Avery (Random Romance)

by Charlotte McConaghy

  ‘Obey the rules and you’ll not be made to do anything you dislike.’ She shrugged. With a wave of her hand we were dismissed.

  ‘Haven’t you done well,’ I muttered cruelly under my breath as Ambrose yanked me roughly from the room. ‘Now we’ve both got exactly what we want.’

  ‘Quiet,’ he snarled, his jaw clenched into a hard line. But when he looked at me I saw something strange behind his pale eyes, like the ghost of a thing I’d felt long ago.

  Thorne

  The best fight I’d ever had was with my little brother. He could dish it out well, that kid. The day he turned fourteen, I beat him to a bloody pulp in front of every soldier in my army – a rite of passage, an honour. But when he turned sixteen, he beat me just as badly, and for me that was a prouder day. We hadn’t fought since. Strangely enough, that fight was what I thought of when I came across him in the crypt that morning. I wondered if we’d ever match ourselves against each other again, and this time, who would win. He was big these days, and he hadn’t lost a fight against any of our men in a very long time. But I was the slaughterman of Pirenti. I didn’t like his chances.

  I’d seen him leave his quarters, dressed for the cold, and something about his expression had made me follow. Down into the earth, and my heart had sunk as I’d realised what had driven him out of bed so early.

  The same dream, haunting him time and again.

  I made my way up the stairs, back into the main building and up to Ma’s private chambers, thinking as I went about the changes in a life – the weight of responsibility and how it altered you over time. First sons and second sons – two very different roles. If brotherly love would have me hold my tongue, duty brought me here and made me speak. You could not, in this life, willingly break the rules without punishment – no matter who you were. There had to be a hierarchy of strength in order for everything to function. I happened to be at the top of it – if I didn’t do my job, things fell apart.

  ‘What is it?’ Ma asked when I was shown in. She sat behind her desk, reading sheaves of parchment.

  ‘Ambrose was in the crypt.’

  She looked up sharply, disbelief at her lips. ‘Again? After the last punishment?’

  I nodded.

  ‘What is his obsession with that damned place?’

  I shrugged. It had been a dark day for Ambrose, that winter solstice so many years ago. I didn’t want to explain that he carried that day with him even now, because I was worried that it meant that he was softer than the rest of us. Ma wouldn’t understand it – she understood nothing of softness.

  ‘He knows something wasn’t right about that day,’ I murmured. ‘He can scent it.’

  Ma frowned. ‘We must keep him out of that hole in the ground. What will get through to him? No punishment seems to work.’

  ‘Because he’s not a mewling woman,’ I said bluntly. ‘You can’t just whip him and think it will bother him.’

  She met my eyes. ‘Very well. I’ll consider that. You’re dismissed.’

  I turned, worrying that I may have just set something bad in motion – that light in Ma’s eyes often boded very dark things.

  I was at the door before she stopped me. ‘Thorne? Have you disposed of the girl yet?’

  A faint voice whispered inside me – this one made of anger – but I quelled it and spoke calmly. ‘I will not be doing that.’

  She shrugged. ‘It’s your decision, of course. But you do understand that she’s made a laughing stock of you? She’s touched in the head. Why keep her?’

  I stared at my mother, unsure of how to answer. My mouth opened but nothing came out.

  Eloise sighed in irritation. ‘Sometimes I think you’re as stupid as she is. Get out of my sight. And in the Gods’ names – deal with her stench!’

  I made my way down to the armoury, thoughts whirling. The truth was, I didn’t know the answer to this problem. I flushed with humiliation when I thought of Roselyn. The rest of the nation thought she was dim-witted, thought I must be dim-witted myself to have married her. And yet it wasn’t that simple, even though I might wish it was. Roselyn wasn’t stupid, she just had other things in her mind: soaring birds and oyster shells; all the numbers in the world. She wasn’t stupid, she was distracted. Ambrose had said that to me once, as though I hadn’t already deciphered it myself.

  In any case, it hardly mattered what he thought about my wife – Ambrose was wayward. There seemed to be no respect left in his heart for his family or his crown. The absurd notion that my little brother no longer cared about Pirenti sometimes woke me at night. How could he not care about our people or the war we were fighting?

  Ambrose seemed lost, and I didn’t know if I’d be able to save him much longer – which hurt, because I’d always loved him best of all.

  Roselyn

  My favourite pastime is making wishes. Big wishes, sometimes, but mostly small ones, like a wish that the sky would clear so that I could walk on the battlements without getting wet, or wishing I’d have a chance to wear the purple satin gown I’d been sewing. Wishing the cold stones of the castle weren’t so cold. Wishing the Queen didn’t despise me. Wishing I could conceive a child. Wishing my husband loved me. If I had a harder wish to make, I’d even it out with some simple ones. I liked everything better that way – even. In order to balance out one of the really big wishes, I had to make sure lots of little wishes came true. But there was one wish I would never make, because I knew with a bone-deep kind of certainty that it could never come true, not in my lifetime: I would never wish to stop being thrown in the dungeon. I made too many mistakes for that particular wish to come true.

  How I came to be there on the afternoon of one of the biggest storms in Pirenti was due, once again, to my own stupidity. I wasn’t supposed to go to the highest levels of the fortress, but I wanted to glimpse the oyster bays through the eastern window – they always looked so beautiful at night, glistening under the stars. And tonight I had the chance to be alone, because Thorne was working with his ma and wouldn’t be ready for bed for hours.

  I walked the halls, listening to my shoes clip against the flaggings, counting how many steps it took me to get from one doorway to the next and then trying to do it in less. The easy order of the numbers was comforting.

  To get to the eastern window I had to pass the execution room. To my surprise, there were people within. Curiosity got the better of me, as it always did. This was, without a doubt, my deepest, truest flaw, as my husband liked to point out. My curiosity overruled rational thought, fear, and plain common sense.

  I paused by the door to the massive room and peeked in. The Queen was seated on her throne, flanked by four of her bodyguards, and standing before her – I realised with a quickening heart – was Ambrose. I’d know the look of him from a million leagues away. He was restraining a struggling Kayan boy with ease, almost as if the boy was nothing more than a toy in his big arms. I felt a tremor flow through me. I hadn’t seen Ambrose in days.

  ‘You make me sick,’ the boy said, and my mouth dropped open, stunned. Didn’t he know that he’d be tortured for saying such a thing? I held my breath as I waited to hear how the Queen would react – a particular kind of violence threaded moments like these, when power was challenged.

  What I did not foresee was the way Ambrose turned and beheld the boy. There was an expression on his face I’d never seen before, one I’d never even come close to seeing. As he stared at this strange, angry Kayan, I saw a kind of desperate panic flash across his features, and then some hastily flung words flew from his mouth. He wanted the boy to go to the isle, which didn’t make sense, because that was a fate worse than death.

  I watched in confusion, wishing I understood what was going on. Wishes, wished especially hard, as a sound came from beside me – of someone clearing their throat very softly – and I jerked in fright to realise I wasn’t alone. I spun to face my husband. He towered above me, massive arms folded over his barrel chest. Thorne was the biggest, most intimidating man I
’d ever seen, covered in tattoos and battle scars. His bright blue eyes glinted at me. Silently, he flicked his head for me to follow and then strode down the hallway. I followed him to our chambers, my heart beating wildly in apprehension, knowing that the punishment for this trespass would be bad and cursing myself endlessly. Why don’t I ever learn?

  But even so, even within the shame, there was a dark, foolish place where a piece of me relished the simple fact that he was looking at me.

  Once he’d locked the door behind me, I bowed my head and waited. Thorne stared at me for what felt like an age and my blood rushed in my ears. ‘I don’t know what to do with you.’

  Wild despair in my chest. ‘I’m sorry,’ I murmured, chancing a look up into those clear eyes. They were a shade darker than his brother’s icy gaze, but no less frightening. They held a kind of reckless violence, and no matter how well I knew him, I would never stop being afraid of how unpredictable Prince Thorne of Pirenti was.

  ‘You continue to disobey me.’

  ‘I don’t mean to.’ It was true – I never thought about the stupid things I did until it was too late. It was as though I couldn’t quite grasp that what I was doing was wrong until I was found and punished.

  ‘What did you hear up there?’ His voice was deep and gravelly, as if he had swallowed cut glass.

  ‘I … very little. Only that Ambrose caught a Kayan boy, and now he must take him to the isle. I promise I didn’t hear anything else.’

  ‘Why were you up there? You know you’re not allowed to go to the top floor.’

  ‘I …’ I flushed bright pink and looked down at the floor. ‘I wanted to see the moonlight on the oyster farms.’

  I wished for him to forgive me. I wished for him to hold me and tell me it was all right. A stupid waste – they were two wishes that would never come true.

  ‘Why have you still not bathed?’ he demanded.

  I blushed even redder. ‘I have, I—’

  ‘Not with a cloth,’ he growled.

  I didn’t know how to answer him, how to explain the fear.

  Thorne breathed out, a puff of impatience. ‘My mother constantly tells me I’ve married a half-wit. Sometimes I agree with her.’

  Shame washed over me. He grabbed me by the wrist and marched me down hundreds of steps. I knew this staircase very well. The air grew colder as we moved underground. The dungeons were usually full of criminals and Kayans waiting to have their punishments carried out, but there was a cell at the very end that was always left empty. For me.

  Thorne stopped before it and turned to face me. He reached out a large, strong hand and tilted my face towards his. ‘What do I tell you, every day?’

  I swallowed. ‘To think things through before I act.’

  I barely had time to take a breath before he slapped me across the cheek. It stung and brought tears to my eyes, but I knew I had to hold them in until he was gone – Thorne didn’t like it when I cried in front of him.

  ‘That was for ignoring me,’ he said bluntly. I nodded shakily. Then he kissed me on the mouth. I usually yearned for his kisses – they were rare – but this one was rough and hard, and made my lips hurt. Still reeling, I stumbled as he pushed me into the cell.

  ‘Good girl,’ he murmured. ‘Think about what you’ve done.’

  As he strode away, he drew his knife and raked it across the bars of the prison cells, waking the prisoners and grinning wolfishly at their discomfort. I crawled into the corner of the cell and covered my face with my hands so I could sob as softly as possible. How could I have been so stupid, yet again? Maybe the Queen was right and I was a half-wit.

  ‘Are you all right?’ a voice asked from nearby. I looked up to see the Kayan boy standing at the bars between our cells. He was small and lean and too delicate looking. With his bronzed skin and very blond hair, the purple of his eyes stood out garishly. They were strange, unnatural eyes. I hated to think of them changing colour – it was unnerving.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I whispered.

  ‘He hit you pretty hard.’

  It was nowhere near as hard as I’d been hit before, but this didn’t seem like something I should point out.

  ‘Don’t tell me you’re married to that beast?’

  I licked my lips and tasted blood.

  ‘Why?’ the boy pressed.

  I stared at him. ‘Don’t you know who that was?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘That was Prince Thorne, elder Prince of Pirenti.’

  His expression didn’t change and I wondered if he was stupid. ‘Then you’re the princess?’

  ‘There are no princesses. Only princes.’

  ‘That seems fair.’ The boy’s eyes flashed in the darkness. ‘If you’re his wife, why did he hit you and throw you down here with all the evil Kayan monsters?’

  ‘I behaved badly.’

  ‘Of course.’ He seemed to be mocking me.

  ‘Thorne doesn’t enjoy punishing me.’

  The Kayan stared at me a long moment, then shook his head and sat down against the wall. ‘That’s bullshit,’ he said softly. ‘That man is power hungry. He could crush you in those huge hands of his, and he likes to see the knowledge of it in your eyes.’

  I stared at him, feeling faint. ‘You’re wrong.’

  He shrugged and lay down to sleep.

  I blinked a few times. Realising that all my tears had dried up. I shifted to my usual spot beneath the window to look up into the sky. I wish for this stay to be short. I wish for Thorne to come and let me out first thing in the morning. I wish for the clouds to move out of the way so I can see the moon. I wish for it not to get too cold tonight.

  Thorne didn’t collect me the next morning, or the one after that. The Kayan boy was taken away shortly after we’d spoken, but I was left in the dungeons for three nights, and on the third it started to pour with rain. The flash of lightning and rumble of thunder overhead scared me, and rain entered my cell through the window, soaking and chilling me to the bone. Fear sliced through my bones and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to disappear inside the numbers in my head. I’d already counted the stones in the walls one hundred and ninety-eight times, and the bars that surrounded me three hundred and twelve times. After a while I started to make wishes instead, as loudly as I possibly could to try to drown out the surrounding storm. I wish it would stop raining. I wish I were lying warm in my bed. I wish the Kayan boy had never spoken to me. I wish Ambrose hadn’t looked at him like he did. I wish I didn’t know what that look meant. And failing all of those, I simply wished for dry, dry, dry.

  Chapter 2

  Ambrose

  For someone who rarely got angry, I was fuming. I so pissed off I couldn’t sleep. Avery didn’t seem to have any such trouble, even with his wrist tied to the frame of the bed – his breathing was deep and slow. Annoying little brat – the incredibly shit turn my life had taken was entirely his fault.

  The ship we were travelling on was small – designed to transfer prisoners directly to the isle where our most formidable prison waited. The fortress there was inescapable, the conditions utterly brutal. I felt bad for condemning Avery to it, but for some bizarre reason I hadn’t been able to watch him die. I now regretted my decision immensely. He was the grumpiest kid I’d ever met. Sighing, I climbed out of bed and made my way up to the deck. The captain was at the wheel, and I joined him there. ‘Good fortune,’ I said, sitting down.

  ‘And to you, sire.’

  ‘Where are we now?’

  ‘Level with the Araan region, day one of fourteen. We’ll head out to sea tomorrow to skirt around the shoal.’

  The shoal was Pirenti’s greatest resource – an enormous oyster farm that spanned hundreds of miles.

  ‘How’s the captive?’ the captain asked, his red hair shining in the moonlight. He grinned sideways at me. ‘Suffering enough? We can make it harder for him, if you want. Rough him up a bit more.’

  ‘Tempting,’ I told him truthfully. ‘But I’d like to take care of th
e pretty boy’s pain myself.’ The sailors had spent the whole day taunting and bullying Avery, hitting, pushing, kicking and tripping him. He was covered in bruises and cuts, but he’d taken the beating with a stiff upper lip and not a word of complaint. The gaze he’d levelled on his aggressors was so deeply disdainful that I wondered for about the millionth time what had made him like this, so impossibly detached.

  The captain gave a wheezing laugh, slapping his huge, meaty hand on the wheel. ‘Kayans – weak like pre-pubescent girls. They make me sick.’

  I nodded faintly, thinking of how Avery had said the same words to the Queen. Had that been weak? It didn’t seem so to me. Petulant and foolish, yes, but not weak.

  Back in my cabin, trying to sleep, I was roused by the sound of Avery’s soft moan. I looked over at him in the darkness, but he was still asleep. Whatever he dreamt about had him tossing and turning, groaning in agony. I had to cover my ears with a pillow to drown out the wretchedness of it. I didn’t sleep much that night – the nightmares that racked him seemed to echo in my own ears, long after he stopped making any sound at all. It came to me, as I lay there, that the sharpness of real human suffering was not something I’d ever expected to find in a Kayan.

  The next morning I woke to find Avery staring out the small circular window of the cabin. I yawned and stretched. ‘Get a good look, ’cause you won’t see much of the sky once you’re on the isle.’

  He turned his amazing purple eyes towards me, with an expression so bleak I shut my mouth and watched him turn back to the window.

  ‘What were you doing in Pirenti, anyway? A boy like you shouldn’t be flying into enemy lands on your own.’

  ‘A boy like what?’ he asked coldly.

  I shrugged. ‘You haven’t got the strength to harm a man from Pirenti. What were you planning to do?’

  Avery’s gaze was furious. I actually blinked in surprise at the heat of his anger – his eyes went bright red. ‘You’ve got no idea what I’m capable of,’ he spat at me. ‘Besides which, tough guy, I wasn’t planning on trying to harm a man from Pirenti.’