Darkling (13 page)

“Victoria…”

She shakes her hand. “Hurry.”

My mother latches onto her arm. “I will not have you barge into our home and –”

Victoria yanks her arm out of my mother’s grasp and shoves her away.
Enough
.

I hastily step out into the hall as my father grabs Victoria’s hair and yanks. She spins about and slashes with the knife, slicing his arm. He screams.

“Victoria!” I shout. These are my parents. She can’t just –

She latches onto my arm and shoves me in front of her, towards the stairs. I see my mother notice my father’s blood out of the corner of my eye.

“Murderer!” she shouts.

I try to stop at the top of the stairs. I want to see if my father is all right, but Victoria shoves me. “Move, Tristan!”

“Mother, don’t –” I get out before she screams and flings hot candle wax into Victoria’s face. Victoria shouts and lets go of me with a shove. Grabbing onto the wall, I stop myself from falling down the stairs then look over my shoulder to see what’s going on.

Victoria and my mother are grabbing each other’s arms. My father is huddled in the corner, cradling his arm, his sleeve stained red. I must aid him. I take a step towards him when the candle snuffs out. My mother screams and a body goes tumbling past me. It knocks my feet out from under me and I fall, landing so hard on the stairs that I can’t breathe for a moment.

My father is shouting. Someone is moaning. Hands are yanking at me but I can’t move. I can’t move until I finally force air into my lungs. My chest is burning as my shoulders are yanked off the stair. Strong arms help me to my feet and we hurry down the staircase.

“No…” someone moans at the bottom of the landing and I realize it’s my mother.

Victoria has ahold of me like a force of nature. She yanks open the front door. The drizzle is now a downpour outside.

“You harlot, he’s my son!” my mother yells as we run out the door.
“My son!”

The rain is cold and the street is slippery but I keep pace with Victoria. I keep pace with her because I don’t know what else to do. What did she just do? What did
we
just do?

I’m soaked by the time I stop running. She yanks on my hands to keep me going but I don’t budge. We’re outside of a stranger’s house and the lamp in the window makes Victoria’s face partially visible. Her hair is plastered all over it but still I can see that her cheek is pink from the candlewax. I shake my head. “Victoria –”

Before I know it, her cold hands are on either side of my face and her lips are against mine. She is kissing me with such hunger that I begin to feel warm. I kiss her back, my hands digging into her wet hair. I only stop when she starts laughing, which makes me laugh. Her touch is making me forget that what she did was wrong.

I shake my head again. “My father…”

“We’re free now, Tristan.” She kisses me once more. “We’re free.”

Free. Yes, we are free. I have longed to be free. I just never realized how intimidating freedom was. Victoria, on the other hand, seems intoxicated by it. “We have nowhere to go,” I whisper.

She pulls a pouch of gold coins out of her dress. She has robbed my parents. “We can go anywhere.”

I smile. I know I shouldn’t, I know what we’re doing is reproachable, but I can’t help it. We truly are our own masters now. Snatching the knife back up, she takes my hand in hers again and we run into the night, like blackbirds taking flight.

Suddenly we are at a tree. A naked ash kissed by the moonlight. The air is frigid and the hoary ground fog around us glows eerily. I am filled with both delight and anxiety. Victoria is grinning at me, her breath clouding before her in crystalline puffs. She has twined roses into her hair.

“I pledge myself to you,” she says, taking my hand in hers.
“From this life to the next.”

She has such affection in her eyes. I am the most blessed man in the world for I am all she sees. I never would’ve imagined someone could love me so much to fight for me like she has. It makes me feel small and light, as if I am that spot of moonlight in her eyes. I rest my hand on hers. “From this life to the next,” I say.

Together, we slip on a bracelet woven of dried reeds and round, red berries. We are bound together. We are wed.

I kiss my wife. She slips her hand under my vest and snakes it up my back. Her touch is so warm, her lips so bedewed with passion that I want more. The blood rushing past my ears sounds like the rush of a wave as we lie down.

Now we’re in an abandoned house. Most of the roof has fallen in and lies mildewing on the floor. I look over the meager supplies that we’ve procured here and there. If we spend too much gold at once, vendors will mark our faces. We don’t dare travel on the main roads, either. The risk of being robbed by highwaymen and losing all we have is far too great.

Victoria is lying on our quilt upon the floor, her long brown hair pulled back in a braid. Her black dress is stained with dust and drops of water, her purple shawl is moth-eaten. It pains me to see her so tattered and filthy. She is my wife and I am meant to care for her, but she refuses to bathe.

She has lain like this all day, chewing on her grimy nails. At first I thought she was tired from traveling. Goodness knows, we’re both hungry and cold these days. However nothing I offer can make her rise. She warned me once that she has spells. I am certain this is one of them.

We have already been here for hours and need to keep going if we’re to make the next village by nightfall, but she is content not to budge.

“Victoria?” She doesn’t respond and I sigh. Lying down behind her, I rest my arm on her waist. “Won’t you tell me what ails you?”

She shakes her head no. While I am slightly irritated by her childishness, I keep my impatience at bay for it won’t help the situation any. I am realizing now that my wife is not balanced. I rub her arm, reminding her that I am present.

“You can tell me anything,” I whisper. I kiss the back of her neck.

She turns to look at me, and the frightened expression on her face makes her small mouth look tight, her brown eyes hollow, as if she is someone else. “It’s you,” she squeaks.

“What?”

She rests a dirty hand on my cheek and strokes it. I smile at her touch for she hasn’t touched me in days. Tears are pooling in her eyes.

“It’s you,” she whispers again. I rest my hand on hers, holding it to my cheek. “I want you so much that I feel I could die.”

I chuckle. “I’m right here, darling.”

“But you won’t always be. You’ll die. I’ll die.”

Such dark thoughts are unfit for a young bride. What could have brought on such worries?

“I want you,” she repeats. She is holding my face tighter, pinching my cheek so that it hurts. I have never seen her like this before. “Always.”

“Then I shall be with you always,” I whisper. My words don’t seem to have comforted her. If anything, her grip on me is tighter. I wince and try to tug her hand away. “Victoria…”

“I wish we were the same person,” she says in a rush. She won’t let go and is now holding onto my hair. “You could live inside of me, forever. Safe. Where no one could ever take you from me again. Not your parents. Not even death.” Tears slip out of her eyes.

“You’re hurting me.” I let go of her hand and rest mine on her arm. Her muscles are so flexed that her skin is solid, causing my heart to leap in alarm.

“I love you more than my life,” she continues. Her dry lips press against mine as she kisses me. She won’t let go of my hair and my scalp is burning. “I don’t want to eat.” She kisses me again. “Sleep.” Another kiss. “Drink. I just want you,” she murmurs against my lips, scooting closer to me. Her fingernails dig into my scalp with sharp stings.

“Victoria!”

She startles at my shout and releases me, her eyes growing wide as if she didn’t realize what she had been doing. I screw my eyes shut as she pulls her hand away. When I open them again, I see her studying my torn hair sticking to her fingers with anguish. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. Her frightened eyes meet mine. “I’m so sorry,” she sobs.

My scalp is still prickling and though I want to be mad at her, she looks so pitiful. My anger dissolves as her tears slip down her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats over and over. I pull her into my chest and rub her back as she cries. “I’m so sorry…”

I am unsettled. She isn’t my wife right now. She is someone else. But as she wraps her arms and legs around me, as she kisses my neck while she weeps, I don’t mind. She may be unbalanced, but the unbalance is in my favor.

Now we are in a town. Lamps glow in windows. It is night and hand in hand, we weave through the streets. I am carrying our pack and my arm is beginning to ache from the weight. Victoria’s shawl is over her hair but I know it does little to warm her.

We enter a tavern and pay with gold. The keeper empties his lockbox to give us our change in silver. I know we’ve drawn attention but it’s too cold to sleep outside tonight and the wealthy often visit such establishments. Victoria is in good spirits and I want her to remain in such a state for as long as possible.

Upstairs, we bathe then lie in bed. She falls asleep with her head on my bare chest, her ear resting above my heart where she can hear it beating. It is her favorite way to sleep. My spine sags against the mattress as my weight is lifted off of my body. How I have missed the comforts of a home.

I wake before Victoria. Though half of my chest is cold without my shirt, the half with her on it is warm. I sigh. We need a home of our own. We’re currently four towns away from the city. If we could put a few more between us then no one would ever find us.

Heavy feet pound on the stair. “Second on the right,” the keep shouts.

Never mind. Someone already has found us.
Blast
. I shove Victoria off of me, roughly waking her up as I climb out of bed. We only have the knife so I yank it out of our pack. Victoria gets out of bed, wrapping the blanket around her thin nightclothes.

“Tristan?”

I step in front of her as the footsteps pause outside the door. She screams as the door is kicked in. I keep her behind me with one hand and hold the knife out in the other. The man who kicked the door in is wearing a fine vest and jacket and is clean-shaven. He is from the city. He smirks as he surveys us so obviously caught unawares. “Now how would you two ragamuffins come across a piece of gold?”

The keep must’ve alerted him when he heard he was hunting for two thieves. We were right to stay off the roads. I shift my grip on the knife, readying to throw it if provoked. “We have no quarrel with you. Leave us.”

The man cocks his head. “What’re you going to do?” He laughs. If the door falling hadn’t woken up the other tenants, his booming voice will have. “Stick me with your little knife? You don’t have it in you, boy.”

I want to throw the knife and stab him in the heart just to spite him. He pulls his jacket aside and lifts out a crossbow. Casually adjusting the bolt on the string, he aims it at me.

“Tristan,” Victoria whispers as she presses herself against my back.

I try to swallow but my throat is dry. That bolt could pierce through me and into Victoria, killing us both. After several tense moments, I set aside the knife.

“All right,” I say. Lifting my hands to show the man I mean him no harm, I crouch by our sack and tug out the bag of coins. I toss them onto the bed as I rise. “Take it. You can see for yourself that we’ve hardly spent any.”

The man glances at the coins and arches his brow, then grabs the sack and tucks it into his jacket. His crossbow is still aimed on me.

“I thank you kindly,” he says, his voice gravely. “But I don’t think you quite understand the predicament you find yourself in. I’m not here just to take back your parents’ gold. You’ve soiled your family’s name. You’re no longer their heir, their son. They want you gone.” He shifts his grip on his crossbow. “And I’m here to see their wishes fulfilled. On you and your little tramp.” He looks what he can see of Victoria up and down with a callous eye. “Though I don’t see why I can’t have some fun with her first.”

How dare
he
.

I take a step towards him and feel Victoria’s hand try to snatch mine and fail. “She is my wife,” I snarl.

He laughs. “You’re just a boy. A woman like that needs a man.”

Victoria scoffs behind me. I try to ignore his taunts but they’re flooding my veins with animosity.

The man scowls. “All right then. Have fun watching your boy die.”

He fires the crossbow.

I don’t know how, but I’ve lunged to the side just in time. The bolt shatters the glass of the window. Victoria screams. I’m not thinking properly. The man is much larger than me, but I charge at him all the same. He reaches into his jacket for another bolt but I tackle him onto the floor before he can get it out.

“Tristan!”
Victoria shouts.

The man shoves me off and pins me beneath him. He reaches in his jacket again and I realize he has grabbed a knife,
then his hand is like iron around my throat. I kick at his groin and he screams. He backhands me so hard that everything goes black and I feel as if I’m falling. Then little pinpricks of golden light shoot across my vision as the darkness fades. I regain my senses just in time to see him readying the knife above my heart.