My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  "Yes," Gavin pinched into the bridge of his nose and lifted his face. He was beyond a wreck. More like an ancient ship crashed into the rocks that was covered in centuries of seagull shit and left to rot by the ocean's salt water. That kind of a wreck.

  His eyes sunk in deep, black circling under them as if he hadn't slept in weeks. The color to his cheeks was more grey than his supple brown, and his fluffy lips dangled haphazardly off his mouth as if they were incapable of lifting. "Forgive me, I'm... How are you?"

  It was heart breaking to see, the boy doing his damnedest to cling to normalcy while the world went belly up on him. Myra wanted to reach over and hug him, but she kept her hands locked to the desk. "Sorry, it's been a long day. Talked to all the servants and the squires again."

  "Why'd you have to speak to them twice?"

  "Found a new bit of information, needed conformation. Also to check and see if stories change. Trick my mom..." Myra paused in her boasting, "one of those things we do. A lot of this job is talking, and looking, and so much writing!"

  She turned to her piles of scribbles, all of which should really be translated to long hand by now. But Myra was stuck doing this on her own. For a brief moment she thought about recruiting Cailan to help her, but having the interviewer seduce half of the potential witnesses was the opposite of useful.

  "I wish my mom was here."

  "Me too," Gavin whispered, his arms crossed against his chest.

  Myra whipped over at him and she knew he didn't mean Reiss. Forgetting their damn breakup and how fucked up it all was, Myra walked over and put an arm around him. "Gavin..."

  "I am fine," he insisted, though his broken voice said otherwise. "I...I merely wish for this to be over. Tell me you have the proof. That we can end the cursed assassin and," the fire blanketed in an instant, Gavin sliding back down, "and put Snowy to rest."

  "It's..." she groaned, well aware of how this would go over. To buy her time she sighed, "I can't believe I didn't figure out that Snowy was an alias. Who names their kid that? Shoulda, I should have known. You don't use a false name unless there's more there. If I'd just figured it out, called him on it then maybe. Maybe I'd have been able to..."

  "Myra," his hands, unnaturally cold, cupped against her arm. Had he been standing guard over the body again? "It's not your fault."

  "I'm supposed to be able to do that shit. To read people. To know what they're going to do or if they're keeping secrets. But no, I was too busy being me. Flitting little butterfly with her head in the clouds. Can't pay a damn lick of attention."

  "You didn't kill him," Gavin insisted, his voice dipping to rolling thunder, "The assassin did. Present your evidence to the princess and we can move on."

  "Yeah," Myra twisted out of his half hug and turned to her piles of papers, "about that. See..."

  "What? What have you found."

  With her eyes on the dozens of drawings and mockups she made, Myra spat out fast, "I don't think Anjali did it." When no noise answered her, she risked glancing back to find Gavin's eyes broiling in his skull. He looked like he could tear a hole through her tent just by staring.

  "It was her dagger."

  "Which can be stolen, planted. Honestly, that makes more sense than an assassin foolishly leaving her marked weapon behind. Practically screams set up, really."

  "She could have been interrupted," Gavin's voice was dropping colder than his hands and Myra's spine trembled. At least he wasn't drunk, though his body was teetering a bit.

  "I talked to people, no one knew, no one suspected a thing. It's as if the murderer appeared out of nowhere and then poof vanished."

  "Like an assassin."

  Maker's breath, this shouldn't be so damn hard. Picking up her drawing and best proof, Myra turned to Gavin. "Look," she instructed, jabbing at the parchment which rattled in his grip. "I measured it. I measured freaking everything. Angles, heights, grass depth. There is no way Anjali could have stabbed him, she's too freaking tall. She'd have to have been hunched over like in half. No, more than that. I tried, didn't work. Nothing would work."

  His amber eyes of fire darted over the drawings all of which ended in a big fat x over them. Myra had to have Bryn stand in as her dead dwarf, the girl not happy about the morbidness but she feared anyone else would have fucked it up. At least Bryn knew how the agency worked. She did them all, even the idea that Anjali somehow threw the knife while standing. The force wouldn't work and it'd be a one in a million shot. Possible didn't equal probable.

  "What about on her knees?" he insisted, not willing to give up on his crusade.

  Myra rolled her eyes, "Right, you think this deadly assassin walked on her knees up to the tent and then jabbed her dagger right through an unaware man's spine and throat? People would have spotted her instantly. It'd be hilarious to see."

  "She could have done it."

  "It doesn't add up," Myra insisted, "I'm sorry, I know you don't like her but..."

  "No," he tossed her evidence away and roared, "She must pay for what she's done! I will not allow a murderer to walk free!"

  "Nothing I've found, nothing I've seen can point me to her. Only that dagger which was fondled and moved so much I have no idea whose hand it was in that did the deed." It was a long shot but sometimes they could use smells on the grips to give a hint. All she got off that one was leather.

  Gavin growled in Myra's face, "She is a monster, dangerous to everyone here. You're not looking hard enough. You're not doing your job right!"

  "Fine!" Myra hefted up her piles of work and notes, "You think I'm so bad at this, you do it!" With a shake of her hands, she plopped all the scraps of paper and evidence in his arms.

  He sneered at the mess, thumbing against what had to be 16 hour days. Myra was constantly eating while working, bathing while going over numbers, and barely taking the time to go to the bushes. It was a mess in her loopy script and private shorthand but it was all there. Nothing pointed at Anjali. Nothing said she did it. And as much as Myra might not like her, she wasn't about to doom someone to the gallows without proof.

  "She...!" Gavin reared up as if he could scare Myra with his stature, but she wasn't backing down either. More than just her reputation was on the line with this, her mother would kill her if she found out she flubbed this one. Suddenly, Gavin's body waned, his arms slipped as all the work tumbled free in an avalanche. Steadying himself before he too hit the ground, he mumbled to himself, "She killed my friend. He's dead..."

  "I know."

  "There should be justice! A man is dead and...and no one knows, no one cares."

  "I blighted well care, about the truth. For the love of the Maker, you cannot want to send an innocent woman to her death," she was pleading with him, her hands clasped together in a prayer. Rather hilarious since the closest Myra came to believing was thinking the chantry robes were kinda pretty.

  She knew Gavin was different. He didn't make a thing about it, but he'd pray sometimes with her around. Little ones, thanking the Maker or asking Andraste for guidance. Maybe that was what he needed now, the cool head of a chantry sister to calm the fire in him.

  Closing his eyes he breathed, "There is no way that woman is innocent, blood is on her hands."

  "But it's not your job to punish her for it. Can't you see, Maker damn it all! You're too close to this, too close to him. There's something else going on here, something big. And if we hang Anjali, which seems to be what the real killer wants, then they win. They get off free. Is that what you want?"

  He turned away from her, his head hung low. Myra risked skirting her fingers along his shoulders. Gavin didn't react, or twist around to maul her in his pain. He sunk deeper in regret. "Snowy will be avenged but by doing it the right way."

  Gavin snorted, "I don't even know his real name. What right do I have going around calling him my friend?"

  "People keep secrets. Sometimes to protect themselves, sometimes to protect others," Myra muttered. There'd been more than a few cloaked individuals who sp
ent a night at the agency before being shipped off to their new home out in Ferelden's boonies. She wondered sometimes just how much her mother shielded her from, the darkness always thicker outside the door.

  "It doesn't mean he didn't care for you. Snowy was...he liked you. He wanted to help you, all the time. He..." Myra choked up a moment, her memory trailing back to the dwarf that was often smiling at the side of his eyes. He seemed so full of life and without a thought, without warning, he was dead.

  Gavin turned to look at her over his shoulder. Blinking madly, Myra tried to shake away the tears, but he was too busy staring at the mound of evidence at their feet to notice. After taking it all in, he breathed, "I...I apologize for my outburst. You are doing what you think is best. And I should remember that. If you have your reasons for protecting Anjali then I..."

  Skirting her fingers along his cheek, Myra tried to lift his eyes to hers. "Gavin? I don't give two figs about her. It's you I'm worried about. You're mad right now, I understand. But when that fades, and it will, how will you feel if you learned you doomed a woman that didn't commit the crime?"

  His face melted in her grip, the eyes that'd been of fire quenched to honey while his lips risked a rare rise from the etched on sneer. Sliding a hand to the back of hers, he whispered, "Thank you, for caring enough." This would be the time to kiss him, to make him know that she...she hadn't moved on. Somedays Myra wondered if she ever would.

  But Gavin slipped his hand free, Myra's tumbling off his cheek to land to the side. Bleary eyed he began to shamble to the door, but his torso swayed worse than before. "Are you all right?"

  "Hm?"

  "You're more tipsy than anyone should be unless they finished off the bottle of koomtra and got the slug."

  "Ah," he tried to steady himself by drawing his fingers down his chest but that only increased the bobbing. "I have not been sleeping well. At all, really."

  "Nightmares?" It wasn't too surprising, he was taking this really hard.

  He took in a slow breath and shut his eyes, "I try to not see it, but it's always there, even with my eyelids closed."

  "What?"

  "The blood stain. The tear where the dagger struck through. I see it and I remember that he's, that I... It is no matter." He tried to wave it off, but Myra snatched onto his hand, her hackles raising.

  "Wait? You mean the actual blood stain? Snowy's blood?" Gavin limply nodded his head to her questions. "Blighted hell, why are you still in that tent?!"

  "There were no other openings available and Ser Daryan did not deem it worthy..."

  "Fuck her!" Myra shouted. Gavin winced at her either cursing or cursing out his knight but she didn't care. To leave him in the tent where his friend died? To have to sit there watching with his imagination as Snowy bled out over and over and over. She was a monster.

  Glancing over at her bedroll, Myra said the first thought to pop into her head, "Stay here with me."

  His eyes flared open wide, Gavin trying to scoot back. "Myra, I know that things are complicated but..."

  "Not like that," she rolled her eyes at the thought, then softened her tone. "You look like the walking dead. You need sleep. There's plenty of room here. I doubt Bryn will mind and you're rather clean for a boy."

  He snickered a moment at that, "Thank you."

  "Stay, for the love of the Maker, sleep. You need it badly," she could see the marks now. His eyes kept drooping when he wasn't about to rip someone's throat out, and his hands hung limply at his sides. He looked about to fall onto his ass with a single push.

  "Here," Myra tugged on his hand and he dutifully followed, "take my pallet."

  "What? Now? I'm still in..." he looked down at his soiled livery and sighed.

  Myra would brook no excuses, gently shoving Gavin to the bedroll that waited for him. His backside struck first, practically forming into the blanket she made her own. With a sigh, his head tipped back onto her pillow. Instead of her ocher-gold hair spilling off it, it nestled his felt-like black curls. Nodding, Myra stepped back while he curled up into a potential bliss, when Gavin suddenly cracked open an eye.

  "Where will you sleep?"

  "I have a ton of work to do, and I'm sure I can figure something out. My sister's kinda in charge if you didn't hear," Myra smiled bringing a flitting one to him. It didn't last long, Gavin struggling to maintain his grip on the waking world. As she walked away, he slipped off to the fade hopefully where the dreams would be pleasant. He deserved a good night's rest.

  Shuffling up her papers, Myra hefted it all back to the desk. In the morning, she'd make her presentation to Rosie. Her sister would be easy to convince, it was the advisors, Karelle in particular, and that bitch of a knight who'd make it difficult. Good thing her mom and dad raised her to do what was right even if everyone around her was a blighted idiot.

  "Myra," his voice cut through the dark air. She didn't turn to it, but she did lift her head. "I'm sorry."

  "It's okay."

  "I mean about me and you..."

  A sob stopped up in her throat and she bent her head down over her work. For a moment she glanced back at the boy in a man's body stretched across her bed. "Yeah," she whispered. Perhaps he was already asleep, perhaps he'd never hear her response. "Me too."

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  Cold Truth

  "And that's the long and short of what I found. The end. This is where you all clap or gasp in amazement," her sister finished her presentation with her eyes darting over the assembled group of most important.

  Rosie sat upon her throne attempting to appear in charge while her head throbbed. Against all common sense she was up late into the evening trying to foolishly dig through information while someone was kind enough to refill her goblet with wine. Over and over and over. She didn't realize how drunk she was until she stumbled straight on into Cailan's tent, nearly knocking it over.

  "So," Rosie began, shifting her feet as if she was thinking of rising but flinching against the idea, "you have no evidence to point to Anjali as the murderer of...Blessed Andraste, do we know his real name yet?"

  She whipped her head over at Karelle who was very pinched mouthed from the moment the full breadth of the problem was brought to her. It was obvious she wished to get the King's attentions, which Rosie wouldn't argue against, but time was of the essence and Denerim was weeks away. They were on their own.

  "I suspect, based upon age and general descriptors of the young man's appearance that," Karelle sighed, her fingers darting over the piles of papers they managed to scrounge up on the royal dwarven family, "he was Vedrick Harrowmant, third son to their Queen who currently leads the remaining dwarves upon the surface."

  "Oh no," Rosie groaned, tipping her head back.

  "Yes, my Lady. I fear we have inadvertently caused the death of a dwarven prince."

  She feared such a possibility the closer and closer they grew to a solution. The dwarven royal line was larger than hers, but the great number of cousins seemed less and less likely to be invested with such a dagger. It screamed high royalty as all things did with the dwarf caste system. And anyone who dared to touch such a weapon might be stripped of their title and cast out.

  "It is possible that he received it as a gift, or even stole the dagger," Rosie began, hoping to talk her way out of this huge mess.

  Beside their prisoner growled the dead eyed squire. Gavin was often darting around Anjali to keep an eye on her, clearly hoping to take his pound of flesh for the loss of a companion. It was surprising that Myra pointed only to another guilty party out there, instead of backing up her lover. Perhaps she was taking after her sister in this matter.

  "The real issue is not who he is, or how close to the crown he may claim, but who killed him in the first place," Ser Daryan sniped. It was a wonder she hadn't already built a gallows to dangle Anjali from. Her eyes cut over to the assassin who had spoken little since Snowy was found dead. The fact she refused to even explain what could have happened froze Rosie to the core. Only the gu
ilty behave in such a manner, but Myra...

  "It was a...cute performance by a wanna-be guard," Daryan began, extending a hand to Myra who hissed like a cat. "But the fact remains her dagger was found impaled through the victim. It's been nothing but a farce pretending it could be anyone else."

  "For the love of..." Myra cried, "Do you want me to go over all the evidence again? Cause I can. See, first off timing. Most everyone puts Anjali with the royal court...or whatever you all call yourselves out here. The royal flush? At the time of the murder."

  Daryan folded her arms, her head cocked to the side as if she was waiting for Myra to finish talking before she'd gut Anjali herself.

  "Second, the angles are all wrong. No way a woman of her height did it. I'd guess someone three and a half to four feet tall."

  "Yet no other dwarf was wandering around our caravan. You seem to be plucking assumptions from thin air," Daryan interrupted.

  "Thin air? Thin blighted air? I've been... Here," Myra stomped down from her little platform to the knight. "Give me your dagger, I'll show you just how it works." She waved her fist at the knight who merely chuckled from the thinner girl's threat.

  "Myra," Rosie chastised, her sister whipping to her like a viper.

  "What?!"

  "I believe you," she said, her sister's bile dampening a moment as she bobbed her head. Rosie knew how much work Myra put into this, and the seeming miracles she and her mother could perform. If Myra thought Anjali was innocent then... She didn't kill the dwarf. The idea of her being truly innocent of the entire issue was proving harder for Rosie to swallow.

  "Do you, Squire Gavin, accept Myra's evidence and my ruling?"