The five of us at ate in silence, something we
’
d grown used to doing
for the past three years
. Misty poked around her plate with the bread and pushed the broth into a corner. Milo just didn
’
t eat and I, well, let
’
s just say I tried not to taste it.
“
So, Ayden, when do you plan on moving out of the cabin?
”
my father asked.
I turned
to him and sighed.
“
I wasn
’
t aware that my living there is a problem.
”
“
Well, you
’
re a grown man now. Time
to start acting like one.
”
I had barely started to eat and he was already picking a fight.
“
I
’
m working five jobs and feeding four mouths aside from my own. Don
’
t you think if I had the money to live elsewhere, I would?
”
He sighed and wiped the grease from his face with his sleeve.
“
Yeah, well I
’
m tired of providing for you. You
’
re not even around anymore.
”
“
Because I
’
m working, constantly!
”
I yelled. Mother jumped and placed her hand over her heart to calm herself. Misty and Milo did what they always did, nothing. What could they say?
“
You don
’
t provide for this family, you give us hell. The only time you give a damn is when Mother isn
’
t well, which is all the time. Look at her!
”
“
Ayden,
”
Mother choked out. She looked at me and shook her head.
“
This can be discussed later, please. Let
’
s just have a nice breakfast together, that
’
s all I ask of you boys.
”
Mother looked at my father across the table and I despised her display of sympathy for him.
“
Carys, it
’
s time you stop babying him. He does nothing!
”
“
Says the drunk with debts bigger than his ego!
”
Anger coursed through me and I could no longer remain sitting, it left me agitated and fidgety. Father
’
s eyes stared back at me and his dilated pupils spoke a truth he had yet to find himself.
“
Ayden, sit down!
”
Mother cried out.
“
Listen to your mother, boy,
”
Father mocked.
I shook my head and backed away from the table, looking him straight in the eyes.
“
I
’
m done working for you; pay your own damn debts. It
’
s ne
ver going to be enough with you!
”
I glanced at Mother and the twins.
“
I
’
m sorry.
”
I went out through the back door, spitting out the taste of the broth in the grass as I went. It was bitt
er, whatever it was, but not as
bitter as my father
’
s heart. If he had one. I had nothing left to say, nothing left to do. I was done, it was time I gave up the fight and quit trying to achieve the impossible.
In a rush to get away from the house, I went back into the cabin and to my room. I stopped at the smell of Echo and the rumpled bed sheets, but didn
’
t let it slow me down for long. Pushing the evoked thoughts of her out of my head, I dove through my dresser and found what I was looking for.
The stash of money lay exactly where I
’
d put it. I didn
’
t dare
look at
it
since the night of the B
all, but I couldn
’
t just leave it there and act like it
’
ll disappear. I quickly shoved it into my pockets and grabbed the picture of the little girl.
“
Where
’
d you get all that?
”
I turned and Milo stood by the door, his eyes on me
curiously
.
“
From a friend.
”
“
That sure is a lot,
”
he whispered.
I sighed.
“
Look, I
’
m sorry about that in there, okay? And this money is going to help us.
”
I moved past him and made my way out the door.
“
Did you steal it?
”
Milo asked. I didn
’
t answer him.
“
Because if you did, I understand. I would
’
ve, too.
”
I shook my head at him and left him in the cabin. My life had been hard from day on
e, and no doubt it would be until
my last
days
. But for a second,
when I looked into Echo Abbeny
’
s eyes,
I felt free.
F O U R T E E N
Ayden
T
he market was very much like the border that stood between Old and New Haven, just at another end. Two simple gates, yet the Warriors that stood around them guarded with their lives. This was the only place Hunters mingled
freely
with Warriors, and even so, we came last in everything
and were watched constantly
. It was a peaceful place to be, nonetheless,
and
I enjoyed
walking around when I couldn
’
t get my thoughts straight, which happened quite a lot.
I
passed several fruit vendors and clothing shops, freshly baked bread and that new shoe smell permeating the air. When I passed Miss Othman
’
s shop
, I took an alley that would lead me to Miss Bluejay
’
s and
hop
ed
Miss Othman
wouldn
’
t see me. Since the day I took the money from her shop, I
’
d never returned. Miss Othman was so hung up on her shop and the Princess
that day
that she didn
’
t even bother to take my name. I wasn
’
t complaining, though. That one simple act could have landed me in the chambers and no doubt it was stupid.
“
Ayden,
”
Miss Bluejay called out.
“
Why good morning to you, René
Bluejay,
”
I said in an accent even I couldn
’
t place. I stopped at the window of her parlor and tipped my
faux
hat. This made her smile.
“
Oh, stop with your games, Grey. What can I do you for?
”
“
In the mood for cherry pie? Wanted to pick something up for Mother.
”
René nodded and scribbled down the order.
“
How
’
s she doing, by the way? I meant to stop by last week, but I
’
ve been going through the motions, you know?
”
I nodded. One look into Miss Bluejay
’
s eyes and I knew, everyone did. Four months ago the King
’
s royal men stormed through Shadow Hills looking for a man who had supposedly forced himself on a little girl. No one knew anything about it until they saw Vincent, René
’
s husband, being dragged out of his own home in the middle of the night with barely any clothing on his bac
k.
All throughout the city you could hear Miss Bluejay cry, but no one
dared to comfort
her. How do you tell a person to believe in false hope?
The King had placed him in the arena and he
’
d won the
first two matches, but that
’
s as far as the sympathy
had
stretched. He was dead within two days. Only a week after, the little girl confessed Vincent hadn
’
t done a
nything to her and she
’
d lied
to spite her mother.
Even in the light of this
, the King never made any intentions to apologize for his misjudgment. Of course Miss Bluejay wouldn
’
t have accepted it, but maybe it would have gotten her to step out of her home that first
month
or maybe even smile.
“
I
’
m sorry,
”
I said to her. They were the only words I could think to say without sounding pitiful or apathetic.
She smiled, but it seemed sorrowful and forced.
“
No need to apologize, hon.
Your
pie will be ready in a minute.
”
“
Thank you
.
”
I stepped away and allowed room for her other customers. Little children ran through the grounds of the market and I just barely missed running into one of them.
I shielded my eyes from the hot sun as I walked, elbowing through crowds of people and men on horses. I hadn
’
t expected it to
be so hot this time around, and
whatever gods the people prayed to, they seemed pretty damn frivolous to me. August was hot in
general, but not this hot.
Not
in Alwaenia.
To my left, a woman dressed in
a polychromatic dress
stood behind her parlor, showing off her jewelry to a customer. I wasn
’
t sure how much of it w
ere
real jewels, but something pink and silver caught my eye.
I asked to see it and
took
it from the table, holding it up to the light. It was a glass heart, perfectly shaped and iridescent in the sun. Inside of the heart, as if captured in a moment, was a pink bleeding heart surrounde
d by Maidenhair ferns
. I turned it over in my hands and marveled in the handiwork.
“
Beautiful, yes?
”
the woman asked.
I nodded, but barely acknowledged her. It was beautiful, so unlike any piece of jewelry I
’
d ever seen. Running my fingers across the smooth glass, the flower conjured the memories of a girl. A girl who had, in such little time, reminded me of everything
good from
the past.
A girl who made me remember Alwaenia for what it used to be—youthful, vivaciou
s, and a land of the free. The bleeding h
earts had long lost their meaning, as Alwaenia had lost all hope. But this one, captured
in a time when love roamed free,
was different.
“
How much is it?
”
I asked, eyes still on the necklace.
“
Four hundred,
”
she answered.
It was pricey, but I knew I had to get it. I wasn
’
t quite sure why, but
the compulsion to have it was strong. I fished out a few bills from my pocket and handed it to her. The picture of the little girl accidently slipped out and the woman watched me cautiously as I hid it from her vi
ew. By
the look of shock on her face when she looked at the bills I assumed I
’
d given her a little more than four hundred.
“
Thank you so much,
”
she murmured, quickly tucking the money away as if it would disappear. She looked back up at me and paused.
“
Are those guys here for you?
”
I blinked and turned away from her, staring out into the
crowd. It was hard to make any
one out at first, what with all the sun in my eyes, but through it all, I could see Tyron and his friends across the way. I sighed and immediately shoved the necklace into my pocket. He was the last—probably not even—person I wanted to see
when I had more important matters to take care of
. I began to walk in the opposite direction, heading for Miss Bluejay
’
s and the fruit vendors. I dared a glance back and noticed them following me, pushing through
throngs of people
faster than I could.
“
Wait up, pretty boy!
”
Tyron called. I wasn
’
t afraid; I just didn
’
t want to face the reality of what I did. Though it was for my family, it was pitiful and low. I
’
d only agreed with Tyron and his
idiotic entourage
because I knew the second time around there
’
d be more money involved. I
’
d overestimated the size of Old Haven, though. I couldn
’
t run from him forever, nor did I want to.
I stopped by Miss Bluejay
’
s long enough to pay her and tell her I
’
d come back for the pie. Tyron called out again and I led him down an alley
away from all eyes and closer to the forest that went on for miles behind Old Haven.
“
Let
’
s skip all small talk, Grey. Where
’
s
my money?
”
Tyron stepped into the alley and the bit of sunlight from overhead played on his haggard features.
My hands clenched at my side.
“
Deal
’
s off. There was no money.
”
“
You
’
re lying. I can see it on your face, Ayden. Where
’
s the
money?
”
Tyron laughed and stepped closer to me.
When I took the next step
forward
, I met him nose to nose. Tyron was big and he used it as a way to get what he wanted, frightening people with his overrated ego.
“
There. Is. No. Money.
”
“
You know,
”
he said, laughing,
“
I think you like making me mad; this is a game for you, isn
’
t it? Just mind that when all the jokes and fun are set aside, I get even. And when I do, it
’
s game over.
”
Tyron pushed at my chest and I frowned.
Was he serious?
“
I
’
m sorry, I wasn
’
t aware this was a game. Those little girls running around with your devilish offspring will have to get along without your sudden good fortune
,
because I have nothing to offer you. Next time, do the damn dirty work yourself. I
’
m done.
”
Tyron
’
s jaw clenched, making it obvious that he was at a loss for words. I stepped back to walk away, but Tyron quickly said,
“
You want to talk about dirty work?
Your girl stopped by last night. What
’
s her name?
”
He looked around at his friends.
“
Oh yes, Feven. Nice girl, but she
’
ll do anything for spare change.
”
There was a split second when I contemplated walking away, but the anger was so immediate and irrepressible that lashing out was my only solution. I had no control of my hands; when the first punch landed in Tyron
’
s
face it
was
more of a shock to me than it
was
for him.
My knuckles cracked and I heard the soft snap of his nose as it began to bleed.
He stumbled back, but quickly regained his footing.
Tyron laughed and swiped at the blood on his lip.
“
You punch like a girl. Where
’
d you learn how to hit like that, your Mother?
”
He stared back at me in challenge.
“
Wat
ch your
mouth,
”
I sneered.
He laughed, as well as the other guys.
“
Come on, Ayd. You can do better.
”
He turned his head, exposing the left side of his face.
“
Hit me again.
”
“
I
’
m not playing your sick games, Tyron.
”
I stared him down and refused to be like him; repulsive and utterly stupid. I didn
’
t regret punching his nose into a different s
hape
,
and as much I would
’
ve liked to beat him to mince meat, it wasn
’
t me.
“
Hit me,
”
Tyron slurred.
He stepped towards me with bloodshot eyes and a tense jaw.
When I didn
’
t react, he added,
“
I wonder what the King will think of your night with the Princess, hm? All the things you probably did to her.
”
My breath caught in my chest.
“
How did you—
”
And in the next second I was punching Tyron again. Anger and fear fuelled me, desperation clawed at my mind. The fact that he knew was enough to make me want to strangle him.
My
anger was directed solely at myself
and my
inanity
. The Princess wasn
’
t here and she was still reaping havoc.