Marked for Murder

twenty three: devote yourselves to cause

"Anything," he says, shifting to spare a quick look at me, before gazing idly at the sea, again.

I hug my legs tighter to my chest, the gentle lapping of the waves doing nothing to calm my mind. I take in a deep breath before saying, "I don't know why but. . ." I move to look at him. "I feel like I know you. From somewhere."

His jaw clenches shut, his shoulders tense, and a vein pops on his arm. "Cynthia, please. We've been over this. You do not know me."

"Then why won't you tell me? If your past is that terrifying, I promise you, we all have those monsters." I soften my voice, placing my hand on his arm. "We just have to choose to let go."

"That's enough!" Matthew gets up in a hurry, brushing my hand off his arm. "I don't want to talk about it with you!"

And there it is- the stab I knew I would receive someday or the other. He does not simply want to talk to about it. He does not want to talk about it with me. I look away, the pain in my chest refusing to subside.

Matthew must see the storm broiling within my heart because he stops dead in his tracks. "I am so sorry, Cynthia. I did not mean. . ."

I throw him a quick smile before shaking my head. "I understand. I pushed too far, it's okay." Still refusing to look at Matthew, I continue, "I think I'd like to be alone for a while."

He stays frozen for a minute or two, after which he nods tightly, and leaves. I am grateful for not having to falsely placate him further. I am hurt, no one has ever spoken to me with such raw harshness — and fear? — in their voice.

I let out a breath I hadn't realised I was holding when Lorrenia found her way next to me. "Hey, you," she says, warmly.

While I still want to be left alone, I do not have the heart to ask Lorrenia to leave. She is one of the actual sweethearts I have ever met, and getting to know her couldn't possibly be of any harm.

"Hi," I say, quite awkwardly.

She clicks her tongue and sits cross legged. "I heard what Matthew said. I'm sorry about that, I was just passing by to me tent and. . ."

She stops, trying to gauge my reaction. Having found none, she continues softly, "He's extremely sensitive about his past. It's kind of a house rule with the Flawed: we don't ask about pasts or parental names, so we don't presume and prejudice."

It makes sense, obviously. It all does. Matthew just felt so familiar to me that I simply could not shake it off. Not wanting to disappoint Lorrenia by saying that, I smile. "Right. Yes, of course. Thank you for the tip."

She pats my hand again, the violent scar on her face, a stark contrast to the kindness she carries in her heart. I do not ask her about it; like she said before: we don't ask about pasts or parental names.

"Well, I'm off to bed. Take some rest, Cynthia. We've got a long journey to complete."

I look at her thinly, biting my tongue. Demeter's final warning had set a very small time frame. If not a long journey, this was going to end with at least one short life.

Lorrenia returns back to her tent, disappearing inside. I stretch my legs towards the sea, watching as the sun kissed the gentle waves. The winking light starts sinking in the water, embracing the darkness slowly.

The lapping of the sea becomes louder as night settles in, the stars becoming visible overhead. I breathe in the cold air, my restless heart calming for a few moments. Everyone is fast asleep and so is the sun. 

Deciding it is time to go to sleep myself, I stop abruptly. The distant sound of thundering and clattering of hooves and wheels spurs me into action. I rush into my tent, grabbing my sword, slinging a bow and quiver over my back, and pocketing a shotgun, I run towards the sound.

If I can stop the invaders before they reach our camp, no one would have to know. Those people had taken me in and made me feel like I was never a stranger to them. If I had to protect them in the future, I can do it in the present.

My sword glowing, I stop at the edge of the forest in the entrance. Trees as tall as church spires and shrubs as pointy as needles, covered the forest floor. I did not dare step inside for I had no fire and no idea of the animals lurking in the shadows.

I wait for a minute before I hear the sound again. It sounds like a carriage obliterating everything in its mission to come out of the woods. I ready myself, slipping my sword into my belt and instead, nocking an arrow in my bow.

Pulling the string, I aim at the darkness, ready to let it fly at the first sight of the intruders. The carriage bumps into view, a white elegant affair pulled by a single white horse. I am about to shoot at the wheels when the emblem around the horse's neck stills me completely.

It is the symbol of the Consul.

Heart hammering, I yell, "Stop where you are or the consequences will not be pretty."

The horse shudders to a halt, exhausted and panting. The door swings open, creaking loudly in the silence. It is in bad condition, now that I see it clearly in the moonlight. The wheels are dirty, the body is marked with scratches and patches, and the door looks like it might fall off.

Three figures jump down, cloaked in a dark robes from head to toe. I inhale sharply, they might be the Keepers from their uniform but. . . I frown, they looked much too short and without any visible weapons or whips.

"Who are you?" I ask, still not lowering my arrow.

The three figures seem fatigued, they limp to stand in a line and take off their hoods. I gasp, realising who they are. My throat dries up, my eyes become unfocused, and I feel lightheaded all in a few seconds.

"How?"

The one in the centre grins tiredly. "We hoped you missed us, Cynthia."

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