Without turning around to face them, I said, “It’s just a few coins Miss Bluejay gave me for helping her out in her garden.” A lie, but not completely.
“How much,” Tyron asked, and I could hear him approaching me with stagnant footsteps.
With a quick rake through my mind for a probable excuse, I turned to face him and shrugged, acting as if I didn’t hold a fortune in my pocket and they didn’t know. “About four dollars in change. It isn’t much, but my brother needs new shoes.”
Tyron nodded, his shaggy hair swaying loosely on his broad shoulders. “Understandable.” He casually draped his arm over my shoulder. “You see, I have a bit of a financial problem myself. You remember my girl, August, right? Well, she’s going through some things and I want to get her something nice. Think you could help me out? Financially, I mean?”
The request would have come off as sincere if I didn’t know the type of man Tyron was. I’d never met an August a day in my life, but in retrospect, it was safe to assume this August was another one of the many women from Prylyn he managed to impregnate.
“Sorry to hear that, but I can’t help you out.” I shrugged his hand off my shoulder and took a step away from him. His demeanor had taken on a different range then, and his posed smile had faded. From the corner of my eyes I could see the others closing in again, and that’s when it occurred to me that they weren’t going to let me go without discovering what—or rather, how much—was in my pocket.
Tension between the seven of us grew heavy, and embracing the moment as a fight or flight, I swung my fist out at the redhead to my left and got him straight in the nose. He grunted and staggered back, but my victory was short-lived as I felt two pairs of hands clamp around my arms and hold them behind my head. The position forced my eyes on Tyron, his arms crossed over his chest and lips curved into a sadistic smile as he watched with the others while I struggled to get free. I wasn’t weak, but then again, Tyron and his fellows weren’t exactly human with all the drugs they took.
“Ayden, Ayden, Ayden,” Tyron cooed, pacing towards me slowly. “When are you going to learn that I always—” His fist struck my lower abdomen, a blow so hard it went straight to my head, and confused my vision and caused my heart rate to increase tenfold. “That I always get what I want.” He rolled up his sleeve, and even through my blurred vision I could make out the tribal tattoos on his forearm, marks so different from any that I’d seen.
Hunters were known for their animalistic incorporations in their art, and even in their tattoos. My family’s symbol was a scorpion, a sign that portrayed wisdom and humility that was passed down from generation to generation. Others had ranged from a wasp to a python, but never had I seen anything like the one Tyron bore on his arm. The asp—vicious and inky—stared back at me as if it could sense that I reeked of fear. Fear that I wouldn’t fulfill the promises to my family, and fear that once Tyron discovered the money in my pocket I wouldn’t even have the time to reminisce before I was locked up and thrown into the arena.
Another blow to my chest forced all thoughts out of my head. I knew it wasn’t Tyron this time because I felt the imprint of a ring. As I bent forward to desperately keep what little lunch I had in my stomach, the strong hands around my arms released me and I fell to the floor.
“His pocket,” Tyron commanded. I didn’t bother to put up a fight.
“Look it all of this,” one of them shouted hysterically, holding up the money. I wondered if someone outside of the alley saw what was going on. Even so, I knew they would just walk on by in fear of getting too involved. They’d rather take the chance of someone else possibly being beaten to death rather than it being them. It was sick.
A hand tugged at my hair and forced my head skyward. Tyron’s features blurred through my bruised eye. “You hid all of this from us,” he said. “Sharing is caring, Ayd, hasn’t anyone told you? Where did you get all of this anyway?”
I smiled, and instead of answering him, I spit straight into his filthy face. He recoiled almost immediately, but countered with a blow to my face I hardly had time to block. This time, as the hits came at me nonstop, I could taste the coppery tang of blood on my tongue. It flooded my mouth and became so much that I found it hard to breathe.
“Where did you get the money, Ayden,” Tyron slurred between bouts of gasping and kicking me in the stomach.
I finally gave up and shouted, “The Princess!” with what energy I had left.
The alley went silent, Tyron’s assault ceased.
“The Princess?” Tyron asked, his horrid breath fanning across my face.
“Yes,” I croaked.
The other guys began to laugh. “He must be kidding. With her vow of chastity until she’s married to the Prince, no way would she give it up to him. Of all the idiots in Old Haven,” one said.
I frowned.
“No, definitely not. So what is it then? Are you lying?” Tyron said.
“I stole it from her,” I whispered. “When the Servant Keeper wasn’t looking, I snuck up to her chambers and stole it from her dresser.” Another lie, but it wasn’t too far from the truth.
“So, she just leaves it out in plain sight? For anyone to take?”
Spitting the remainder of blood out of my mouth, I said, “I guess so.”
Tyron snapped his fingers toward me and hands encircled my waist, pulling me up to stand. “How about we make a deal? If you can pull it off again, you can walk out of here a living man five thousand dollars richer.
Five thousand?
“I can’t,” I said, though the temptation was strong. “I made a vow to myself I wouldn’t.”
Tyron sighed, and then with a speed I wouldn’t deem earthly, he struck the side of my face with a knuckled punch. “I didn’t ask you about a damn vow! Unless you want to end up in a prison sector, eating your own mates just to keep your eyes open, you had better listen up. Tomorrow night is the Grand Season’s Ball at the Royal Palace and guess who’s invited? You are, my friend.” He threw the money they’d collected at my feet. “Get the money and you’re a free man.”
The guys dropped me to the ground and I watched with resentment as they left with Tyron and disappeared out of the alley and ebbed into the day. I sat alone and contemplated whether I should get up or lie here and wish for my death. Neither sounded good to me, but the latter promised a better outcome. If I died—right then in that alley—my troubles would be over. The pain, the suffering, and the long days of never-ending work would all be gone.
But where did that leave my family?
As soon as that thought occurred to me, I stumbled to my feet, taking the money with me, and set out for home. Losing my family wasn’t an option, neither was leaving them. Striving became my only priority, living my only goal.
The door to the house was left ajar, so I easily slipped in and kicked off my shoes on the old, disheveled mat. I tried to be silent in case no one had seen me come in, but as soon as I stepped into the kitchen, all eyes were on me. I wondered how I must’ve looked—bruised, bleeding, and possibly on the brink of unconsciousness. Somehow, I didn’t really care. All I wanted now was silence.
As I moved toward the small table my family had crowded around, my Mother whispered, “Ayden, baby, what—”
“Carys,” my father warned, as if I was some dangerous animal and she was getting to close to the cage.
Without looking at any of them, especially Milo and Misty’s saddened gazes, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the money, slapping it onto the tabletop. The sound of the coins hitting the linoleum was loud compared to the silence between us. “Put some food in the damn fridge,” I said, and then turned and made my way out the back of the house.
I could only imagine my mother’s face.
I walked through the weeded backyard and to the cottage I had built two years ago when Father had trained me as a carpenter. Those days he’d been sober. Things weren’t as bad and the twins were in school. Compared to then, things were a wreck now. It would
take me years before I managed us out of poverty, and I knew my time was running short.
I nudged the door open with my shoulder and stumbled through the small foyer as I made my way to the bathroom. I turned on the lamp and watched myself in the mirror. The swelling was bad, but not bad enough to leave a mark. It’d go down by tomorrow morning, I assumed. Even though the external scars weren’t visible, the internal ones very much were. I’d learned to embrace pain form a very young age, but growing up with an impassive father, I never knew how to handle it emotionally.
I was drowning—drowning in an oblivion so estranged not even the gods could save me. I was a lost cause lost within itself.
I had no plans of redemption.
S E V E N
Echo
“Is this really necessary?” I snarled, as Mother tightened the mesh over my face. Its itchy thread bothered the side of my face more than anything else.
“Of course it is. Do you want to look presentable or like a vagrant?” She busied herself with pins and flowers in my hair as she spoke.
I remained quiet, avoiding how ridiculous I looked in the mirror before me. I hated the color green and it made me look rather odd. After not finding a dress at Miss Othman’s shop, mother resulted in having one made. The fabric was itchy and rode up places I’d rather it not ride, and the décolletage was uncomfortable to no end.
Mother accidently poked me with a pin and I spun away from her busy arms with a start. The loose fabric of my dress billowed beneath my feet.
“I think we’re done.”
“You look beautiful,” my mother said. She turned me towards the mirror and pulled my hair to one shoulder.
The girl in the mirror had my face, but everything else, from crown to sole, was not me.
It was, though, and this was the image of the woman my mother wanted me to become. A spitting resemblance of herself. Was this who I wanted to be? I thought solemnly. With a frown, I realized I had yet to answer. It should have been clear to me by then, but the idea of being shunned by my own people terrified me.
“Where’s your clutch?” Mother asked. I pointed to the bed where the emerald purse sat. The thing was like a leech. No matter how many times I tried throwing it away or hiding it, it always found its way back into my wardrobe.
“I really don’t want that thing,” I grumbled under my breath.
Mother deadpanned me and shoved the purse into my hands. I reluctantly took it, adding yet another piece of unnecessary assortments to my outfit. I sighed and dismissed the urge I had to toss the damn thing out the window.
“Mother, I—”
Both of our heads jerked up at the sound of a knock.
“The Prince is here,” a maid said from the other side of the door.
“Already?” Mother smiled and adjusted the hem of the dress before shooing me out the door. With every step I took from then, I felt as if I were counting down my seconds left of freedom.
Five, four, three… I thought ruefully.
“You look great, Princess,” said the maid, who, to me, looked only twelve. My heart hurt for her.
Two…
“Thank you. Please, call me Echo.” It was my name after all, no matter how many titles were added onto it.
The girl led me down the long spiraling staircase with Mother trailing behind us. If the kitchen hadn’t looked so bane and if Mother and Ever hadn’t been acting so normal, I would have assumed I was already being thrown off to be wedded. It was only three weeks away, so what was the difference, right?
One.
Father’s eyes met mine first, and I quickly forced a smile to my lips. Noah stood in the archway looking like he just walked out of a brochure with his blonde tresses slicked back neatly and not one out of place. He moved to the bottom of the staircase with his hand held out for me in invitation. I smiled at him, though I wasn’t too eager to take his offer.
“Beautiful, as usual,” he whispered in my ear once I’d taken his hand. His voice sent goose bumps across my neck, and I struggled to maintain my smile.
“You’re too much, Prince. Too much,” I replied. He took it as a compliment when I’d really meant to crush his overrated ego.
“Shall we go, then?” He looked up at my father.
“Have fun, darling,” Father said, walking towards me and planting a kiss on my forehead. Right then I wanted to scream out that I wasn’t happy, that this wasn’t who I wanted to be and this wasn’t the life I pictured for myself. But what did that matter now, when all I had was three weeks?
“I will.” I moved in closer so that his lips lingered a few seconds longer. My father had his moments, and there was no doubt that I loved him. Even though it was easier to talk with my mother, I felt, in some peculiar way, that he understood me. Maybe.
“Not too much fun,” interrupted Mother. After Father broke away from me and made for his chambers, Mother fixed my lipstick a third time, and then called for a maid to fetch the coach. The whole room glowed with excitement while I stood lost in my own thoughts. Shock, that’s what it was. I looked over at Noah from across the room and sighed a sigh of a million words. Yet, there weren’t enough words in the world to describe how I felt at the moment.
The coach was ready and Mother was pulling me away from my reverie before I knew it. I would have felt better if Noah hadn’t slung his arm over my shoulder as we walked out. I probably would have let this whole evening go. He managed to make me feel more uncomfortable than I already was in less than two minutes.
I sat beside him and watched my mother from the window as the guard shut the door behind me. She had a smile on her face, and though smug and vague, it spoke legions.
I was to enjoy myself and that was it. No buts or ifs, I could hear her saying.
“I know this may not be your ideal first date,” Noah whispered so that the horseman couldn’t hear, “but do know that I am trying, Princess.”
The horsemen readied the horses and began down the stoned path at an easy pace. I turned to face him, barely meeting his eyes in the dark of the evening. The sunset caught his eyes and I noticed then that I was but a breath away from meeting his lips.
I gave him a smile. From this angle Noah appeared very handsome, making it easy to see why he grabbed so much attention from the girls in town. The only thing that gave him away was that gleam in his eyes that labeled him a womanizer. He had all the other girls fooled but me; I knew better. His words were pure venom, good for nothing but spurring lies.
“I know,” I whispered, not trusting my voice to sound legitimate. “And I thank you. This is a lot to handle, is all.”
He nodded. “That’s understandable, but you do understand, don’t you? Your family’s predicament?”
Well, it surely wasn’t some big secret, no matter how much Mother wished it was. We were losing money, fast, and my marrying Noah was the only way of ensuring our place at the top. “Yes.”
He sighed audibly, then reached into a small compartment on his side of the coach and pulled out a corsage presumably for me. “Here,” he said, holding it out for me.
“Thank you. It’s beautiful.” And it really was. It was rare, to say the least. Though Thediby was rich and glamorous, it wasn’t beautiful. It was quite boring, actually. The only flowers I’d ever known were the bleeding hearts in my mother’s garden. Seeing them perfectly arranged with the Maidenhair Ferns brought back memories I had long since forgotten.
Noah caught my eye and he fixated his gaze on me intently. He cocked his head as if trying to solve some hidden mystery. “It is. We could do this. We could make this work, I mean. We’re not so different, you know?”
“Is that so?” I sighed, feeling the heat flood to my cheeks. “I just don’t know how happy this happily ever after will be. I barely know you, yet you will be my husband in twenty-one days.”
His chuckle was reassuring and contagious. When the laughter had finally burnt out, he looked at me with a frown. “We have twenty-one days to fix that then, don’t we?”
He reached out to touch me the same moment I had opened my mouth to object. I knew he wasn’t so crazy as to kiss me, but we were so close and the moment seemed probable. He leaned forward to kiss me and I quickly gave him my cheek instead. The idea of kissing him made me sick.
He glanced out the window behind me and smiled. “We’re here.”
I suppose the loud ruckus that overtook the silence of the moment should have given it away, but it wasn’t until I turned to look outside did I realize that we were here. Siphon’s City. I’d only been here once, but once was enough. My father practically spent his life here and even owned this building. Mother and I had our own quarters for times when we had to stay with him, but they were always kept locked up and secretive. The only ones allowed in and out were the Floor Keepers.
“You’re nervous,” Noah whispered. I nodded, but didn’t remove my eyes from the fortress. “They’re all for you, you know? They love you.”
I looked at him and frowned. He’d said it as if it were a good thing, something to be proud of. The horseman hopped out of the carriage and came around to open the doors. Noah got out first and held my hand as I emerged after him. Almost immediately, we were swarmed with scrutinizing woman and newspaper journalists.
My mind swam and my grip on Noah tightened as he rushed us through the crowd. Just as we were about to enter through the grand doors, I caught sight of a group of girls who stood hidden in the shadows. Their dirty clothing and tattoos told me they were Hunters, maids probably. It wasn’t their appearances that gave me pause, though, it was the look they were giving me. As if my presence was an evil thing, they stared at me with disdain. I tried to translate it into something less horrible, hoping to alleviate my guilt, but their message was clear as day: you should be ashamed.
And I was.
A push on my shoulder got my feet moving again, but not as fast as I would have liked. Once inside, the guards shut the door and the finality that all those people wouldn’t even get to come inside after hours of waiting to see the Princess hit me hard.
Burning Bridges Page 5