Phantom Pain (trilogy)

Desdemona

Chapter 5: Desdemona

The first thing I did was listen, picking up the sound of the door swinging open.

The second thing I did was open my eyes a fraction of a centimeter, but it was hard to see through the waves of pain. It was Gavyn, though. I could tell.

“Ramie, whoa!” he gasped. “You don't look so good.”

He knelt down in front of me and felt my forehead.

“I'll be fine.” I squirmed a little, trying not to show him how much I was hurting.

“It was right, by the way.” He sat down fully, looking at me straight in the eye. “What you did back there. You know so much more about it that the rest of us. You did what none of us could have, and I'm sorry we reacted like that. We're just not used to it, you know?”

I made a sound that probably meant yes.

“The people understand too, all of them but the wife. You've got to remember their the same ones who were buying his spiel about the apocalypse. When Christopher said 'demon' they were more than happy to agree.”

I knew that should make me feel better, but I hadn't even been thinking about the consequences of what I'd done. All I could think about was that I could feel my wings again, as if they were still there on my back. And it felt like someone had lit them on fire.

“Wait here.” I wasn't even really listening anymore. “I'll go get Lila.”

He did, and she stitched me up again. Everyone was acting normal, like nothing had happened.

I went with them to help with dinner. More sitting around would do no good. I'd left the sword in the servant’s quarters. I hated to be away from it, but I'd hated the look of fear in Gavyn's eyes even more. I was carrying another crate of crackers up from the cellar when Spencer's wife stepped into my path.

“This is him!” she yelled. “He killed my husband! Chopped his head off with a sword.”

I placed the box slowly on the floor, completely at a loss for what to say. I could feel her desperation and sadness, it radiated off of her like a smell. People were looking at her, at us.

“You saw him, he shut him outside in the fist place!” She spoke as if I was not there, her finger pointing accusingly, but her eyes never meeting mine.

There were murmurs, and questions were muttered, asking me to validate.

“And you've conveniently left out the part where Spencer had just broken another man's neck.” I retorted, cursing myself almost immediately for feeding the fire.

“Is that true?” they asked the wife now, instead of me.

She finally turned to face me, as if just noticing I was there. “You killed him!” She lunged at my throat. “You killed my Spence! He was just a little sick is all.”