BLOOM
Istare up at the slats in the ceiling and let out a sigh.
With my ankle propped up on a pillow, the cool breeze from the open window teases my skin through the thin shift. This bed is more comfortable than my one back home. It’s also double the size—fit for a male of Rhydian’s size.
Rhydian. He is the reason for my stirring after only a few hours of sleep. It is still dark out, but the pitch back has begun to fade. My mind swirls as I test my toes. The pain is gone from my ankle, as is the stinging in my knees. I had removed the bandages shortly after I woke to find the skin good as new.
The Minotaur of Dew Hollow must possess magic. It is the only explanation for my rapidly healed state. Why does the discovery not shock me? Why is the only apprehension I’ve felt in his presence when he brandished the knife to cut my boot off? The wariness quickly faded.
The moment he tended to my wounds, I felt safe and cared for.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve shouldered both my father's and my burdens. It had been nice to let my guard downand be taken care of for once. Rhydian was not as we believed. He was gentle and kind.
A little gruff, but I don’t think he gets many visitors. In fact, I’m beginning to think he hasn’t seen anyone for a long time.
Rhydian isn’t the fearsome creature we were warned about angering. What other lies have we been fed?
One thing is beyond certain: Rhydian doesn’t collect our tithes.
I’ve been privy to the amount Pyke supposedly sets off with every month, and there is no evidence of that wealth on display.
Rhydian’s cottage is comfortable if a bit shabby.
The latch on the window is broken. There is a crack along the far wall. The door to the bedroom hangs limply from the rusted hinges.
Moreover, my father and I were not the only ones to send gifts along with our tithe.
There is no evidence of the cast iron pans the Grants sent with the previous tithe, or the wooden chairs Mr. Locke had painstakingly carved for three months, hoping it would be enough to save his home from the minotaur’s retribution. Where are the bushels of fruit? The hefty crates of vegetables and sweet wine sent his way every month?
It is possible that Rhydian destroyed the gifts, but after meeting him, it seems unlikely.
He is just as much a victim of the lies as we are. Maybe more so, given how isolated he’s become.
My heart reaches for him. I shift on the soft mattress and the bed frame creaks. Looking towards the gap beneath the door, I imagine his large frame sprawled out atop the small couch. He is a kind male. Not many would offer me their bed without expecting something in return.
Rhydian hadn’t touched me beyond treating my injuries and making sure I didn’t hurt myself in the fall. The only indicationthat he had any interest in me whatsoever was his heated stares. They didn’t make me feel the way Pyke’s did.
Instead of wishing to hide, I wanted to bask in his timid curiosity.
I’ve never felt this way towards another. It’s as if I already know him. The feeling is as frightening as it is thrilling. I don’t know what to do with this newfound desire.
Being with Rhydian is impossible. I’m leaving come dawn, but…what if I don’t have to?
The idea comes on suddenly, and I lurch from the bed.
Surveying the room, I realize what I must do. Not just for my own selfish wants to remain in Rhydian’s company, but to expose the truth.
Rhydian doesn’t possess a fraction of the wealth Pyke does. I’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of glimpsing the inside of his large home, and it teems with decadence. Wares procured from far-off lands and statues made of pure gold.
It's ostentatious and fitting for a man as tactless as Pyke.
Stories of mobs seeking out the minotaur are old, and none of them reported anything more than a snarling beast that sent them running back to Dew Hollow. In coming to see Rhydian, I have discovered something far more dangerous than a cruel Minotaur Lord: the truth.
Pyke has been pocketing our money for years. He has been the sole liaison between our village and Rhydian for decades. No one ever ensured Pyke actually delivered the funds. That is how he’s accumulated such wealth.
Meeting Rhydian the con seems so obvious. Pyke used our fear of the unknown against us.
He’s the one who burned down the Fosters’ farm.
