by Taylor Hobbs
“You did fine tonight,” he reassured her.
“When you go to Numencaster—” she started.
“You will stay here. Against all odds, you have found your brother again. Are you not happy?” he asked her.
“Yes. No. I don’t know!” Charlotte exploded. “I am beyond happy that he is alive and well. It was more than I could have hoped for. But this,” she motioned back and forth between them, “I don’t want to let this go. I thought I was doing better. That I was helping you. You are my mentor. Seeing Henry hasn’t changed what I want deep down. I don’t feel finished.”
The young woman refused to let herself cry, not when she had something so important to prove. She saw Fawkes’ mouth soften just a little before he answered. “You have improved. But this contract is not one that I want you to be a part of. It is too risky, and I don’t need a liability.”
“A liability? That’s how you think of me?”
“Your brother needs you. It is time to start a new life here.” Seeing that he was making little headway, Fawkes delivered the final punch. “I never asked for an apprentice, anyway.”
He was right. She had forced herself on him from the beginning. But it was his fault, too! He had saved her, come back to her village a second time even though he should have been miles away. Traveled with her to the border to ensure her survival. The fact that he denied that all of that meant something greater stung the hardest.
“You’re just afraid,” she shot back. “You could have a partner in this; you don’t have to go alone. Yet you choose to, even though I know a part of you wants me to stay. You deny our bond, whether it is mentor and apprentice or,” she swallowed hard, and decided to lay it all out on the table. Nothing left unsaid, she told herself before continuing. “Even man and woman. But I can’t make up your mind for you, and you’ve made it clear that I am unwanted.” She saw him flinch. “I’ve fought for what I want, and I have no regrets, but fear holds you back.”
At that accusation, Fawkes rounded on her and slammed his hands against the wall, holding her captive. The splintered wood cut into her back and she felt Fawkes’ muscles tremble, Charlotte’s rapid breath the only sound between them. A simple step forward was all that it would take to touch him, but she couldn’t move a muscle.
Warring emotions flickered across Fawkes’ face as they stared at one another. Deep blue eyes burned with fire as he made up his mind. Soft lips crashed onto Charlotte’s mouth, devouring her in hungry desperation. His hands came up to grip her, like he was making sure she was real, as if he was afraid she was going to disappear. Strong hands worked their way over her body, tangling themselves in her hair and protectively cradling her head as he deepened the kiss.
All coherent thought flew out of Charlotte’s head and she let her instincts take over. A low moan escaped her throat as his tongue explored every part of her mouth. Her arms went to his waist, wrapping around the steel torso and working her fingers underneath the hem of his shirt. She wanted to feel his skin on hers, and anything less was simply too far away.
The heat she found underneath her fingertips made her want to melt and fly at the same time. After training and sparring together, Charlotte knew his body—she could read Fawkes’ muscles and predict his movements. So everything she felt as they kissed, she felt it twice, mirrored in both her body and his. Fawkes could read her just as easily, and knew what she craved.
Dragging his mouth away from hers, his lips trailed to the hollow behind her ear and then down her neck. Her hands rose up to grip his head to her, urging him to continue his explorations. The kisses turned so feather light on her collarbone that she lost all control.
Charlotte yanked his head up to kiss him again, hard. His strength matched hers, and he didn’t hold back. She shoved him in the direction of the bed and their lips broke apart. Staring at his face—scarred, tanned, and imperfect—Charlotte thought he was the most beautiful person she had ever seen. Somewhere along the way, her fear of him had turned into respect, and respect had turned into something more.
Under her admiring gaze, Fawkes’ look of hunger turned to fear. His body snapped stiff as he realized what he had done. Even though he still stood right in front of her, Charlotte felt him pull away. The part of him that had been raw and vulnerable to her mere seconds before disappeared in an instant.
“Fawkes,” she said, raising up a gentle hand to his cheek. Before she could stroke the stubble, Fawkes reeled backward to escape her touch. What had gone wrong? Had she done something?
His panicked gaze shot around the room, as though ashamed to look at her. Both the Cloaked Shadow and Fawkes had been replaced by a stranger, a side of the man that Charlotte didn’t recognize. “I—I’m sorry, Charlotte. Goodbye.”
Her feet remained glued to the floor as he picked up his cloak off the bed and threw open the door. She waited for him to turn around, to offer her an explanation, or to say when he would be back. The sound of the door slam hit her like a punch in the gut, and left her wondering what she had done to end up alone.
Chapter Eight
After waiting up for most of the night, Charlotte’s confusion turned to worry when the dawn brought no sign of Fawkes’ return. She started her search at the stables but found Ghost’s stall deserted.
When she saw the strip of black fabric dangling from the bridle hook, she knew it was over. He had left her without another word, leaving only a small piece of himself out of guilt, obligation, or whatever else he thought he owed her. She ran the smooth fabric between her fingertips. It felt like a goodbye.
After allowing herself to quietly break down for a few hidden moments, Charlotte picked herself up and brushed the hay off her clothes before tying the fabric into a bow around her hair. There would be time to mourn later, and at that moment, Fawkes needed to be shoved to the back recesses of her mind to be dealt with at a more convenient time. His memory could reside alongside that of her mother, whose death she still hadn’t fully processed. She knew that the levee would break soon and the emotions would drown her, but first she needed to find her brother.
Henry remained the only bright spot in her life. She might have failed as an apprentice and as a daughter, but she refused to fail as a sister. If last night was any indication, Henry had lost his way and needed her help. It gave her something to focus on rather than wallowing.
Determined, Charlotte returned to her room, packed up her practical possessions along with one very heavy book, and checked out of the inn. The city’s noise and stench engulfed her as she meandered up the winding pathways, searching for anything familiar. The correct Algonian neighborhood wasn’t hard to find, but everything looked so different in the daytime, and she couldn’t recognize the pub. Fawkes’ imaginary voice came through, as clearly as if he were standing right next to her. Close your eyes and picture the turns. Remember how the stones felt under your feet. Were they slanted? Uphill? Rough? The voices you heard, what were their accents? What did you smell?
Charlotte’s eyes popped open and she prowled in the direction her instincts nudged her toward. Without thinking, her tread took on the same silent and cautious quality that defined Fawkes’ movements, effective even in the middle of the day on a crowded street. Charlotte remained so nondescript that no one spared her a second glance as she found her way to her destination.
A brilliant smile broke out on her face when she spotted the cellar door. She turned over her shoulder to share her joy with Fawkes, only to remember too late that he wasn’t there. Instead, her eyes met the widened gaze of the red-headed rebel leader.
Though she tried to keep her face carefully blank after the initial shock, the hint of recognition was enough to make his eyebrows narrow. “Do I know you?” Robin asked.
Smoothly dropping into a caricature of a lost young girl, Charlotte let her eyes fill with tears. “I don’t know, sir. I don’t know anything. I had hoped you were someone I was looking for. It’s just… I can’t figure where I am and this city is so much bigger than
back home and I just want my brother!” Her shoulders shook as she started wailing.
Her performance caught Robin off guard, and he stepped into a gentlemanly role immediately. “There, there,” he said, patting her shoulder. “This isn’t the neighborhood you want to be in. Especially dressed the way you are.” Charlotte felt his eyes rake over her legs, which hid nothing in her slim-fitting trousers. She fought to avoid shivering under his gaze and shrinking back from his touch. His tone might be sympathetic, but his body language revealed another side.
Dragging the back of her hand underneath her nose, Charlotte sniffed and pretended to pull herself together, putting a little more space between their bodies. “I know this is impossible,” she said, with a small hiccup. “But I’m looking for my brother. His name is Henry, and I know he came to Croantis and I need to find him.”
Robin’s talon-grip on Charlotte’s shoulder tightened. “You might not have come all this way for nothing,” he said, gauging her reaction carefully.
“You know him? Really? Oh, how wonderful!” She beamed at him and clapped her hands together, the very portrait of innocence. “Where is he?”
“I need a few clarifications before I can sort this out.” He considered her. “You traveled here from Algonia, by yourself?” She nodded. “And how exactly did you discover the whereabouts of your brother?”
“He—he told me this was where he was going. Before he left.”
“Don’t lie to me, girl.”
“I’m not lying! It’s—”
“Charlotte?” Henry’s voice asked. She saw him walk out from the pub and over to her like he was in a dream. “Is it really you?”
Charlotte wrenched herself from Robin’s hold and launched herself at her brother. “Henry!” Tears, fake earlier, now streamed for real down her face. Henry embraced her hesitatingly as she clung to his neck. “How are you here?” he whispered.
“I came to find you. You know I would never let you go that easily.”
“But how?”
Shut up, Charlotte wanted to tell him. Robin was still there, watching their exuberant display and searching for hints during their reunion. The rebel leader probably wondered how exactly Charlotte found their headquarters so easily, and she knew he wanted to interrogate her regarding the coincidental timing of her arrival.
“I’ll explain later,” Charlotte whispered, and pulled back from Henry. “Let me see you,” she ordered. “All in one piece. Good. Your friend over there,” she nodded at Robin, “was just about to bring me to you, when you just appeared. We haven’t been formally introduced yet.”
Henry always needed a gentle nudging from either his sister or his mother when it came to manners, and his cheeks turned pink when he realized his rudeness. “Charlotte, this is Robin. He’s been helping me since he found me. Got me a job and everything.”
Charlotte dipped her chin and dropped into a miniature curtsey that looked ridiculous with her britches on. “My family is indebted to you, good sir. Thank you for watching over my brother. I apologize for my emotional outburst earlier.”
“Charlotte.” Robin said her name slowly. “Henry never mentioned a sister. But before you get reacquainted, I suggest moving inside. We don’t want to attract attention.”
Robin looked prepared to follow them inside for a bite to eat. Fear gripped Charlotte as she sent thoughts to Henry urging him to keep his mouth shut. He looked so overwhelmed and confused by her sudden arrival, but she needed him to show an ounce of common sense and not speak in front of Robin.
She took a deep breath, mulling over how to answer Robin’s inevitable questions. Pure coincidence would not be enough to explain her arrival at the rebel headquarters. Silently, she cursed her dumb luck at running into the rebel leader first. She wondered how long it would be before he started to piece together all of the ‘coincidences’ in his life to show a larger picture. The Cloaked Shadow’s sudden appearance, Duke Belaq at his heels, and now a brand-new recruit’s sister showing up unannounced. Just as she was starting to panic, a voice called out from the alleyway.
“Robin!” he said. “You’re needed down below.”
The redhead sighed. “Can it wait?”
“No, it’s urgent.”
Robin motioned for the siblings to go inside the pub. “I will discuss these events with you later. I would like to know more about you, Charlotte.”
“Of course!” she said brightly. “I’m looking forward to getting to know all of my brother’s friends.” She steered Henry inside, and then collapsed on a bench near the back. Not wanting to alarm Henry, she started off slowly. “I’m starved. What is good to eat around here?”
He didn’t answer but sat down next to her. After an eternity of silence while Charlotte busied herself analyzing the building, looking everywhere but at her brother, he finally spoke. “Charlotte, where’s Mother?”
Of all the ways Charlotte had pictured reuniting with her brother, this was not how it was supposed to go. Seeing the hesitation and anguish on his face as he waited for her answer was worse than she could have imagined. She hated being the person to shatter the small fraction of hope he still had left. Her sisterly instincts told her to protect him, so that’s what she did.
“Mother died in her sleep,” she said, watching as Henry’s world came crashing down around him. “Soon after you left.”
“No.” He shook his head, looking like the six-year-old, petulant child of her memories. “She can’t be dead.”
“If she wasn’t, do you think I could have left her?” Charlotte said gently.
“It’s your fault then!” Henry lashed out at her. “You were supposed to take care of her. That’s why I had to leave on my own. You have no idea what happened to me by myself.” He shuddered. While Charlotte understood his outburst, anger bubbled up within. Hearing her brother blame her, even though she blamed herself for her mother’s attack, sparked a fire inside.
“Henry, I’m sorry that Mother is gone. I did all that I could. But you’ve survived. I’m alive and here with you. This is what Mother would want.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I know that I put this on you unexpectedly. I know that seeing me is a shock. But you are the only family I have left, and we can start a new life here.”
He pulled away from her. “I’ve been doing just fine on my own. I don’t need you to come in here telling me what to do, like you’re my mother. You let my mother die. I have a life here already, and Robin and his friends are opening my eyes to the truths in Algonia.” He jutted out his chin. “They need me.”
Charlotte saw that Henry was just trying to hang on to the stability Robin offered after the trauma of his imprisonment. Still, his words stung. Did he think he was the only one who suffered? Did he not remember what she had done to save him? She gritted her teeth and reminded herself to be patient, even though her hand itched to smack him on his head and knock some sense into him.
Robin and his group of rebels were bad news, but it was going to be harder than she assumed to drag Henry away from them. She closed her hands over her brother’s, watching as his lip trembled while trying to be brave.
“You are not a rebel, Henry,” she told him.
“What difference did it make when I wasn’t one?” he spat, as if embarrassed by his display of grief while desperate to appear strong in front of Charlotte. “I was still imprisoned anyway. Almost tortured. The duke treated me like a rebel, so I had no choice but to become one, didn’t I? Robin and his organization want to get back at all of them. At the whole kingdom, for all the wrongs they have committed against the people.” He took a deep breath, and continued with his rant, not allowing Charlotte to interrupt him with levelheaded reason. “The Great War didn’t end, you know. It just moved underground. But now, Robin says he has a plan to stop it all. For us to finally win.”
“Us?” Charlotte questioned. “And what is his ‘great plan’ exactly?”
“He says it is almost ready. But once it happens, we can go home again,” he prom
ised. His eyes shone feverishly with idealism that scared Charlotte.
“What, does Robin expect to rule Algonia?” The man had a certain charisma, yes, but he was also paranoid beyond belief, and Charlotte had witnessed how quickly he lost his temper the night before. Robin was a man molded by revolution and struggle. If that ended, he would lose his identity, and men who thrived in conflict had no idea how to survive in peacetime. “How many people would have to die before Robin got what he wanted?” Charlotte asked.
Henry’s brow furrowed, as though he hadn’t considered it before. “That isn’t the concern. Besides, there are already scores of people dying under King Otan’s rule every day. The price would be worth it for a better Algonia.”
“And are you paying that price?” she asked her brother.
“I already have. I’m willing to do whatever needs to be done.”
Charlotte flashed back to the sight of her mother’s body, face down in the mud. There would be no funeral for her; her children would not return to visit her grave. She could not imagine inflicting that type of pain on anyone, stranger or friend, no matter the reason. If Robin wanted to bring the war back up to the surface, she wasn’t sure if the deaths would ever stop. “And who are you to make the decision for other people?” she asked, voice deadly calm. “Will you be the one to help families dig the graves when Robin succeeds?”
“Duke Belaq has sentenced hundreds of his own citizens to their deaths. Tortured them, too! Yet you say nothing of him!”
“Duke Belaq is not my brother, and I do not have to wash the blood from his hands,” she said. Sighing, Charlotte suddenly understood Fawkes’ complete dismissal of politics and his refusal to choose sides. There was no good side. Right now, the only thing that was in her power to do was to protect her family.
Henry grunted in frustration. “I’ll arrange to have you come to the meeting tomorrow. Then you’ll see. You’ll understand what we are trying to do,” he explained, as if radical ideas made more sense when spewed in an official capacity.