Page 14 of A Kiss From a Revenant
With a gasp, I quickly suck the offending finger into my mouth. The metallic taste of my blood is tangy—different from how it was last night, from Eryx’s lips. I silently curse myself for thinking of him again. He is the reason for my distraction this morning, which has led to no fewer than twelve different pricking incidents since I began mending the hem of this simple frock.
No matter how hard I try to put him out of my mind, my thoughts always wander back to him. A foolish thing to do, as clearly last night did not mean the same to him as it did to me. Waking alone in my bed, the indentation of his body beside me was the only evidence that the previous night had not been a dream.
Indeed, everything that had transpired was shockingly real. More confirmation that it had not been some fantasy came in the form of Isabelle, draped in her mourning dress. A black veil flowed down her back, but her eyes were shockingly clear. She had breezed in early this morning shortly after I had satdown to work.
The news of her husband’s demise had come quickly after pleasantries.
“Dead—they found his body this morning. Killed by the same creature that had taken Lord Gunnar.”
I willed my face to show a reasonable amount of shock; however, before I could form some sort of condolences, Isabelle had leaned down.
Her voice was barely above a whisper when she asked, “Did you have something to do with this, Nory?”
I reeled back, nearly tipping over my chair. My eyes shot to her children sitting thoughtfully on the porch, unaware of our hushed conversation.
“I—”
“The last anyone saw my husband, he was at Faulk’s Tavern. A few patrons—along with Faulk himself—reported seeing him talking with a red-haired woman. However, it was too dark inside to get a good look at her. No one saw them leave together, but his body was found in the alley across the way.” Isabelle licks her lips, eyes growing serious. “Nory, you knew of my plight. I had shared it with you that day, I just?—”
Under her intense gaze, I said nothing—the silence was all the confirmation she seemingly needed to connect the puzzle pieces. A soft gasp escaped her lips before she nodded sharply. She had taken my hand in hers, her palm rough and warm.
“Thank you—thank you doesn’t feel like enough,” Isabelle whispered, but straightening up. “A monster killed my husband—that is all anyone will think, I’ll make sure of it.”
Reaching into her gown, she produced a large sack. Dropping it onto my work table, it rattled with the sound of hundreds of gold coins. My hands shook as I took it and peered at the wealth inside. I opened my mouth to protest, but Isabelle had silenced me with a hand.
“Good day, Nory. I wish you good health.”
With that, she had turned in a flurry of black fabric, collected her children, and left my home, never looking back. I had stared at that sack of gold for a full hour. It was more than I had ever seen at one time in my life. I would have to mend over two hundred gowns to ever know that type of wealth again.
I had the good sense to hide the sack between a loose floorboard in the kitchen. I should’ve closed up shop; I had enough money to live off for a while. Yet, I found myself drawn back to my familiar routine. Isabelle’s words replay in my mind.
A monster killed my husband—that is all anyone will think, I’ll make sure of it.
A monster indeed, although after last night, he is more than that, isn’t he? I sigh. My focus is once again back on him despite my best efforts. Leaning back in my chair, a familiar ache radiates up my spine. My sore muscles protest after being hunched over my work for so long. Rubbing my equally tired eyes reminds me just how taxing this craft is on my body.
If the younger me could see us now, she would be most displeased. That was back when I still dreamed of leaving the Snowlands—of making my way across the continent to a place free of frost and snow. To a place where the sea was crystal blue with white sand beaches instead of the brackish, ice-covered water and rough stone shores that make up our coastline. If such places exist, it would be just my luck to set out only to find everywhere is just as miserable as here.
I suppose I could ask Eryx; he’s been alive for so long, surely he’s seen what I seek.
Reflecting on those childish fantasies, I realize now what they had been a manifestation of—my fear. Not just of being stuck in the Snowlands, but of becoming my mother. The life of a seamstress is not an easy one, especially for a lone woman whose work was the only thing keeping her and her only child from the cold streets. I had watched each year take something from her.
Her brilliant auburn hair had gone completely white by the time she fell ill. When she passed, she looked far older than her forty-seven years—the decades of being bent over the worktable had permanently molded her spine in a soft curve. Her fingers—once slender and lithe—had frozen in odd angles with bumpy knuckles and calloused tips from the tedious work.
My heart aches for her as it always does. She was not given much of a choice. My father—may he rot wherever he is—was of no help. Mother rarely spoke of him. The few times she did was to tell me that he had been a traveler. They had fallen in love during the summer, and by the time the first frost came a month later, he was gone.
I was the only thing he had left behind.
There was a wistfulness in her gaze whenever she spoke about him. Like, somehow this was all some trick, and he would return, determined to be the husband and father we deserved. Though, as I grew older, it was clear he would not come back. Whatever fate befell him was more kind than he deserved.
While I am grateful for my existence, he saddled my mother with an insurmountable burden. Now that she's gone, I realize I am no better. Was it not my plan to abandon her as well? If only I could ask her—speak to her one last time—the illness had taken her mind long before it was through with her body.
There are questions I will never have answers to, and I’ll have to make peace with that. Somehow.
A sharp bang, followed by a chorus of low bells, announces that someone has come through the front door. I glance up, my heart lifting for a moment, thinking it could be Eryx. What a strange turn of events that the creature I once ran screaming from, I now long to see more than all others.
Could he truly have disappeared? What of our bargain?
Those questions will have to wait as Eryx is not the onewho passes over my threshold. It is Kindell. I recognize her instantly. Her white blonde hair is pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head. We are the same age, even though it could be hard to tell. Her fine dress puts my casual one to shame. She has a baby swaddled across her chest and is clasping the palm of a girl no older than three in her other hand.
