“How?”
He turned on her. “Because what happened to ye was an accident! But everythingIdid, I did by choice! That man who beat Fletcher’s men without a thought? That man who would have stabbed the bastard through the heart if ye hadnae stopped him?That’swho I am, Lily!That’swho I’ve always been! And I willnae let ye shackle yerself to such a man!”
He was angry now. Furious. But he didn’t know if it was directed at her, himself, or the world in general. All he knew was that he wanted to smash something, wanted to give into the rage and despair that was coursing through him.
It was all so god-damned unfair! Never would he have dreamed he could feel the way he did about Lily. Never would he have dared to dream that she might, just might, feel the same way. And yet here she was, standing right in front of him, challenging him to give in to that desperate need for her.
But he could not. Hewouldnot. He should not have kissed her. She had been right to pull away. The incident with Fletcher had already shown what would happen to her if he let her get close.
Lily did not back away. From the first moment he’d met her, she’d never flinched from anything, not even her own pain.
“Then tell me,” she said.
“What?”
“Tell me everything. You say I don’t know you? Then show me the real Oskar Galbraith, warts and all.”
He stared at her. How could he tell her the things that haunted him, the memories that crawled beneath his skin like worms? The things he had done, the choices he had made...
“Ye dinna want to know, lass.”
She put her hand on his arm, her fingers digging in almost painfully. “Yes I do. And I think you want to tell me.”
“I wouldnae know where to start.”
“How about the beginning? You said you grew up in Edinburgh. How about you start there?”
She wasn’t going to let him get out of this. He let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging.
“All right. What do ye want to know?”
“Everything.”
He sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair as he gathered his thoughts. “All right. As ye know, I was born in Edinburgh,” he began. “I grew up wanting to be a blacksmith. A man called Donal had a smithy at the end of our street and I used tohang around there all the time, especially when my mother was entertaining her guests.”
“Guests?”
“My mother was a whore.” He was surprised how easily the words came. “I never knew my father. One of her patrons, I suppose. I used to fantasize that Donal was actually my father and that one day he would reveal it. Never happened, of course. He had a family of his own and only put up with me hanging around out of pity.”
Now that he’d started to speak, he didn’t seem able to stop. Images danced before his eyes, images from a past he’d tried to forget.
“When I was nine, my mother died. One of her customers refused to pay and they got in a fight. Knocked over a candle and there was a fire. I ran back to the house and tried to save her. I was too late.”
He said it coldly, dispassionately, even as the smell of smoke and burned flesh seemed to dance in his nostrils.
“Wait,” Lily said, her eyes wide with horror. “That burned-out house you stopped in front of the other day. That was it, wasn’t it? That was where you grew up?”
“Aye.” He turned away. He couldn’t bear the compassion in her eyes. He didn’t deserve it. “After that, Donal and his family did what they could for me but they didnae have enough for themselves, let alone another hungry mouth. So I took to the streets. I did whatever I must to survive. Stealing. Pick-pocketing. Eventually I took up with a gang that ruled down by the river. I was the lowest of the low to start with but I quickly gained a reputation for being ruthless and cunning. The gang leader took a liking to me, taught me how to fight, how to kill. It wasnae long before I was running errands for him, collecting debts, and eliminating rivals. Until eventually, I eliminated him. It becamemygang and I ruled those streets with an iron hand.Bryn Fletcher was right. Everyone was afraid of me, and with good reason. I was a monster.”
He awaited her judgment, a tightness in his chest as he braced himself for her inevitable recoil. Lily’s eyes searched his face, flickering with a myriad of emotions. “So what changed?”
“I met Kai Stewart,” Oskar replied, the memory still bright in his mind. “I was on one of my usual rounds, extorting money from the shopkeepers in the market square. They all paid up without question, except for one elderly cobbler who refused me. I was about to strike him when a finely-dressed upstart stepped in front of me and told me to stop. Said what I was doing was wrong, just like that. I remember scoffing at him, ready to put him in his place, break his pretty face. But he didnae flinch. He just stood there, staring me down. So I reacted how I always did: I went for him.”
He laughed softly at the memory. “Kai kicked seven bells out of me without even breaking a sweat. I lay there, battered and bruised, staring up at the sky as Kai stood over me. He extended a hand to help me up, and for the first time in my life, I felt something other than fear or anger. Respect. And maybe a flicker of gratitude that I didnae want to admit. Rather than killing me or turning me over to the authorities, he gave me a choice. A chance. He saw something in me that I’d never seen in myself. I left Edinburgh and went to Dun Saith to train with the Order. It was there that I discovered that there was more to life than power and fear.”
He turned to look at her. “But as soon as I come back here, I revert to what I was. Ye saw what I did, what I’m capable of. That’s the real me. The other, the vaunted warrior of the Order of the Osprey is a sham.”
He fell silent, watching her, and Lily said nothing. He wished he could tell what she was thinking. But then again, maybe not.He doubted he could bear to hear what she really thought about him.
