The Sweetbriar Slayer

Chapter One: Sink or Swim

"Yeah," Kaol rasps, and looks past her searching gaze to the remains of the once powerful man, bleeding out onto soiled sheets.

Aurelia's fingertips snake forward of their own volition, slipping along the man's chest, leaving a streak of blood in their wake. She presses them against his throat and waits for the faint beat of his pulse to prove her assumption wrong.

He can't be dead.

The man is invincible.

She hears Kaol's voice again, but the words are distorted. They sound like they are spoken underwater- captured by the tide and pulled away before she gets the chance to interpret their meaning. She keeps her attention glued to the stubbled flesh beneath her fingertips. If she blinks, if she moves, if she breathes, she'll miss it.

She waits, and waits, and waits... but nothing. No thrum of blood, no twitch of vein, no beat beneath golden flesh.

Aurelia feels strong, calloused hands against her shoulders, and then she is being pulled up and away from the cooling flesh beneath her thighs. Her legs are wooden, rubbery, when she is set on her feet again, and she nearly collapses to the floor.

Strong hands grip her firmly around her ribcage- the thumbs at the small of her back, the forefingers brushing against the underside of her bare breasts. She holds onto that feeling, the hands that are the only anchor to reality.

The hands leave her for a moment, and she feels something cold pressing against her back. She loses control of her legs and slips down, the bare flesh of her bottom making contact with a slick, cool floor.

Suddenly, there is a splash of warm water against her skin, the scrape of nails against her scalp, the sting of saltscrub lather in her eyes. She looks down, sees blood floating in pink rivulets down the shower drain, notices that her body has been scrubbed clean of sweat and sex and blood.

"He's dead," Aurelia says, and she feels the fingers scrubbing saltscrub through her hair still. Her voice comes out a little stronger than it did before.

"I killed him," she adds. "With my hair stick."

As she speaks, she can feel the hard grain of it in her hands,  the tip break as it lodged against bone.

"He screamed," she whispers. The sound of it reverberates through her skull.

"Yeah," Kaol murmurs again. He lightly places his hand underneath her chin, tipping her head back. "Close your eyes," he says, and she immediately complies.

It feels good, now, to have someone to obey. To take the burden of this moment off of her. Kaol guides her head beneath the shower jets; warm water streams through the suds in her hair, washing the remnants of blood down the drain along with the fragrant lather.

Aurelia opens her eyes again once the sound of the water has abruptly cut off, and finds Kaol stepping out of the shower stall, his underwear clinging to him much differently than it had when they had been children. She quickly averts her gaze as he presses a towel into her trembling hands.

She doesn't realize her teeth are chattering until Kaol helps her dress and wraps her goldsilk shawl around her shoulders. His fingers play over the material for a moment longer than necessary, and she knows what he is thinking- the cost of the flimsy piece of fabric could have easily paid off either of their educational debts to their respective Guilds.

It had been gift from the dead man lying in a pool of his own blood in the room beyond- one which had barely put a dent in his wallet.

Aurelia wraps the thin, glistening material tightly around her shoulders and refuses to think of what gifts like this have cost her.