Sin Eater's Daughter 2 - The Sleeping Prince

by Melinda Salisbury

  I cannot stand it when he turns to me; my face feels alight with shame. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. Brown hair turned darker with grease, wound around my head in braids to keep it from my mother’s grasping hands, crescents of black dirt under my fingernails, lips chapped. It’s no wonder that he… I cut that thought dead.

  I don’t need to see his face to feel the pity that radiates from him, and it ignites my temper, humiliation and rage building a fire in me. “You should go now,” I say rudely, pulling the door open.

  Chanse Unwin stands there, his fist raised to knock.

  He looks from Silas to me, his eyes widening. I turn to look at Silas, horror digging sharp fingers into me as the lower part of Silas’s face turns chalk white.

  Unwin’s expression might be amusing if I weren’t so terrified. His eyes bulge as he gapes at Silas. I see him cataloguing the worn boots, the loose threads dangling from his cloak, his battered gloves. He looks him up and down, two, three times, before his gaze settles on Silas’s hidden face.

  “You left the meeting early,” Unwin says finally, turning to me, his voice glassy and dangerous. “I saw you go. I thought we had an agreement to meet afterwards.”

  “Forgive me,” I say. “I was afraid there’d be trouble; I didn’t want to get caught in it.”

  “It was nothing I couldn’t control. I am the nearest thing to a Justice here, after all,” he says, looking back at Silas. “Which leads me to ask, who are you, exactly, my good sir?” He says “sir” as though it’s a dirty word. “Where are you from? I don’t recall seeing you here before.”

  Silas lowers his head so only his chin is visible. “I was just leaving,” he mutters. His fingers are blurred, tapping a rapid tattoo on his arm as tension rolls off him.

  “You’d better get going.” I shove Silas past Unwin, stepping out of the house and between them.

  Unwin’s face starts to darken and he sucks in a deep breath. It prompts Silas to move, disappearing around the corner of the cottage. Unwin watches him go with an ugly expression.

  “Evacuation plans,” Unwin snaps suddenly, turning back to me. “That’s what you missed. There’s a caravan leaving the village at first light, for the camp near Tyrwhitt. You’re to leave with it.”

  Dread fills me. “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “My mother is ill. Very ill. I daren’t move her.” The lie falls from my lips before I’ve had time to think it through.

  “That’s funny, because this morning your mother was out and about, looking to pay her dues, you said. And now she’s at death’s door?”

  “She was. She had to return before she could find you; she should never have gone out, it was foolish.” I know I’m babbling but I can’t stop. “Now she’s resting, but she can’t be moved. I’m not sure what it is but … I wouldn’t want her near anyone.” I lower my voice. “It might be contagious. And in a caravan, and then a camp … it could spread like wildfire. And I couldn’t nurse her there.”

  I understand too late that I’ve talked myself into a trap, only noticing when I see something akin to victory in his answering smile.

  “Well, doesn’t this bring us neatly to a proposition I have for you.”

  “A proposition?” I repeat.

  He looks over his shoulder, glancing around before lowering his voice. His tone is cajoling, sickeningly intimate. “If you wished to stay here, I could make room in the manse for you. For you both.” His smile is all teeth.

  “What?”

  “I saw your face when I mentioned evacuation. I know you have nowhere to go, nowhere to turn. Your father and brother dead.”

  “Lief isn’t dead. He’ll come back.”

  The look Unwin gives me is pitiless. “You have nothing, my girl. And I’ll be staying on here, working with the army. I can’t go into the details, but I’m inviting you both to stay too. For a price, of course.”

  “What price?” Sweat breaks out along my shoulders and cools, chilling me.

  “I was thinking we could come to an arrangement. Between us. One that’s mutually satisfying.”

  His pupils are dilated, his voice low and breathy, and I understand what he means, what he wants. That he thinks he can ask me for it and he’ll get it, because he thinks we have no choice.

  I fight to keep my expression blank, to keep my hand from flying through the air and hitting him. “That’s very kind, but we must refuse.”

  “Refuse?” He blinks. “Refuse? How can you refuse?”

  “We do have somewhere to go. We have family in the north. We’re expected. As soon as Mama is better, we’ll go. That’s what worried me, Mama being ill and delaying us. Not that we were destitute.”

  His eyebrows rise higher and higher with every word I say, and then he bares his teeth at me. “You’ll go nowhere before you’ve given me the money you owe. Six florins now.”

  “I…” I begin, but Unwin cuts me off, his tone whip-cruel and vicious now.

  “I…” Unwin mimics in a high-pitched voice. “You what, Errin? Another excuse? Another witty retort?”

  “I…” But my words have all left me, as fear of him – for the first time real fear – pins my tongue in place.

  “Oh, will you spit it out.” He leans forward, his saliva speckling my face. “You were all full of clever words this morning. Where are they now? Hmm? No snappy comeback? No snide remark? Where’s my money, Errin?”

  “Here.” Suddenly Silas is there again, rounding the corner and thrusting his hand out to Unwin, who turns to him as my jaw drops. He came back. He came back. “How much is it?”

  “I’m here for her debts, not yours, whoever you think you are,” Unwin sneers as I gawp at Silas.

  Before I’ve recovered myself Silas speaks again, moving his lanky frame between mine and Unwin’s, as if he’s preparing to shield me. “Six florins, did I hear you say? Of course.” He smiles at Unwin with a wide, beaming grin that I’d never have believed he was capable of as he thrusts a handful of coins at him, forcing Unwin in his surprise to take them. “There. All paid.”

  The three of us stand in stunned silence; it seems to me that none of us can believe what has happened.

  “Remove your hood,” Unwin barks at him suddenly. “Who are you? Show yourself.”

  “If you’ll forgive me, I’ll keep my hood up,” Silas says calmly. “I was badly burned in a fire some years past. The burns never truly healed – it’s not a pretty sight.”

  It’s clear Unwin doesn’t believe him. “I’ll bet I’ve seen worse, boy.” He reaches out as if to yank the hood down, and Silas steps back as I suck in a sharp breath.

  “I’d rather you didn’t.” Silas’s voice suddenly radiates menace, all pleasantness lost to a rumble of threat.

  “Where are your papers?” Unwin snarls. “Where are you from? You don’t even sound Tregellian to me. What’s your business here? Who are you to her?”

  “He’s a family friend,” I say at the same time Silas says, “Cousin.”

  I feel my skin heat again but it’s nothing, nothing compared to the violent purple blotches that bloom on Unwin’s cheeks, then spread across his face.

  “Though I’ve always thought of him as a cousin,” I say swiftly. “We grew up together. It’s to his family in the north that my mother and I are going. He’s here to help us pack. And to escort us when Mama is better. Aren’t you?” With every fibre of my being I will him to go along with it.

  “That’s right.” Silas smiles at me – a mischievous smile, lazy and wide – and my entire body burns with such intensity I’m surprised I don’t burst into flames. He takes my hand in his gloved one and I feel my heart shudder, and then stop. He’s touching me. Voluntarily.

  “I’m here to help my dear cousin. We’re close.” I hear him speak, but it sounds far away, buzzing in my ears, my mouth dry.

&nbs
p; Unwin’s eyes narrow to slits so thin I can’t believe he can see out of them. He looks back and forth between Silas and me. “I see,” he says slowly. “I see.”

  “If that’s all – Mr Unwin, was it?” Silas says, and I can hear the relish of victory in his words. “We simply have to get on. Lots to do,” he says smartly, pulling me to the cottage door and pushing us both through it, before closing it in Unwin’s face.

  My heart is beating so fast it feels as though it’s vibrating, but as soon as we’re inside he drops my hand. The swiftness of the rejection stings, and I move to the window to hide my hurt, peering through the cracks in the horn slats at Unwin, who is staring at the door, outrage etched across his face. When I turn back to Silas he’s seemingly staring at his hand, though it’s impossible to tell with his stupid hood covering his face. His posture seems stiff with unhappiness, and the set of his mouth, the stark, humourless line of it, makes my stomach clench unhappily.

  “Well, that was clever,” I snap. “Tell me, how does your neck support the weight of so much idiocy?”

  Silas’s head jerks upwards. “Excuse me?” he says, his voice rising with bewilderment.

  “You. Why not stick your knife in his gut? It would have been less antagonistic.”

  He takes a deep breath. “I was trying to help.”

  “By winding him up?”

  “I don’t like bullies. And I didn’t like the way he spoke to you. Or looked at you. I couldn’t stay out of it, Errin. I couldn’t.”

  That takes the wind out of my sails, my heart giving a great lurch in my chest before I recover. “You should have left when you had chance,” I say, but the sting is drawn.

  “I know.” He speaks softly, his voice a hoarse whisper. “But I wasn’t going to stand there and listen to him talk to you like that.”

  My stomach twists in a way I don’t like one bit. “I can handle it,” I say evenly.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you owed him money?”

  “Because… It’s nothing to do with you. I had it under control.” He huffs softly and I scowl at him. He shrugs and turns his head, until he’s facing the room where my mother is. In the heat of the moment I’d forgotten about her. And night is falling…

  I walk over to him, planting myself between him and the door. “Now, I don’t want to be rude, but I have chores to do. Here—” I move to the fireplace and pluck the florin from the pot there, adding it to the three he paid me for the henbane. When I go back to him I stand closer, forcing him to step back to keep the distance between us. “I’ll have to get the rest to you later.”

  He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. Look, if you like, I can stay, in case he—”

  “No!” I cut him off, praying the volume of my voice hasn’t woken my mother. “Silas, I meant it when I told Unwin my mother was ill. She’s resting, and I don’t want to disturb her, so…” I hold the money out, but he ignores it.

  “You don’t have to lie to me, Errin.”

  “What do you mean?” I freeze.

  He speaks slowly, carefully, as though to a child. “Look at this place. The clothes hanging up over there are yours; I recognize them. The bluish smock is what you were wearing when we first met. The green is the one you had on when—” He stops, biting his tongue while I clench my fists with embarrassment. He carries on hurriedly. “There’s one cup to be washed, one bowl and spoon too. There’s one pallet, next to the fire. One of everything. So unless your mother is resting through there –” he nods at the locked door “– nice and far from the fire, and she keeps all of her utensils and her clothes in with her, then I’d say it’s pretty obvious that you live here alone.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Stop it.” He starts to pace, his boots too loud against the floor, and worry begins to tingle along my shoulders.

  “It’s not that…”

  “What kind of mother would allow her daughter to wander the woods by herself?” He ignores my protests. “What kind of mother would allow her daughter to brew poisons in her home? And sell them to keep the roof over her head? I was standing right beside you a moment ago, Errin, when the landlord came looking for rent and expected it from you. Neither you nor Unwin mentioned your mother until you needed an excuse to turn him down. In fact you never mention a mother. You’ve told me about your father and your brother, but that’s it. And I’ve seen no one else come and go from here, save you, since I arrived. I know you’re alone here. I’ve always known. I’m not asking you to tell me anything else, but stop lying to me about that. It’s pointless. You know I won’t take advantage of it.”

  He speaks that last part softly and I look away to hide my hurt. Yes, I know he won’t take advantage of it. He’s possibly the only man in the realm who won’t take advantage of a distressed young woman, even when she’s throwing herself at him.

  Then his words sink in: I’ve seen no one else come and go from here, save you, since I arrived, and my skin prickles once more. He’s been watching me. Why? When? Clearly not during the full moon, or at least not closely, or else he’d know there was someone else here. Something else.

  I’m about to argue, out of habit, when I bite my tongue. Though I trust him, as much as I trust anyone these days, I’m painfully aware he already has enough to hold over my head. And despite his assurances that he won’t take advantage, it’s one more thing he knows about me while I still know nothing of him. He already has too many advantages over me.

  “Don’t tell anyone.” I switch tactics, pleading gently. “If anyone knew…”

  His head jerks with what I assume is surprise. “Mum’s the word,” he says eventually, before smiling slyly at his own joke.

  “Look.” I move around him, towards the door, plastering a chagrined smile across my own face. “I’m grateful for your … help, Silas, but I do have a lot to do. If I’m supposed to evacuate, then…” I trail off, shrugging.

  I can feel him staring at me, but I can’t think of anything else to say and he doesn’t speak either. The moment becomes a real, tangible thing in the room and it closes in on me. I’m still clutching his money, and hold it out again, but he doesn’t move and I put it down on the mantelpiece. Finally he shrugs, walking past me towards the door, ignoring the small pile of coins.

  “I’ll see you soon, Errin,” he says as he opens it, the sky purple and red beyond it.

  “Stay out of trouble,” I warn him, summoning a smile.

  He has barely started to close the door when there is a loud crash from my mother’s room.

  In an instant he’s back over the threshold, his head tilted, appearing to look at me from inside the hood. Then he closes the front door and strides across the room. I throw myself in front of the bedroom door as he reaches for the key in the lock.

  “Don’t,” I say as I realize why she banged, what time it is. I haven’t brewed her tea.

  He looks down at me and then I’m painfully aware of how little space there is between us. I can’t look up at him.

  “Please don’t. Please go,” I beg.

  Silas shakes his head and takes me gently by the shoulders, moving me out of the way. I close my eyes briefly as he opens the door.

  She is sitting on the bed, her water cup on the floor beside the door, the contents spilled. Her grey hair is wild around her head, her eyes focused on Silas as though he’s prey, and my heart lurches.

  Silas seems not to notice, approaching her quietly and crouching beside her. “Hello,” he says softly, and then, in an action that shocks me, he pushes the edge of his hood back a little and shows her his face. I catch a glimpse of cheekbone, high and sharp, the tips of pale lashes. “I’m Silas, a friend of Errin’s. You must be her mother.”

  There is a bone-shaking moment when I think she’s going to lash out at him. But instead she gapes, her mouth an “O”. I wait for her to move, and when she leans back against the pil
low, her eyes drinking in his face, I rush into the room to examine her.

  Her eyes are still red, still feral. Nothing has changed.

  When they move to me, they narrow and I step back. “I’ll get you some tea, Mama.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on her while you make it,” Silas says. He’s lowered his hood again, hiding all but his mouth, which gives nothing away. I look back at Mama to see her gaze fixed on him once more, settling down, watching him, but not in a way that suggests he’s prey. “Has she eaten?” he asks.

  “Yes. Before I left for the meeting I gave her some bread and stew. She won’t want to eat until tomorrow, now. She never does.”

  He nods, and I watch the two of them, looking from one silent figure to the other, neither of them paying any attention to me. It’s stupid, so stupid to leave him with her, but I do, tottering back to the main room and stoking the fire, filling the pipkin with water, adding valerian and chamomile to the nettle leaves, along with the last of the honey and a good dose of poppy. When I look back at the doorway he’s still beside the bed, and she’s still gazing at him with a docile expression, her face slack, and human. There’s something sinister about the tableau: a hooded figure kneeling beside a prone woman, and for a moment I forget which of them is the dangerous one. I hurry the rest of the preparations, straining and stirring sloppily and making a mess on the countertop. I have a brief flash of my old teacher tutting at me, and my lips quirk into a guilty smile before I remember Silas and Mama in the other room and I rush back to them.

  I almost drop the cup when I see that he’s holding her hand, her frail fingers resting limply in his gloved ones. He gestures for me to pass him the cup, and I watch as he blows on it carefully before holding it to my mother’s lips. She sips obediently and he smiles at her in encouragement. I move back to the doorway, watching him lift the cup up to her and her fingers curl over his to hold it. A sour pain blossoms in my chest and I realize I’m jealous of how easy he is with her. My feelings for Silas have always been complicated, but this is a new low: jealous of my own mother because he is holding her hand.