Page 39 of Stitches
When Ashmedai had rushed from Luccite’s shop to confront Braxton, he hadn’t truly considered who Levi was, only that Levi was someone other than the seemingly brand-new soul who looked upon everything he encountered with wonder.
Including Ash.
Losing that seemed a far worse fate than death, but who was Ashmedai to decide for Levi? Worse was that no matter how he looked at the situation, there was no answer that wouldn’t hurt Levi in some way. Which left Ashmedai with one final question.
“You swear you didn’t make him from parts of Cullen?”
“Ash….” A somber sag of pity overtook Braxton’s expression. “Even if it hadn’t been a thousand years since then, you know there was nothing of Cullen left.”
Ashmedai had thought hearing that and truly believing Braxton meant it would wound him deeper than anything else he had learned today. When it didn’t, he wasn’t sure what to feel.
“How many?” he asked.
“Bodies? A dozen. Maybe two dozen over the centuries.”
“And you swear none of them were savable?”
There was still something similar between Braxton and Levi besides the matching color of their hair—a certain way about their mouths, even though Levi’s was stitched. But if Levi’s eyes were what made him look like Cullen, then that was also the part of Braxton that looked the least like his creation.
Cold blue.
“I did save them, Ash. I made them Levi.”
Ashmedai didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t punish Braxton for what he had done. People weren’t punished in the Dark Kingdom, because no one committed crimes. At worst, altercations would require mediation, separation from one another, or just time for people to calm down. Easy for a small community with only so much space. They literally couldn’t afford to commit atrocities against one another.
Ashmedai had never considered atrocities against outsiders, even if most were highwaymen.
“You swear you will never do anything like this again?”
“I swear.” Braxton nodded, and while his eyes could be cold, when his heart was in his words, as it seemed to be now, Ashmedai couldn’t doubt him. “This is almost over, my friend. You know that everything I have ever done these thousand years has been to correct what happened that night. Foryou.” Braxton reached for Ashmedai’s hand, a rareact, any seeking of physical connection when Braxton usually kept his distance. He was trying to comfort Ashmedai, to reassure him, as any friend would.
Ashmedai blinked the sting of tears from his eyes and placed his other hand atop Braxton’s. “I suppose I should let you get back to ending our curse. I have never wanted that more than I do now.”
Braxton pulled away with a somber smile. “I couldn’t agree more.”
As Ashmedai left the tower, walking slowly this time to gather his thoughts, wounded was indeednothow he felt. Levi wasn’t Cullen. He was someone, some unknown traveler or vagabond who had tread into a cursed wood and panicked, and now he was someone new. Shouldn’t he be allowed to continue being who he’d become?
The sounds and extra lights from the budding festival grounds alerted Ashmedai to how far he had walked before he realized it. Beyond the black carriages from Emerald, workers continued to build stalls and prepare for Festival Day.
Among those workers was Levi.
He had a bag now, probably lent to him from Daedlys to better carry the music box. Luccite was with him, as well as Dreya, talking animatedly as usual, probably to recruit them for some task or another.
Although, whatever they were discussing, Ashmedai couldn’t help noticing the way Dreya’s attention was mostly focused on Luccite, a subtle flush to her cheeks and an extra bounce to her usually drooping ears. She kept finding little ways to touch Luccite, and every time she did, her hair leaves rustled.
A myriad of recent instances flashed through Ashmedai’s mind, and he could have kicked himself for not realizing sooner. Dreya was constantly mentioning Luccite lately, or asking after her, and whenever Luccite draped herself like the cat she’d become, Dreya never minded being what Luccite leaned upon.
Dreya fancied Luccite, and Luccite might just fancy her back, giventhe way her ears twitched and how she looked up at Dreya from her shorter stature with rapt attention. Maybe Ashmedai hadn’t noticed before because of his increased seclusion until recently, or maybe his eyes were simply more open because he knew what it felt like to want someone for the first time in centuries.
Taking in Levi’s sweetly stitched face, his wavy scarlet hair, his eyes that glowed with a violet light all their own, the truth was, Ashmedai was glad he wasn’t Cullen.
Levi
Levi tried to follow what Dreya was going on about, but her words seemed more hurried than usual. Something about new preserving methods for the meat from the hunt, and did Luccite have any ideas, or could Levi ask Braxton if he had any? Levi didn’t think new methods were necessary, but Dreya had seemed eager to find something to discuss when she spotted them.
No—when she spottedLuccite, because she wasn’t really talking to Levi; he had just happened to be with Luccite when Dreya appeared. Levi had hoped Ashmedai would still be with Luccite when he finished with Daedlys and Klarent, but the king had already left. Luccite had decided to accompany Levi then to find out all she had missed from delivery day.
What amazed Levi now was realizing that Dreya wasn’t the only one acting strangely—Luccite was too. Levi had only just met the healer, but he thought Luccite’s reaction earlier when Ashmedai passed on Dreya’s regards had been strange, almost like she would have blushed if she weren’t covered in fur. She also seemed to be hanging on Dreya’s every word with that same anxious but admiring expression.
