Page 9 of Stitches
Dreya’s drooping ears sank lower to her shoulders, but then perked back up as she smiled, never one to be glum for long. “Of course! Have a pleasant evening, Ash. I’ll come by the castle nice and early.”
She always did.
After Dreya left, Ashmedai moved around the table toward the robed figure, who had set a basket against the wall and stood to wait until everyone else had gone.
Then Levi dropped his hood.
“G-good evening, sire. M-m-may I… um…. F-forgive me.” He paused to collect himself and took a heavy breath. “I have some things for you from Master Braxton,” he said more slowly.
Ashmedai had only ever seen Levi lurking or in passing on the street, never full-on before, but he saw now that it wasn’t only Levi’s eyes that made him look like Cullen. Levi resembled the lost prince nearly as much as he resembled Braxton. Besides the almost mix of Braxton and Cullen’s faces, all that kept Levi from being Cullen’s twin was that his hair was red, not brown, and his skin blue instead of cream.
Ashmedai had also noticed the lines across Levi’s face, assuming they might be scars, or maybe markings he was created with, but each line was actually very fine stitches. They were on his hands too, and around his neck. He must be like that everywhere, not a singularly created homunculus but pieces stitched together.
“M-Master Braxton made me,” Levi stuttered again, gaze drifting downward. “You knew that, didn’t you?”
“Yes. Apologies for staring, I… I never noticedhowhe made you before.”
“H-he’s… tried to create a construct many times, but they were all failures, s-so he stitched the best parts of each together and got me. Sometimes, when I disappoint him, he says I’m a failure too, that he’ll cut my stitches so I fall apart.”
A crack of possession raged through Ashmedai, which must have been very visible in his expression, because when Levi glanced up, he was quick to correct himself.
“He doesn’t mean it! He just gets angry when I’m not good enough or don’t listen.”
The instinct in Ashmedai to protect this young man didn’t dwindle, but even as ruler of their small kingdom, he couldn’t overstep, especially with a friend as dear to him as Braxton.
There were no laws around a creature like Levi.
“You don’t quite look like him,” Ashmedai said. “Younger, certainly, and you look as though you could be related, but not identical like his other constructs.”
“Th-that’s because of being made from pieces.” Levi kept looking away, only glancing at Ashmedai briefly as he spoke, like he wasn’t used to eye contact with anyone outside of Braxton. “He says being reanimated that way is why I have a soul. Why I’m… wrong sometimes and not as obedient as I should be.”
“He doesn’t want you to have independence?”
“He does.” Levi frowned. “But… he gave me life. I am his. I attend to everything he wants of me, as I should.”
“Everythinghe wants of you?”
“Not like that!” A flush filled Levi’s face, like deep purple in his azure cheeks.
At least Brax isn’t a complete narcissist, Ashmedai thought, filled with relief as strong as his possessive anger. “You could look even more your own man without those.” He gestured at the stitches. “I could fix them for you.”
“What?” Levi gaped at him.
Ashmedai took Levi’s hand, which made Levi flinch at first, but he soon relaxed and looked on with rapt attention as Ashmedai delicately moved his thumb and middle finger around Levi’s wrist in slow strokes, careful not to catch the skin with his claws. The visible stitches started to pulse with an inversion of light like the deepest of shadows.
When the shadows faded, there was just smooth, connected skin.
“See?”
Levi stared with something between awe and horror.
“It’s all right. I can fix the others too. I’m surprised Brax never—”
“I need to go.” Levi jerked away before Ashmedai could take his other wrist.
“Levi—”
“Please accept our offering.” Levi shuffled back faster, leaving the basket by the wall. “It was nice to finally meet you, Master Ashmedai.”
