Bard: Chapter 4

They put a decent distance between them and Vultan’s warehouse before Laura rounded on Trista.

“What the hell were you doing there?” she demanded, and Trista all but cowered. She reached inside of her cloak and pulled out a small pouch that clinked with the sound of coins.

“I had some money hidden, the bandits didn’t get,” she explained quietly. “You walked away before I could pay you.”

“How did you know where we were?” Liam asked, still setting himself to rights. His heart hammered like it wanted to break his ribs. He could feel himself all but vibrating. “Did they grab you off the street?”

“I tried following where you’d gone, but I lost you,” Trista replied, looking down. “Then I…I felt you panic, and it was strong enough that I could follow it to you.”

“You felt us panic?” Laura asked. Trista nodded, but didn’t offer more information. She held out the pouch to them. Liam looked at his sister, and she looked ready to scream.

“We should find a place to stay,” he offered, “and an apothecary.”

Laura nodded. She stepped forward and took the pouch from Trista, opening it to count out enough coppers for salve. Trista turned away and she caught her by the wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she snapped, and Trista blinked at her, confused. Laura tossed the pouch to Liam. “You two get a room at the Respite and start cooling that brand. I’ll visit the apothecary.”

“I’ll go to—” Liam began, but Laura cut him off.

“You’re not going anywhere alone,” she said forcefully, then, drawing up her own hood. “I’ll see you in a bit.” She strode off down the street, shoulders shrugging as she palmed two of her daggers. Liam took Trista gently by the elbow and led her down a different street towards the docks. She followed silently. They paid for a private room, and Liam took a fresh basin of water from the washroom before they went in.

“I don’t understand,” Trista said quietly as the door closed behind them. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you take care of your brand,” he said. “We’re not just going to ditch you after all that.”

Trista stared at him, but Liam couldn’t think of another way to say it. How did you tell someone you owed them more than you could ever repay without spilling your guts right in front of them? He gestured for Trista to sit on the edge of the bed and knelt down in front of her with the basin and cloth. She clutched at the neck of her dress, holding it closed over the brand.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he assured her, sighing inwardly. They hadn’t considered whether or not she’d want a man dressing her wound at all. “And I’m not going to ogle you, I just need to see the burn.”

“Oh, not—that’s…um…” Trista chewed her lip. “I don’t have…I’m not human—I don’t have a woman’s body,” she said anxiously. “Will that bother you?”

Liam shook his head, and she relaxed her hold on the neck of her dress. Lowering her hood, she set her cloak aside, unbuttoned her dress, and pulled it aside to expose the fresh brand. It was solidly blistered, nearly blackened around the edges.

He saw what she meant right off. She looked human from the shoulders up, but just beneath her collar bone, brushing the bottom edge of the brand and peeking up from her dress were laddered scales, silverly compared to the rest of her. Her chest looked more like the belly of a snake.

“Are you a woman?” he asked, pressing the wet cloth to the burn. Trista sighed heavily with relief. “I’m sorry, I’d assumed…”

“Yes—or no…" Trista thought for a moment. “My mother didn’t…um…make us like that, I suppose. We aren’t male or female, but…woman fits better, for me. I don’t feel very manly at all.”

Liam nodded and pulled the cloth away, wetting it again to cool it off and pouring cold water over the brand. Trista shivered. Tiny veins webbed away from the blisters, black under her violet skin. Hadn’t Vultan said something about her not being able to burn? What if it was worse because she’d forced it to happen?

It should have been him. It was supposed to be him. He didn’t relish the idea of bearing the brand somewhere visible—he shuddered at what that would have meant—but he hated watching it fester so quickly on someone else.

“This isn’t your fault,” Trista said suddenly, and Liam felt a jolt go through him. He didn’t like that she could tell so easily what was on his mind. He looked at her uneasily, trying to harden his expression.

“I should have stopped it.”

“Stopped it how?” Trista asked. Liam set his jaw and looked away, focusing on refreshing the cloth. “You’re not a thing he can do whatever he pleases with. You’re not at fault for what he did.”

“He paid for me, remember?” Liam retorted, pressing the cloth over the burn again. Trista closed her hand over his and reached the other out under his chin, lifting his gaze to hers.

“You are not a thing,” she said, with so much force he was surprised her eyes didn’t go black again. “You are not a dog—you are a man, and you are kind.” Her voice cracked. “Your worth can’t be measured in gold pieces.”

Liam flinched, pulling away from her, his throat tight. Trista moved as if startled.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly.

“Don’t apologize!” he exclaimed, far more gruffly than he’d intended.

“But I’ve made it worse!” she cried. “I’m sorry—I—I didn’t want to make you hurt more, I just—I don’t know how to do this!”

“Why did you do this?” he asked after a while, not meeting her eyes. Trista didn’t ask for clarification, but took a moment to reply.

“You were scared,” she said. Liam snorted.

“Just that?” he asked. “You took a brand because I was scared?”

“More scared than when the bandits had a knife at your throat,” she went on quietly. “You were terrified. It was—” she shuddered, “—it was awful.”

Liam let out a hard breath, swallowing hard against the tightness in his throat. He blinked the sting out of his eyes and took the opportunity to refresh the cloth.

“And now I’ve made it worse again,” Trista lamented.

“Damn it,” he muttered, leaning back from her. “Am I so easy to read?”

“No,” Trista said quickly. “Not outwardly. I—I told you, I can…sense these things.”

Liam grimaced, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes

“You haven’t known me three days,” he said.

“Do I need to know you very long to care if you get branded?” Trista asked, aghast. “To care if you get sent to die in a fighting pit?”

“No one has before!” he exclaimed. Trista blinked at him, stunned, and he turned away to hide his face. He was angry enough to scream, but there was something else underneath it he did not want showing, and knowing she probably saw it plain as day made him wish the earth would swallow him whole.

He forced himself to take a long, slow breath, choking down his shame and whatever was left of his pride. When he could be certain he wasn’t about to fall apart in front of her, he turned to face her again.

Trista had slid down to the floor and sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, hands pressed to her stomach, her tail coiled around her.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“No—” Liam groaned, rubbing his hands over his eyes and kneeling in front of her again. “Stop apologizing, alright? You just make me feel more guilty.” Trista’s brow furrowed. “We need to keep cooling the brand, I don’t like the look of it.”

“Is something wrong with it?” she asked. “Is it not supposed to hurt this long?”

“No, it’s…” That gave him pause. If she couldn’t burn normally, of course she wouldn’t know what a burn felt like. “The coloring is off, but I don’t know if that’s because it’s infected or because of how your body is reacting,” he explained, shooting her a sympathetic look. “It’s going to hurt for a while.”

“Oh.” Trista shuddered, and Liam laid the cloth over the burn again. There was a knock at their door and he jumped. “It’s Laura,” Trista told him.

“Right,” he breathed, pushing himself up and unbolting the door. Laura strode in with a small tin jar in one hand and a roll of bandages in the other. “Welcome.”

Laura took in the two of them with a raised eyebrow, before turning to Liam.

“I can take care of this if you want to go get us some food,” she said. “Raise hell if anyone tries to grab you.”

“Will do,” he agreed, and stepped out into the hallway. He took a moment, leaning with his back against the wall and listening to the muffled sound of Laura and Trista’s voices through the door. They were all safe now, and it would be fine. He and Laura had come through some close scrapes. It was scary in the moment, but tomorrow it would be a memory, and he could keep going.

Liam ordered a sharing bowl of whatever they were simmering in the back, a loaf of tough brown bread, and a pitcher of ale. No one spoke to him while he waited by the bar, and he didn’t see anyone he recognized. He relaxed his shoulders just a bit, missing his swords.

When he had the food, and went back up to the room, Laura was just tying off a clean bandage over Trista’s brand.

“—where she came through into this plane, and all the children she created to serve her,” Trista was saying quietly. “It’s—all of us—are House Infernal.”

“That’s your family, then?” Laura asked, tucking away the tin of salve and the leftover bandages.

“Of sorts,” she replied. “There are different ones—Vultan is House Carrion.”

Liam snorted, “Appropriate.” He set the food down in the middle of the floor and sat down across from the two of them. “Came into this plane from where?”

“The hells,” Trista replied, looking down as she buttoned the neck of her dress closed again.

“You’re a demon?” he asked, and Trista nodded morosely.

“Anyone from your family out looking for you?” Laura asked, taking a spot on the floor near Liam and gesturing for Trista to do the same. “I’d rather not have a repeat of today.”

“I don’t think so,” Trista said, sliding from the bed down onto the floor. “My mother is…reaching, most days, but I don’t think she’s sent any of my siblings out after me.”

“Reaching?” Laura asked.

“She can sort of…” Trista squinted, searching for the words. “Grab onto me? See through me? It’s hard to explain…”

“Is that why your eyes change?” Liam asked. “Is that your mother? Or just you using your power?”

“My eyes change?”

“They turn black.”

“They aren’t like that all the time?” she asked.

“No,” Liam told her. “They’re violet, a bit darker than your skin.” Trista craned her neck to look about the room, but cheap inns didn’t come with table mirrors. “Laura has a flat dagger you might be able to see yourself in.”

“Bandits took it,” Laura said, her mouth full of stew-soaked bread.

“Damn.”

“It’s not so important,” Trista said sheepishly. “I just…didn’t know.”

Laura pulled off another chunk of bread to scoop up her stew with and Liam joined in greedily, a night of hunger overriding anything else in the moment. It was decent stew for this side of town too, he imagined it had been simmering for days, anything they had on hand getting tossed in to bulk it up a bit. There were chunks of fish and nearly disintegrated vegetable scraps. It was delicious.

“Eat something,” Laura said between bites, and Liam noticed that Trista hadn’t touched any of the food.

“I don’t need to eat tonight,” Trista said, looking meekly between the two of them. “You two eat, you’re hungry.”

“There’s plenty. You’re not putting anyone out,” Liam pointed out, but Trista just shook her head. “You have healing to do.”

“I’m…nourished for the moment,” she replied, tracing the floorboards with her finger. “You two eat.”

Liam and Laura exchanged a look. Laura grimaced, then shrugged and went right on eating. Liam couldn’t disagree, he was too hungry to performatively put off eating until Trista took her share.

“Take what you need if you get hungry,” he said, and Trista nodded in reply.

It was fully dark out by the time they set their dishes in the hall and settled into sleep. Liam took the blanket off the bed, regardless of Laura’s protestations, and after an exchange of assurances that everyone was comfortable, Laura and Trista settled onto the narrow rope bed. Liam lay on the floor. It was harder than the forest floor, but warmer and drier.

For the first time in years, he didn’t have anyone from Vultan’s crew after him. It was such a weight off he almost couldn’t fathom it. The relief that followed, and his full belly, made falling asleep swifter and easier than it had been in years.