By the time we got to the bay, the news was already out there.
The Duke's uncle, also known as the butcher, is Myasnik Hector. Although I didn't remember at the time, what I do know about him are only two things:
Out of that psycho family, he is the craziest of them all.
The second would be that Victor's country is one of war dominated by power. You have to kill to demand power in order to have it. And Myasnik loves claiming it for its own.
I can only assume that he will kill anyone who stands between him and that power. And right now it's Helena.
She still hasn't woken up. Every time that I thought she went to drift. She would be scowling, furrowing her brow, and moving in her sleep. Her sleep didn't seem restful. The little boy rested on her legs as if they were the most comfortable pillow in the world.
Her words clang into me like oily liquid, You got to see and know so much more than I ever did. You already know what and who you are.
Who am I really?
Killer. Bastard.
Me and the woman who apparently is named Patrice, were watching over the two of them sleeping. We were all sitting on the ticket-taker's bench because apparently the asshole doesn't work overnight, and we would probably need to sleep here.
She passed me a flask. I grabbed it with hesitation, uncorked the screw, and sniffed the contents. It was pristine, high-class scotch.
I cocked an eyebrow, trying not to look surprised. She just shrugged. "I assumed it would be a long night."
I gave it one long swing before I handed it back. I lick around my lips, realizing there is still the warm liquid around my lips.
She stares at me for a beat and looks away, but I can see the blush on her cheeks. I do the thoughtful thing and ignore it.
Clearing her throat, she asks, "So what are you going to do now that you're free?"
My gaze goes straight to the girl curled on the bench. The loss of her hair, the buzzed haircut she got, is still so very apparent on her. It's so clear that she has lost something very precious to her. "Get her somewhere safe. That's what you wanted in the first place, so that's what I'm going to do."
"That seems like I heard a problem, not your problem." She gesturing with big hand movements she seems to do that a lot.
"I made her promise before all of this." I shrugged, making a swift gesture towards myself over the blood that's still on the ragged clothes that I got for the trial.
I thought about the magic she possessed. Maybe I could ask her about what happened during the trial and how I healed her and about that surge of energy that filled me as the king died.
I shook my head, trying to shake the idea out of it.
It was none of her business, and I'm better off forgetting about that. It was probably a one-time thing that happened, and I probably hallucinated it.
A small tiny voice in my head whispered, Want to say it again? Out loud so you will believe it?
Sometimes the voice in my head could be such a dick.
I move towards her, latching her body towards my lap, twisting it so she will be able to rest her head just for a minute right here, her eyelids already growing heavier. "Sleep," I order this time.
I watch the sunset, the small body on my lap is nearly non-existent as I see the dawn spilling on Helena's body. Her now non-existent braid would shine in this kind of weather, and I can't help but imagine how it would feel to twist that long hair in my hands.
Hours pass, and I nearly convince myself it was all a dream until I hear a clunking sound.
I whip my head towards the stand, and it's the ticket counter. It's open.
I lightly moved Patrice's head on the bench, she squirms but doesn't wake.
It's an old man sitting in a square booth with permanent bags under his eyes, showing that he's regular at these hours. He has a cold expression, as if he doesn't give a shit about anything besides getting the shift over with.
I whisper to him, "We need four tickets, one for a child."
The ticket-taker asks, "For where?"
"Anywhere that's not here," I grimace.
His face falls from that cold expression. He hands over the four tickets. "The ship exits in two hours."
I look for about an hour at the port ship starting to come in from the bay to the dock. One catches my eye, it has a familiar signet on it that I don't quite recognize. When I see the people descending from the vessel, I know why I recognize it. It's not people, it's children.