She remembered that voice. She’d heard it, when she was blindfolded and cuffed in the back of a cart, bleeding out as they drove her to wherever they were going to dump her body…
Her brother shot upright off the wall, turning to face whoever was coming as he shoved the pipe into his pocket, his hand immediately unclipping a small crossbow and swinging it upright. What she’d taken for grime on his chin looked suddenly more like a dark bruise.
The view widened. The man in the background, who’d called to Rylan, wrestled a small golden dragon whose jaws were wired shut to keep him from flaming.
There was a body at Rylan’s feet. Unmoving. Bile burned in her throat. Cassia tugged her hand.
The stone didn’t want to let her go. She couldn’t bear to see another second. Trying again, she wrenched her hand free with a cry. Cassia’s elbow knocked into a pile of papers at the edge of the desk, toppling them onto the floor. The chair scraped backas she stood. Cassia grabbed the papers in messy handfuls and set them back on the edge of the table. She felt cold all over.
She turned and ran from the room.
The rest of the day passed in a haze. Was Rylan unhappy? If she found him again, would he leave this time? Maybe it wasn’t too late to save her brother from the life he’d chosen.
But Rylan had made his choice, she kept reminding herself, as she finished the dishes and hung a load of laundry with hands that just wouldn’t stop shaking. You couldn’t save someone who didn’t want your help, she told herself as she butchered a haunch of griffon from the cellar’s larger preservation chest into small pieces. She’d spentweekstracking him down only for him to yell at her to leave, to yell that he wanted to be free of her for good. When she hadn’t listened, his fellow outlaws had taken Rylan’s—”Smooth’s”—big sister into their own hands.
And he’d watched silently as they dragged her away, his eyes wide but his hands limp at his sides.
She’d come all the way to Zhavek to bring him home. But going after him a second time would kill her. Some people just weren’t meant to have family, and Cassia was apparently one of them.
She didn’t belong out here, in the West. She’d stay a few months at most. That ought to be enough. If she didn’t buy anything else for herself, she thought as she swept the main floor (including the study) and wiped down the table, she could earn enough money to pay back Aevrin, buy passage with a caravan back east, and support herself for as long as it took to find a new household. And Rylan…
If she'd taken better care of Rylan, maybe he wouldn't have made such a dumb choice. She shouldn't have pushed for guardianship of him when she aged out of the ward system, but the place he was living in wasn't good at the time. Still. Rylanhad only been 14 by the time the justicar approved her taking him. Nineteen year old Cassia hadn't exactly done a good job of parenting, stressed as she was trying to keep landlords from throwing all their things on the street and working any hours she could get in kitchens, out the door early and home late.
There was no changing the past. Rylan had turned his back on civilized life. She’d never see him again.
When Gramma Prisca opened the front door, Cassia flinched and dabbed a little bit of moisture from her eyes. Cassia forced a smile as Prisca poked her head in the doorway.
“Cassia? Something the matter?”
“I just got some dust in my eye,” she told Gramma Prisca. The woman stared at her for a moment. “Really,” Cassia promised.
“...Alright. You go into my study? The door was open.”
“Oh, I did.” her mind scrambled. Cassia blinked. “I swept up.”
Gramma Prisca gave her a weird look, then turned and headed to her office. Cassia let out a heavy breath and went back to wiping down the table. At least Prisca hadn’t asked any follow-up questions. And at least it wasn’t a complete lie. Shehadleft the study cleaner than she’d found it. Just like the rest of the messy house.
Aevrin
“Pantrymustbegettingthin. We usually go shopping every two weeks or so,” Aevrin heard Gramma Prisca tell Cassia. “Since you’ve taken over all the cooking, do you wanna check out the store?”
They all sat around the dining room table, finishing a meal of braised meat, cactus sauce, and soft rolls. He’d been shocked to learn it was griffon, it was so tender. But then, everything Cassia made tasted ten times better than normal.
“Sure,” Cassia said quietly. She was next to Aevrin. He liked that, usually; the way he could feel her heat and they could whisper jokes to each other when everyone else was hollering. But now it meant he couldn’t get a good look at her without being obvious. She was subdued today. She’d been herself that morning. What had changed?
“You can borrow my Tiny if you want, Miss Cassia,” Sath said. “He’s a class-one bull. Good breeding. Mighty fast.”
“Oh, thank you,” Cassia said. “That’s kind. I’ve never driven a cart, though.”
Not to mention, Aevrin thought with a flash of alarm, he didn’t like the idea of Cassia leaving the ranch all by herself. In a cart. Where she could go anywhere on an impulse. Sometimes he still woke sweating from the memory of finding her, and not knowing if she’d live.
“We oughta fix that,” Gramma said. “It’s not hard.”
“I can take Cassia,” Aevrin offered quickly. He turned to her. “I’ll teach you, too.Noton Tiny.” He glared at his father. “Stal’s quieter. Better for a beginner.”
“Why don’t you two do that, then. Tomorrow oughta be a good day to step away from the ranch. Looks like it might rain in the afternoon,” Sath suggested.
“Aw, c’mon. Why does Aevrin keep getting to take days off?” Mavek muttered. He elbowed Sorven. “C’mon. Complain with me.”
