To Please The Wind

Many thanks to Rose_red, Rin-chan, and midnghteyes for their lovely reviews of this story. And an especially big dose of gratitude goes out to Ashley for the wonderful email she sent me about it. You guys make my muses so happy!

Love,
Falcon

Chapter Four (Part 1)

“And If I Only Could
I’d Make A Deal With God
And I’d Get Him To Switch Our Places”
--Kate Bush

About an hour remained before dawn when Melanthe scrambled over the ruined wall and entered Kynthia. Already beginning to fade, the darkness had a thin, unsubstantial quality to it, like grey smoke. Even the buildings seemed to lack dimension, as if they were merely stage props set up for a play older than the surrounding hills. Making a determined effort to keep her eyes from falling on any of the mirrors, Melanthe hurried through the narrow streets, calling Lethe’s name.

“Lethe? Can you hear me? Are you alright?”

No answer. Damn it, she was going to kill Hesperos! Why couldn’t he ever understand? It was all very well for him to walk through life, denying gods, denying demons, denying the bottomless pits of darkness that he stepped over with such ease. Nothing ever touched him. But the people who tried to follow him, they were never so lucky. They stumbled. They fell. Fell down, and down, and down...

“Lethe?!”

And then Melanthe glimpsed it -- the faint glow of torchlight coming through a nearby window. Lethe! Who else would be in this cursed place? But why wasn’t he answering her? Sprinting over to the building, Melanthe soon found the door. Then, trying to brace herself against the shock of unknown horrors, she stepped inside.

The first thing she saw was Kaj, a shard of mirror shoved through his eye. Obviously dead. But Melanthe barely glanced at him. Instead, her attention shot to the far side of the room, where Lethe sat in front of a shattered mirror. The ribbon she’d given him lay on the floor beside his foot. Lethe, however, seemed oblivious to the strip of blue silk as he gazed into the fragmented mirror, endlessly braiding and unbraiding locks of his hair, and then smiling slightly at the results. As Melanthe stepped closer, she could see that the golden strands were caked with blood.

“Lethe?”

Turning, he looked at her with eyes as broken as the mirror behind him. Eyes that seemed to block out parts of the world, while reflecting other parts at crazy, distorted angles. Then, his smile grew a little, and he brushed his fingers across his lips, as if preparing them for her. “Kiss me.”

Melanthe stared down at Lethe. He still looked beautiful, but it was a beauty born of pain, born of madness. Beauty twisted into a demonic gift. And yet, part of her didn’t care. Part of her wanted to accept Lethe’s deadly invitation, to take him any way that she could. But she knew that doing so would erase whatever humanity Lethe might still possess, and even if that was inevitable, she refused to serve as the instrument of its destruction. Slowly, Melanthe knelt beside Lethe. Then, light as a windblown seed, she touched her lips to his cheek. “Lethe. It’s me.”

Lethe’s eyes cleared a bit, and he seemed to really see her for the first time. “Melanthe?”

“Yes.” Gently, she closed her hand around his. “Melanthe.”

A shiver passed through Lethe, like a man awaking from a dream. Then his gaze strayed past her, to Kaj’s body, and he inhaled so sharply that Melanthe feared he might choke on his own breath. “Oh god...”

Melanthe tightened her grip on Lethe’s hand. “I know Kaj has been hurting you. Whatever happened, that bastard had it coming.”

“No. I didn’t. Oh god, I did...”

“Tell me what happened,” Melanthe insisted. “And I promise you, I can make this okay.”

Lethe winced, as if the memory hurt. But he told her. As she listened to his story, shaped from words caught between fire and shadow, Melanthe formed two conclusions. Lethe had been driven to murder by the evil of this place. And Kaj definitely had it coming. But what could she do? Hesperos would scoff at any attempt to explain that Kynthia’s mirrors possessed supernatural qualities. As for Kaj, despite his lack of charm, he had been one of their best fighters. Someone would have to pay for his death. Even among bandits, there were rules.

Keeping his eyes fixed on the floor, Lethe poked at a piece of mirror. “I hated him. All my life, I’ve never really hated someone. But Kaj taught me. And I didn’t know how to deal with it. It burned inside me, and I despised the way it felt, and I thought that if I killed him, then maybe I wouldn’t feel anything at all. It worked for awhile. But now it’s all coming back, worse than before, and I don’t know...“ Lethe’s voice collapsed underneath him, like thin ice no longer capable of supporting his weight. “I just don’t know...”

Someone would have to pay for Kaj’s death. But not Lethe. He’d already paid enough. “Lethe. Look at me.”

Slowly, as if it required incredible effort, Lethe raised his head and looked at her. His eyes seemed sad and lost, but no longer shattered. At least she’d managed to do that much for him.

“Lethe, do you trust me?”

For a moment, he hesitated. Then Lethe nodded. Good. She wouldn’t have believed in an answer that came too quickly, without proper consideration.

“Alright. I need you to promise me something.”

Lethe opened his mouth, but Melanthe held up her hand, blocking his words before they could be spoken.

“This is an act I take very seriously,” she explained. “A bandit may be without a home, without wealth, without the protection of the law. But we are never without the honor of our word. If you make a promise to me, then break it, you’re worse than Kaj ever was, and neither I nor Hesperos can help you. Do you understand?”

Again, Lethe nodded. “I understand. I understand that I would give you anything you asked of me. And if you think that is a promise given too lightly, then you don’t know me as well as I’ve come to know you.”

His earnestness touched Melanthe, and she regretted the burden she was about to place on him. But she couldn’t think of any other way to save him. “You must never say anything about what really happened in this room. Not a hint, not a whisper, not a murmur in your dreams. No matter what happens. Do you swear to it?”

“I swear.”

“Good. Now, let’s get you cleaned up.” Reaching into the pouch tied to her belt, Melanthe pulled out her comb. Then she did her best to comb the blood out of Lethe’s hair. Her results weren’t perfect, but with luck, no one would get close enough to notice until Lethe had a chance to bathe. Miraculously, the blue ribbon had escaped any taint, and Melanthe tied it back into place, concealing a particularly bloody tangle. Then she nodded toward Lethe’s clothes, which had also avoided all traces of violence. “Get dressed. It will be dawn soon, and they’ll notice us missing.”

While Lethe complied, Melanthe let her mind wander over all the things he’d told her. Especially the things he’d seen in Kynthia’s mirrors. The idea of she and Lethe locked in a rooftop kiss filled Melanthe with warmth, and she held it in her thoughts, imagining wistful prologues and epilogues to that moment. Part of her was even tempted to peer into those strange silver depths, to try to glimpse prophecies of her own. But she resisted. And soon Lethe was ready to go.

“Melanthe? Thank you. For everything you’ve done. If anyone else had found me here...”

“I know,” she murmured. “I know.”

Lethe smiled at her. Then he stepped through the open doorway, out onto Kynthia’s deserted streets. Melanthe moved to follow him. However, at the last instant, she could no longer resist, and spun around to face one of the mirrors. Defiantly, she glared into it, daring it to show her a picture of Lethe in her bed -- to show her some sign that she would eventually have what she craved, even if it was only once.

But all she saw was her own reflection, staring back at her with older, wiser eyes. Of course. She should have known. She would never have Lethe. She would never have anyone at all. Sighing, Melanthe started to turn away. However, as she did so, something caught her eye. She wasn’t alone in the reflection. There was a young girl of about four or five, standing beside her, gripping her hand. A young girl with long golden hair, tied back by a blue silk ribbon.

Melanthe clenched her eyes shut. When she opened them again, the girl had vanished.

“Nonsense,” Melanthe muttered to herself. “Nonsense and trickery.” Then she hurried after Lethe.


Chapter Four (Part 2)


“You?” Hesperos leaned against one mirrored wall and stared at Melanthe with unconcealed disbelief. “You killed Kaj?”

Meeting his gaze, Melanthe’s eyes turned dark as a demon’s promise, and her mouth shrunk into a poisonous pucker. Every inch of her body seemed to be daring him to doubt her. “I did.”

“You killed him. With...” Hesperos glanced down at the body. When he returned his gaze to Melanthe, even the deadly expression on her face couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice. “With a large shard of glass?”

“It was a crime of passion.”

Hesperos’s lungs nearly cramped as he fought to hold back his laughter. Melanthe possessed passion far beyond anyone he’d ever known, but it would never be stirred by someone like Kaj. Kaj was destined to be an eternal annoyance, never worthy of her love, or her hatred. Certainly never worthy of dying by her hand. To be the person to ignite a murderous rage in Melanthe, to see her unleashed, wild and terrible -- Hesperos would have gotten down on his knees and prayed to nonexistent gods if they could have promised him that moment would be his. Her lust was divine. How much better would her bloodlust be?

Crossing his arms, Hesperos allowed himself a small smile. “You know something? You never asked me how I knew what lay at the center of Lethe’s sacred chime maze.”

Melanthe blinked at him, apparently startled by this sudden change in topic. “What?”

“You remember. When Rasmus came to us, I asked him what lay at the maze’s center. And I believed what he told me. Didn’t you wonder how I could have known something like that?”

“You...?” The belligerence faded from Melanthe’s voice, and she just sounded confused. “I forgot to think about it, I guess. How did you know?”

“I didn’t. But I can tell when a man is lying to me. Like you’re lying to me right now.”

“I am not!”

“Kaj was an insect! You never would have dirtied your hands by killing him. And even if you did, you would have cut off his balls with your sword, not stabbed him in the eye with a chunk of mirror. What do you think I am? An idiot?”

Melanthe glanced away. “No. I think you’re a great many things, Hesperos. But not an idiot.”

“Then why? Why are you trying to sell me this fantasy?” But even before Hesperos finished speaking, the answer came to him. “The boy. You’re trying to protect the boy.”

“The boy has a name!” Melanthe snapped.

“I know he has a name! And I’ll use it when I damn well please.”

“You can’t even say it,” Melanthe taunted. “You’ve fucked him twice, and you can’t even say his name in front of me, because -- god forbid -- that might imply that you actually feel something for him.”

Hesperos’s body stiffened and he took a step toward Melanthe. “It won’t work. I won’t punish you for something you didn’t do.”

“You don’t have a choice! I’ve already told Baruch, and Oria, and all the rest. I told them that I killed Kaj and they believed me. They know I didn’t like him. If you try to defend me, they’ll think you’re giving me preferential treatment because we used to be lovers. They’ll lose respect for you. And how will you create all those wonderful legends about the great Hesperos without the respect of your loyal followers?”

Hesperos took another step, unsure what he was going to do when he finally reached Melanthe. Part of him wanted to slap the triumphant look off her face. And part of him just wanted to hold her again.

“Why?” he hissed. “Why are you doing this? When you first joined me, no one protected you. It made you strong!”

“Yes, it made me strong. And it made me bitter, and angry, and crazy.” Melanthe laughed, gesturing to her reflection in the surrounding mirrors. “Take a good look, Hesperos. Is that really what you want Lethe to become?”

By now, Hesperos stood so close to Melanthe that he could feel her breath burning his skin. And uncertainty vanished. Snatching her arms, he yanked her body against his. “Come back to me,” he pleaded, inhaling deeply as he pressed his face into her dark hair. Savored the sweetly remembered scent of her fury. “Please. I’ve missed you so much.”

For a moment, Melanthe trembled in his embrace, both strong and vulnerable, the way only she could be. Then she pushed him away. “I can’t.”

“Why?” It was only a whisper, but inside Hesperos it sounded like a scream.

Melanthe sighed. “Because I love you.”

Backing away from him, she slipped out of the room. Hesperos grunted. Then he glanced down at Kaj, and prodded the corpse with his foot. “Women, eh? What can you do?”

Still muttering to himself, Hesperos went in search of Lethe.

Chapter Four (Part 3)


After returning from Kynthia, Lethe had sought refuge among the horses. Stroking their soft manes eased the trembling in his hands, and when they nuzzled him, they seemed oblivious to the horror of his crime. From this safe distance, he had watched Melanthe talk to the other bandits. And then watched as she and Hesperos vanished back into Kynthia.

Lethe hadn’t been close enough to hear any of the conversation, but he could guess at what had been said. Doubtlessly, Melanthe attempted to portray him as an innocent victim driven to self-defense, while playing up Kaj’s many faults. She’d try her best to help him escape blame. But Lethe doubted it would do any good. The simple truth was that he had killed a man -- not because he needed to protect his own life, but simply because he’d been consumed by the flame of hatred.

So he wasn’t surprised when he heard Hesperos speak his name.

“Lethe. We need to talk.”

Turning, Lethe faced the man who continued to stir such strong emotions in his heart. Light from the rising sun fell against Hesperos’s back, outlining his body with a slight glow, while leaving most of his face in shadow. He looked like some sort of divine avatar, sent to this world to pronounce judgment. And Lethe was ready to be judged. After dreading it all morning, he just wanted to get it over with. “Yes.”

“Melanthe told me her version of what happened. Now I’d like to hear yours.”

Lethe opened his mouth, before remembering his vow to Melanthe. He couldn’t tell anyone. Not anyone at all. Quickly, Lethe brought his lips back together and gulped down the words he’d been about to speak.

“Well?” Hesperos urged.

“I’m sure Melanthe’s story is quite accurate.”

Something dangerous flickered in the depths of Hesperos’s green eyes. “You’re sure? There’s nothing you’d like to add? No correction you’d like to make?”

Lethe felt a ripple of fear, like an animal sensing the presence of an invisible predator. Something was going on. Something he couldn’t quite see. What had Melanthe told Hesperos? Again, the entire story rose up in Lethe’s throat, and he longed to spit it out. But his faith in Melanthe held him back. She’d instructed him not to tell anyone. There must be a reason for that.

“No,” Lethe murmured. “No corrections.”

Hesperos’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t even seem to move. But something bright flashed through the air, and the next thing Lethe knew, he’d been thrown back against one of the horses. An instant later, Hesperos’s blade came to rest against his throat. “You miserable little coward,” the bandit leader hissed. “I should have killed you when you lay sleeping on Aeolus’s alter. And I should have sliced Rasmus in half for ever suggesting that I get involved with a Bride.”

Jolted and scared, Lethe could only stare at Hesperos in mute confusion.

“Don’t gawk at me like that! You know what I’m talking about. I don’t give a damn that Kaj is dead, but you can go to hell if you think I’m going to let Melanthe play martyr for the sake of a brat too selfish to stand up and admit what he did.”

In an instant, Lethe saw it. Saw how skillfully the trap had been laid out around him. Melanthe had never intended to twist the facts to make his murder of Kaj look like self-defense. She’d intended to take the blame on herself. And he couldn’t speak a word to protect her without breaking his vow.

Hesperos must have seen the birth of understanding in Lethe’s expression, and recognized it as a genuine moment of realization, because he lowered his sword. “I see. She didn’t tell you, did she?”

Lethe wanted to shake his head, but he was afraid that even a gesture might violate his promise. And, in any case, Hesperos didn’t seem to need any sort of confirmation.

“You were scared, and she told you to trust her, and you did. You gave her your word.” Frustrated, Hesperos shoved his sword back into its scabbard. “Dammit, Lethe! Never give your word to a woman like Melanthe. It will bind you like chains for the rest of your life.”

“I’m sorry,” Lethe whispered, staring at the ground. He would have preferred to endure Kaj for an eternity, rather than cause Melanthe any harm.

A moment passed. Then Lethe felt a hand touch his face, surprisingly gentle as it tilted his gaze upward. “Well,” Hesperos sighed, all traces of anger gone from his eyes. “It’s a mistake everyone makes once in their life. Compared to me, you’ll pay a relatively small price for it.”

Lethe knew he shouldn’t ask. Knew he didn’t have any right to ask. But his desire to understand Hesperos drove him to risk it. “What did you promise her?”

“Too much.” Hesperos turned away from Lethe, and spoke his words to the distant mountains. “The first time I met Melanthe, she came to me dressed in jewels and silk. What did I care for the spoiled child of some noble family? I ignored her. But, as you know, Melanthe does not give up easily. She came to me a second time, wearing armor and carrying a sword. That impressed me a little more. I offered to let her fight at my side. But that was not all she desired. So, finally, she came to me a third time. She stood before me with a knife in her hand, and told me that she would forsake her wealth, her promised marriage, even her beauty -- and then she cut her face to prove it.”

“Her scar.”

“Yes. Her cheek still carries the mark. Although, to tell the truth, I think it is the least of the wounds caused by that moment.” Hesperos shook his head. “She looked so proud and fierce. I knew I would never desire another woman.”

“And you promised her--?”

“I vowed that I would love her forever.” Hesperos glanced down at his empty hands, as if they once held something, but he could no longer remember what. “I know Melanthe thinks I have broken that promise, but I have not. I never will.”

On a nearby hill, something startled a flock of black birds, and they rose upward, blowing across the sky like flecks of ash. Hesperos ran a rugged hand through his hair. Then he turned back toward Lethe. “Tell me something. And if you try to lie to me, I swear, I will tie your guts to the pole at the chime maze’s center. Suppose you didn’t owe Melanthe your word, would you deny your guilt? Would you let her be punished in your place?”

Grimly, Lethe shook his head. “I would not.”

“Very well,” Hesperos sighed. “This is Melanthe’s choice. All we can do is honor it.”

“What’s going to happen to her?”

Hesperos shrugged. “Baruch was Kaj’s brother, and that gives him the right to decide her punishment. We’ll just have to see.”

Chapter Four (Part 4)


Melanthe crouched beside one of Kynthia’s cracked walls, trying to squeeze herself into its rapidly narrowing band of shade. Sweat trickled down her face, but she refused to wipe away the salty droplets, for fear that it might look like she was wiping away tears. Tears! No, she would shed no tears over this. Tears were a memory, something she had left behind with her dolls, and her pet kitten, and her dreams of growing up to become a princess.

Come back to me...I’ve missed you so much...

How could she ever explain it to Hesperos? How could she make him understand that she couldn’t return to some place she’d never been? He’d say that he loved her. And, in his own way, he did. But Hesperos denied pain. He honestly didn’t understand fear. And without those emotions, his love -- like the man himself -- was a strange half-human thing, both so much greater and so much less. He loved her strength. But he would never love her weakness. And Melanthe couldn’t stand to be loved in part, when she loved the whole of him with every painful beat of her aching heart.

Tears? No, no punishment that Baruch could dream up would make her cry. Not when she’d endured so much worse.

“Melanthe? Baruch has made his decision.”

Melanthe yanked herself from her thoughts and saw Lethe standing in front of her. While Hesperos and Baruch had been conferring, she’d watched Lethe mingle with the other bandits -- looking, for the first time, like he actually belonged. It was odd. That first night, when she’d gazed down at his sleeping body, she’d thought he’d never be capable of becoming what he needed to be. She’d been so afraid for him. But then, when she saw him crouching among the pieces of broken mirror, with Kaj’s blood on his hands, she’d known that he was capable of becoming exactly what he needed to be. And now, she was more scared for him than ever before.

“Has he?”

Lethe nodded, offering his hand to her. As Melanthe allowed him help her up, she sensed a new strength in his grip, glimpsed a new wisdom in his eyes. Yes, he was going to survive. Maybe even thrive. But at what cost?

“I know,” Lethe began, “that it would be futile to ask you to change your mind. To tell them the truth. But is there anything I can do for you?”

Holding on to Lethe’s hand for a moment longer than necessary, Melanthe answered him with a wistful smile. “Pray for me.”

“I will,” he vowed. And, for some reason, it made her happy that he still could.

Then Melanthe turned and walked back toward the rest of the bandits.

Her cohorts were clustered around Baruch and Hesperos. Baruch sat on top of his horse, while Hesperos stood beside him, holding several coils of rope. Neither of them looked happy. As Melanthe drew closer, Hesperos spoke. “Last night, a life was taken. One of our own killed one of our own. This can not be tolerated. The life taken belonged to Kaj, and so his brother inherits his vengeance. Baruch? Have you decided on your justice?”

“Yes.”

“Speak it.”

Melanthe glared defiantly at Baruch, prepared to face his hatred. But, oddly, he refused to meet her eyes.
“I want my brother’s murderer to be bound and tied. I intend to drag her through the city she turned into his grave.”

Melanthe didn’t wince. However, inside her stomach, she felt the rip of icy claws. Depending on how far Baruch rode -- depending on how fast, and over what sort of terrain -- such treatment could easily kill her. If he intended to be that merciful. He might just go until she was broken. Too broken to handle her horse, too broken to move as the others galloped away. Too broken to do anything but die beneath an indifferent sky.

“Does anyone object to Baruch’s decision?”

No one did.

“Then let it be done.”

Melanthe stepped forward, allowing Hesperos to tie her hands behind her back. And, as he did so, she remembered binding Lethe, on the day they’d first abducted him. Had that moment come back to haunt her? Had she, without knowing it, tied her destiny into the same knots that had held Lethe’s wrists and ankles?

Moving from behind her, Hesperos caught her gaze. Curious, Melanthe searched his eyes, wondering if the prospect of losing her would finally conjure some sense of pain or fear. But there was only anger. Anger at her for causing this to happen, anger at himself for being unable to stop it. Melanthe repressed a sigh. Then she sat down and let Hesperos wind rope around her ankles.

Hesperos finished his final knot. Then he stood, and walked over to Baruch, handing him the end of the length of rope he’d attached to Melanthe’s ankles. Baruch affixed the rope to his horse. Drawing a deep breath, Melanthe started to close her eyes. Then stopped. No. This was her choice -- she would not hide from it, she would not flinch. If she was going to die, she would do it staring into the eyes of Lethe’s god.

Pain shot through Melanthe’s ankles as the rope pulled tight. The ground jerked under her, and the sky seemed to shake. Then Baruch’s horse started to gallop forward. Melanthe pressed her chin against her chest, and curled her shoulders inward, trying to protect her head. But she was moving too fast. The momentum tossed her from side to side, and stray rocks struck her body. As the beat of horse hooves echoed in her head, Melanthe thought of teeth, clacking together faster and faster, chewing her up with relentless hunger.

The scenery flashed by in disjointed images. Dimly, Melanthe became aware that they’d passed beyond the bandit camp, and circled around to the far side of Kynthia. Baruch was heading for the section of collapsed wall. Of course. He’d promised to drag her through the city streets, hadn’t he? Not just around the perimeter. Melanthe winced as she imagined being jolted over the rubble. So far, she was bruised instead of broken. But that could change in an instant. One unlucky blow and her skull might crack like an eggshell. Angered by her pain, unable to face her fear, Melanthe twisted her neck and spat on the grass. There. That was what she thought of life. Let the gods take it from her, if they chose. She didn’t care.

Melanthe hit a patch of uneven ground, and despite her resolve, the impact knocked her eyes shut. For a single instant, she hung suspended in darkness. Darkness broken by bright, brief flashes of gold. And she knew. Knew that she was lying to herself, knew that she did care. Knew that caring scared her more than the threat of death.

“Goodbye,” she whispered, to the two men who had meant so much to her, despite her inability to tell them. “I’m sorry...”

And then everything stopped. Melanthe blinked, trying force the world back into focus. Baruch seemed to be dismounting from his horse. Perhaps, Melanthe speculated, the rope had come undone. But instead of tying any fresh knots, Baruch crouched down beside her, and freed her ankles. Then he unbound her wrists.

“Wha--?” Melanthe managed.

Baruch didn’t offer her any direct answers. Instead, he nodded at a large burlap sack he held in one hand. “Help me fill this with rocks.”

Aching, Melanthe pulled herself to her feet. They had reached the section of broken wall. Too disoriented to press any more questions, Melanthe helped Baruch fill the sack with pieces of the stone barrier that had once protected Kynthia. The work felt like a dream. When they were finished, Baruch tied the sack to his horse, as Melanthe had been tied to it, and then whispered something in the horse’s ear. Snorting, the horse seemed to nod. Then it picked its way carefully over the broken rubble, and trotted off down one of the deserted streets, dragging the sack of rocks behind it.

“There,” Baruch announced. “They’ll hear that and think justice is being done.”

“Won’t they...expect me to scream or something?”

“I don’t think anyone expects you to scream.”

Melanthe pressed her hands to the sides of her head, as if she could somehow squeeze her thoughts into coherent shapes. “Baruch. Why?”

“Kaj was my brother. And because of that, I know him better than anyone else. I know what he was. If Lethe killed him, I’m sure it was self defense. I won’t punish the boy for that. And I certainly won’t punish you.”

“Dammit!” Melanthe threw her arms heavenward. “Why won’t anyone believe I killed that son-of-a-bitch?”

“Because you didn’t.” Baruch sat down on a pile of rubble, and gestured for her to sit beside him. “May I speak my mind?”

“I guess you’ve earned that much,” Melanthe conceded, sitting beside him.

“It always amazed me that you could have such scorn for Kaj, and yet still believe everything he said. He told you that we considered you a spoiled brat whose influence went no further than Hesperos’s bed, and you clung to the idea, like a miser clinging to gold. But it’s not true. You’ve proven yourself in battle, time and time again, and we’d have to be blind not to see that. All of us respect you. Most of us would probably even like you, if you gave us a chance.”

Melanthe sighed, staring out over the wavering grass. “I seem to have trouble giving people chances.”

“Well, it’s not something you can change overnight. But perhaps, as a tiny step forward, you could listen to a bit of friendly advice.”

“Yes?”

“Take Hesperos back. Before the two of you get each other killed.”

Watching the grass ripple, Melanthe remembered golden hair tangling around her outstretched fingers. And she shook her head. “I can’t. It’s too late.”


Chapter Four (Part 5)


That morning, as the sounds of Melanthe’s punishment still bled through the stone wall around Kynthia, Hesperos approached Lethe. Leading Kaj’s horse. “Here. This is yours now.”

Lethe tilted his head, looking puzzled. “Mine?”

“Yours. Kaj doesn’t need it anymore.” Pausing, Hesperos studied Lethe. No matter what happened, the boy’s beauty always reclaimed him, like a stain that could never be scrubbed away. Like a curse that could never be removed. Was there room in the world for a beautiful, angelic bandit? But then, Hesperos realized, some of the worst demons had been angels. Before they fell.

“Here,” Hesperos insisted, pressing the horse’s bridle into Lethe’s hands. “You’re one of us now.”