Page 45 of Tusks & Saddles

Chapter Eighteen

Beatrix

O f all the things she had expected Welborn to say, admission of guilt was not one of them.

It was something Balthazar would have strongly argued against without the presence of legal counsel. Especially given that most people who could even afford legal counsel happened to be rich. Gold was everything in Ordia—whether Beatrix liked it or not.

However, Welborn wasn’t on trial, and she doubted that there was a soul around to judge him.

No, the young man had given that privilege to Beatrix.

She supposed it was only fair given how uncontrollably angry she had been at him over the past few days.

No horse, no supplies, and worse of all, a limited amount of ammunition that Beatrix had to carefully manage.

Hear him out, a voice that sounded suspiciously like her father tickled her mind.

Reluctantly, Beatrix gestured to the patch of rough terrain beside her.

If the holy man was going to confess his sins, she supposed he at least could take a load off.

Dauntless Verity only knew how annoyed Beatrix was to have gone so long without a bath.

Even with the aid of Welborn’s magic—well, magic cleaning wasn’t the same as a good, hearty bath.

There was something hollow to it, and Beatrix was certain Welborn wouldn’t have appreciated her describing a divine blessing that way.

Welborn sank to the ground as if the weight of the confession had released him from a heavy burden.

He folded his legs, heavy boots awkwardly crossing near the ankle before him.

Elbows rested on his knees as he leaned forward, head hanging low enough that Beatrix could only make out the stubble along his chin.

That bit of hair had surprised her when it first appeared.

“I…um…”

He swallowed.

“Take your time,” Beatrix said after a moment.

Welborn slowly reached for the glove on his right hand and slowly removed it.

The sight of the hole in the center of his palm was still a bit unnerving, but Beatrix had seen stranger things.

After all, there was a small nest of baby Sand Slithers nearby, waiting for the mama to return.

One rumble away from being plucked from the boulder and given to the babies the way a bird would to its chicks.

The cleric stared at his hand, mouth turned down enough that the tiniest peeks of his tusks escaped his bottom lip. Whatever it was, it must have been more intense than Beatrix had originally thought.

“When I was…when I was younger, my family lived in a small cabin in the middle of nowhere. It was just me, my brother, Boone, my mom, and my dad. It was pretty isolated. We had to travel pretty far to get to the nearest trader. Dad would haul lumber down the side of the mountain for some of the older folk, and mom would bring down fresh herbs to trade. Stuff like that. ”

It didn’t sound like an awful way to live. Beatrix could picture the idyllic family in a nice wooden cabin, staring up at the moons. It sounded a lot more welcoming than the stuffy political meetings masquerading as parties she had been forced to go to in her own youth.

“One late afternoon, I was helping my mom gather mushrooms. Phoenix tails—they’re red but have the same flavor and consistency as bison.

Weird, I know. We had ventured past our usual route—I had found a patch of mushrooms at the base of this large tree.

I was picking them when I heard my mother shout my name. ”

Welborn let out a laugh, though it didn’t match the expression on his face. He was trembling slightly, and for a moment, Beatrix debated reaching out a hand to steady him. Did he need that? Would he appreciate the gesture, or would it cause him to retreat?

“I didn’t understand at first—I didn’t know, ” Welborn swore, as if he needed Beatrix to believe him before he told her the whole story.

“I—I need to know why things are happening. If I can’t—if I can’t make it make sense in my head, it gets stuck in there, you know?

But I should have realized the way she yelled my name, and I just… I didn’t.”

Beatrix placed the half-eaten cheese and bread on her skirt. She shifted toward him, pressing her weight into the hip opposite of her thigh injury. It was still healing rather well, but the damn thing was tender to the touch still. Welborn was still staring at his hand.

“What happened?” she asked quietly.

“Something from above came down and picked me up, but not before my mom got to me first. I didn’t realize we were in the air until I felt the tree branches whip my cheek,” he said, voice wavering.

Beatrix’s mouth formed a grim line.

“What was it?”

“A manticore.”

Beatrix’s eyes shut at his confession. The gravity of the situation wasn’t wasted on her. Facing a monster of that size—of that strength? It was a deadly encounter—especially for a mother and a child.

“How did you…”

“Survive?” Welborn asked, bringing his glassy eyes up to her.

“My mother. For a while, I wasn’t sure what we would do.

I just remember crying and being scared out of my mind.

I was fifteen at the time, but pretty thin still.

I had never seen a manticore before. I hadn’t realized they could get so big.

My mom wrapped herself around me while the manticore had her.

She didn’t even scream when its claws pierced her back.

She was praying in my ears. Praying to the All Seer to save me.

“We were in the air for what felt like hours, but I don’t really remember how long it was.

My mom wouldn’t let me look. But then something weird happened.

The sky turned dark, and thunder came from above.

There was a flash of light—I remember it being so bright that even when I closed my eyes, I could see the inside of my eyelids.

Next thing I knew, we were falling for what felt like forever and only seconds.

My mother kept me in her arms. She took the brunt of the fall as we passed through the trees.

Before I knew it, we landed, and I blacked out.

I woke up three days later with my hand run through and pinned beneath a large tree branch with my mother dead beside me. ”

Welborn was stubborn, but he couldn’t suppress the tear that fell down his cheek. Beatrix watched it glide down, gathering at the tip of his chin before falling through the hole in his hand. The cleric laughed—a truly sad thing.

“My mother saved me,” Welborn said. “And sometimes I wish she hadn’t… but I suppose that would make me ungrateful, huh?”

Beatrix had seen grown men cry before. Fuck, she had been the cause of grown men crying before and had sincerely felt no sympathy given most of those men had the emotional intelligence of a pine cone.

But he’s not like them.

“Being upset that your mother’s gone doesn’t make you a bad person, Welborn,” Beatrix said as gently as she could.

“I don’t think a bad person would think twice about it.

Your mother made a choice in an impossible situation, and she chose to protect you with her life.

Whether it was the right choice or not is irrelevant. All that matters is that it was hers.”

“I—I know that. My mind understands it—it makes sense logically. But I can still feel her hair brushing my cheek. I can still smell her body. It took three days before someone found me. I was barely alive by the time they got me to a healer, and I was unconscious when dad and Boone made it to the healer’s home.

I spent so long in bed thinking about what I could have done differently, and I promised myself that I wouldn’t let anyone I cared about die for me again. ”

Welborn stretched his arm out, placing his hand onto her boot, where it peeked out from beneath her skirts. She dared to think he had wanted to take her hand, but thought better of it given her…temperament .

“That’s why I made us jump. I didn’t want to see another woman I—” Welborn’s cheeks turned a dark green that he tried to hide as he dipped his head low.

“That you…?”

“That I care about…die,” he managed.

His confession—if it was even that—made Beatrix’s heart do a strange thing.

It was beating the way it did after she let off a round with Gambler’s Luck and hit her target.

A high that came only from adrenaline and succeeding at something she had desperately tried to do.

To feel her heart doing that over something as simple as a clumsy admission of some kind of affection, well , it frightened her.

A lot of things had frightened Beatrix growing up.

Things that Beatrix knew she couldn’t control.

The way people had stared at her like she was a party favor instead of the daughter of a noble house.

The way boys had teased her for her horns or pulled her tail.

The way her mother looked at her with those eyes.

Filled with fear and pity. She didn’t know which one was worse.

It had made growing up difficult, even with her brothers clumsy support.

Even with the most devoted father in the world.

Balthazar was overprotective, but that had been for his own selfish reasons, too.

When it came to the subject of her heart, Beatrix had kept it nestled deeply beneath lock and chain. There had only been so many times she could give it to those around her before she realized how little it was cared for. That Beatrix had to be the one to care for it.

Yet, here was a man—a terribly naive, albeit gentle, man who was bashfully trying to hide beneath the brim of his hat from her. The notion was absolutely silly, for Beatrix didn’t know what she had done to earn his affection .

Perhaps that was why she found herself unknowingly confessing a secret she had kept from the world for almost ten years.

“I’m a daemon.”

Welborn slowly lifted his head. His eyes were bright in the light of the small fire. The sun had gone down—well, she couldn’t remember when. Before Welborn had mustered the courage to share his history.

“You—excuse me?”

Immediately, Beatrix wanted to straighten her spine and turn her back to him.

A wall of defense, someway to protect herself from the vulnerability of it all.

It was like being split open wide, like being at the top of a grand staircase with hundreds of eyes staring at her naked form.

It was painful , the shot of anxiety willing Beatrix to bolt.

To jump straight into gunfire with the Sand Slithers if it meant escaping him.

But it was too late now.

Beatrix—for whatever ridiculous fucking reason—found herself reaching for her veil.

“Wait!” Welborn cried, taking hold of her wrist.

The motion caught Beatrix off guard and she swayed forward. Welborn caught her around the waist, gloved hand pressing into the small of her back. Beneath her veil, Beatrix felt her cheeks warm. Was it just her, or had the air suddenly gotten thin?

“I’m sorry,” Welborn said, his own breath rustling her veil. “I know you value your privacy, Miss Eaves. I didn’t tell you that story to make you feel guilty or like you needed to show yourself to me. As much as I want to to see you, I swear, that’s not why I did it. ”

“I know that, Welborn,” Beatrix said. “Honestly, I don’t think your capable of manipulation. I saw how poorly you played your hand at Misfortune.”

He looked sheepish for a moment. “Gambling’s not my strong suit. I’d rather put my gold on a for sure thing. Like a meal or good quality paper or—”

“Welborn?”

“—ah, yes?”

Beatrix gently pulled her wrist free and shifted forward.

Welborn was still sitting in the same cross legged position.

A perfect opening for Beatrix to seat herself in his lap, thighs pressing against his hips where she straddled him.

Her hands came to rest on his shoulders, all the while his expression changed several times in the process.

Brow furrowed in confusion, wide-eyed panic, and finally slack-jawed shock as Beatrix knocked his hat off his head.

She lifted her veil just enough to engulf him beneath.

“I’m going to kiss you now. May I kiss you?” Beatrix asked.