Tag Archives: fiction

Author’s Note: So I find myself posting two parts again today. That’s what happens when I’m a bit ahead and Wednesday rolls around with words I can use in a part that’s almost done or ready to go next. This one was half done when I saw the words, and I thought, “well, I was going to post the flashback, but maybe I’ll skip it and just go right to this scene.”

Since there needed to be some delay between the scene in the park and this new piece, I went ahead and left the flashback in where it is, though I might have to move it when I organize this into a book later.

Anyway, this is the one that has the Three Word Wednesday prompts in it, trample, vigilant, and helpless.

Honor and Injury

“I think you may want to reconsider your position on that young man’s honor.”

Violet lowered her book with a frown, blinking at her aunt’s words. She had not been able to pay much attention to the pages that she was turning, her mind occupied with thoughts of Robbie, of Winston, and the pain in her back from the child. “What?”

“He is not gone. I saw him in the marketplace today.”

Disliking her aunt’s rather triumphant tone, Violet sat up, knowing that her mother was frowning as well.

“You saw Mr. Winston in town? Today?”

“Yes. He lied to you about leaving.”

Violet almost laughed. Her aunt was so proud of her discovery, but Violet could not help the rather perverse satisfaction that came with knowing that she could ruin the older woman’s triumph with ease. “He did not actually say that he was going. He said that he would if it was necessary. He did say he was planning on leaving, but planning is not the same as doing, as you have often told me.”

Beatrice’s nose wrinkled with disgust. “It does you no good to hide behind those excuses, child.”

“It does you no good to seek out these things to spoil hope or disparage him, either, sister. I know you were once wounded in love, but not all men are so false, and not all of us women are the same. We are not so terribly naïve as to believe beyond all reason, but your heart has become so cold that you do not attribute a positive motive to anyone anymore.”

“That is not true, Rose.”

“You disagree with my assessment? I suppose you always have. You will not alter my opinion. You have ceased to see anything in the world of value or goodness. I have been a widow now for twenty years. No man has been able to tempt me away from that state, a thing that would suggest that should be quite miserable indeed. I am not. I have watched my daughter grow, something that is to my mind a privilege. I have seen her suffer, and I have almost lost her and my grandchild. Yet you do not see me turning away from life and becoming bitter. You did not see Violet do it, either, and she was betrayed in one of the worst ways possible and will have a child because of it.”

Beatrice sat down, leaning back in her chair. “We should all curse the day any man named Winston came into our lives.”

Violet placed her hand on her stomach, looking to her mother and then back at her aunt. “The man you knew, the one who jilted you… His name was Winston? You wouldn’t mean—”

“Mrs. Carpenter, Mrs. Carpenter! Someone attacked Mr. Winston. He just stumbled in here with blood on his head and asked for a towel and—”

“Robbie?”

“Calm yourself, Harriet. Violet, you stay. Beatrice and I will see what has happened.”

“Mother—”

“Don’t move.”

Violet waited for her mother and aunt to walk away before she made her move. They were both fools to think that she would stay still when she knew that Robbie was hurt. She was not that helpless, no matter what the doctor said. She was pregnant, not ill, and since all they could do for her was tell her to rest, she could rest later, after she knew that he would recover from whatever had happened.

She took the stairs with as much care as possible, making a slow descent until the end. Her current shape did not allow her to do much running, but she pushed herself on until she could get to the parlor, opening the door to see Robbie on the floor with her mother fussing over him.

“How did this happen?”

“I fear I was rather less than vigilant. I heard a voice call my name, but I did not see the speaker, and I thought… Well…”

“You thought you’d gone back to the war, did you?” Violet asked, easing herself down beside him despite the glares from the other two women. He blinked, and she grimaced as she saw the pain in his face. At least she did not see much blood. After Harriet said he’d had blood on him, Violet had feared something terrible.

His hand brushed hers. “Yes. It… I don’t know why. I guess it was—I didn’t stop to think of the possibility that the person was hiding or intended me harm. I didn’t realize they’d hit me the moment I was distracted. I feel like my head’s been trampled upon by whole armies, and I rather think I might deserve it for being so easily unbalanced.”

“Nonsense.”

He forced a smile that turned into a grimace. “I think I’d better have a bowl. I do believe it’s a concussion, and I’ll vomit in a minute.”

“You were doing rather well there.”

He closed his eyes. “I wish that would last. My head aches so… Sorry I got you out of bed. Was not going to hurt you again.”

“I am not hurting. You are.”

“My father said terrible things about you, and I told him to leave and that I didn’t want his name or his money. I… I am penniless now. A penniless cripple. Cannot believe I did that. Should have… I don’t know. Shouldn’t have done it before my debts were paid. So sorry…”

“Oh, Robbie,” Violet said, wincing as her aunt carried over a bowl to set beside him. “It’s not your fault. I am sorry to have caused this rift between you and your father and—”

“Move, Violet,” her mother said as she pushed in to help Robbie reach the bowl when he vomited. “There, Mr. Winston. That might actually help. You just rest now. We’ve already called the doctor, and we’ll get you taken care of.”

“Can’t pay for the doctor. Please don’t ask him to come.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Beatrice said. “You need the doctor. Worry about the money when you are not trying to cover my sister and niece in vomit.”

“We need the police as well,” Violet said. “We need them to find the person who did this to Robbie. I… I can’t help fearing that it might have been Winston. That… That he has returned, and if he has… I don’t know what we will do.”

Author’s Note: So I like to take advantage of moments when characters are unconscious or asleep for flashbacks. Of course, it was Robert who was unconscious, so it should be one of his, but I didn’t have one of his that could aid the story. This one of Violet’s is important for more than one reason.

A Clumsy Sort of Proposal

“Violet, I must marry you.”

She blinked, looking up from her flowers. “I do not understand. Are you trying to play some sort of joke upon me, Mr. Winston? I assure you, it is not funny.”

“That was a most sincere statement.”

“It was a most unflattering statement. You sound as though you have no choice. You must marry me or perish, and there is no one with a weapon to force your compliance. We have not sinned, and we will not, so you needn’t feel yourself under obligation to me. You don’t have to marry me.”

He laughed, kneeling down beside her. “You always manage to find a way to twist what I say into the worst possible interpretation. Should I blame that on your aunt, is that it?”

“I was raised by her as well as by my mother. I cannot claim that she has had no influence on me. Still, it is not my fault that you say unfortunate things. You cannot be charming all the time, no, and it is not fair to blame me for the moments when you are not. Those are your choice—not simply my interpretation of them,” she said, still annoyed by his latest comparison of her to a garden nymph. She swore if she had been able to use magic, she’d have turned him into a toad just for that, but then she might have had to kiss him to get him back, and there was no way she’d do that.

So it was a very fortunate thing that she did not have magic, that she did not truly believe in it.

“Put aside her bitterness, please. I did mean what I said—I must marry you.”

“Is someone else asking you and you need me to save you from that fate? Is that it? Will your father cut you off if you do not marry?”

“No.”

“Then quit saying that you must. You don’t have to, and you don’t want to.”

“I am saying I must because I want to. Because you are all I think about and all I want. You are the one woman I want to spend my life with, and that is what I mean by must. I must have that life with you. I need you. Marry me.”

She frowned. “Do not be absurd. You have known me only a few weeks, and all that time, my aunt has been present to ensure no lapse of judgment or morals happens. You do not know me, nor I you, and I think it is best that we do not carry this foolishness further.”

“Foolishness?”

She had to smile. “A moment ago, you asked if I was influenced by my aunt. My aunt considers all love foolishness. Not that this is love. It isn’t.”

“Tell me what it is, then. I want to know. I am desperate to be with you, think of you with every breath and dream of you at night—”

“Mr. Winston!”

He grinned. “Not all of my thoughts are ungentlemanly, though, I swear. I want to do the right thing, Violet, and I love you. Why should I not ask you for your hand? Marry me. You shall make an honest man of me.”

“Oh?” She could not help the thoughts that came to her when he said that. “Have you been lying to me all this time? Is that it? Will you tell me the truth if I marry you?”

“Is that what it would take for you to say yes?”

She shook her head. “Do not make a joke of this, Winston. If you have lied to me, then I no longer want to see you again. I do not want to marry a man I do not know and cannot trust. I don’t care how charming you are or how I thought I felt about you. I will not do it.”

“Then you feel something for me?”

“I… I like hearing your stories, and I enjoy your company, but beyond that I cannot say, and I just told you—I won’t marry you if you’ve lied to me.”

“Everything I told you about Robert Winston is true.”

“It had better be.”

Author’s Note: Mac’s complaint is a familiar one. We usually hit Crystal long after all the cookies are gone. Sometimes when the lemonade is, too.

Cookies and Assumptions

“You gave your cookie to Mac.”

Carson nodded. Even though the signs above the refreshments said they were for the car run, he had a feeling that they’d been swiped by people who were not part of the run at all. Maybe even Nick, since he and Carrie had been here when Mackenna drove in. Then again, his brother was a passenger part of the time, so he could be allowed a cookie and some of the lemonade.

Really, though, they should have had bigger vats for the drinks and more goodies like the earlier stops had if they wanted to be sure that the drivers got some. Mac had been disappointed to see the box was empty, and Carson had passed him the cookie Carrie’d given him. He didn’t much care if he had a cookie or not.

“Thank you,” Mackenna said before she kissing his cheek. “That was sweet of you, and you have no idea how much that means to Mac. He’s always missing out on the cookies.”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

She put a hand on his cheek. “If I could, I would shake those memories right back into your head, make it so that you had them all and so that you knew for sure that you didn’t do it. I know you didn’t. Your brothers know you didn’t. You’re the only one that thinks you did.”

“I think I love you.”

“I think you do, too.”

He frowned. “That’s not a joke. I didn’t actually intend to say that. It’s not like I should feel this way about anyone, and not now, not when I might be a killer. It’s not like this is good timing or I even know that I feel the way I think I feel. I am so messed up right now, and I hate the confusion and the guilt and the rest of it. I may have put too much on you because you’re one of few things that seems clear, even when this thing is complicated as hell.”

“All right, make it simple. You want to kiss me?”

“Are you suggesting that every time I have any kind of doubts, I just kiss you and forget about them?”

“It would work, wouldn’t it?”

“For a little while. Not forever.” He leaned his head against hers. “It would be nice if I could just forget everything else and be with you, but we both know life doesn’t work that way. We can’t avoid our problems. I mean, most of mine are in my head, so where am I going to go to run away from that?”

She wrapped her arms around him. “You don’t have to run anywhere. You’ve got me. We’re going to get you remembering things, and after you have your memories back… Well, then we’ll fix Phantom, I guess, assuming that we don’t have to give her up because of how your father got her, and we can live on the farm… You can get a new job that you don’t hate—or at least don’t hate as much—and we’ll just… be us, I suppose. That sound good to you?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re just leaving out having the period wedding.”

“Damn it, Larry. No one asked you,” Carson said, trying not to groan. How much of that had his brothers heard, anyway? He didn’t want to know, not really. All that would do was humiliate him, and he thought he’d had enough of that already.

“It sounds like a good idea to me,” Carrie said, leaning against her husband. Nick smiled, nodding. Great. Carson was outnumbered, and if they didn’t elope, it would be a period wedding, the kind of horror that only his brothers could create. Them as wedding planners… Now that was a nightmare.

“I’d have to make a new dress.”

“Mackenna, do not give in to them. Please.”

“You could help me pick what to make.”

“I don’t actually remember either of us asking that question. Not officially. We never said we were doing that.”

“Someone’s got cold feet.”

“Larry, don’t make me kill you, too,” Carson snapped, walking away from all of them. He didn’t want to joke about it. It wasn’t funny, and while he did want to hold onto Mackenna and the hope that he hadn’t done anything to his father, he didn’t believe that. He couldn’t think about marriage right now. She’d been distracting him, and it worked, but Larry had gone and ruined all of that, and Carson just needed to get away from them.

“Carson—”

“I need a minute alone.”

“Only a minute,” Mackenna said, biting her lip. “You take any longer than that, and I’ll get worried. Don’t make me worry, okay? I don’t want anything to happen to you. Don’t even worry about the whole wedding thing. That—It’s not important right now. You staying safe. That is. That’s what matters. So you come back, all right?”

“All right.”

by

A Hidden Dance

Author’s Note: So this is an alternate point of view for The Queen’s Blade.

Liana Mir passed along this prompt: Of a bolt of silk or a bolt of an arrow, I’d rather be the lightning bolt. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poem/245630

I read the poem, didn’t get it, and still wouldn’t if not for her paraphrase, but some things stood out to me and brought me to this scene with the queen.

A Hidden Dance

The movement had draw his notice, causing him to turn back to the room he’d assumed was empty. He’d thought it was the cloak of the woman that he sought, but he frowned as he drew closer, recognizing the shimmer of zenie as the queen moved.

No, that was not the right word for it.

She danced.

Alone, her curtain drawn to shut out the sunlight and give some facile of night, she had saved this act for the most private hours of her day. He had not meant to come here, nor should he linger, for he was not among those who would pry upon these moments, robbing her of what little comfort she might gain from it, comfort denied her by her position and her marriage. She might feel some relief with the king gone, but that would not last, and if he knew Malzhi, any peace she might gain with the king’s absence would be fleeting.

The familiarity of the dance stopped him. He had not realized what it was, not when he first entered, but the simplicity of the steps had given away their true purpose, bringing to mind his own childhood, the training he’d received before his cousin saw him as a threat instead of a nuisance.

“The Gichikane blood in you makes you a warrior.”

He snorted. Gichikane blood was good for only one purpose, and that one had no merit. The bloodlust and need for conquest the kings had inherited benefited no one. Certainly not his people. “We’re not fighting. This is… dancing, and if the king wanted a warrior, he’d choose someone else. He’s only doing this because he expects me to fail.”

The trainer raised his blade. He sidestepped, countering the blow. The older man smiled. “Then he is a fool. You show more promise at this than he ever did.”

Startled, he fumbled with his blade, cursing himself for falling for the trick as the trainer went on the attack. He should have known he was being baited. He started in a defensive rhythm, hoping to get back to where they were even, since he knew he’d never have the advantage—the trainer had to be under orders to kill him if he became too skilled.

At least this time the man wasn’t trying to draw out that Gichikane blood. The last time they’d done that, he’d almost killed his sparring partner.

She knew the steps. She knew the complicated dance of footwork, of swordplay. She did not carry with her a blade, but she did not need it. He had no doubt that her skill with it surpassed his. He understood a great deal of her now, a sudden comprehension that made his lips curve into a smile. That was his answer, the reason for her dual nature, for the cunning that had been concealed under the surface.

This was something unexpected.

Yet… It was not.

He had seen small indications of what she truly was before, though now he had no doubt. She was one of what their neighbors called esibani. She was no mere princess that had been bartered away for peace. The only question left was why she had not yet killed the king.

She went to the desk, picking up a blade that he thought had to have been made just for her, and he found himself somewhat disappointed to see the blade join the dance. The grace of her movements, fluid and beautiful as the soft zenie that she wore, was tainted by the weapon, and he thought it too easy to see her covered in blood.

The sound of the dagger cutting through the air did not give him enough warning, and he almost wasn’t fast enough to yank his arm away from the wall, the tip of the blade tearing his cloak before he slipped into the other part of her suite. He needed to reach the passage to the catacombs before she tried again. She’d given him no indication that she’d noticed him, and her aim was far too accurate for her apparent lack of sight. She was dangerous.

Of course, he’d known that before, but having seen proof of her skill, he found himself wondering what they might use it for. She could be an ally, a powerful one, if he thought they could trust her.

He cursed as he realized he’d have to watch her. He needed to learn her true intentions, but he did not know that he had the necessary strength to cope with her. She had struck as quick as lightning might, and his reflexes were dulled by the constant pain of his still healing body and his clouded mind.

Still, the resistance would continue with or without him. He may as well be the one that watched her. In his current state, he was fit for little else.

Though this is not a part of the story so far, you can read more by starting here.

Author’s Note: So I had prepped a scene for posting today, and then I realized that as brilliant as its twist was, it meant the big reveal had to come sooner than I’d planned on. So then I thought I’d go back before that part and write a flashback. That didn’t fit there, so I tried one more thing, going back to Robert instead of Violet. That worked. Perhaps too well. 😛

Too Much Thinking

Every flower he passed in the marketplace made Robert wince, thinking that he should have listened to the innkeeper and gone to see Violet. He should tell her that he had not gone, at least, though he did not want that to turn into something where she or any one else thought he was trying to get her family to support him while he was here. He did not want to repeat the other things his father had said, and he hated to think of how she’d be hurt by them if he did have to tell her.

Perhaps she would allow him not to give details. All she need know was that his father was unreasonable and that they had quarreled. She did not have to hear the ugly words or know the true callousness of the man who’d said them. His father was gone, returned home, and he would not trouble her again.

Robert did not want to be a bother to her, either. He did not know how to avoid it, though.

Looking up, he met a pair of cold eyes and almost cursed aloud. He did not know why his misfortune had seemed to multiply so of late, but he should have expected to see Violet’s aunt there, glaring at him. He supposed she thought he was a liar now, since he had not gone back with his father. He knew that Violet would have expected it—he had said he would go if it was necessary, and while it had not been, she had no way of knowing that.

He nodded to her aunt, trying to prepare himself to speak to the woman on the matter, but she turned away, marching off in the opposite direction. He let out a breath. Well, he’d been cut, that was for sure, but he didn’t know if he was going to go after her or not. He did need to tell Violet and her family what had changed, but he didn’t know that rushing after her was a good idea.

Then again, to have her tell Violet before he had a chance to—No, he did not like that idea at all. He had to go to her and speak to her himself.

He believed that he could find his way to the house, possibly even before the spinster did. She might stop for something or other, and he did not have the same qualms about passing over the grass in the park that she might.

He hurried across the market, crossing down to the entrance of the park as he tried to make his way toward Plum street. He hadn’t managed to find any source of employment while he was in town, and perhaps that was what Millson had meant when he said that Robert should speak to her first—there were no jobs to be had at present and he was going to need another way of sustaining himself.

His mouth twisted, filled with a bad taste, and he shook his head. He would not ask them for anything. He was not their obligation, and he would not impose upon them for any longer than it took to explain what had passed between him and his father.

“Winston.”

He stopped, frowning, unable to find the source of that voice in the park. The area was clear, the grass fresh cut and the flowers in bloom, creating a moment fit for a painting, but the voice turned that around into something sinister. He didn’t like the tone of it, nor could he find the speaker, not in any of the men passing through the area. Most were with families or ladies, and they had not stopped when he did. No one seemed to be willing to admit to speaking, if they had done so.

If they had not…

He closed his eyes. This could be shell-shock. He might be imagining things. He knew it was not the first time that he had been lost in such a way, but he was hoping that he was over those moments. He could not afford to be a coward now.

He heard something snap behind him—a twig, he had to think—and he turned, ready to confront the person who’d called out to him, but something hard connected with the back of his head, and he fell to his knees, hoping there would not be another swing. He might not survive it when it came.

He saw two feet in front of him—meaningless details, he had shoes and pants just like those ones—why hadn’t he looked at the man’s face?—and then the last of consciousness left him.

Author’s Note: Having Malzhi confront the queen first worked to tie in some scenes I’d already written for this story, and besides, he always shows up at moments like this.

The Queen Confronted

“What a queen you are.”

She stiffened, turning back to face Malzhi. She had silenced the crowd, but she did not know that it would matter now that he had opened the gates. She tried to prepare herself for what might come after she revealed herself to the mob, but she had not expected the cooperation that she’d received. She supposed part of it was due to her sudden and rather surprising entrance. Agache had pulled her out of the passage almost right into the middle of the crowd, and she had only a moment to breathe before they noticed her. She did not know that it was her appearance so much as his, though. She felt sure that they had all heard him ask her if she wanted him to stay, and his voice had made them wonder, giving her the opportunity to speak.

She didn’t remember her words. She had stuttered out something inconsequential as a greeting, but they kept silent, and that was what mattered just then. She had been able to reason with them—if she could count a near desperate plea for them to stop and return to their home as reasoning with them.

“Yes, far more of a queen than he has any right to have,” Malzhi said, stepping close to her, and she let out a breath, looking to the crowd that had started to disperse. She wanted them to go before Malzhi had a chance to notice them.

“I asked them to go. That is all.”

He smiled at her, reaching for her, and she took a step backward, stumbling over the rocks in the street, her ankle protesting as she tried to stay upright. She heard a murmur behind her, and she turned, looking at the stragglers. Why had they remained? They knew they would get themselves killed if they did. If they were not willing to leave, the soldiers could harm them.

“You must have gotten wings, my lady, and flown over that wall,” Malzhi said, catching hold of her. His arm circled her waist, and he leaned close to her. “That I could have seen that moment. Where are you hiding them, my lovely bird? Where are those wings?”

“Let go. The king will not like what I have done, but he will like what you did just now even less.”

“Oh, I shall tell him I am just trying to help you know your place.”

“I think the king would disagree with you as to where that is,” she said, forcing him off of her. She pulled at her dress, trying to straighten it. “I should return to my room. Excuse me.”

“I could hardly overlook my duty. Allow me to escort you.”

“It is not your duty.”

“Then it is my desire,” he said, smiling as he took hold of her arm. “You are aware of how striking your actions were today, how very different they were. No one would have expected that of you, most would have thought it impossible, and yet here you are. You have quelled an uprising and escaped the castle all at the same time. You do make me think that there should be wings attached to that dress of yours.”

“Your obsession with birds has become tiresome. As are your… attempts at seduction. I am not interested. I am not a fool. I am the king’s wife, and I will not betray him.”

“What do you call your actions today?”

She lowered her head. “I did what I had to in order to preserve the kingdom. Someone had to stop those people from causing trouble.”

“That is what soldiers are for.”

“Is that what you use to excuse your own inaction? Was it cowardice or indifference that caused you to remain hidden behind the safety of the castle’s walls?”

His grip on her arm turned tight enough to bruise, and she winced. She tried to pull free, but before she could make a true attempt to free herself, Malzhi had released her. He bowed, stiff and formal. “Your majesty.”

She looked at her husband, trying to determine how angry he was. She did not know what the repercussions of her actions would be, but she did have to accept them, whatever they might be. She did not know that he was ready for war, so she might not die, but she would suffer.

by

More Leaps of Logic

Author’s Note: Mackenna is still very good with theories. Of course, this time Larry and Mac help.

More Leaps of Logic

“Are you feeling any better?”

Carson nodded, and Mackenna let go of the Maxwell’s steering wheel for a moment, taking his hand and giving it a good squeeze. She didn’t understand why he kept feeling like someone was watching him, and she wanted to blame it on paranoia or the costumes and what they were doing, but the more it happened, the more she was worried that someone was watching him. She wasn’t sure how his father’s killer could have known that they were here, but then again, if it had been someone in Carson’s family, they had to know.

Someone would have told them, if only because his brothers had come down, too.

Still, if it had been someone in Carson’s family, why had they waited to do anything to him until now? Sure, it was only recently that he’d gotten enough of his memories back to be a real threat, but they could have made sure he wasn’t one at any time. They were close enough, they’d be aware of what was going on in his life, and that apartment of his was a joke. It would have been easy for someone to break in and end it there.

“Watch the road,” Mac ordered from the backseat, and she nodded. She’d been trying to make sure she gave him a break, but it might not have been such a good idea, not with the way she was worrying about Carson.

“Prison.”

“What?”

She shook her head, trying to clear it a bit. “Sorry. That was a leap of logic, even for me. It’s just that I was trying to figure out why the killer might not have come back sooner—when you were a child and more vulnerable—or if it was someone in your family why they didn’t make sure you didn’t remember anything when it tried to come back in high school… So then my brain went to what we talked about before, about the possibility of your father having gone to prison during those eight years he was missing, and I thought… what if the man who killed him was in prison for part of the time in between then and now?”

Carson blinked. “Well… Aside from the fact that I’m almost certain that I did it, I guess it would almost make sense. He might have stayed away just so that he could make sure that I never told anyone when I was a kid—though I did tell people I did it, so that’s not an issue—and then he might have been in prison so that he didn’t have a chance to stop me when I was in high school, but by the time he got out, the shrink had me convinced that it was just a nightmare and I was leveled out after medication and moved on with my life.”

“Exactly. Other than my disagreement with the way the shrink treated you and claiming you were all right after the meds,” she told him. “If the guy was smart about it, he’d be looking for the car to resurface. That would mean tracking events—car runs, swap meets, car shows, anywhere they sell them, even ebay.”

“And junkyards?” Carson shook his head. “There would be no reason to think my family would have held onto the car after Dad died.”

“Well, if he thought they’d ditched it in a junkyard, that’s probably the first thing he checked,” Larry said, leaning forward. “Think about it, baby brother. There’s not that many around. He’d have known that it wasn’t there. If he paid any attention to our family—and you gotta assume he did so that he’d know if you told anyone about him—he knew we weren’t using it. He’d know Grandpa had tied it to you and Dad’s death, and he’d be waiting for someone to do something with it.”

“So by bringing Phantom out, you think we lured him out somehow?”

“It’s possible. Not like everyone has one of these things,” Mac said. He grunted. “Most of them were passed on through families or gathered up by collectors or museums. It’s a small group. Lots of them know each other. Some even keep lists of other owners. If the man you’re talking about had one of those lists, he’d know yours wasn’t on it.”

Carson frowned. “So we just assume that the guy is following the run? He’s following me? All I got back was me saying that I killed Dad before my mom put me in a bath, and this whole sensation of being watched… It’s just… me, I guess.”

“No. I don’t think so. I’m not kidding, Carson, this is starting to worry me. I think that you’re paranoid for a reason. Remember, all those times when people told you that you were overreacting or imaging your father’s death… They were wrong. We have to act like this thing is real. You might not be safe.”

“Does that mean you want me to go with Nick and Carrie at the next stop?”

“No.”

“Wouldn’t be smart if you did,” Mac said, and Carson looked back at him. He shrugged. “This run is no secret. The route is published every year. He knows where you’ll be. So you think you should avoid him, and maybe you’re right. Maybe you should go. Then again… If you never see him, you might not get the rest of it back, and you’ll miss your opportunity to catch him.”

“We are not turning into vigilantes.”

“No, but your grandfather’s got a point,” Larry said. “The only way we’d catch this guy is if he doesn’t know that Carson remembers him. As soon as he knows that Carson knows, he’d run. Or hide. He’d have to know he’d get tracked down eventually. That means that the best chance of us—and by us I mean us and the cops—getting this guy is if Carson gets that feeling again at the stop or at the end of the run and can point the guy out. Or if he remembers more before that happens.”

Carson sighed, slumping down in his seat. “I think we’re all getting ahead of ourselves now. The best suspect isn’t going anywhere. He’s right here in the car.”

by

Tempting the Dragon

Author’s Note: So I asked for prompts again, and as I was contemplating the one I got, I remembered that I hadn’t done this one. It didn’t really work with where things were in The Drought aka Fire and Water Part Two.

I thought that it would work to do a flashback, though, and while this is before Enya realizes she’s fire, I think it still fits.

The prompt: Enya: Love always wakes the dragon… — from “Litany in Which Certain Things are Crossed Out”

Tempting the Dragon

The kids at school wouldn’t stop talking about it. About him. About what he’d done. Enya didn’t know how he could stand the rumors going around, the names they were calling him behind his back—or even right to his face. Jerks, the lot of them, and she swore the next one that called Cress a freak was going to pay for it if they were dumb enough to say it in front of her.

Aiden told her to ignore it. He wanted her to do what he did—walk through the halls with his head down, never causing any trouble in class or disagreeing with anyone. He was shy to a fault, she had heard their mother say, and she didn’t know how he’d ever manage to pass speech when they had to take it in high school. Sherwin would pass with flying colors, she was sure, and everyone would be annoyed by it—by him—but Sherwin wasn’t the problem right now.

Cress was.

Well, it wasn’t like it was his fault or anything. No one knew what happened, not even Cress, but that didn’t stop them from blaming the whole thing on him. It didn’t matter that those bullies had attacked him in the bathroom, that they probably would have put him in the hospital if the plumbing hadn’t gone crazy. No, all that anyone cared about was that Cress had supposedly done that, reducing all the other boys into gibbering idiots afraid of all water, even the bottled kind.

She stopped at her locker, turning the dial to the first number of the combination. She let out a breath as she finished the combo and opened the door, letting it slam into the locker next to hers.

“Watch it. Why is it that you always shove that open like you hate the person with the locker next to you and you’re trying to take his head off?”

She laughed. “Maybe I do.”

“Oh. So you joined that club, did you?” Cress asked, leaning back against the lockers. “I guess I figured that we’d all stick together. All of us outcasts and potential freaks.”

“You are not a freak, Cress.”

He shook his head. “Things haven’t been the same since that day. I swear, I can feel things that I shouldn’t be able to feel—”

“Are you going to be coming out of a—”

“That is not funny. I can feel water, damn it, not that. It’s… It’s like knowing it’s going to rain but ten times worse. Like I could reach out and make it rain. It don’t… This isn’t right. Something’s gone horribly wrong with me, and it scares me.”

“Maybe you’re still traumatized by what those jerks did to you in the bathroom. Give yourself some time to recover. It’ll go away.”

He didn’t look at her. She knew he didn’t believe it. He must think he was cursed or something. “Come on. We’re going to be late for science.”

He grimaced. “I think I should ditch science.”

“What, afraid we’re going to dissect you this time, freak?” One of the older boys demanded, pulling Cress away from the lockers. “Why don’t you make it rain, huh? You can do that, can’t you, waterboy?”

“Let go of me.”

“You gonna make us? Why don’t you? Let’s see you use your freak powers. Give us a good show.”

Cress glared at Joe, trying to get his arm free. “Don’t you remember what happened the last time? Do you really want that? Those other boys are still muttering gibberish.”

“I bet you’re a one-hit wonder. I doubt you can do it again.”

“He won’t have to,” Enya said, stepping forward. “It doesn’t matter what he can or can’t do with water. I’ll kick your ass for him.”

“You don’t scare me, girl.”

She shook her head. Why were boys always so stupid? Why did they always assume that a girl couldn’t do anything? They were such idiots. “Any one of us girls could take you any day of the week.”

“What do you think, freak? Your sister going to prove that she’s just like you?”

Cress lunged at Joe, but two of the bully’s friends caught him, holding him still for their leader. Joe rammed his fist into Cress’ stomach, and Cress doubled over, grunting. Enya wished Stone were around. No one would bother them if he was. He was so big, and everyone was scared of him. Still, she could do something. She had to. She jumped on the back of one of the ones holding Cress in place, wrapping her arm around his neck and cutting off his air.

“Get this brat off of me!”

“All right, all of you, break it up! I mean it, now!” the hall monitor shouted, and the boy Enya’d jumped on slammed her back into the lockers, knocking her off. She moaned, rubbing her back as she tried to stand up again.

“I told you to stop,” the monitor said, dragging Joe and the other boys away. Enya glared at them as they went, almost wishing she had a freak power that could make them all pay. She’d get them back for this. She swore it.

“Next time, he won’t have a monitor to save him.”

Cress put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t say that. Just… let it go. Really. You don’t need to do anything to them, Little Fire.”

“Don’t call me that. It sounds so… patronizing.”

He let out a breath, shaking his head before he reached out to touch her cheek. “You didn’t see your face when they had me. There was… I saw something in your eyes, something… odd.”

“You’ve seen me angry before.”

“Yeah, and that was different. I…” He bit his lip, and she frowned at the worry she saw in his face. “I’m afraid your name might be more fitting than you know.”

Though this is not a part of the main story, you can read more by starting here.

Author’s Note: Robert was a bit stubborn again, though he is right about part of it and trying to be responsible.

Deliberation at Breakfast

Robert looked at the plate in front of him, not certain that he dared eat from it. The innkeeper had had been very generous in allowing him to stay last night, but the man’s wife still disapproved of him. Was it better, then, to eat so as not to offend his hosts or to refuse and cause no further burden or expense? He had not known before the plate was set before him, and he would have said no if he’d been able to think this through before then.

Despite having a welcoming bed and a roof above him, he had been unable to sleep, his mind on what he would do now. His situation was far from ideal, and he did not know how he would support himself. At this point, he thought he would have to give up his search for the man who’d stolen his name. He might never know why this had happened, and he had more or less given up all he had because of it.

He was a fool.

Still, he did not know that there was another choice he could have made after his father’s insensitive behavior. He had made the only decision that he felt he could, and now he had to find a way to live with it.

“You spend much time in your thoughts.”

Robert looked over at the innkeeper, forcing a smile. “I am poor company, I fear.”

“You have a great many concerns at present.” The other man reached for his coffee and took a sip before he pointed to Robert’s food. “I would think you of anyone would know the importance of eating even when you’re not hungry.”

“The war trained me to do many things. That was one of them, but I got out of the habit after my convalescence. My life of false luxury resumed.” Robert let out a breath, not looking at the food or the other man. “I cannot pay you for any of this, Mr. Millson. Why are you helping me?”

“There are more important things in life than money. Honor among them.” Millson set down his coffee. “You came here to do the honorable thing, didn’t you?”

“That depends. Most people think the honorable thing for me to do is marry Mrs. Winston, and that certainly was not my intention when I came.”

“Is it your intention now?”

“Are you suggesting that I let whatever income her family has sustain me now that I have disobeyed my father and been cut off? I could not ask them to accept the burden that I am, nor is it right to exploit the advantage I might have in being almost expected to marry her just because I am now penniless. If I was not willing to marry her before, I should not be permitted to ask now.”

“I wasn’t saying you should take advantage of anyone.”

“I am sorry. It does seem like I already am, so I may be overly sensitive to the thought.” Robert picked up his fork and turned it over in his hand. “I think my most immediate concern at present is how I will sustain myself for the next few days. I need employment.”

“Yes.”

“I was trained to do things for my father’s company. It’s not much, but I suppose if there was anyone in need of some kind of secretary… I am willing to attempt manual labor, but with my arm, it is not the best idea.”

Millson rose. “It may be that someone has an open position. I do not know of any at present, but I think that there might be another step you might take first.”

Robert frowned. “You think I should go see Mrs. Winston now? I don’t think she’s allowed visitors, and I know that I would not be welcome. That is not an option at present. I think I should start with some kind of search for employment. I’m going to need funds, and without them, I should not even have a place to stay.”

“That has not been an issue.”

“Are you suggesting that it will be if I do not go see her?”

Millson laughed.

Author’s Note: Well, I said I was sending Agache south. I still want to, and he still has good reasons for wanting to go, but there is no way he can under the present circumstances.

Decisions in Debate

“I had thought that we would see her getting herself killed,” Gekin said, drawing Anokii close to him. She did not know how he had known to come to her side, but then he had a sense for those moments. Not every one of them, no, but enough of them, yes. He had made his way to her when she needed him, and she could only close her eyes and breath him in, breath in the comfort of his presence in body and hold, the way he supported her when she wanted to turn away and give in to her weakness. He’d held her for so long the day that the king had Agache arrested, and Anokii knew that she should not compare that moment to this, but she had thought the same as Gekin.

She’d believed the queen would succeed in ensuring her own death, that war was coming, even that she’d take Agache’s life with her own in that foolish act, for Anokii knew that the only one who could have helped the queen outside the gate was her cousin. No one else would dare.

“I wish we could hear more of what she is saying.”

“It would not compare to the silence that greeted her arrival, no matter how fine the speech.”

“True,” Anokii said, thinking of the startled hush that had fallen over the mob as they beheld the woman walking toward them. In unison, the men in front had stepped back, bumping those who pushed behind them, and anger had almost resumed the riot until those standing further back took in the queen in her bedraggled finery, staring on in confusion. None of the nobles left the castle by choice, and for the queen—who many believed to be a prisoner—to have done it was even more impossible.

“She has a true air of command. I think she would not care to know it, though.”

“You should not have helped her,” Anokii said, lifting her head from Gekin’s arms to peer back at her cousin. “Are you testing her again?”

“I fear she has already passed any test I might offer, that she has gone beyond what I might hope or want… The timing is unfortunate. I need to go to the south. I was hoping to leave today.”

“The south?” Gekin turned around, keeping hold on Anokii’s shoulder. “Why would you do that? Now of all times? You are needed here. You have to deal with the repercussions of the queen’s act. Even if Onigan does not wish to admit it, you are the one who gives the orders for every member of the resistance in this area, not him.”

“I am not leaving before I know how the king will react, but you know that it is past time that I meet with the other leaders. I have delayed it while making my decision about the queen and trying to give her what preparation I might, but you can see—she has no need of my instruction. I should go.”

“The king could kill her for this. You are not so heartless as to abandon her now.”

Agache sighed. “I intended to go before she did this, and I do not like delaying it since I am not certain that we can continue the way I have been. Without consulting the others, I am not confident in my ability to keep making those decisions—”

“And you are lying if that is your only reason for wanting to go.”

“Did you not hear me say that I am not going until we know how the king will react?” Agache let out a breath, leaning against the wall. “She should not have had to go out there. I did not act. I am a coward. I should have done that myself.”

“I do not agree with that, and even if it were true, it was her choice to make. She was determined to do it—she did not allow her own captivity within these walls to stop her. I fear there was little you could have done to alter her decision.”

Agache pushed away from the wall, starting to pace. “It is all cowardice, all of it. I should go confront the king now and—”

“And kill him?” Gekin shook his head. “Do you not remember what happened when he was having you trained as a swordsman?”

“I do not think I can afford to keep letting people die because of my inaction. No amount of fear of what I might do justifies that.”

“The bloodlust of the kings is a part of you, too. You managed to turn away from it once, but can you do so again? They went after dragons for a reason. Killing men stopped being enough for them.”

Anokii drew close to her cousin, taking hold of his arm and stopping him. “Was it last night that you were caught by the guards or this morning as you aided the queen?”

“Last night, but I can still feel it. I do not understand. This… There should not be enough of the Gichikane in me to make me feel this way, and yet I have… There is too much within me. The things the king did to me when I was his prisoner… That corruption lingers, a wound that festers not in my body but in my soul, and I do not know that I can help anyone. I am… I am losing what I was. You told me before to find something to live for, and I have not. I do not know how to…”

“You wish to leave the castle to try and recover?”

“That had been a part of my reasons for going, yes. Still, if the king punishes the queen, if she is forced to suffer for my inaction—”

“If the king was ready for war, he would already have killed her. She is not in too much danger of losing her life.”

Agache snorted. “Anokii, death is not the only punishment he is capable of inflicting. You know I know all too well the sort of things that he is capable of doing, and none of them killed me.”

She cursed. “I am sorry. I did not mean—I am not suggesting that she will be free even if he is not ready for war. My words were thoughtless. I… I am worried about you, and I have acted… callous toward the queen’s situation.”

Gekin shook his head. “You did try to stop her, and it is not as if you have harmed her, not deliberately and not by indifference, either.”

“She thinks I hate her.”

“I think the people love her.”

Agache moved toward the rail, looking down. “This could be worse than I thought.”