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“Nothing important,” she said. “Assassin training. Really violent. I’ll spare you the gory details.”
Only Alem could take her shoulders and coax her to face him, as gently as if she were a broken bone he needed to set. “What’s really going on?” he murmured. “Did your… employer do that to you?”
She relaxed in his grip and allowed him to move her. But she could not meet his gaze. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Verve.” He moved closer, so there was only a breath of space between them. This close, she could smell tea when he said, “It has something to do with that meridian, doesn’t it? Celidon.” Her silence was answer enough, and he swore softly. “Whatever’s going on, you have a choice, Verve. You can choose to walk away.”
Yes. But if she made that choice, Usko would be the one tasked with hunting her down and killing her for the transgression. Verve’s life was a grain of sand, a pebble in her own shoe. But Usko and the other Chosen… Even if Usko was completely loyal to Danya, the act of hunting and killing Verve would haunt his steps forever. He was a good lad. He deserved better. They all did.
Despite her earlier fortifications, her lips parted and tears burned behind her eyes. A little gasp escaped her and she shook her head, trying to turn away. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she choked. “Please, Alem. Please, just listen to me this one time.”
“I always listen to you,” he whispered, moving with her, not allowing her to look away. “I think I hear things you don’t mean to say.” He took her hands in his, cupped them like they were something precious, something worth keeping safe. “You’re better than who you pretend to be, Verve. Stronger. Whatever’s wrong, whatever weight is on your shoulders, you don’t have to bear it alone.”
She wept openly now, like the babe she was. “You don’t understand.”
“I want to.” Soft lips pressed to her fingertips. “Verve… Please help me understand.”
Alem was stubborn, yes, but also sweeter than the nectar he made, and kinder than anyone had a right to be. But Verve knew she could only push him so far before that kindness eroded. It always did when she was involved. She was a liar and a killer, the very worst the world could offer, and Danya was right. She was cruel by necessity.
Alem knew this, somewhere deep inside his spirit. And if not, he’d learn soon enough, and be better off.
“Alem?”
He squeezed her fingers with tenderness, and there was no small amount of hope in his whispered, “Yes?”
“What’s your real name?”
He blanched. “My…? What are you talking about?”
“You heard me.”
Now he stared at her, and she forced herself to stare back, silently daring him to lie. At last his brows knitted in confusion and he said, “Alembic. Alem’s just a nickname. My parents were too poor to have family names, so just Alembic. Why?”
Maybe it was the liquor, or the puffer, but she heard only truth in his words: a truth she’d tried to hide from. He wasn’t Damaris. But he was her target now.
She couldn’t look at him any longer. No matter what happened, her fate was already written. Fighting destiny was a fool’s hope.
With the greatest effort, Verve withdrew her hands from his tender grip. She scrubbed the tears from her eyes, then dug into her belt pouch. She placed the silver coins in his hand and ensured her gaze was hard enough not to let his confusion, his hurt, penetrate. “Keep your head down and get out of Freehold the instant you’re able. Take care of yourself and don’t worry about me. I have a job to do.”
