by Casey Odell
“I couldn’t kill him,” he said suddenly. His voice was soft, far away, lost in the past. “The man that they sent me for.”
She looked up at him, surprised that he’d opened up so easily. How long had he been awake?
“I just let him go. Told him to go into hiding for a while.” He stared straight ahead at the balcony. His other arm was wrapped around her shoulders, his hand playing in her hair absently. “I thought it would be easy, to return to that sort of life, but it isn’t. I don’t want to be him anymore, what I was, what the Council and my brother want me to be. Cold, ruthless… evil.”
She kissed him on the chest and peered up at him again. “I don’t think you are that at all.” She gave him a calming smile. “I’ve only met him a few times, this cold Farron you speak of, but I knew it wasn’t the real you. You may be arrogant and try to act tough and tease me and make me angry at times, but I never once thought you were evil. Not truly. And the fact that you let him live, that man, proves that you are not their pawn, not anymore. You defied them by letting him live, by doing what you thought was right.”
He was quiet.
“By helping me escape the elves, by saving my life.”
Finally, he looked at her and a smile spread across his face with a hint of his usual arrogance. “Those I did for selfish reasons.”
“Even so,” she said. “You are good, Farron. You really are. You can’t keep punishing yourself for things you’ve done in the past.”
She sat up and traced a finger across a pink scar on his right side. A new one. One he had gotten trying to protect her. One he’d tried his best to hide from her so she wouldn’t worry, she knew. Guilt stabbed through her. He hadn’t come back unscathed after all. She wondered how long he’d spent at the Haven this time, if Maria had tried to convince him not to come back to the palace again, if her daughter Sarah helped heal him. The wound had been big, slashing across his tattoo, leaving the dark lines uneven like her own. She didn’t like it one bit. However, it would make her task easier. Slightly, anyway. It was her turn to protect him for once.
But not yet. Not tonight. Not now. Now she just wanted to enjoy the peacefulness, sleep without nightmares, feel his warmth, his touch, before it would soon be taken away.
She didn’t pry about the scar. If he wanted to talk about it, he would. So instead, she asked, “Do you know where the blue gill fish swim?”
His eyebrows scrunched together in a mix of concentration and confusion. “Blue gill fish?”
Her stomach started to sink. Perhaps only the man in the prison cell knew where they were, or even worse, maybe they didn’t even exist. Her hope had blinded her once again. Would she always be this gullible? When it came to her mother, the answer was most likely yes. Just like the Council and the king, she was desperate. And desperation breeds foolishness.
Farron gave a short laugh then. “The Fisherman’s Guild, you mean?” He sat up and leaned on an arm casually.
She looked at him sharply, waiting for more.
“I don’t know of any real fish like that, but I think I recall seeing the symbol of the guild, and it was something like what you describe. I saw it on crates in the markets near Lendon.” He looked down, thinking. “Ah, it was years ago now, after I left Sanre. A red fish, jumping out of the water, with a blue stripe around its head. It could have been its gills, though.”
“Where!” Claire demanded suddenly. She grabbed his face and turned it towards her. He looked back at her, surprised. “Where do they come from?” Her voice took on a frantic note. Could it be? Could she have finally found a clue to her mother’s whereabouts?
“Linesbrough, I believe. South of Alexos, on the coast. That is where their main headquarters are. Though they have many smaller branches in many ports.” He pulled her hands away from his face. “I’m surprised you didn’t know of them. I’m sure they would have reached Stockton. Why do you ask?”
She just stared at him. Could the answer have been right under her nose all this time? She’d seen fish in the markets before, even bought some, but never once did she question exactly where they came from, or if she had seen one of the crates with the fish emblem, then it must have slipped her mind completely, forgotten as unimportant information at the time. She could feel the tears starting to sting her eyes as hope and relief filled her up both at once. “Fare,” she whispered. “I think I found her.”
It took him a moment, and then the realization hit him. “How?”
She couldn’t stop the smile from taking over her mouth. She took his face in her hands once again and kissed him.
“Wait,” he said, drawing back. Concern showed on his face. “How do you know this, Claire?”
“The man,” she said, her voice breathy with excitement. “He was the one who told me of the blue gill fish. I thought he was lying—”
“What man?” He grabbed her by the shoulders.
Claire sobered up a little. Just how was she going to explain this to him without seeming crazy? “There was a man,” she told him carefully. “From the Syndicate.”
His grip tightened. “What? Here?”
“In the dungeon. Or at least, he was.” She had no idea of the fate of the man deep in the depths of the palace. She felt a twinge of remorse. Her actions may have made the man’s situation even worse. “Lianna captured him after he…” She hesitated, not sure she should tell him the rest.
“After he what?” Farron prodded.
“After he attacked us. Me. It was me he wanted. But I was fine,” she assured him. “Really.”
He sighed and released her. “So then what? You snuck into the dungeon and asked him yourself about your mother?”
She was quiet for a moment, unsure if he was joking or not. Then she said, “Yes.”
He gave another short laugh. “Of course you would.” He studied her for a moment. “And you believed him? This man, the one who attacked you, the Syndicate member, and not for one moment did you think that this could be a trap?”
“Of course I did,” she replied. She’d been through enough to realize that much, at least. “It’s not like I can do anything about it right now anyway.” He seemed to relax a little at that. She was trapped in the palace, after all. “But it’s something. A lead. What if…” she began, the thought striking her hard. “What if they have her? What if they are holding her hostage because of me?”
“It may be possible, Claire,” he said solemnly.
She could feel her stomach twist into knots. All this time, the possibility had never even entered her mind. If the Syndicate knew where she was, then it was very possible. She felt as if she were going to be sick.
“They won’t do anything to her if they have her. Not if they want you.” He touched her chin. “That I am sure of.”
“How do you know?” She wasn’t entirely convinced. He could just be saying that to make her feel better.
“Because I’ve done the same thing before,” he said quietly. Sadness filled his eyes. “They have nothing to gain by hurting her, torturing her. They know where you are. I think they’ve known all along. They may be trying to draw you out, to get you to come to their side of your own accord.”
She nodded her understanding. It made sense. But she wouldn’t put it past them to hurt her mother in order to get what they wanted. Or if they started to grow impatient.
“That is if they have her,” he told her. “Either way, I’m sure she is fine.”
“Yes,” she acquiesced. Though she didn’t believe it. Not entirely. Not until she saw her with her own eyes, alive and well. There was no point in arguing about it, though. Deep down they both knew the truth of the matter. Him maybe more than her, but he was too kind to share it with her. And for once she was sort of grateful for it.
They were quiet for a few moments, each off in their own thoughts, then Farron touched the blue gem hanging from her neck.
“I see Lianna made you one as well.”
“How did—?”
He just raised
an eyebrow.
“She thought it may help with my powers.” She left it at that.
He grinned. “Did she trick you into drinking her wine as well?”
The memory of Lianna’s story helped to lift her spirits some. She would have loved to have seen his face after she’d tricked him. “It wasn’t so bad. Not any worse than some of the things you’ve drunk.” She pushed him back onto the bed, into the pillows. “Besides, it will be worth it once I get my powers under control.”
That was what she’d like to think, at least. She didn’t know if it had worked or not for the nightmares, not with Farron there. The mark on her arm seemed unchanged from earlier, but it was still too soon to tell that, as well. Her mind had been so preoccupied she hadn’t noticed the occasional pain in her arm and hand. And whether or not it would help her gain control of her powers was also up in the air. She still had her doubts. Had it been worth it, really? In any case, there was one less beast to ravage the land when it woke up.
“I still owe you the beating of a lifetime, remember?”
In the morning, she snuck out.
She dressed hurriedly as Farron slept soundly, face buried in the pillows. He looked peaceful with soft sunlight streaming in around him. Unguarded, relaxed, totally at ease. She wondered when the last time he’d had a good night’s rest was.
For a few moments, she stood, watching him, struggling against the strong urge to jump right back in next to him. That’s when she knew she was in trouble. That last night was a mistake.
Quickly, she turned and made her way to the door, stepped outside and closed it quietly behind her, taking a deep breath. She had to find Lianna. She had questions she needed answered.
A deep purple dress, similar to the white wrap-around one, swept along the floor as she walked through the empty halls. Her slippered feet made little noise.
If anything, Lianna would at least know what to do in her situation. She had a feeling Lianna had broken more than Farron’s heart over the years.
The sinking sensation was already settling into her chest, of loss, of sadness, of loneliness. A familiar feeling, one she had felt long ago when her betrothed had left without a word. She tried to fight it. She’d resigned herself to this, after all. To protect him. It shouldn’t be this hard. Last night was definitely a mistake. She should have ended it when she first saw him, to get it over with. Now it would be harder. Almost impossibly so. Now she risked breaking her heart along with his. When did it become like this? How did it come to this?
“Miss Claire, I was hoping to see you again before I left.”
She stopped dead at his voice. She’d hoped he’d left last night. Had he stayed in the palace? A shudder went through her at the thought.
Bren strolled down the dim hallway just outside the throne room, dressed in his finest, a bright red jacket and brown silk slacks. A rather simple white shirt looked out of place. Gleaming black boots and his usual low, loose ponytail completed the look.
His smile was radiant, and then suddenly, a memory of him flashed in her mind. One from before he’d betrayed her, of him smiling like that, just after training. For a brief moment, she thought he had returned, that kind, gentle man she would have given the world to be with. But she knew that wasn’t true. She knew what kind of man he really was now.
Two lightly armored guards trailed behind him, swords at their waists. From Lendon, most likely. The armor they wore didn’t look like the palace guards’.
Claire remained unmoving in the middle of the hallway as he approached, balling her fists at her sides. There was no use in running. She wasn’t even sure her knees would be up to it. A fine tremble started throughout her body. Would he always have this effect on her?
“I believe we parted ways on a rather sour note last night,” he said with a hint of regret.
Whether it was real or not, she couldn’t tell.
She remained quiet. Anything she said at the moment would only damage what Lianna and the king had worked so hard to accomplish. The closer he came, the harder she found it to breathe, to keep her emotions under control.
She squeezed her fists tighter, struggling not to lash out at him again, to not claw at his eyes, still so gray and mesmerizing. The fate of the kingdom and all its people would rely on this man and his king. She couldn’t ruin that, no matter how much she wanted to.
He bent and reached for her hand, still clenched at her side. But before his hand reached hers, a blade popped into view, aimed at his throat, suddenly halting his advancement.
“Don’t touch her.” Farron’s voice dripped with ice behind her. Already she could feel the warm buzz of anger.
Bren slowly stood again, his face surprisingly calm. No one had heard Farron come and it was only because she was already frozen in place that she didn’t jump. The two guards reached for their swords, hands on the hilts, ready to draw, until Bren stopped them with a gesture of his hand.
“Ah, there is our shining knight.” Amusement sparked in his eyes as he looked at Farron behind her. “Your presence was greatly missed at the ball last night.”
There must have been something on Farron’s face, a brief flash perhaps, but it was enough. A satisfied look took over Bren.
“Oh, she didn’t tell you?”
Her fists clenched tighter. She hadn’t told Farron that Bren was at the ball. What good would it have accomplished? The man would have been dead before sunrise if she had. Not that she would have minded. In retrospect, she cursed herself for not telling him.
Farron pressed the blade into the General’s skin at his neck. “Give me one good reason not to kill you.”
“I can give you many.” Bren motioned to the two guards.
“They do not worry me.”
“No, they wouldn’t, would they?” Bren agreed. “You are rather infamous in these parts, you know. The king’s dark shadow. Tell me, dear Farron, how many men have you killed?”
“Not enough if you’re still alive.”
Bren chuckled lightly. “Your pathetic kingdom’s foundation is crumbling underneath your feet. It is your king that came begging for me to help him, for Lendon’s aid. Your crops are failing, did you know that? Famine, war, disease. Your brother is desperate. With my death, thousands will follow. Of your people, not mine. Remember that, elf.”
Farron’s hand tightened on the handle of the knife, his knuckles growing white, but the blade remained at the General’s throat. It wasn’t enough to deter him. A few tense moments ticked by. Silent.
Claire wished desperately for the General to leave. But that didn’t look like it was going to happen. Not yet. These two had never liked each other. They weren’t just going to settle it at that.
Bren snickered, ignoring the knife. “You must love this, don’t you? Finally, you can do what you’ve always wanted.”
Farron remained quiet.
“Your contempt for me was noticeable from the start. Perhaps you knew of me from the beginning— in fact, I knew you did. How could you not have your suspicions? But no, I don’t think that was why. I suspect there was another reason why you hated me so,” Bren said, calm, as if his life weren’t in danger. “Tell me, my dear Farron, what bothers you more: that she picked me first, or that she may actually still have feelings for me?”
Farron’s grip on the dagger faltered slightly.
And so did her pulse. What did he just say? There was no way she could still have feelings for him. Right? But, she knew that wasn’t true, not entirely. Even earlier they had appeared, a deeply seeded hope that the kind man she’d first met would return. But she knew it wasn’t the same as the feelings she’d once had. How could they be after what he’d done to her? Even so, that tiny glimmer of hope was a dangerous thing. A thing that kept her from harming him, that kept her from the revenge she craved.
Claire remained quiet, however. It was cruel, but she thought that if Farron believed it, that she still had feelings for the General, it would make her task easier.
Bren’
s gaze shifted back to her. “Did you run to him last night, after our little dance together?”
“Stop it,” she uttered, her voice quiet, shaking. It made it worse, hearing him say it out loud.
Farron lowered the dagger slowly from Bren’s neck.
“I’m sure he was more than happy to comply. He’s been yearning for you since day one, didn’t you know?”
She swallowed hard. Was she the only one that was oblivious to it?
“Does he help you forget, Claire?” Bren asked.
It took her a moment to find her voice. “Yes,” she whispered.
Metal clanged on stone as Farron dropped the dagger to the floor.
Bren frowned, a feigned look of disapproval. “It’s not nice to play with the feelings of others, Miss Claire. Not even one such as him.”
She could feel the tears well up in her eyes. She didn’t want to turn around, to see the hurt look on his face.
The General bent and took her hand freely this time to lay a soft kiss on the back of it. The tears escaped, rolling silently down her cheeks. She knew how much it would hurt Farron, but she let him do it anyway. Even acted like she didn’t mind, though she had never wanted to kill him more than she did at that moment.
Bren straightened up again with a satisfied smile. “Think about my offer, Miss Claire.”
She nodded and managed a meek, “Yes.”
“Until next time, then.” Bren nodded at Farron behind her before whirling around and disappearing back down the hall, taking the two guards with him.
Claire remained motionless for a few moments, still in shock over what had just happened. She hadn’t wanted it to happen this way. So… cruelly. But she saw an opportunity and she took it.
“It’ll never be enough,” Farron muttered behind her. “Will it? Everything that I’ve done, would do, for you.”
She lowered her head, the tears coming faster now.
“Look at me, Claire.”
No, she didn’t want to. She wanted to run away, to hide, to join the man down in the dungeons. Anything to keep from doing just that.