Page 6

Chapter Six

Victor

T he sun is almost blinding as it reflects the greenish blue water of the sea. It’s a calm day, not a lot of wind. We will need to use the oars today to get the ship rowing.

I turn my attention to the vessel in question and find myself frowning. I hate traveling out to sea. I much prefer to have the steady solid ground under my boots than the rocking and swaying boards of a ship.

Yet here I am, ready to transport more prisoners to the Spice Isles. It’s not a short voyage to reach the nearest islands off our western coast where the most notorious of prisoners are kept.

I hate transferring them. It’s a dangerous business to deal with those who have escaped the death sentence but have still been exiled to work in the Spice Isles.

Petty thieves get jail time and have to pay a fine. The vilest killers are put to death. Sorcerers are put to death. Everyone a step below them are sent to the Spice Isles.

I’m dealing with bandits, manslaughterers, and ruffians day to day, and if anything were to happen on board the ship, I’m not sure if I’d like the outcome.

Oh, Estelle… the things I do for you.

If she wants a man who is widely traveled and full of adventure, then that is what she shall have.

I just hope that I live long enough to get home to sweep her off her feet with the grand stories I’ll soon be able to tell.

There’s a dead body in our wine cellar, and I have a pounding headache.

Likho isn’t happy that someone died suddenly and violently, and I had nothing to do with it. As his vessel, I should be dropping bodies left and right to remind the world who he is the patron of.

“At least you assume it wasn’t you…”

I freeze at that thought, pressing my fingers against the wood of the bar top.

What do you mean, Likho? I demand silently.

“I only mean that you were asleep, you do not know what I made you do while you were in such a state.”

Likho’s chuckle echoes through my skull, and I have to force myself to keep my breathing even. He is lying, simply trying to get at me for not being the perfect host he wants me to be. Likho couldn’t make me kill someone without realizing it… could he?

“I can do whatever I want.”

If I killed him, I’d be covered in blood. It was everywhere. There is no way I could have gotten it all off myself, least of all asleep.

“The killer obviously changed their clothes.”

“Ha!” I say. Father looks up startled as does Talyria, and I realize that I said that out loud. I press my lips together with a sheepish smile. Now isn’t the time for such an outburst, but I couldn’t help it, I may have the demigod of chaos in my head, but I have enough presence of mind to know that I’m wearing the same outfit I had on this morning.

So, it couldn’t have been me who killed the man.

“Unless I used sorcery to kill him. Then you wouldn’t have even had to get close.”

I feel my smile slide off my face. I don’t believe anything Likho is saying, and yet, there is a part of me that fears that he is telling the truth. It’s the part of me that wonders if I should have ever made the deal at all.

Sure, I like living especially since it gave me the chance to get married which I’m sure will be a more than pleasant part of my life once I actually get a single solitary moment alone with my bride. But then I think that perhaps there was a good reason that the demigods were killed, locked away, and that their followers were slaughtered.

It occurs to me that I’m meddling with forces far out of my control.

“Oh, you have no idea… do you truly think you can contain me?”

I’m not even trying to contain him, Likho can do what he wants. Just not with my body and certainly not things I disagree with.

“I think you misunderstand what my host is supposed to be.”

And I think that you should have picked a better host.

“Oh, I chose well. You are living chaos. You just haven’t realized it yet.”

I give my head a firm shake and turn my attention back to the matter at hand. Namely the murder that I definitely did not commit, no matter how much Likho tries to gaslight me into thinking that I did.

Ibram, the other guardsman who was staying the night here, paces the floor fuming. He is demanding justice, going on a tirade about how he is in charge of the matter since the storm makes travel impossible. I fold my arms; this is my father’s inn. Ibram has no jurisdiction here, and if he thinks he can demand the authority he so clearly craves he has another thing coming to him.

I’m done taking orders from power mad guardsmen.

Estelle steps forward, placing her hand on her hip. “Listen to yourself, Ibram, as if we have no idea who did it. Most of us grew up together.” She turns to Lek who hurriedly nods before she turns her attention back to Ibram. “It’s obviously one of the strangers here.”

Father steps forward, holding up his hands in a placating manner. “Hey, let’s not go around accusing all my guests here of being murderers.”

“Well, one is,” Talyria grumbles, folding her arms. She looks disgruntled over everything that has happened. With a jolt, I realize that is probably because someone is dead.

I am no stranger to death, I’ve faced it with myself before, but that doesn’t mean that the others are capable of handling it so callously as I.

Vera is sitting behind the counter, holding Mika close and whispering to her. Probably to distract her from what is going on. I notice that my father has set himself up between the rest of the room and the girls, except for Talyria who is standing in the middle of it all by herself.

I glance down at the ring of my finger, realizing that it’s my role to be by her side now. I let out a little grunt as I ran a hand down my face. I’m turning out to be a rubbish husband, aren’t I?

First thing after such a horrific murder, I should have been checking on my wife. Instead, I was left wondering if I’d committed it.

I step up to Talyria, wrapping my arm around her waist in what I hope to be a comforting manner.

“What about her?” Lek asks, raising a hand to point to the newcomer. She’s standing apart from the crowd with her hood still up. I’ll admit I haven’t gotten a good look at her since she came in here. She is certainly a mysterious entity, arriving here in the middle of a near impassable snowstorm, but that doesn’t mean that she’s a killer.

I find myself shaking my head. “No, she arrived after the murder had already been committed. Just before Vera found the body.”

My cousin sniffles at my words, and I find myself grimacing as I glance toward her and my sister. Not exactly the best conversation to have around young women.

“That isn’t exactly proof she didn’t do it.”

We all turn to the Highlander, who despite his size had been very quiet, sitting at one of the tables near the bar. He stands up when he sees that we are all looking toward him and clears his throat. “What I mean is that until we rule out all possibilities of forced entries into the back of the building, she could have broken in, did the deed, and then slipped out before coming in through the front door as if she were entering for the first time.”

The newcomer snorts at this. “Why would I enter a building after killing someone inside?”

“It beats freezing to death,” he says shrugging, showing off his bare arms. They say Highlanders are nearly immune to the cold. It’s not something that I understand. Even inside, I’m wearing an ankle length coat, and I’m still chilly. At least he finally put a shirt on even if it is sleeveless.

She snorts. “Are you really going to listen to him? By the gods, he looks like a killer.”

“If I had killed him, the stab wounds would not have been so shallow,” the Highlander says, raising his chin high. “Nor would there be so many. He was murdered by someone physically weaker. Perhaps a woman. Or a cowardly man. Either way, whoever it was, they were unskilled with a blade.”

There is a murmur in the room as everyone glances among themselves. More than half the room is comprised of women, but I don’t think any of them would do it, especially since half the women here are related to me.

I look over the men here, noting their form. It’s true that the Highlander is likely the strongest here. There’s my father and Lev, but I don’t think either of them are capable of it. Especially since my father was in this room the whole time. Not to mention the nervous looking man dressed like a priest, he will probably have to go high on my list of suspects just because I don’t know anything about him.

Ibram could also have done it. He was drunk when he went to bed. Perhaps he got into an argument, and his natural strength was impaired by the drink.

“Or perhaps he was simply killed by someone who was asleep…”

I press my eyes shut to try to block out the grating noise of Likho’s voice.

“And how do you know so much about stab wounds?” the newcomer demands.

“Because I’m a w—” he cuts himself before quickly saying, “Wanderer. I’ve been all over Ruskhazar, I’ve seen many things.” He reaches up, stroking his beard as his eyes dart around nervously.

Well, he certainly has something to hide, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that he is the killer. Indeed, looking at this room it’s hard to imagine anyone here being killers.

“Save for you .”

I’m probably the only one here who consorts with demigods. Not to mention my poor habit of stealing. I’m a scoundrel, a rogue even.

Who is to say that I’m not the killer?

“That’s what I’ve been saying .”

The nervous priest steps forward. “Listen, it seems to me that half the room is at a disadvantage since you all appear to know each other, and we are the strangers. So, let’s all introduce ourselves and go from there. I understand that some of you are scared, but it will hardly do for you all to go pointing fingers blindly at each other. You’re more likely to accuse an innocent than the actual murderer that way.”

Father nods to him. “Thank you.”

Ibram looks like he is about to explode with rage over his demands of immediate and swift justice being ignored which causes me to nod along with him. “Yes, I agree. No one here is guilty until proven so. If we all play it safe and keep our heads, we will get through the night. And when we dig our way out in the morning then the guards can handle it.”

“I’m handling it!” Ibram thunders.

I reach out, patting his arm. “You’ve been through such an ordeal, my dear sir, that I’m sure you aren’t thinking straight. Don’t worry, we will take care of things for you.”

I quickly duck my head to hide my smile from Ibram who looks like he is considering punching me. I notice Talyria watching me and throw a quick wink in her direction. She raises her eyebrow in turn, but if she hasn’t realized how impetuous I can be by now then that’s not my problem.

I mean, I married a woman I just met.

“My name is Valentine,” the priest continues. He presses his hand against his chest. “I’m a healer.”

This gets the hooded newcomer’s attention. She steps forward, moving a bit too decisively and threateningly for my liking. It takes me a second to place where I’ve seen that type of movement. From hunters I’ve seen stalking their prey during my travels across Ruskhazar.

But then the Highlander speaks up. “I am Lief. Lief Jottason.” He presses his hand against his shoulder. “And though you may not think it, I am at your service.”

Father claps his hands. “This is excellent. I am Sasha. My son here is Victor, and my daughters…” he begins rattling off the names of everyone he knows. Which is almost everyone here.

The non-locals, glance around as if trying to determine who else is an outsider. I turn to the hooded newcomer. Last to join us and last to reveal her identity. I’m beginning to think Lief has a point in saying that we shouldn’t be so quick to declare her innocence.

She sighs when she realizes that we are all staring at her. She reaches up, pulling off her hood to reveal a Higher Elf woman. “I am—” she begins.

“Corallin?” Talyria demands, she staggers against me, and I have to keep a hold of her waist, so she doesn’t fall.

I turn to her, looking her over with concern. “Are you all right?”

At the same time, the girl steps forward. She is younger than I thought, but then she is also an elf so perhaps she is also older than she looks. Her starkly white hair is piled up on her head in a bun. Her nostrils flair slightly as she stares at Talyria. “How do you know who I am?”