Page 32 of Stitches
“You’re right. Something is different about him,” Luccite said. “A strong soul.”
“A construct isn’t supposed to have a soul.” Ashmedai had known that from the beginning but hadn’t been sure how to address it.
Luccite’s catlike grin was as interested as ever. “Exactly.”
Levi
A dish shattered on the kitchen counter, falling due to Levi’s foolish haste to be gone before Braxton questioned where he was going. Surely Braxton would come out of his workshop now.
Levi hurried to clean up the mess, taking deep breaths to keep from shaking too hard and inevitably breaking something else. To his relief, once he was finished, the workshop door hadn’t opened. There was purple light coming from beneath it again.
Hoping to further calm his nerves, Levi poured his draught to take it as expected of him before he left. It never failed to make him grimace, but it did its job, clearing his mind to think of better things—like Ashmedai, concerned about Levi’s safety enough that he wanted him to see the healer.
Levi was certain it wasn’t only to ensure his safety while manning a festival booth, but he trusted Ashmedai’s intentions. He trusted him implicitly. He didn’t think Ashmedai could have sinister aims. The king was caring, selfless, attentive. He’d risked his life to save Pentelyn.
He’d risked his life to save Levi, though Levi hadn’t realized the breadth of that until he was headed back home after the hunt.
There were so many wondrous people in the Dark Kingdom, but no one compared to the Shadow King. No one could ever compare to Ash.
The pulsing of purple light started to increase like the last time Levi had noticed it, drawing his attention from his straying thoughts. He wondered what the light was. Part of Braxton’s experiments to weaken the barrier, certainly—but what exactly?
Before Levi realized it, he had set his empty teacup aside and traversed half the lower level toward the workshop door, drawn to that light almost but not quite as potently as he was drawn to Ashmedai. The increase in pulses seemed to hypnotize him.
“Help me in the garden, won’t you?”
Levi blinked, and there was a woman in front of him—human with red hair.
Her face wasn’t familiar, and yet… it was. Like her voice. Levi had heard that voice before, hadn’t he? He hadn’t thought he recognized it, but seeing her, he could almost rememberwhyhe knew her.
“Leander?”
The purple light vanished into sudden blackness, and Levi was left staring at nothing but the closed workshop door. He could hear rustling from inside and began to backpedal. He didn’t fear Braxton, but in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to leave and make his way to Ashmedai sooner.
Levi was out the door and on his way to town before Braxton could leave the workshop.
He didn’t understand what his daydreams were or what they meant, but he assumed Ashmedai was just as worried. Perhaps it was the stray souls lost over the centuries to the demon, finding a conduit through Levi. Perhaps it was Levi’s mind trying to form a past for him when he had none. Dwelling on what-ifs made his pace quicken, and he tried to think of anything else.
The festival. The carriages from Emerald.
Ash.
Then all those things coalesced, for Levi was almost to the market steps, and he could see the half-built structures heralding the coming festival, as well as the Emerald caravan having just arrived from the main road into the wood.
Amidst the people waiting to see what the new shipment would bring was Ashmedai, though he wasn’t looking at the carriages, black but sanded down to rid the wood of any Shadow Lands sparkle. He wasn’t looking at the black mechanical horses that were almost indiscernible from flesh and blood.
He was staring down the road at Levi, waiting for him with a smile.
“You might want to stay close,” Ashmedai said upon Levi’s arrival, taking his elbow to tug him nearer. “The crowd can get a bit rowdy on delivery day.”
The warmth and closeness of Ashmedai wiped all recent worries from Levi’s mind.
While people who crossed into the Dark Kingdom would be changed into monsters like the rest, nonliving things held their form, which was why automated carriages were necessary. Levi hadn’t been created yet the last time the caravan came through, though he knew how deliveries worked.
Dreya and Yentriss were at the head of the crowd, keeping eager hands from the carriages. Specific requests that had been approved during city council meetings would be divvied out first; then necessities, particularly any unplanned, would be given to those in need; finally, anything remaining or unexpected on the carriages would be posed to the crowd, given away if there was but one voice asking for it, but given based on need or lottery if there were many voices.
About half as many people as the number at most council meetings were clustered in attendance, but it still felt claustrophobic to Levi, and he was grateful for Ashmedai’s sturdy presence—and the way Ashmedai’s hand lingered on his elbow as if they were a couple on a stroll.
He was especially grateful for the support when the first carriage came to a stop in front of the crowd and proved to have several arrows lodged into its side.
