one murderer. Raisa said it was about preventing civil war.”
“It may,” Aethra said. “People are growing tense, and small revolts have broken out from people accusing their neighbors. I’ve done what I can to control t
he situation, but there’s something bigger here. Something Tellus would have been able to handle.”
The goblet nearly shattered under Pen’s grip. It took a few moments for her to set the crystal down and gain air again.
“You blame me for his death,” Pen stated. The queen hadn’t said it, but the implication was clear.
Aethra just sat there, leaning back in the chair now, analyzing Pen.
“If you hate me so much for that, then why—”
“Oh, I don’t hate you,” Aethra interrupted. “I don’t know you personally enough for that, but I do blame you for his death, and I won’t deny the resentment.”
Her wrists itched, but Pen held still.
“I already agreed to help. Is the extra guilt really necessary?”
“No,” Aethra gave, “but I wanted you to be aware of where I stand. You owe this city, and me, for letting Tellus and Aegeus die. Aegeus was the king, and Tellus held this city together of his own accord in the personal guard. This city would have flourished under them, and Tellus would have done anything to defend these people.”
“Aegeus was dying from his own cancers,” Pen argued. “That was not my fault.”
She couldn’t say much about Tellus; her throat had already closed up. She knew what she’d taken from this place.
“He could have healed,” Aethra said, “but you went off to fix the Undying Curse, and they both ended up dead.”
Any reply Pen had died in her throat.
“You’ll be given as much time as you need to take this murderer down, along with accommodations in the eastern quarter. It’s not the best housing, but it is more for appearances. There will be coinage if need be, with a list of where these women were found, and there’s a man I can direct you to. He’s been studying the bodies for anything useful. You will also report to me once a week. I believe that’s fair?”
“It is,” Pen said, hardly aware that she’d broken the scab on her wrist.
The slick of blood made her stop moving.
“You can go, then,” Aethra said turning back to her parchments. “We’ll reconvene in seven days.”
Grief of the Undying (The Ichorian Epics Book 3) Page 11