Lance looks back and smiles. “Guess you shouldn’t have planted those beans.”
My grueling mistake is a joke to everyone in Beantown, everyone but me. Damn that peddler and his beans. They wrote a tale about it, but they got a few things wrong. My mother wasn’t a widow, not when I planted the beans. They also made the hero of the story a guy not a girl. I guess normal girls would scream and run from a giant, instead of kill it.
Lance takes a few more steps, invading my claustrophobic kitchen. A small sack jingles from the side of his belt while a sword rests on the opposite hip. His leather boots clunk across the wooden floor toward me. His broad shoulders and dazzling hazel eyes have me mesmerized for a moment. I clear my throat. “So, did you come to collect the head?”
With a sigh, he takes a seat at my table. As many times as Lance has been coming to my door, dropping off sacks of money, he’s never sat down in my home. I eye the gold spilling from the top of the bag onto my table. I return my attention to Lance, who’s running a hand through his long, brown locks. He clears his throat, breaking the awkward silence forming between us. “There’s your cut.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He smiles.
I’m not buying that or his smile. “Something is troubling you. You look as though your dog died.”
He shakes his head. “No dogs died today. You just… you had me worried, Jack. It’s been a month and it usually takes you two weeks to slay a giant. I thought… never mind.”
He doesn’t have to finish. I can fill in the blanks. He’d thought I’d died. A week ago, I thought the same thing. The giant I’d been assigned to kill was by far the hardest one I’d ever had to put down. At one point, the brute caught me, shook me so hard it felt as if my brains were going to turn into slush and pour out of my eye sockets. His beastly fingers then began to squeeze the life out of me, but that’s where the monster failed, for I stuck my sword right through his Adam’s apple. Blood sprayed and gurgled as the giant’s own life source seeped out of him like a long flowing red river. Eventually, he fell to his knees and I ripped my sword out. Then I finished the job by chopping off his head.
They’re not souvenirs for me, but proof for the great King Rubin that I’ve done my job; a job I no longer find joy in and yet, there’s no way out of it. No matter how many giants I kill, there’s another head that must be taken off and brought forth to the king. For it’s up to me to keep our fair Kingdom safe from the havoc-creating beasts.
“Have you eaten since you’ve been back?” Lance asks, taking me by surprise.
I shake my head. “No. Just washed, changed, and was about to write the king when you showed up.” I motion to the stationary and wind-up pen. It had an endless supply of ink as long as you turned the brass key four times. When you spoke the words spilled onto the pages like magic.
“Ah. So, I’ve got perfect timing. Well, how about you and I go to the tavern and get a bite.”
I lift a brow. “That’s not why you’re here, is it?”
“Might be. Come on. You’re hungry. I’m hungry. What else do you got to do?”
Besides watching my clockwork pen write the rest of my letter? Nothing. He’s got me there. I sigh. “Okay.”
We arrive at the local tavern in Beantown. People stop and stare at Lance and I as we enter the cramped place. Smells of freshly baked bread wafts the air, along with molten beer, and cheap pipe tobacco. A tavern wench with drips of sunshine curls skips up to us. Her ruby lips curl upward when her eyes rest on Lance. She dips her body, letting her tight reddish brown leather corset expose her cleavage like a platter for all the gentlemen to see. Her black laced frilly skirt is no better, exposing not only ruffles, but her long legs. I notice Lance eye her up like a child eyes up candy. “Welcome to Rum Runners Tavern. Just the two of you?”
“Yes. May we have one of the booths in the back?” Lance asks.
She acknowledges him with a smile. As she leads us to our table, I can’t help noticing eyes follow along with the whispers. Which is exactly why we’re sitting in the back, away from these drunks. Even though a small part of me wishes this was Lance’s idea of a romantic gesture, I know it’s not.
Without missing a beat, he flashes the wench a devilish grin as she motions to the open booth. “Thanks, Angel. My friend and I would love a round of beer, please.” He winks and she blushes with a light giggle.
I snort. The girl shoots a glare at me and curls her upper lip as if being around me was like staring at a scab with puss seeping out of it. I look down at my lap. There’s no need to return my attention to the girl. The clinking sound of her heels growing farther away lets me know it’s safe to look up without judgment.
Lance chuckles. “Jack, do you know what I’m going to miss?”
“Not really. But I’m sure you’ll inform me.”
He shakes his head. “That’s lovely. Your lack of interest makes me wonder why we’re even friends.”
I raise a brow and laugh. “We’re friends? No way. When did this happen?”
“Utterly impossible to talk to you.” Scowling, he finishes, “I’m going to miss seeing you.”
The tavern wench comes back with our drinks and asks, “Ready to order?” causing my round of questions for him to be on pause while I answer her.
“Ham and cheese sandwich with potatoes please.”
“I’ll have the same.”
The blonde bounces away, and my gaze follows her for a bit, making sure she’s out of earshot when I ask, “What exactly do you mean you’re going to miss me?”
He sighs. “According to the Wizard, you’ve nearly killed off the giant race. This is the last one.” He slides a parchment across the table and gazes at me.
My last assignment rests in my hands, an overwhelming sense of joy fills me, but so does sadness. I’ve only known two things in my life: one being poor as dirt and two, killing giants. I’m no longer poor, but soon—very soon—I won’t be hunting down creatures and beheading them. What’s a girl to do with herself?
It’s not as if this life let me make friends, or have boyfriends for that matter. I’ve been alone since my first kill. My parents died at the hand of the second giant I slaughtered. He sought revenge for his dead brother. I ended up seeking revenge for my parents’ death, and even though I got it, nothing made the pain better.
“Promise me something, will you?” Lance takes my hands into his. I stare up at him.
I tilt my head slightly. “What’s that?”
“Come back alive and well.”
My cheeks flame at his sudden tenderness. My heart pounds like crazy against my bruised ribcage, and my stomach is filled with dancing butterflies. I silently curse my body for betraying me. He continues to observe me, turning my formed blush to spread like a wild fire all over my skin. Thank goodness for the dim lighting. It might help conceal how Lance’s affecting me right now.
I cough and look away. “Don’t I always?”
“Do I have to remind you about the worry you put me through?”
I shake my head and snort. “I’m sure someone kept you occupied.” More like many some ones. I wasn’t going to be another number. He knew this too. Yet he seemed to love torturing me with his smile, and flattery. I should slap him for it, but the maiden places our meals in front of us and the rumble of my stomach takes over the rest of my senses.
Inside the king’s steam-powered carriage, the air is dense and hot, making each breath feel fiery, and dry. If this isn’t bad enough, Lance studies me the whole ride. My stomach flutters and churns at the same time.
Twisting my attention away from his eyes, I watch the countryside pass outside the small window. How foolish of me to think Lance genuinely cared about what happened to me, beyond whether I was alive enough to hunt giants for King Rubin. His words turned into nothing but meaningless crap as soon as he tipped the wench with a kiss and a promise to take her out next week.
Men like Lance treat women as floozies and nothing more. I’m
not jealous—well, maybe a little—but it’s more than that. I’m angry my gender disapproves of what I do. They give me dirty looks and snub me for my choices. He and the king act like I’m nothing but a half crazed giant slayer. Maybe, I want to be seen as something more.
Lance shifts in his seat, adjusting his black duster. Then he clears his throat. “How long do you think you’ll be?” he asks, breaking the silence between us.
I shrug. “I don’t know.” I’m tired, and don’t want to think about my last job. Thinking about it means thinking about the future, things I’m not certain have any business being in my head.
His hand touches my knee. Heat flares at the place of contact, searing through the leather covering my legs. I push his hand away and glare at him. It’s like he’s purposely trying to get a rouse out of me. I’m not happy about it.
“Do you react to everything female, or is it because I am the only thing that can entertain you in this carriage?”
He frowns. “That’s hardly fair. This is a long ride as you well know and this silence between us is irritating. Why are you angry with me?”
“I’m not.” I fold my arms across my chest. He laughs. “I’m not mad at you, just how you act,” I answer.
He nods. “How should I act then?”
“Lance.” I groan. “Just stop. I’m trying to think and then I’m going to sleep.”
Well, if my body allows it. I doubt it will, but he doesn’t need to concern himself with this. Although, a very small part of me wishes someone would take notice and be concerned. It doesn’t have to be Lance, but someone would be nice.
He drops his gaze and says, “Jackie, in all seriousness, if I didn’t trick you when we first met, would you have given me a chance?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
The fact is Lance pretended to be a newcomer. My mother took him in since my father was away selling trinkets to the other towns outside of Beantown. During Lance’s stay, he became friends with me. We got close—too close. For a moment, I thought I’d found love. Before I could explore those feelings, a giant stole my parents, and I went to hunt it down. As soon as I slayed the beast, Lance revealed his true mission—the king wanted him to gain my trust in order to keep an eye on me.
Once that happened, I refused to let him get closer. Perfidy nestled under many layers of walls because like Lance’s mission, his true self unfolded in ways that made me sick with myself. There was a point I had thought I loved him, but now, I know it was nothing more than a foolish thought.
He sighs. “I guess you’ll be happy when this is all over.”
I close my eyes and shake my head. I wish he’d quit. His words seep through the layers. My fingers skim over the smooth paper containing my instructions and I reread them to distract myself from Lance’s stares.
Height six and a half feet. That has to be a mistake. Silly Scribers, unless… are they asking me to kill a baby? I’ve killed a lot of giants, but even I have morals, and this is one line I’ll never cross. Looking away from the words resting in my hands, I ask, “Is this a child?”
Lance shrugs. “You know I don’t read your orders. Does it say it’s a small beast?”
“I’m not killing a child,” I snap.
His eyes roll.
“That thing isn’t a child. It’s a small beast,” he growls. He snatches the parchment from me and reads. “I don’t see why you’re getting so worked up over this.”
I narrow my eyes. Did he really think killing a young beast was acceptable? My stomach knots and churns with disgust. “It’s wrong, Lance. You’d never kill a fawn would you?”
He shakes his head. “That’s different! You of all people should be able to see that.”
But, I don’t. There’s no difference. A baby or child can’t defend themselves. They wouldn’t understand why I’d be there sword and all trying to steal their life. I’d be no better than the monsters I’ve killed if I went along with this.
He hands the parchment back. I glance at it and then launch it him. “No! Find someone else.”
Lance has a hard glint in his eyes. “You’ll carry out the order, or you’ll be hanged for going against King Rubin.”
Between the ride and this mission, I’m nauseous. I can feel my dinner working its way up my throat, threatening to pour out of me any second. The burgundy velvet walls surrounding us now feel like the inside of a moving prison. My breath hitches as I try to force my sickness down. “Tell the driver to stop.”
Lance raises a brow. “Are you going to hurl? You look all green, Jack.” He leans forward and touches my leg. I jerk toward the door and fling it open. “Jackie! Have you gone completely mad?” I ignore him. His palm slaps against the backboard. “Stop the carriage!”
It’s too late. My fingers lose their grip on the door, and I tumble out. Lance screams, but I’m more focused on the fall than to bother with his words. I try to catch something—a tree, large rock, anything. My knees buckle. I spiral down a hill.
Weeds whip across my face. A sapling collides with my right side, causing my already bruised ribs to sear with fiery pain. I dig my fingers into the hillside, trying to stop myself from withstanding more injuries, but I’m going too fast. My legs flail and my left hand lifts off the ground and smacks into the top half of a boulder. My knuckles snap-pop-crack, causing my whole arm to smart, followed by the sting of tears spilling from my eyes. Curses fly from my mouth as the pain colors my vision.
“Dear god! Are you all right, Jackie?” Lance rushes to my side.
“Am I dead?” I’m trying to be humorous to draw myself away from the rippling pain overtaking my body.
Rough fingers brush away tears and some strands of hair from my face. His honey brown eyes look me over. “Your hand is a bloody mess, but I don’t see any bones sticking out.”
He scowls. “Jackie, you’ve got a way of scaring the hell out of me.” His hand reaches underneath me, skimming along my butt, and I instantly flinch, which makes the prickling aches worsen.
I chew on my lower lip to hold in my scream, and say through gritted teeth, “What are you doing?”
“I believe the term is picking you up. Now stop getting excited.” He smiles, but his tone is firm, which means he isn’t kidding around.
From the top of the hill, a voice calls down, “Sir Lance, is Miss Gilmore all right?”
I wince as Lance sweeps me up from the ground. My stomach still churns at the thought of my mission, as well as the entire kingdom finding out about my tumble down the hill. “She’ll be fine, Bert.” He returns his gaze to me. “Why in God’s name did you jump out like that?”
“This mission has me sick to my stomach. I felt as if I were going to bring forth my entire dinner upon the floor of the carriage.”
“Jack, I know it sounds bad, killing a young giant, but why wait around ten, maybe fifteen, years for that thing to get stronger. You’ll be an old maid by then.” I gasp at his words and he shakes his head. “I don’t mean it like that.” His eyes narrow a fraction and then he sighs. “Do you need me to come with you? I’ll do it. All you have to do is ask.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want you there.” Because there’s no way I’m doing this, and if he’s with me, he’ll make me finish the job. “I guess… I guess you’re right.”
Lance smiles and continues to carry me back up the hill. Once we reach the top, he and I say nothing more about my mission. We don’t talk about my hand for very long, it’s mostly small things like does it hurt? Put pressure on the bandage to keep the swelling down, but for the most part, he lets me sleep for the rest of the ride.
Shouts, chants, followed by loud music fills the silence between Lance and me. The wheels of the carriage bump along the stone road, through the parting crowd throwing streamers of confetti and children chasing alongside the moving box.
“The people love you, Jack,” Lance says with a smile.
They won’t for long.
A wide, purple velvet rug stretches from the d
oorway and trails down a long hall leading to the throne room. The king and queen sit upon their jewel-encrusted chairs, wearing matching grim smiles and hard gazes. The queen’s corset white and black laced flowing dress, drapes past three stone steps. How she can walk around with all that fabric dragging around amazes me. The king’s attire matches his attitude—velvet puffed gray sleeves, leather straps notched in an X across his chest and around his lap. He’s all business.
More than a dozen cranked style lanterns hang along the walls, leaving no trace of darkness in the large stone room. Which in turn helps me see the disgust on the queen’s face as her eyes drop to the sack containing the giant’s head.
I reach into the stained bag and use the giant’s matted hair as rope to relieve it free. I roll the ugly boulder-size head before them. The queen lifts her slender fingers and pinches her nose. The king smiles like I brought him a mountain of gold. I take a few steps back and bow.
“Thank you, Lance, for escorting Miss Gilmore here,” King Rubin says. “I hope my carriage was of great comfort to you both.” He turns his gaze to me. “You have the latest mission I take it, Miss Gilmore?”
“I do.” I straighten.
“That head smells foul. Please remove it at once, dear,” Queen Admiralla says.
The king nods. “Yes, my love. Lance, take the head to the trophy room.”
Lance collects the head, gives me a smile, and leaves. The king studies me for a moment longer and then says, “You’ve been a great service to us. The people of this kingdom are very grateful for the sacrifices you’ve made in keeping us all safe from the giants.” He shifts slightly in his chair. “When you complete this last assignment we’ll discuss other options my kingdom might have for you. That is, of course, provided you have no other obligations to return to.”
I grit my teeth and force a smile. “Thank you. I’ve nothing waiting for me back home.” I bow again. “I’ll be on my way now.”
They both nod and let me leave. As soon as I turn the corner to head out the service doors, I run.
Lance is probably on his way to the guest room where I’ve usually stayed before each mission. I hope he doesn’t try looking for me. This is the first time I’ve left him like this, but it’s better this way. Lance is so loyal to King Rubin, if he knew what I’m about to do, he’d have me hung. No questions asked.
Gears of Brass Page 27