by P. Jameson
It was a nice feeling.
In fact, it was so good that when she’d finished, she decided to carve another word. After all, she had a lot of different feelings to choose from. She could probably do twenty and still not purge herself of it all.
Finished with her second carving, she sat back and examined her work. It was sort of beautiful, the whole bench. They were just words but… she’d put a lot of time into them. The bench was a record of her life, she guessed. At least the emotional parts, the secret parts.
A drop of water hit the frozen slab. Then another.
She was crying again. How disappointing.
It seemed to come on without warning. No strangled feeling afore hand. No tell-tale stinging behind her eyes. It was just there, liquid seeping from her lids.
She dried the unwanted tears with the sleeve of her robe. Just in time too.
“Canna? Are you well?”
She jumped at the sound of Emmalyn’s gentle voice.
“Oh. Yes. I’m… perfectly well.” Canna stood, stepping away from the bench and tucking the file in the folds of her robe so Emma wouldn’t see it. She stared past Canna to the bench, her eyes touching on the haunting record of words.
Canna turned her gaze to the fountain to avoid facing Emma. Moments later, the maiden stepped up beside the bubbling water.
“I was just on my way to the café. I figured you’d be heading in that direction soon. Would you care to walk with me?”
Clearly she didn’t know Canna was no longer allowed at Ula’s.
“Ula asked me to cease my visits,” she said simply, as if it was nothing to her.
“She did?”
Canna nodded.
“Why ever would she do that? I’m sure you’re mistaken.” Emma’s voice was all no-nonsense. And now Canna would have to explain.
Keeping her face clear of emotion she said, “I am bad for business. The kafé is losing customers because of my visits.”
Emma’s face scrunched in confusion. “I wasn’t aware of that.”
Canna added nothing, and waited for her to leave. But Emma continued to stare at the gurgling spring of water.
“So will you return home then?”
Home was the last place Canna wanted to be but she had nothing to do and nowhere else to go.
“Yes.”
“Very well. I’ll walk with you.” Canna stared, not sure she’d heard her right. But Emma smiled warmly. “Come now.”
Okay.
Cannalise followed her across the slick stones and over the bridge.
When they were on the path leading to Canna’s castle Emma spoke up. “Do you know of a wren named Gilleth?”
“I have heard of his carving work.”
Emma nodded and smiled. Said nothing more.
Curiosity made Canna push. “Why do you inquire?”
Emmalyn shrugged, eyes steady on the ground. “He comes to Ula’s a lot.”
That didn’t explain anything.
They walked further, passing several wrens hurrying home.
“I like him,” Emma murmured.
Ahh. But why was she telling Cannalise this?
“I like him a lot.”
“Have you formally met?”
She nodded sadly. “Many years ago. I am not his.”
Canna had no words for the maiden. Should she dare attempt to… comfort her? She didn’t know how to go about such a task.
“When he comes to the kafé, he refuses to look at me. Or speak to me. His friend always orders for him.”
“Is he mute perhaps?”
“Oh, no. We spoke when we first met. And he talks to others. So, that’s not the issue.”
“What do you think is the cause then?”
“I don’t know. But the strangest thing happened today. After he finished his meal, he lingered for some time. He just sat in the far corner of the kafé looking around. He hadn’t yet left when I went for break.” She shrugged. “He usually just eats and leaves.”
Canna said nothing as they walked. She knew not the workings of a wren’s mind. So she had no advice to offer. Plus, she didn’t offer advice. If she wanted to she would just give it.
Too soon, they reached the front gate of her castle.
“Well, here you are,” Emma said. “Thanks for talking with me.”
“Oh. Uh… okay.”
Emmalyn smiled, gave a little wave, and then turned back in the direction they came from. Canna watched her go, but then decided to secretly follow her back to Ula’s. Just to be sure the maiden was safe.
And perhaps also because she wasn’t ready to face Rowene.
***
Breckken watched Cannalise leave with Emma. He was glad she wasn’t alone tonight.
After their meeting, he’d followed her from her home to the fountain. It didn’t matter what she’d told him in the garden. He wasn’t leaving his mate unprotected. Especially when she might be in danger from the Helix.
He shivered, the chilly temperature of the city hitting him even deeper than usual.
When it was clear she was gone and not coming back, he emerged from his hiding place beneath the bridge. The swelling darkness had given him enough cover that Canna hadn’t seen him when she and Emma had crossed over it. She also hadn’t seen him when she’d first arrived. She’d found something on the ground that had seemed to alarm her…
As Breckken approached the bench he saw what it was. Drops of his blood from when he’d sliced the line in his arm. Perhaps he should be more careful with himself.
He straightened, his eyes purposely avoiding the bench. He didn’t want to look yet, didn’t want to know what she’d written there. Instead, he wandered the perimeter of the fountain, searching his surroundings for anything that seemed out of order.
All was well. Except within him. Inside, there was a storm brewing. How long could he hold it in? All the frustration and pain, it had been worth it when he knew he’d hold her some day. But now?
She’d cried again. He’d never seen her cry before this night and it cut him to the bone to think he might be the reason.
He reached out, running his hand under the spring of water that rushed into the basin. It was cold.
Canna had spent longer at the fountain tonight. Perhaps she was avoiding home.
He turned back to the bench and let his eyes roam over the crystalline seat. The word that stood out from among the rest, the newest one, was “Betrayed”.
Betrayed. She felt… betrayed.
But Breckken had not betrayed her. This must be about someone else. Was there another wren she wanted? He hadn’t noticed her attentions for any others. Maybe he hadn’t been looking for it though.
He began to get angry. He would fight any wren for her. She was his, had caused his heart to beat. That alone made her his.
Another word on the bench stood out to him. It was new.
Rejected
Rejected.
By everybody, he realized. Her whole life had been about rejection. A miracle it had taken this long for the word to find its way onto the bench. But why now?
Because she’d just experienced the ultimate rejection… the ultimate betrayal…
In a rush, he recalled the devastated look on her face when he’d told her his heart had been beating for a thousand years. Her dainty features had curled into a gruesome display of agony.
What had she been thinking in that moment? He’d been too caught up in their meeting to see it for what it was but… something had tormented her.
I would do anything, anything to ease you now, he’d told her.
And what had she said?
I don’t need anyone to ease me. I can do that myself—been doing it for a thousand years.
Had she misunderstood his reasons for staying away all this time? He hadn’t done the best job explaining himself. Had he ever really gotten to the why of it?
She was feeling betrayed and rejected because of him, because he’d waited so long to confront her.
Surely she knew he would’ve come to her if he could have. Right? He’d wanted to so many times, but he hadn’t wanted to risk their future.
Oh, fates.
Fuck.
He felt like he was going to vomit.
Why hadn’t he explained himself? He was supposed to make her feel better, not worse. Never worse.
Slowly, bile rising in his throat, he rolled up both sleeves of his tunic. The scars of his own carving were a series of thin horizontal lines that were so close together they resembled a barcode running from his wrist to his shoulder. The ones closest to his wrist were more faded as they were older. Withdrawing his dagger, he started at the shoulder of his right arm and drew it down to his wrist, slashing through each of the thin marks he’d created over the last thousand and four years. He repeated the action on his left arm, making sure his blood fell into the fountain this time and not onto the ground.
Yes, the two newest additions to the bench deserved a special representation on his arms. Those two words were so much different than the others, because he had been the cause. Every other word on that bench was the result of somebody else’s carelessness. But not these last two. They were all on him.
He patted the blood dry with his kerchief, stuffed it in his pocket, and tugged his sleeves down.
He would go to her now. Find her, make her see why he’d stayed away. He didn’t care if she wanted to kill him. He couldn’t let her go on thinking he’d betrayed her. Or forbid, that he didn’t want her.
He wanted nothing fucking more.
***
The target was in sight. Conditions were ideal to complete the mission. The streets were nearly empty—almost mysteriously so. They would have to be careful. Very careful. There was only one shot at this. And if they failed… well, death would be their reward.
The four men and two women melted into the shadows as easily as if they were made of smoke, moving as silent as a still wind. They quickly found a place where the two paths intersected. And it was quiet. Not a soul around. Each of them took their places, strategically separated by approximately twenty feet or so.
Circular pattern. Easy.
ETA for the target was three minutes.
Yes, she would walk right into their midst. And if they were very efficient, they could be out of the city within the hour.
Scanning the surrounding area: nobody within viewing range. The mission was a go.
ETA: minute and a half.
***
Through the lonely streets, Canna trailed Emmalyn. The maiden had chosen a funny route to get to Ula’s but she probably just needed to clear her head before she went back to work.
Staying back as far as she could, Canna wished she had her bow to go with the arrow stuffed in her pocket. Something felt off. The city didn’t look any different, but still. A feeling of trepidation washed over her. At least she still had her file and the small blade she always kept tucked in her boot.
She passed a childwren and his mother. They were seemingly the only ones venturing out this night. On and on Emma walked, and finally, when they were only two blocks from Ula’s, she stopped dead in the middle of the path. Emma turned to her left and Canna could see the tall body of a wren who approached her. It must be the wren Gilleth since Emma leaned forward with interest.
Canna was about to turn and head back home when Emma suddenly jerked back with a yelp.
Canna ran. As if it were her own life on the line instead of her… friend’s? Oh, she might as well just admit it. Emma was the closest thing she had to a friend.
As she ran, righteous anger replaced the blood in her veins. It didn’t matter that Emma had a soft spot for Gilleth. If he was hurting her, he was going to lose a limb… or an eyeball… or whatever body part Canna could get to first.
She paused for only a second to retrieve the knife from her boot and then ran harder. She was almost there when three other people jumped from the shadows. Emma struggled harder and managed a pealing scream that cracked the night.
Canna had the sneaking feeling that whoever was attacking Emma was not Gilleth.
Her suspicions were confirmed when from out of nowhere he appeared, a dagger in each hand. She barely recognized him for the look on his face: he was fierce, his blue eyes blazing, black eyebrows drawn sharply over his nose, mouth set in a grim line.
Canna never missed a step as she watched Gilleth slit first, the throat of the wren closest to him and then the one who had his hands on Emma. When she was free, he pulled her behind him and crouched to a fighting position. Two women joined the fray, knives drawn. They were so focused on Emma and Gilleth that they didn’t even see Canna as she crept up behind them—
Just as she was about to make her move, the remaining wren sensed her approach and spun around. His eyes widened, flaring with anger before he lunged for her.
“Canna!” Emma screamed. But it didn’t matter.
The stranger tackled her to the pavement. Her head bounced once before his heavy body landed atop her, squashing the air from her lungs. She was momentarily stunned. Her vision flickered to blackness as she struggled to take in air.
Then from out of nowhere, she heard an angry roar and the heavy weight was lifted from her chest. She was able to suck in a breath, though short and not nearly enough. Blinking fiercely, she pulled herself up just in time to avoid the steel-toed boot of a muscled maiden aimed directly at her head. She ducked, rolled away, and came up with her knife luckily still in hand. She had a moment to look around, seeing another wren had joined the fighting. It was Breckken. Both he and Gilleth fought the others.
Wasting no more time, she expertly swept her foot out, tripping the maiden. The female, who was dressed like a soldier—all black clothing, including a mask that covered her face—was quick to get back up.
But not quick enough.
Canna hiked her robe and planted a boot in her face hard enough to do damage. Blood sprayed from her nose and she collapsed back onto the ground, out cold.
Canna turned to find another attacker…
But there was none.
There was only Gilleth, huddled over Emma, shielding her from the carnage. His arms wrapped around her, her head tucked into his chest, his eyes scanning their surroundings. He was… so very protective of her.
And then there was Breckken.
Canna tilted her head. Watching him, as he expertly disabled the remaining two attackers. He was almost… graceful, the way he effortlessly overpowered his opponents. When both were on the ground, unconscious because he’d pinched that certain nerve in their neck, he glanced up at her.
Breathing hard, his eyes beat into her, telling her something she wasn’t ready to admit. Because how could it be true? How could he care for her if he’d abandoned her all these years?
No. She refused it.
“Breck, you done?” Gilleth called out.
“Yes.” He didn’t take his eyes off Canna. “They’re all disabled.”
Gill said something under his breath to Emma and she nodded. That was when Canna noticed the tears streaking the maiden’s face. The way she shook like she might break apart. Emmalyn was terrified.
Canna, still gripping her knife, stalked over to the nearest attacker. Yanking his head up by the hair she went to slit his throat—
But a steady hand stopped her.
“Not yet,” Breckken warned. She froze in his warm grasp.
“They have frightened Emmalyn.” Her tone was steely, determined. “They deserve no less than death.”
Breckken glanced away to Gilleth.
“I’m with her.” Gill nodded at Canna. “They tried to take Emma. They must die.”
Breckken shook his head. “I will take them to the outpost.”
Gilleth glared at Breckken but turned back to comfort Emmalyn.
“Are you okay?” Breckken asked quietly.
Canna’s eyes snapped away from the couple, and she noticed Breckken still had a hold of her wrist. She pulled away.
; “I am fine. I want to kill these wrens… and the maidens.”
“You can’t. We need them alive so we can find out why they tried to take Emma.”
She looked around at the fallen attackers. He was right. They needed to be questioned. But she was outraged that they’d gone after her friend.
She looked into Breckken’s eyes. Swallowed hard. And said words that she’d never before given air.
“She is the closest thing I have to a friend. I will not stand for her to be… afraid. She is far too good for that.”
***
Breckken’s heart stuck in his throat as Cannalise spoke. The words were low and quiet—so close to a whisper—but spoken with such ferocity that they were downright deadly.
“I understand. You see Gilleth over there? He is my best friend. Since we were childwren. He cares greatly for Emma. As you do. He won’t rest, and therefore I won’t rest, until she is safe and no longer afraid.”
She glanced at Gill, who ran a soothing hand down Emma’s hair and murmured words that couldn’t be deciphered. Canna narrowed her eyes at Breckken before holstering her knife.
When she stepped back, he bent down to examine one of the two dead bodies. Throat was slit cleanly, no defensive marks.
“You do this?” he asked her.
“I only wish.”
“I did it,” Gill spoke up without even looking at the body. “Both of them.”
Breck glanced at his friend.
“They laid hands upon Emma.” Gill’s voice was hoarse and rigid.
Breckken could only nod. He would’ve done the same thing if they’d attacked Canna. In fact, he’d come close to killing the wren he found atop her. He’d rounded the corner just in time to see the massive male slam his Canna to the ground. He’d wanted to exact revenge. Murder. Only his Guard training had stopped him, brought him back to the realm of logic.
He locked his jaw to keep from growling in frustration, and continued examining the bodies. He flipped the dead wren onto his stomach and lifted his shirt to see his back.
There it was. Just above his hips, the navy blue outline of a helix.
Breckken quickly checked the others. Each of them had the Helix symbol on their bodies.
“What is it?” Gill asked, still sheltering Emma as if he was expecting a second wave of attackers.