So little seemed to interest her. Not jewels or gowns. Not music or even magical things. She took interest in nothing around her save for her son, and so, he gave Jacob everything that the boy desired. If only to please her. It was not that he did not enjoy delighting the child. It made him happy to watch through the mirror the way Jacob dove into the toys like treasures and remained fascinated by them for hours. It merely pleased him that much more to see the hardness in Keturah’s eyes soften at the sight, and the way she made herself open to the child, bringing happiness to both of them.
“You look unwell,” he said softly when Keturah did not seem inclined to speak. She lingered near the door, her arms wrapped around themselves and her dark eyes lingering on the room, taking in the sight of it warily.
Finally, her eyes turned back to him, and the shadows there disturbed him greatly. He wondered at and loathed whatever had caused such pain and wariness in her eyes. At last, she said, “What a thing to say,” and moved towards the fireplace. He had learned by now not to take offense at Keturah’s sharp remarks. Half the time, he was convinced that she did not realize how cruel or crass they could be. He supposed the company she was most accustomed to keeping spoke in the same manner. And how much more unkind would a woman of her small stature have to be in order to survive the underworld of thieves and assassins?
“Would you like to sit?” he offered, gesturing to the only chair in the room which he was sure could fit at least ten of Keturah. She glanced to it but shook her head.
“No.” She moved to the fireplace and sat down in front of it. The warmth of it enveloped her, and she closed her eyes for a moment, just basking in the warmth of the heady flames. He watched her as she sat there, black hair floating down her back and shoulders, the first time he had seen it down. Her pale skin seemed almost warm in the glow, and when she opened her eyes, the reflection of the fire made them all the darker. Like something not of this world at all. For a moment, he didn’t breathe. She looked to him once more with those quiet, piercing eyes, and he seemed to sink right into them.
Alvaro sat down at his chair, adjusting the black mask on his face and sighing a bit. He was not nearly so affected by the cold as his small guest was. He wore only a cotton shirt and brown breeches, his massive feet bare and sitting still on the floor. Most of this room was carpeted, but where Keturah sat was right before the stone hearth.
“You said that you can help with…the nightmares…” she said softly, startling him out of his pensive thoughts, and he looked up at her. Keturah still lingered somewhere between the world of the living and the sleeping. She felt tired and heavy, and those golden eyes haunted even her waking thoughts.
Alvaro inclined his head. “Yes…there are plenty of herbs to take before bed that will—”
“These are not ordinary nightmares,” she interrupted, cutting him with those dark eyes. Her heart beat quickly in her chest, afraid to even speak of the things which haunted her.
Alvaro watched her, listening carefully, concern growing in his chest. “Are you certain?”
She looked away from him, back to the fire, and she studied the dancing flames for a moment before replying, “Yes.” She sighed and rubbed her temples, her brows knit together in frustration and distress. How much to say…how much did he know? She sighed. “Outside of these walls… there is one who hunts me…” Alvaro watched her, leaning forward on his legs with his hands clasped in front of him. “It is better the less you know but…he is the source of my nightmares…I had no choice in coming here, but in doing so…I have crossed him greatly…and now he seeks either to reclaim me or destroy me…I am not sure which.”
“What is his name?” Keturah looked over at Alvaro and found his hands clenched and his brown eyes staring straight at her. No longer were those eyes warm and sad. They were filled with the promise of retribution, and she had no doubt that Alvaro would try to kill Alexzander if he had the chance.
She shook her head and stood from the fire. “I will not tell you…” she said, moving towards him, the robe trailing faintly behind her. “When he dies, it will be by my hands… and I will watch the light leave his eyes.”
She stopped in front of him, and he looked straight at her. He said nothing to her for a while, only watching her with those brown eyes, now soft once more, and wanting to do something, anything, to ease her burden. But before he could speak, she moved closer still and leaned up towards him, settling her knee against his thigh. He reached up, setting large hands on her sides, holding her steady—or holding her away from him—he wasn’t sure which.
“You do not need this silly thing when I am here,” she said, and when she reached for his face, his hands did not stop her. She reached behind his head and unlaced the tie for the mask, and this time, he let her. He let the mask fall into her hands, and she took it from him, setting it on the table beside him before looking up at his face.
He opened his eyes and watched her quietly, his heart hammering in his chest, hands trembling. He had not meant to grab onto her, but now that he had, he had no idea how to let her go. If she minded his touch, she said nothing of it, merely leaning back a bit from how close she had come to him now that the mask was away, and he let out a slow, steady breath that he had been holding. “What do you need …from me…?” he rumbled slowly, softly, and she shifted slightly, studying his face, his eyes.
At last, she moved away from him, slipping out of his grasp, her feet landing upon the floor once more. She turned her back to him and moved towards the fire. “He enters my dreams at night through means of black magic.” Alvaro let out a slow hiss between his teeth. A man powerful and foolish enough to meddle in black magic—and survive—was no meager foe. She glanced to him and then back to the fire. “I need a way to keep him out of my mind.” She sat down by the fire one more, pulling her legs up to her chest.
He sighed and rubbed his jaw, considering her words. “It might take a few days to get the spell right…I am not used to creating things which could harm the living, so I must be careful…” He stood and moved towards his many shelves, considering the vast collection of things there. Not all of the shelves held books. Some held jars of things, others boxes, trinkets. He grabbed a jar of some herbs and then murmured something to the magic of the room, and on his table appeared a bottle of red wine from the cellar and a small goblet. To him, it might as well have been a shot glass, but for Keturah, it was more than large enough.
“In the mean time…this should at least make it easier for you to leave your dreams…” He took a pinch of the herbs and deposited them in the goblet before filling it half full with wine. “Be warned, it will send you to sleep quickly…” He swirled the goblet carefully and then took it to her, crouching down beside her, for she was too low to the ground to do otherwise. Even still, he loomed over her, and she seemed so very small before him, caught up in the fire’s glow and looking up at his eyes. “You may wish to return to your room first.”
Keturah reached for the goblet with both hands. What he carried like glass was like lead to her, heavy and sturdy, and she unfolded her legs from her chest to hold it more securely. Alvaro stood again, looking down at her for she had not spoken. She glanced to the goblet and then to him. “I will remain here,” she said, not even asking. Not that she needed to. She could have anything he was capable of giving her. “The darkness…unnerves me…and it feels safer here…”
He did not expect her to speak to him of things like fear and safety, and the fact that she did angered him all the more, for it told him just how much she feared the demon in her mind. He studied her, but she did not seem to mind his presence, and he dared to wonder what about this room made her feel safe. The fire? The light? Or perhaps…it was his own presence? But he would not ask and she did not say.
Instead, she raised the goblet to her lips and sipped quietly, holding it with both hands. He hesitated but then sat down beside her, his back to the warmth of the fire. She glanced to him from over the rim of her cup but did not se
em bothered by his presence.
“You are safe within the walls of my manor,” he swore to her. “I will make certain of that.” She studied him for a moment and then looked back to the fire. He was not nearly so large when he sat on the floor with her. The chair was made for his size and so made him seem like a great giant. But sitting beside her, she was comforted by his closeness and humanity. He was still much larger than her, but sitting there, he seemed more human.
She watched the fire for a long while, sipping the wine until all that was left were the herbs in the bottom (she’d accidentally swallowed one). She was beginning to think that it wasn’t working at all until Alvaro reached over and carefully took the goblet from her. She glanced to him and realized that she had been swaying where she sat.
He chuckled softly, placing the goblet on the mantel and saying quietly, “Rest, Keturah. You can sleep now.” He stood up and moved back towards his chair, and Keturah sank onto the plush carpet.
She wriggled out of her robe and used it as a blanket instead, not liking how it held her arms, and when she glanced to Alvaro, she thought that she saw him blush. She decided that she must have imagined it, for he told her that he hadn’t cared for the small, human women, and she felt safe here. She yawned and closed her eyes, feeling him lift her head and wedge a soft, silk pillow beneath her but much too tired to open her eyes.
Darkness pervaded her dreams. Darkness and phantoms of nightmares. But at the sight of the golden eyes, she lurched out of her slumber and came awake with a gasp, sitting upright and panting, her hazy mind taking in the sight of the room. Alvaro’s parlor. All of the books and the jars and boxes of things.
“Was it easier to wake this time?” Alvaro asked from his chair. Keturah looked over at him and found him rubbing sleep from his eyes, groaning and sitting up a bit in his chair. He had stayed watch over her, falling asleep in the chair.
She studied him for a moment, her heart still beating hard. “Yes…it was easier.” She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “How long did I sleep?”
Alvaro glanced to the grandfather clock by the fire and replied, “Four hours.” It hadn’t felt that long, but at least she had managed to get a bit more sleep. “Try and rest at least until dawn,” his gravelly voice soothed, and she looked back to him. Alvaro gave a small, closed-mouth smile. “I will keep watch over you.”
Keturah sighed and laid back down on the plush carpet, snuggling her cheek into the silk pillow as she watched him. “You’re an idiot,” she said. “Go to sleep in your own bed.”
Alvaro merely smiled quietly, hiding his sharp teeth. “Goodnight, Keturah.” She closed her eyes and smiled faintly, letting sleep reclaim her. This time, it was dark and without disturbance.
Chapter Fourteen: January
For the next month, Keturah would put her son to bed and then wander the dark halls to where Alvaro spent his evenings. There, he would give her the red wine of herbs and magic, and she would fall asleep to the fire warming her back. At least once in the night, she would wake, but Alvaro was always there, and so she would lay back down and sleep again.
The winter was too bitter to work in any longer. She no longer left the manor. Instead, she would wake to a sun-lit parlor, kiss Alvaro’s sleeping cheek, and trudge back to her own room in order to bathe and wake Jacob. With the winter, at least, she was able to spend more time with him. They would eat together, and then they would usually go play with the toys in his room. She would read to him and sometimes he would act out whatever she read until she was laughing too hard to continue.
And each night, she would put him to bed and seek out the gargoyle guardian who kept the manor.
“This should do it,” Alvaro said quietly when she stepped into his parlor. He had worked tirelessly over the past several weeks to try and put the spell together and then to find a suitable object to enchant. It had to be something she would wear on her person, but cloth wore out so quickly and easily. Any sort of hair ornament would fall out. Any other object would not be near enough to her to be effective. And finally, he had constructed an object for her: a thin, golden chain to go around her neck. It was light and out of the way, and it would do to hold the spell.
He presented it to her with both hands, and in his grasp, it seemed to be no more than golden hair. But when she drew nearer, she could see the intricate chain structure, and she seemed a bit surprised at the thing. The necklace caught the light of the golden fire and cast it in various hues of amber and gold. “This will…keep him from entering my dreams?” she asked, and he nodded, gesturing for her to turn around.
Keturah did so, pulling her hair out of the way. “Yes. It will put a barrier around your mind to prevent anyone lesser than my own strength from entering…and there are very few sorcerers as powerful as I.” Despite the largeness of his hands, he was adept at working with small items and clasped the chain around her neck. When it was secure, he dropped his hands back into his lap from where he sat on his chair, and Keturah half turned back around, touching the thing. It pleased him how she focused on it, picking up the end and observing it carefully and with approval.
She stood before him in her nightshirt and pants, black hair pulled over one shoulder. “Thank you,” she said, looking back up at him, dark eyes studying his brown ones. She watched him for a moment, and she did not know how to ask the question on her mind. She did not want to know the answer. Or worse, she knew that he would fight her on answering at all. But she couldn’t explain it to him. There was no way to make him understand the world she had come from, the world where everything and everyone had a price. Even her, and Alexzander knew that. There was nothing in this world that Keturah would not do for Jacob. Nothing. And Alexzander knew that full well. “What do I owe you for it?”
He winced at that and leaned away from her, feeling a pang straight in his chest. “You owe me nothing, Keturah. It is my gift.”
She frowned at him and shook her head. “I owe you something for it. What do you ask?”
He growled a bit and turned his head away. “I did not make it because I wanted something in return. All I desired was your safety. I do not want anything from you.”
Keturah’s frown had turned almost into a glare, watching him with annoyance. “Nothing is free in this world. I won’t accept it for nothing.”
He glared back at her, and it almost frightened her, except that by now, she had grown accustomed enough to his hideous face and frightening form that she had enough resolve to stand her ground. “I ask for nothing,” he grumbled and sank back in his chair.
For a long moment, she just stood silently and watched him, glaring at him, until at last, she reached behind her and grabbed the clasp to remove it. “Then take it back,” she said.
“Keturah!” he roared, standing, and Keturah jumped without meaning to, giving a little squeak and backing up. Alvaro regretted it at once, and he recoiled from her, brown eyes sad. Much softer, he said, “Forgive me, Keturah…I had not meant to frighten you…” He sank back into his seat, turning his face away from her.
Keturah stood trembling out of reflex near where she had been, watching him sigh and lean into his chair, away from her, but she did not reach for the clasp again. After a moment of only her frightened breathing, he said, “If I must ask for something…then give me one thing.” She swallowed and nodded, watching him with steel in her eyes. He did not look to her. “One honest answer. No lies. No half-truths. The full answer.”
She let out a shuddering breath, and that made her tremble more than anything. “Ask the question first. Then I will decide its cost.”
He glanced to her then. “Are your secrets worth so much to you?” She gave a single nod, and he sighed. “Very well then…why does this demon hunt you?”
She sighed and looked away from him, looking towards the fire. No lies. No half-truths. She could answer this one. It was worth the price. She nodded slowly and moved away from him towards the flames. “He found me when I was a girl. I had been orphaned at thirteen, thr
own out of my home and left on the street. I met him in a brothel where I was…training…” She had mostly worked, cleaned the rooms, scrubbed the floors, brought drink and food for the clients, preparing to replace one of the older whores in a few years when she was older and looked less like a small child.
“He caught me stealing from one of the clients and… instead of reporting me to the madam…offered me a deal. He would teach me to steal much more than pocket change in order to support myself, but in return, I would do whatever he asked, whatever job he assigned me.”
She shrugged. “Since then, he has owned me…I live where he wants and do what he wants. I am the very best at what I do, and he is not the kind to let something he sees as …his possession…get away from him. If he cannot get me back, then he will kill me.”
She went silent for a moment, letting him take in the information, which he did, feeling anger run through him like ice. What sort of person threw a thirteen-year-old child out onto the street? What’s more, who trained so young a girl to become a thief? He sighed and asked, “Why did you accept his offer?”
She looked back at him with a wry smile and solemn eyes. “You said only one question.”
He shrugged, looking back at her. “You do not have to answer.”
Keturah considered him for a moment and then, because he did not try to force an answer from her, said quietly, “I wanted more out of life than spending it on my back.” She looked away and shrugged, sighing. “But…as it turned out, it didn’t matter. I had merely exchanged one form of servitude for another.”
Alvaro clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white, and he closed his eyes, growling low in his throat. Who was the demon who had hurt her? Who had hurt Keturah? Used her? Tormented her? “And Jacob?” he asked, his voice rough. “Is he the demon’s then?”
Keturah looked back to him. “Would it matter?”
Alvaro shook his head. “Not to me. But some magic is stronger through blood relation. He can get to the boy.”
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