“How did mother die?” A knot formed in my throat.
Aureus halted his train of thoughts and set his jaw. “Evera—”
“Whatever happened that night … it darkens my dreams. I want to know.”
Hesitancy held him for a moment, then he sighed. “The man who was sent into our room … What our mother had that the owner of the pleasure house took us in for …” He flexed a fist. “It was not Mother he wanted.”
Gnawing apprehension tugged at me, and I trailed my fingers over my wrist. The grasp that had pulled me from Aureus that night, that tugged roughly and spun me, pushed me to the bed … Images came back to me, strikingly vivid.
Small details and blurs of movement. Mother’s face, tears on her cheeks that contradict the fire in her eyes. Her fingers grasped at the shirt of the murky dark shadow of a man who holds me down, straining to pull him away. He strikes her, and she falls back. A scream leaves her throat as her head hits the bedpost, then my vision is drawn from her again.
Fractured clips. Struggling, kicking, and lashing out, seeking something to bite. Aureus’s eyes were wide from behind the dresser, fear in his expression. Grasping at the blankets, crawling to the edge of the bed just to peer over and find mother looking back up at me, the fire there quenched, void, her essence gone from her as blood pools beneath her head.
Then I’m flipped, and rough hands bruise my legs where they grasp. Left unrestrained, my hands claw, though my efforts are merely a hindrance to the shadow as he positions himself over me. In the welling panic, a glint of light reflects off the pommel of a dagger at the man’s hip …
“Evera—”
“I remember,” I rasped. “I remember all of it.”
Aureus hesitantly took me in his arms. I let myself fall into his embrace as dull understanding and acceptance fell over me.
The first man I lay with as a woman was a soldier from the local garrison—Fenrick was his name. He told me it would hurt, and it hadn’t. Not really. A little, perhaps. It had been uncomfortable at first. Hadn’t lasted long enough to begin to feel good.
So I was broken, then, ruined before I’d made the choice for myself. And though I’d been with several others since Fenrick and none except for Neirin had meant anything to me, there was still a deep and clawing feeling that I was less … because of what that man did to me the night of Mother’s death.
My legs trembled, and I slumped to the ground, leaning against the shelving. Aureus sat with me, an arm wrapped around my shoulder. There were no words that could be said, and though I felt I should cry, tears eluded me. A bitter dullness held me.
As the images replayed in my mind and I fought to keep the thoughts from moving further, the glint of the pommel returned to my consciousness. The short dress Maerel lent me gave easier access to the scabbard at my thigh, and I hitched my skirts to withdraw the old blade.
“This dagger,” I said, hands shaking. “It was his.”
Aureus tensed and stroked his thumb at my shoulder. “Yes.”
The shadow of the man’s face became clearer in my mind as I caught my reflection in the dagger’s surface. Short black beard, slick. His hair groomed, his silk top bunched. The kind of man who could pay for discretion. But it was the look of surprise in his eyes when I drew the dagger and slashed out at him that held me. A painting frozen in time. His eyes were green with flecks of amber, the kind of eyes someone would trust.
Swallowing, I slid the dagger along the floor and into the shadows across the room.Finally, tears choked me, and I let them flow, hugging my knees.
Aureus hummed Mother’s lullaby, and I sobbed, grasping for his shirt and burying my face against his chest. He smelled of basil and wormwood, of our shop, of home.
He wasn’t strong in the sense Neirin was; he was built of a different disposition. It was clear his lack of action both on the night of Mother’s death and at the farmhouse the day prior plagued him; that remorse lay heavy on his shoulders. For that reason, I could forgive him.
After Mother’s death, Aureus had looked after me, kept me fed, and kept us hidden from the dangers of the world. And when Leighis took us in, Aureus had never stopped caring for me.He was, as he said, a pillar. It was a different kind of strength. I fought him at each turn, but it had only ever been his will to protect me in the way he knew how.
“I’m sorry,” I cried against his chest. For the bitterness I’d felt toward him, the trouble I gave him.
Aureus stroked my hair and stopped his humming. “So am I.”
Sniffling, I fought to settle my uneven breaths. “I love you,” I told him, voice faint.
“I love you too, sister.” He rested his cheek on my head.
“Aureus.” My voice was muffled against his tunic.
“Yes?”
“I think I love him, too.”
“I worried as much,” he said, defeat in his voice. “But you need to explain. No more lies, no more secrets. I must understand, must know you’re safe with him.”
