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“No one is safe with him.”
“Don’t think about dancing in Misery’s End, Quill. Imagine you’re on the stage of a ballet, and thousands of people have come to see you dance. Extend your leg… now the arm.”
Sitting on the stoop of the Syndicate house, watching Paesha teach Quill while Althea worked tirelessly in her forge, had become some kind of normal. The sun bathed the large grass field in a warm glow, and the tips of the long grass swayed gently in a cool breeze. Thea’s hammer struck metal in a hypnotic cadence, giving Paesha and Quill the perfect excuse to escape to the field. The faint trace of wood smoke from the hearth inside the house coalesced with sharp tangs of heated metal. This twisted form of peace, of implied freedom, settled in my bones like an ache. A longing.
We’d collectively agreed to keep the Maestro’s visit from Orin. He needed no more distractions while fighting for his life every night. And though Quill had been reluctant, she’d promised Hollis, and that was good enough for me. Paesha had spent a dedicated amount of time looking over the words Hollis had written, confident I hadn’t made a single mistake in my words.
Quill threw her skirts to the side, giggling as Paesha demonstrated a graceful spin, got caught in the grass, and lost her balance. The child threw herself onto Paesha, and Hollis’s chuckle wrapped around my heart like a hug.
I watched for a while longer, letting the smile settle, hoping it would always be like this. But then I remembered the reason Thea was in the forge. Not because she wanted to be, but because she’d been ordered. And she hadn’t slept in days.
I circled the house, shuffling past the garden, letting the heat from the fire warm my face as I stood in the doorway. The metal she was working on glinted with a fiery intensity, shifting in color from deep reds to bright yellows as it absorbed the heat. Sparks erupted with every impact of the hammer, creating brief moments of brilliance that scattered like miniature stars against the backdrop of the forge.
It was art. And skill. All wrapped into one as she swiped a hand across a sweaty forehead, showcasing her brilliant red hair before letting her hammer slide into its loop on her belt. I might’ve believed this was peace for her, bringing as much comfort as Paesha’s dancing, had the firelight not given way to the tears streaming down her face.
“Can you take a break?” I asked gently.
Her green eyes welled with tears as she shook her head and dropped several lumps of coal into her fire, coating her gloves in black soot. “He’s ordered it. The magic won’t let me stop.”
“For three days, Thea? Can’t you use your power?”
Her legs shook from weakness as she buried a rod into the bright flames. “Of all the people in the world, Dey, you should know that all magic comes at a cost. I’ve used so much it’s exhausted me. And the magic doesn’t create the art, only moves the metal. He wants a masterpiece.”
I was familiar with the bone-deep exhaustion of using Death’s power. Of times when I wanted nothing more than to sleep for a week after it quieted. It wasn’t as bad if I took longer, giving my target more time, but being tired seemed like a small price to pay to give someone extra life.
Thea, though? She was exhausted. It showed in the circles below her eyes, the weakness of her muscles. The Maestro would work her into the ground, and it wouldn’t cost him an ounce of sleep. Yet this woman had always been kind and gentle. She smiled more genuinely than anyone I’d met. Her laugh was like a song in the belly of a temple, rare and treasured.
“Let me help you. Tell me what I can do.”
“Honestly, I’m almost done. Just a few more frame pieces, and then everything has to be moved to the theater anyway.”
“You sure? Do you want me to bring the wagon?”
She shook her head, wiping another bead of sweat away, leaving a trail of soot across her forehead. “I’m sure.”
“I’ll bring you some water.”
“I’ve already got it,” Hollis said, coming from behind with a glass. “Can you fight it long enough to take a drink this time?” he asked, skirting around the fire to stand nearer to her.
She nodded, drinking deeply. The old man came to stand beside me, bumping his shoulder into mine. “Best leave her to it. The distractions will only take her longer.”
“I’m not just going to leave her alone back here to suffer. That’s not right.”
“Do you prefer an audience or your shadows when you have no control over your kills, Little Dove?”
I found my place on the steps once more, every strike of the hammer like a slice across my patience, coaxing a sleeping, angry beast within me to wake and stew. To pace and plot.
Paesha had changed the game with Quill, no longer teaching her to dance but to fight. I watched for only minutes before approaching.
“Feel free to jump in, Maiden.” Paesha stepped back, gesturing to Quill, delivering the distraction my heart needed, though it didn’t deserve it while Althea struggled mere paces away.
I circled the child once, rubbing my temple as if in evaluation. She grew three inches taller, jutting her chin out, as Boo jumped at her heels, trying to distract her.
“You have to process the fear before you can defend yourself, kid. Everyone forgets that part. If someone happens to grab you, there’s a visceral reaction before logic can take over. Do you know what that means?”
She shook her head, that wild halo of curly hair falling into her pretty face.
I knelt down to her level. “If a bad man sneaks up behind you, grabs you, and runs off, it’s normal for you to feel so scared you can’t think of what to do. But the quicker you can get past that, the faster you can save yourself. Make sense?”
