“He was just floating there, yeah? Small little thing, so small I could hide him in the crook o’ my arm.” And Jak would speak of how after the sailors had warned him of what he had just picked up, of how the Dageians might come for him someday, he tore himself away from the crowd, wrapping one arm around the infant as he walked down to the crew’s quarters. The men’s gibbering didn’t bother him. Instead, he concerned himself with rifling through the crew’s bedsheets until he found a few woolen ones that sufficed. He sat at the edge of the bed, where he pressed his thumb against the Luc’s thin arm.
And here, every time, without fail, he would speak of how the infant looked back at him with a gaze that was almost intense, how beautiful his eyes were. “He saved me,” Jak would say. “I was a young, angry, selfish man who didn’t know what to do with his life. But that child…oh, he was a gift. My Lucky.” And he would kiss Luc on the head with tears in his eyes, an act that embarassed him more and more as he grew older, until he never stuck around to hear his father finish the story anymore.
He didn’t know what he was supposed to feel. If he hadn’t shown up, perhaps those men would still be alive. Nagging thoughts. Nagging thoughts against the weight of his father’s words. That lucky child that he near-worshipped, that to him could do no wrong, should’ve known better. Should’ve known better than to run off with mercenaries, for starters.
But what made him feel worse was that he didn’t regret a damn thing.
It was very nearly a betrayal of everything he had been taught his whole life. The dead was not theirs to worry about, Hana had assured him, but he knew his father would’ve said something else. Yet that first night, he had spent more time worrying about why Roena wasn’t talking to him than even offering a paltry prayer ceremony for the men who had been killed. Decent men, as far as men went. They were kind enough to him when they didn’t have to be. And anyway, it didn’t matter what a man did or didn’t do to you—how you treated them was your responsibility.
Ah, how easily a father’s words could fade away in the wake of something new. And how easy it was to worry less and less about what he would think the further the days stretched out. By the time they reached the first village, Luc had managed to get ahold of his thoughts and the ache on the rune was all but gone. He saw Roena chatting with Hana about something or another before he caught her eye. Her lips quirked into a half-smile. She never gave him that much more, not even when they slept together, but it made his senses spin.
“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Treda asked him once the women were out of earshot.
“Bad news,” Demon grumbled.
Treda snorted. “Maybe for you.”
“She’s a noblewoman,” Demon said. “Fuck knows what she’s doing here with us, but you know it’s not going to be for long.”
“I know that,” Luc said, scratching his head. He hadn’t really thought about it before, but there it was. Inexperienced as he was, he had always suspected that Roena’s actions were nothing more than a flight of fancy. A convenient flight of fancy for him, but one she probably hadn’t thought all that well through just the same.
“If you want to know what I think—” Demon began.
Treda sighed. “We really don’t.”
Demon scowled at him. “Take what you can, while you can. She’s still a woman. Still a warm, tight—”
“I don’t think you heard me the first time,” Treda interrupted. “He’s in love with her. You’d marry her in a heartbeat.”
Luc shook his head, unsure of how to reply.
Treda laughed. “Well…maybe not marry, but you’re probably thinking about picking flowers or buying her something nice by the time we get to Crossfingers.”
“You’re both fucked up,” Demon snarled. “Flowers.”
“You don’t like flowers, Demon? I’m shocked.”
Luc smiled, scratching his head. Up ahead, he noticed that Roena had stopped in the middle of the street. A man was walking up towards them. Her expression changed.
The man stopped in front of her. “Roena Blackwood,” he said. “I’m surprised to see you still in one piece.”
She slapped him.
Luc saw the man barely flinch. There was a smirk on his face, too, which seemed almost unnatural considering how Roena looked about ready to murder him. “I’m glad to see you too, my dear,” he continued in a tone that was all shades of smug.
“I’m not going back home,” she hissed.
“I’m not here to take you back to your father, if that’s what you think. I’m sure you’re aware I have better things to do than to keep track of your activities.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
He straightened his collar before glancing at Luc. “Ah. The glorious leader of this group.”
Luc turned to Roena first. “Well…”
He gave a smile. “Am I wrong? Is she the leader now?”
“Leave us alone, Ylir.”
“I haven’t even done anything irritating so far.”
“You’re here. That’s irritating enough.”
Ylir laughed before returning his gaze back towards Luc. “My name is Ylir yn Ferral,” he said. “You are Luc apn Jak, unless she’s given you a new name. Is that how this works now, Roena? You’ve found a new pet?”
“Just go away.”
“I can’t, unfortunately. But don’t fret your pretty face. I’m just here to greet you on a job well-done. A truly glorious accomplishment—fulfilling not just the conditions you set out to do, but felling one of the famed beasts of the Kag!”
“How do you know these things?” Luc asked. “We just got here.”
Ylir grinned. “I don’t pay you to ask questions.”
“You—what?”
Ylir turned to Tasha, who was standing right behind Luc. “You haven’t told them?”
“Never came up,” Tasha grunted.
“You bastard,” Roena said. “You…and you’re working with Lady Isobel, too? What are you up to?”
“Like I said, it’s nothing you ought to worry about. You did say you have no intention of returning home, yes?” He dug into his pocket and placed a purse in Luc’s hand. “Don’t let her make you spend it all in one place, now.”
“We have to talk,” Roena snarled.
“I have been meaning to speak with Luc and Tasha alone. I suppose if you’ve slept your way up the hierarchy—”
She slapped him a second time.
“I have secured the inn for your men,” Ylir continued without missing a beat, though his cheek was turning a bright shade of red. “They’ll take care of food and drink and whatever else they may need. Consider it a reward for a job well-done. Now, if you’ll follow me up to my room, I can explain what’s going to happen next.”
~~~
Ylir’s abrupt appearance in the village shouldn’t have upset Roena, but it did.
Her mind scrabbled backward as she tried to remember how she had first met him at the start of that winter. He had gone to Blackwood specifically to introduce himself to her father, bringing proposals straight from the partners of Yn Garr Industries. She didn’t know much more than that—her father never spoke to her about his businesses, a thing that had always irritated her on account of the fact that she was his heir—and Ylir had been too busy with…other things…ever since she became acquainted with him.
She couldn’t even remember who first initiated things. Both of them, perhaps, dancing around each other. Tentatively, in the beginning, and then not so much. She had expected a much older man from what she had heard about him and was intrigued when she saw that he was young, handsome, and different. Charming when he wanted to be, barb-tongued when he didn’t. She liked that in a man. But she could easily admit that the novelty had worn off fast enough. Ylir wasn’t someone you were supposed to trust—his reputation followed him like a shadow and he never really tried to hide it, either.
What it came down to, she realized, was that Ylir was a reminder of how difficu
lt it was for her to truly shed everything that made her who she was, no matter how much she tried.
Roena had lost track of the number of times she had tried to run away from home. She knew the others thought of it as a joke—something she did to attract attention and sympathy. And there were times when she’d been found half-frozen in a ditch somewhere, shivering after she’d lost her way, and her father, instead of going on one of his rambling, incoherent rages, had kept quiet and sent her to bed with blankets and a warm cup of tea he’d made himself. People who accused her of such things didn’t know Iorwin, of course. There was no sense in trying to squeeze kindness from him. It happened or it didn’t.
Most days, all she really wanted was to just leave it all behind. Her name. Her title. Her father’s choking presence. But of course Ylir had been right about one thing—she didn’t know much else. She would never admit it to his face, but she didn’t know how to be anything but Lady Roena Blackwood. She had attached herself to Luc in the first place because a part of her was aware that he would respect that. Hana had praised her for it.
She found it detestable. Using Luc was one thing; relying on him was another. Dealing the killing blow to the creature had changed that, had filled her with a sense of pride. The others seemed to respect her for it, too—actual respect, and not the sort that came because they were afraid of her father. The last few days had been a whirlwind of acceptance and camaraderie. It almost felt like the sort of life she could live, now.
Almost. She watched Ylir take a seat as they strode into his room. The furnishings—or lack thereof—took her aback. There was nothing but a bed and the chair. Common enough in roadside inns, but it wasn’t the sort of room she expected to ever find Ylir in. Yet it looked as if he had been staying there for days—the sheets looked slept in, there were clothes folded in one corner, books piled in another, and at least three candle stubs along the windowsill.
“The ka-eng work for you too, don’t they?” Luc spoke up.
Ylir crossed his arms. “What of it?”
Luc appeared almost angry—as close to it as she has seen, anyway.
“This isn’t the time,” Tasha broke in.
“They lied to me,” Luc continued, ignoring her. “They said they were keeping an eye on Toskthar for their elder, because of the missing children. They said—”
Ylir held a finger up. “Not that I feel the need to explain myself to you, but you’re a polite enough fellow, so I’ll give you this: I don’t know. I don’t keep track of their activities, and for all I can see, they were telling the truth. They do work for me—that is, for Yn Garr Industries. Just like you.”
“Yn Garr Industries owns the Boarshind,” Roena broke in. “Why would you need us?”
He smiled. “Us. You really are serious about this Roena, aren’t you?”
“Answer my question.”
“We don’t own the Boarshind,” he said, tapping his fingers across his knee. “Baeddan, the leader of the Boarshind, and my master Gorrhen yn Garr are friends. Gorrhen yn Garr has made investments in the Boarshind infrastructure and he takes a certain percentage of the profit, but—”
“You’re stalling.”
He looked irritated at her interruption. “You asked me a question. I answered.”
“That wasn’t my question. Why us?”
“You’re dirt cheap,” Ylir said with a grin. He glanced at Tasha. “No offense intended, of course, but…labour isn’t as easy to come by in the Kag as you might believe, and I prefer to use the Boarshind for more…delicate operations. My master wasn’t keen on this whole business, but the fact that Tasha and Oswyn were from the Boarshind helped ease his heart a little. Oswyn’s death was a disappointment, in more ways than one.”
“Do you really believe the shit that comes out of your mouth?” Roena asked.
“My dear, I’m still not quite sure why you’re angry with me. Does my presence fill you with conflict? You were a lot more accommodating the last time we saw each other.”
She resisted the urge to strike him a third time. It was starting to become repetitive, and she wasn’t sure if he was worth hurting her hand again. She saw Luc fidgeting uncomfortably. “And Lady Isobel?” she asked, trying to draw attention away from talk of that last time. “Have you partnered up with her, too? If cheap was what you wanted…”
Ylir started laughing. “Some of our interests align, yes,” he said, after catching his breath. “I’ve got to admit, Roena, I wasn’t aware these things ever interested you. You seemed like you didn’t care much beyond your sword collection and your petty grudges with your father.”
Tasha cleared her throat before she could respond. “You wanted us here for another job.”
“I did. Straightforward as always, Tasha. I always did like that about you. And Luc. How did your sword hold up? The smith at Crossfingers assured me it was his best steel, but they all say that.”
“It’s…fine,” Luc replied. “A little chipped.”
“Bring it back to him and tell him to put it on my tab. Both of you have made this experiment work remarkably in our favour. I have to admit, I was concerned when Lady Isobel reported that you’ve somehow found yourselves saddled with Lady Roena, but I won’t fault you for that. You’re a young man, and she does know her way between the sheets.”
She gritted her teeth. “You—”
“There’s one other reason I hired you,” Ylir continued, completely ignoring her now. “The Boarshind function under a specific set of rules, one of which is that they don’t take assassination contracts. Bad for their image, you understand. They’re trying to present themselves as a professional organization, one available for hire in nations beyond. Many officials won’t want anything to do with them if they’re seen as nothing more than lawless thugs and criminals.”
“Wait,” Luc said. “You want us to kill someone?”
“Yes.”
“Who?” Roena asked.
Ylir’s smile never left his face. “I’m having Lady Isobel gather up the details. She’ll tell you the rest in Blackwood. But I wanted to speak with you both to ensure we don’t have a problem. Everything from up to here had been simple. From here on out? I need assurance that you’ll be able to control your men.” He turned to gaze at Tasha.
“The men are fine,” Tasha said after what felt like an unaturally long pause.
“Are they?”
“They’re following Lucky well enough. We keep them in line when they don’t.”
“Are you sure?”
Luc turned to Tasha. “I thought you told me he wanted me to take charge.”
She scowled. “I can’t fucking lead,” she grumbled.
“She’s frightened,” Ylir said, “of what they’ll do if they learn what brought her out here in the first place. Isn’t that right, Tasha?”
“Fuck off. I’m doing what you want. I told you to stay out of it. This isn’t your problem.”
“It is if it interferes with the operation,” Ylir said. His eyes settled on Luc.
Chapter Seventeen
Luc felt his throat go dry at Ylir’s scrutinizing gaze. Discomfort flooded him. Shame, too, almost like when he found himself confronted with Draigar mere hours after lying with her on that stone floor. No…worse. They were feelings he was starting to get used to, and he was aware they weren’t about to leave anytime soon so as long as he continued to associate with Roena.
“Leave us,” Ylir said.
“If you think I’m going to let you hurt him—” Roena started.
Tasha grabbed her by the arm before she could finish her sentence. Roena started to resist, but Tasha easily dragged her out of the room, shutting the door behind them. Luc could hear them arguing for a few seconds until their voice faded out in the hall.
Ylir looked amused. “She seems oddly fond of you. That’s a first. I was beginning to wonder if she cared about anything but herself.”
“I’m pretty sure she just wanted to make you angry.”
“You�
�re smarter than I gave you credit for.”
He wondered if that was an insult. “As opposed to just some idiot who fell…uh…”
“There’s a crude term that’s not face-first that you’re thinking of, but I’m not sure if either of us are equipped to say it.”
Luc rubbed the back of his head. “I suppose not. I know what she’s doing. The whole thing with Draigar. You.” He took a deep breath. “She’s talked about you before. Briefly. I don’t know. This life is—I never imagined I would find myself here.”
He wasn’t sure why he kept talking. He could see Ylir examining him closely, like he was a puzzle he wanted to disassemble but wasn’t sure if it was something he had time for. “Interesting choice of words,” Ylir finally said. “I’m going to repeat my question. This job is important. Are you going to be a problem?”
“I don’t understand why you’re asking me that.” He swallowed. “It’s…the killing, I suppose?”
“Ah. I was about to take back what I just said earlier. Yes, Luc. I’m acquainted with your reputation from Crossfingers. When Tasha insinuated that she preferred you take responsibility after Oswyn’s death, I had to find out why for myself. I imagined you’d be some sort of warrior prodigy or brilliant strategist. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Don’t get angry. I’m not insulting you.”
“I was just about to decide that you were.”
“The townspeople spoke fondly of you. The priest. The smith. The…town surgeon?”
“Tom.”
“Good old Tom,” Ylir said dryly. “They found it unfortunate that you fell with a bad crowd. A kind boy, their Lucky. Wouldn’t dream of hurting a fly. You failed the military exam at Skellcilan Academy too, I’m told.”
“You’re very thorough.”
“That’s what I do. The professor was quite regretful that she couldn’t recommend you on, though her reasons were sound. You’re Gorenten.”
“So are you,” he retorted.
“Ah. So you noticed.”
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