by Lucy Smoke
“Yes well, it’s temporary. We’ll only be staying the one night.”
“Thank the Gods,” I hear someone mutter.
“Why didn’t we stay at the dorm?” I ask. “They aren’t expecting us to be living it up in one of the University places are they?” Booker grimaces and several eyes somehow find something else to look at besides me. “What? What am I missing?”
“It’s complicated,” Coen says, trying to placate me. He grins and shrugs.
I cross my arms over my chest. “So, uncomplicate it for me.”
“We’re not sure if the King knows about Booker and Luca.” Coen scratches a cut on his chin, looking away.
“Why would he know about them? Is there something I’m missing?”
“I’ve been to King Matric’s city before,” Booker says finally. “To visit Holden. When they narrow down the names they are looking for, they will look into each of your backgrounds and when I visited it was recorded as well as where I now live.”
“But what about Luca? Surely he should be fine.” I drop my arms to my sides, clenching and unclenching my fists.
“He looks just like me, Nerys.”
Oh. “Right.”
“Hey, why don’t we start on the snacks that we brought and play a few games,” Holden suddenly suggests. “Let’s kill some time.”
The quiet day spent in the dirty room, despite the pressure and anxiety of knowing that not only are Coen, Holden, Titus, and I in danger, but now so are Booker and Luca, is one of the best days I have ever had. Luca changes into his canine form and lays his head on my lap while Titus shows me and Coen how to make sharp tipped wooden arrows from sticks he had stuffed in his pack. They look similar to what he used when we ran into the highwaymen before we came to Ragnarok.
“This is called a sling shot,” he says as he whittles down an odd warped piece of wood with a knife and a sharp rock. He ties a rubber string around the two protruding tongs on top and pulls it back. “You just put a pebble or rock here, in the center, pull back and release.” He demonstrates without a target before handing it over to me. I feel along the rough wood before thanking him and tucking it into my own pack. When twilight fades the day into night, I’m sorry to see the end of it.
“Alright,” Booker announces as we prepare to leave. “We’ll go in pairs. Luca and Holden. Coen and myself. Nerys and Titus. We keep our heads down and we rendezvous at the meeting point. Clear?” We each respond with our own “clears” and “yeahs” and “okays” before he has Coen, Holden, and I stand in a line.
Booker touches each of our forehead and mutters a few words. Each syllable that slips between his lips, over my ears tingles over my skin. I gasp when I turn and there are two strangers on either side of me.
“Gods,” Coen breathes. “You look like…” I blink at him, startled. The voice that comes out of the new face is Coen’s but he most certainly does not look like Coen anymore. His nose is so pronounced, it takes up almost a quarter of his face, long and wide, sharp on the end in a curved hook. The stormy gray eyes I usually see are masked by a dull flat dirty pond water brown-green.
“Me?” I ask, “you look like… well, you don’t look like you.”
Holden looks the same.
“Why do they look the same?” I ask.
Booker finishes tying off a loose pocket on his bag before looking up. “They didn’t need to look different,” he says. “Just not like themselves.”
“Do I look like that?” Coen and Holden look at each other over my head before looking down at me.
“You still look like a girl,” Coen says.
“You look hot.” Holden grins, wiggling his now bushy eyebrows up and down. I frown, but no one has a mirror, so I can’t see.
“Time to go,” Booker says. He and Coen leave first, with Luca and Holden next, and Titus and I leave last. We separate and disappear into the crowds of the night which have come alive in this deadened section of Ragnarok.
My old hood is a comforting disguise, though I don’t need it with Booker’s spell. I reach around my side to double check that my new sling shot and the vial of Dragon’s blood is still tucked safely away and Titus takes my hand. We look the part of the neighbors as Titus and I mingle along the sides of the lesser streets of Ragnarok. Several women line the street in see through fabrics and ripped dresses.
Their eyes follow Titus as he stands above several men, leading me even further into the southern streets of the city.
“You should’ve taken the potion,” I mutter.
“What do you mean?”
“You stand out,” I say.
He doesn’t even notice that the gaze of every female we pass is following him with hunger.
I have to beat back the urge I have to start slapping the shit out of their faces. I don’t know what gives me the urge, but it’s strong. I don’t own Titus or any of the guys for that matter. Somehow, though, I find this strange sensation creeping up in the back of my mind that doesn’t sound like Obidian, but like a deeper part of myself, telling me that they are mine. I shake my head against the thoughts, clearing it and focusing on what really matters at the moment. Escape.
Drawing a crowd would not be a good idea. No matter how good it would feel to rip off the bitch’s finger who trails her hand down his arm as he passes. He doesn’t even notice, but I do. I move closer to him and lay my head against his shoulder as we walk. He glances down with a smile and my jealousy dissipates a little.
The lanterns hanging over various shops, brothels, and restaurants are not as bright as those along the main stretch of the city. Curls of wispy smoke rises from alleyways and inside of apartment houses above the shops as people attempt to keep warm as the cold air of pre-winter begins to descend upon the crowd. I edge even closer to Titus, stealing his body heat as I reach up, rubbing my cheeks for warmth.
“Almost there,” he whispers. Our destination comes into view with a wooden sign dangling over the open doorway of a tavern. It’s a decrepit old thing, swinging and hanging by the thread of a single chain. The other chain dangles over the leaning side of the plank of wood that reads: “Hagnus Inn and Tavern.”
Titus’s palm moves to the small of my back as he urges me inside. In the building, the air is warmer from the crowd gathered on the dry dirty floor. Each table we pass is surrounded by at least four or five people with beady, hungry eyes. We make our way across the room, those eyes following assessing, but I know we look just as poor as they do.
The bartender, a meaty older man with a belly and red beard, somehow looks both curious as we approach and angry at the same time. His face bespeaks a hard life not easily lived. I hope that we’re at the right place. Dark eyes stare us down as his hands wipe the rim of a glass absently and he pops another bottle for an older man sitting at the end of the counter. Titus slides onto a previously emptied stool and rests his wrists on the edge of the platform bar while I grip the back of his shirt and wait, standing.
“What can I do fer ya and yer gal there boy?” Titus is hardly a boy, I think. He towers over half of the crowd and despite his lack of bulk, he still looks intimidating. His lithe muscled frame swaying slightly like a snake waiting to strike. Titus doesn’t seem too concerned. He simply leans forward, gesturing for the bartender. The gruff man grunts and tilts his head to hear Titus say,
“The dark rises, the dark falls, safety we seek inside the walls.”
A tension settles over the nearby crowd. The men on either side of Titus straighten their backs as I watch from behind. As a unit they lean closer as if trying to hear more. The bartender pulls back as well, looking first at Titus for a quick moment before resting his gaze on me.
He nods his head. “Two for tonight then?” He gestures towards me. Titus looks at me and nods, hoping that’s the right answer.
The bartender calls out for a girl strutting around the room in skin tight pants and a brassiere. She stops in front of him with a scowl and one hand on her hip while the other perfectly balances a tray f
illed with glass bottles of ale and plates of fried chips.
“What do you want now, Bo?” she snaps. Her accent is deep and her vowels rounded almost as much as her full cheeks.
“Gerty, these folks’ll be staying the night,” he says as he moves to wipe down a section of the bar that doesn’t look like a few spit shines is gonna do much for it. He tries anyway. “Take ‘em down to one of the rooms below fer me, will ya?”
She harrumphs as she sets her tray down on the end of the bar. “You just don’t wanna have to get your big ol’ self down those stairs!” she cries. I watch as the older man chuckles and agrees as she rounds the corner of the bar again with a set of keys in hand.
“Follow me,” Gerty snaps abruptly, and leads us down a darkened hallway to the side of the bar. There are two doors to the right as we pass through and the smell of urine and vomit wafts out when a man pushes through the first door and barges around us, heading back into the tavern area.
The doors are so old and the paint so worn, it’s a wonder how anyone can tell which is for men and which is for women. At the end of the hall is another door much in the same condition. I never thought I would be grateful for the smell of mold to clear away the scent of barf.
We head down a narrow flight of stairs, the wood sinking with every step we take. Gerty hands Titus a key.
“You can pick which you want. It opens all of ‘em.” I don’t get to mention how unsafe that is because without a glance back, she retreats up the stairs and out of sight.
“What now?” I ask once she’s gone.
Titus tugs me down the hallway, muttering numbers under his breath as he counts. He stops in front of a door that practically hangs from its hinges before pushing me into the darkened space. The door is so weak that even under his gentle urgings it falls away from the frame. He sighs before flicking a glance at me and we both help to push it up against the frame slightly marring the way in case anyone decides to wander down after us.
“Now,” he says, pulling a dagger from his pack and telling me to do the same. “We look for the door.”
Looking for a hidden door in the dark is much more difficult than I thought it would be. It’s pitch black in the basement rooms, no windows, and the air is suffocating and cold in the same breath. I try not to breathe, covering my nose and mouth with the fabric of my hood and neckline to keep the moldy smell from smothering me.
I jam the point of my dagger into the edge of yet another wooden panel and grunt as I work it back and forth. Nope. No hidden door here. I growl in frustration, reaching forward and digging my nails into either side of the panel and pulling. When nothing happens. I stick my feet up against the bottom of the wall, tugging even harder. With a pop, I scream and fall backwards onto the dirty floor. I wince as I feel warm liquid over the tips of my fingers and nails I’ve accidentally ripped part of a nail off. What else did I think was going to happen when I tried physically tearing a wall apart?
I lean down to feel behind what I’ve revealed by the panel, ignoring the throbbing of my fingertips. My palms come away from the concrete behind the panel with nothing but grime and goop from years of neglect. With disgust, I wipe my hands down my pants. I sigh and drop the dagger into my lap before turning to Titus. Watching him in the dark is not nearly as fascinating as watching him in the light, but at least he can’t tell that I’m looking at him.
“Titus?”
“Hmmmm?” The sound of his dagger wiggling and prying into a panel only to be pulled out and moved over to the next fills the space between us. I struggle to come up with something to say. So, I say the first thing that comes to mind.
“What did you do in the Kingdom?” As soon as the words escape my lips, he stiffens. “I mean what was your job? Did you have a job? It’s okay if you didn’t, I was just–”
“It’s okay, I know what you were trying to ask.” I sigh in relief. But, when he doesn’t answer the question after a few more moments, I prompt him.
“So…?”
“Is that really the question you wanted to ask me?”
I pause before replying, “I don’t know. I just...the city wasn’t extremely big, though big enough I suppose. But, I don’t recall ever running into you.”
“It’s not uncommon.” He jams his knife into another panel.
“No, I guess not since I don’t remember ever meeting Holden either.”
Titus chuckles. “Something tells me that Holden is used to going unseen.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
I listen as he continues to work against the wall before guessing, “You think he did illegal things.”
Titus laughs, huffing out a breath. “I think we’ve all done illegal things by now, don’t you?”
I pick under my nails with the tip of my dagger. “Guess you’re right. Doesn’t tell me why I never saw you though.” I can feel more than hear or see his discomfort and stiffness.
“It’s difficult to explain, Nerys.” There’s very little light and most of it is coming from a lantern in the hall. I only catch glimpses of his shadow as he struggles to peak behind each panel.
“You can start at the beginning if it makes it easier?” I offer lamely. “I feel like it’s important.”
“What’s important?”
Out of habit, I gesture to him even though he can’t see. “You are. I want to know you. You helped me escape and you didn’t even know who I was.”
Titus is quiet for a moment. “I didn’t really help you escape. I ran with you. That’s different.” The silence is loud in the quiet room and he stops working, his shadow turning towards me. “No one is going to turn me in,” he admits.
“Oh.” Well, that doesn’t sound so bad. “That’s kind of nice,” I say. “Your family must be really loyal if they won’t—”
“No, Nerys,” he stops me. “I don’t have a family. If we’re speaking in non-technicalities, I didn’t exist in the Kingdom.”
“What?
“It doesn’t matter now,” he says.
“Doesn’t matter?” I repeat. “Of course it matters. You matter.”
I hear the shifting of clothing and a soft chuckle. “Thank you, Nerys.”
“What about your parents? Your mom?”
He shrugs again; the soft stretch of fabric shifting against his skin in the darkness is his only response.
“What about your father?” The question comes out low, almost a whisper.
He’s quiet for several moments before he speaks again. “I’m a bastard, Nerys. He doesn’t want me. He already has a son, a family.”
I take a deep breath and leave my dagger on the floor next to my sack before moving over to him. Titus tilts his head up as I approach the dim lantern lighting shimmering over his rough jawline and keeping the rest of his face in shadow so I don’t know what he’s thinking. I take his face between my hands and hold him there.
“We don’t have to go back,” I say. “You’ll never have to go back.” I can’t imagine him existing, but not, especially in a place like Matric’s city. It breaks my heart to think of him as a young child, alone, in that kind of environment. My fingertips brush against the edge of his eyelashes and I try to smile, even if it hurts to think about a family not caring about him. He was willing to risk getting caught in Matric’s city when he led the guards away and even if I thought I could handle it myself, he did save me from the highwaymen after.
A hand reaches up to touch my wrist. “I’m not unhappy,” he replies. “I exist now. Outside of the Kingdom, I can exist. When I was there, I was like a dirty secret. Something for my father to pretend didn’t exist and something for my mother to ignore so she could keep his favor. Out here, no one really knows me. They don’t know how I came into this world and they don’t care. I’m not ignored because it doesn’t gain anyone anything to do so.”
“The good thing about existing,” I say, “is that you can choose to be anyone you want to be now that you do.”
When he kis
ses my wrist, I can feel his smile on my skin and I imagine those lips against other parts of my skin. Shocked at my own thoughts, I release a breath, shaking and practically vibrating nervousness. I don’t pull away, though, instead I lean even farther against him. I imagine how it might have been for me had I been on my own when Obidian came to me. It’s a sobering thought.
“We can be a family,” I offer. “Booker, Luca, Coen, Holden, and I, we can be your family.”
He’s quiet for a moment, his hand releasing my wrist as I continue to stroke his cheeks. “I’d like that.” Titus’s shoulder tighten, the lean muscles under his shirt turning rock hard. His body doesn’t shake. He doesn’t even move. I can feel the deep-seated emotion laying just under the surface and if I could bleed to take it away, I would. I would do anything to ease his pain.
“Nerys?” I can’t see the blue depths of Titus’s eyes as his head shifts in my direction.
“Yes?” My heartbeat thumps against my chest and my hands begin to shake.
“You can’t possibly know what having a family means to me.” His tone is low and dark, causing shivers to run along my spine. “Thank you.”
“Y-you’re welcome.” When I move to sit back, his hand touches the skin just above my elbow, pulling me back.
Titus’s fingers grip me hard and I gasp when I can feel the touch of his lips close over my own. The kiss is electric, overwhelming like a tidal wave sweeping me into the ocean. I’ve never kissed or been kissed like this. Never been kissed like, at any moment, the ground beneath my feet might crumble away and I wouldn’t even notice.
I’ve kissed children’s foreheads, their cheeks, even their boo-boos. I’ve kissed Coen with the love of a child, with the love of a best friend, on his cheek, on his nose, on his forehead. Is it wrong to kiss someone else when I feel as though I should be kissing Coen like this too? But for now, this kind of kiss is all for Titus and it is all consuming.
My mouth is pressed tight to Titus’s until there’s no room for breath to escape. His lips are full and warm, drowning out the rest of my thoughts and sinking me deep beneath the cataclysmic yearning for more. I can feel his heartbeat right through our clothes. The world spins and I attempt to yank myself away when I think it’s because I’m going to get sick again. But, I’m not. Titus has me up and pinned against the wall next to us, his arms caging me in, one over my head the other wrapped around the back of my neck to hold me still as he delves into me, body and soul.