The Truth about Heroes: Complete Trilogy (Heroes Trilogy)

by Krista Gossett

  “Good morning,” Verity greeted him as he stroked the top of her hand lovingly. “Good morning to you, too,” he shot back. “I feel spoiled having all of these mornings with you. I never imagined I would be so lucky.”

  Verity jabbed at him for being so mushy, but it was true. As the world’s end drew closer, she didn’t think they would lie as lovers ever. She had been resigned to that and every morning she had with him now was a blessing. In the same way, an eternity of mornings would never be too many.

  Verity rolled back over onto her back, tucking her arm behind her head and looking up at the ceiling, letting Finn take her other hand in his again as he played with her fingers.

  “It’s definitely surreal. Like the time I thought for sure we were dead and the Mother mended us. So many chances we have been given when it seemed for sure it was all over. So many missed opportunities to tell how we really felt, that our lives were not our own. It’s almost frightening to actually live in a world where we have choices.”

  Finn said nothing because she said all that there was to be said. He nodded, his eyes hooded as playing with her soft bronzed fingers were enough to awaken his arousal. He could tell the feeling was mutual when she stretched deliberately and let the sheets fall away from her breasts. She laughed as he pulled her under him suddenly to remedy the ache building in him. Verity definitely needed to figure out some creative ways to make being on top work… The birds on the windowsill squawked and flew away at the sudden rush of movement.

  It was unusual for Bryfolk to not wake early but Dinsch slept as Seles answered to that biological imperative that woke her. She slipped out of the blankets and put on her familiar scribe’s robe, a robe that was a little tight fitting on her now, in the fullness of her womanhood, but she wore it anyway.

  She headed down to the library where she used to pore over the dusty, moldy tomes and worked to preserve and learn from them. She ran her hands over the books and wondered how she could have ever thought that this was all that life had in store for her. Did she dare to thank the monster that stole her away from here? Her missing tail seemed to itch at the memory, but she quickly replaced it with the memory of her savior, a man that would later become her husband. She loved her deceased husband, but perhaps it was more from gratefulness that she had returned the man’s love than the kind of love she had always denied she had for Dinsch.

  Dinsch was infuriatingly clumsy (not in an athletic sense, but in a logical sense) and always seemed tactless and too trusting, but she had always been warmed by how happy he was to have even the rarest moment of her time. She had thought that their first time was going to be the only time, an awkward mix of hormones and convenience and it would be done, but he had always seemed to be there in the times after, not just eager for sex but eager for her words afterwards. He never demanded more than she was willing to give and his attentiveness when he was usually so easily distracted was flattering and made her open up more than she usually did. In a sense, it frightened her, how much freedom he gave her, how much room he gave her to explore things she usually hadn’t much thought of before. She wouldn’t say that she loved him then, only that he made her thirsty and curious and it never left her. It was more accurate to say that it was hindsight that had endeared her to him over time. The more mesmerized she was of him, the more afraid she was that he would grow bored with her.

  When Dinsch had returned after her husband was dead, she had instantly worried that she would appear too needy, that she was only reaching for him to fill the void of loss. Again, she only saw the Dinsch that did not care what her motives were; he was happy to see her and that was all that mattered. No matter how dopey and unrefined he was, he was dear to her for all that he was, good and bad, and she knew that no matter how she fought it, her heart was his whether she liked it or not.

  She thought on those things so deeply that she did not hear the old Bryfolk shuffling not at all stealthily behind her until he was near enough to startle her.

  “Seles…” the crackling but warm voice of the old sage piped up, his speckled arms motioning for her to be calm. “You have changed so much that I almost didn’t recognize you. Although I must say I am relieved that you finally returned the affections of that poor enamored boy you spent so long shunning.”

  Seles knew that Derenge, one of the head scribes of her youth, was referring to Dinsch. She smiled and nodded, feeling a little shy by how secrets weren’t really possible in the Bryfolk Hole. The old man returned the smile and nodded again, smug in his knowledge.

  “These dusty books were not meant for a lively girl like you. Although ‘girl’ is a bit of an understatement now, isn’t it? I have something I was keeping, hoping the day would come that I could give it to you.”

  Derenge did not check to see if Seles followed him, knowing her curiosity would be too great not to. She was almost too impatient with the unhurried pace and the old man was privately amused, knowing how it tormented her too. He reached his area of the library and shakily grabbed a bound book from the shelf, one that she did not recognize and frowned to see it was not marked to hint at the contents inside. She opened it a bit carelessly and some of the pages fell inelegantly to the floor and she stooped to pick them up, freezing mid-squat. She lowered herself more carefully to pick up the page that halted her descent and raised it carefully to her view.

  It was a drawing of her, accurate but still crude, that same cool snobbish expression she usually wore, but her hair was clearly being blown in the wind as she tucked some of it behind one ear. Her eyes in the picture were looking far away. In the bottom right was her name, the date (she was barely 8 years old at the time) and the artist… was Dinsch. She started to file through the stack and each picture was dated a week later than the last, the amount of skill increasing, the likeness more startlingly revealing. He drew her over and over and from the time that she disappeared, he still drew her, every day this time until the day he had left the Hole with Krose.

  “Where did these come from?” Seles whispered now, the images blurring as tears sprung from her eyes.

  “They were in his room. When you left, it seems that he was just trying hard not to forget what you looked like,” Derenge said, in admiration of the young man. There were hundreds of pictures and she closed the binding around them and hugged them to her chest, protecting them from the stream of tears that fell.

  “I was a fool,” Seles told the old man now.

  Derenge nodded in agreement.

  “You are wiser now,” he assured her. “But still a fool. Love is a better reason to be foolish, I dare say.”

  Seles nodded and hugged the old sage gratefully, hurrying back to Dinsch now.

  He was still sleeping when she entered their burrow and she gently tossed the binder in the chair and stripped away the robe, climbing over him and covered his face with tender kisses. He woke up cringing and laughing, grabbing the sides of her face so he could look at her. Her cheeks were still wet, her eyes filled with love and his face grew serious when he saw the intensity in her eyes.

  “I don’t deserve you,” Seles shakily admitted.

  Dinsch’s smile pierced her heart with warmth.

  “You have me anyway,” Dinsch told her, pulling her gently towards him for a kiss. The kiss was halted as he saw the binder on the chair.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Dinsch asked, looking a bit shy and mortified.

  Seles nodded, amused by his embarrassment.

  “You weren’t ever really supposed to see those,” Dinsch whined endearingly, cringing.

  “Those just got you laid for life,” she purred at him now.

  Dinsch grinned conspiratorially. “Then I plan to use that privilege fully. Starting now.”

  When Rienna woke up later that morning, she noticed Krose slumped over in the chair in the corner, lightly snoring from the odd angle he slept. She wrapped the blanket around her and shook his shoulder to stir him, telling him to get into the bed. He stumbled over there, mumbling incomp
rehensibly and falling asleep the instant he did so. Rienna curled up next to him, content to have the extra warmth and fell back asleep.

  It was well into the afternoon before Rienna woke again and Krose was still deep asleep. She startled into wakefulness when she realized how long she had slept, not having slept so well since… she couldn’t remember, it had been so long. Rienna shooting up into a sitting position and looking around had roused Krose, his bedraggled head and one eye open trying to adjust to the light made her laugh a little. He seemed a little confused as to how he got there.

  She smiled over at him while hugging her knees to her chest, finding it hard to meet his eyes.

  “I was a bitch last night,” Rienna stated by way of apology.

  Krose still looked around in a half-awake state of confusion.

  “How the hell did I get here?” Krose finally said, brushing it off.

  Rienna shrugged. “I found you in the chair a few hours ago and made you come to bed.”

  Krose took a few moments to register that. “I wasn’t drinking.”

  He felt around for his satchel and saw it was still in the chair so he stumbled out of the bed and pulled out the book he wrote in, leafing through it. He looked noticeably relieved and chuckled out loud, slapping it against his hand and looking back at Rienna.

  “I got quite a bit of writing done. Can’t say how good it’s going to be, but it’s no wonder I lost track of time,” Krose told her, grinning boyishly.

  “Are you ever going to tell me what you’re writing about?” Rienna asked now.

  “Maybe, I haven’t decided anything yet,” Krose fidgeted, looking a little embarrassed. “I don’t think I’m much of a writer, but… the Goddess seems to insist. I’m not sure anyone will want to read it as much as they think they do.”

  Rienna knew that the Goddess Kalhmera dispensed her gifts to them in strange ways so she dropped it and just nodded.

  “I was a bitch last night,” Rienna tried again, now that he was more lucid.

  Krose put the satchel back on, taking his time to strap it back on and adjust it before sighing heavily and looking at her.

  “You’re not going to let me ignore that, are you? That kind of a statement is usually a trap, Rienna,” Krose said, wincing.

  Rienna laughed and threw a pillow at him.

  “I don’t deserve to be forgiven,” Rienna told him.

  “Well, you don’t have a choice. Whatever happened… it needs to stay there. If you want to talk about what happened to you, I’ll try to be here for you, but I don’t want to share,” Krose explained without emotion. His eyes left no room for negotiation.

  Rienna nodded, frowning a little in thought.

  “I don’t know if I really want to either. I’m not really sure why I even brought it up,” she told him, pushing the blankets away and making to stand up. Krose had to steady her when she seemed to be losing the battle with balance.

  “Probably for the same reason you didn’t want Kalhmera to take us back home. We’re all… adjusting to this world. It was the one thing we weren’t prepared for. We were all just… prepared to die, just as you were, Rienna. Just trying to go back to the way things were would just be a shock. We’re continuing this journey to wind down. No matter how much we wished for peace, we were never really ready for it…” Krose smirked sympathetically, his eyes searching hers with concern. Rienna’s face fell guiltily. She wished she could enjoy the peace.

  Rienna scrutinized Krose more, feeling like she was actually seeing the people she was traveling with for the first time. She remembered the green girl she had been so vaguely. She had been a child, setting out to avenge her father and husband, impulsive and cruel in her single-minded pursuit. At some point, it changed into some surreal attempt to save the world but she didn’t know if that was really what kept her going, truth be told. She had a taste for battle, a need to prove she was not just a girl with a sword, but she had paid the ultimate price to earn the title of warrior. She looked at Krose and could see that he was spot-on, that the young adventurers they had been had clung to the journey to make who they WERE satisfied, never imagining the toll it would take on who they would become. What kept them going wasn’t exactly what they wanted; it was just what they placated themselves with when they thought death loomed nearer.

  “So what do we want now?” Rienna asked slowly, unsure of herself.

  Krose smiled and kissed her cheek.

  “Kind of strange not having a glowing path to guide us, but we’ll figure it out,” he assured her.

  “Do you think Seije will recognize us?” Rienna asked.

  Krose laughed at that.

  “I think he would know us a mile away. I’m more worried I might not recognize him. He ages really fast with all that worrying he does,” Krose joked.

  Rienna just smiled, knowing full well how true that was. She never imagined that Seije’s parting advice would lead to someone who would stick by her side to the brutal end… and the world that came after. She came to Krose in a tattered wedding dress and an attitude, standing before him now in a hand-woven Bryfolk blanket, barefoot and trusting.

  “I guess the next stop will be mine then. At least, you will all be there with me when I go to see the Queen,” Rienna said, her voice soft and a little nervous.

  Krose smiled and patted her shoulders before grabbing her hand and leading her out of the burrow.

  One thing they clearly noticed on their way over the Vieres continent was that, even with magic gone, the world was not really missing it. In fact, technology seemed to be making some leaps—the flaws in fuel efficiency and travel in the more sophisticated machines were being quickly addressed and once the group had left the Bryfolk Hole for Morgaze, they were treated to a transit route that led them straight on to the electric city where it was only a day’s travel on to Merschenez Castle.

  The two couples among the group seemed content to explore together and Rienna couldn’t blame them. She knew that she would be doing the same thing if Ashe had been here with her. She wondered if they would have included Melchior sometimes but banished those thoughts, since they did her no good. Playing what-if with Night and Freesia hadn’t helped either. Krose had run off on his own in a middle class district, deciding to look at a vacancy there that he might want to start his restaurant at. Dinsch had agreed to meet up with him there later to help him decide. Not for the first time, Rienna ended up alone. Finn and Verity had offered to tag along with her, but she didn’t want to be a third wheel. They had earned their privacy wherever they could get it. Rienna decided to visit the rundown district, specifically the spot where she first met Krose.

  Of all the places that impacted her on the way home, none had done so quite as thoroughly as this stop had. The bar was the only place she had seen so far that had not changed a bit, although the only thing that would have made the dive worse would be if had been leveled to the ground. The air was musty and cold, still smelling like cheap beer and stale vomit, the bar counter still sticky as the same bartender wiped at it with the same dirty rag. Rienna sat down at the same stool she had stood over when she set out to ask the man if he had known where she could find the man named Krose.

  The bartender ambled over and despite knowing that she ought to appear tougher, she smiled warmly. After being what she had been through, she felt more than prepared to handle her own if someone mistook her smile for weakness. The bartender seemed impatient with her now and she realized that he must have asked her what she wanted to drink.

  She actually wasn’t sure if she could stomach alcohol; it always seemed to make her feel worse lately, so she asked for a club soda. The bartender scoffed but set about getting it. While he did so, a man sat in the chair to her left, leaving only one empty chair between them. The counter was empty so he had plenty of other seats to choose from. Rienna knew he had purposely selected a chair close to hers when he smiled over at her.

  The man was handsome, clearly no stranger to combat but not terribly scarred
by it either. He had long black hair, so dark that it looked bluish in the light and amber-colored eyes shaped like large almonds. He was not leering at her and kept a polite distance as the bartender served him a blood-red wine without having asked him what he had wanted. Rienna’s club soda was surprisingly served in a clean glass afterwards. Suspicion shot through her. Who gets served wine in a dive bar?

  “I’m sorry for being rude; you clearly don’t recognize me. The name is Arden. Am I right to presume you are Rienna, the old Merschenez army commander’s daughter?” the man named Arden offered, taking a generous sip of his wine.

  Rienna smiled mechanically and nodded, not quite trusting the man.

  “I don’t recognize you, but yes, I am Rienna. How do you know of me?” she asked conversationally, taking a swig of the club soda, trying not to choke on it when she found it difficult to swallow.

  Arden smiled and swirled the wine around in the glass.

  “I was still in training the day you were taking your vows at the castle. I’ve managed to rise up in the ranks since. Your father was an amazing man and Belias would have made a wonderful husband. I am sorry you lost them that day, truly I am.”

  Rienna wasn’t quite sure if Belias would have been quite the husband she had believed he would. Maybe without the unfortunate turn of events, Belias might have been a faithful, considerate husband but her last memory of him was as the wraith that grew bitter after death and robbed her of the only man she had loved after his passing. She tried to smile but her lips were tight at the memory.