Starcrossed

Dawning Suspicions

The area Ace leads me to is in poor condition and so are the homes, most look like they would fall over with a good push. And yet, nostalgia rushes over me as we creep quietly through the early morning, doing our best not to wake the sleeping families.

Before my father appeared, I spent most of my childhood in a town very much like Willow's Green, living in a house very similar. A familiar image begins to rise in my mind, pulled from the dregs where I buried it. A woman with hair that catches fire in the sun and eyes drowning in sadness. It's a face I want to cherish but time has stolen most of the memory; my mother.

"Here we are," Ace says, thumping his hand against a door to a small house with a thatch roof.

I eye it, frowning.

"You think with all the gold you've won that you could afford to live better."

"I think this is less conspicuous."

"If you want to be less conspicuous you might want to consider a new line of work."

"You're probably right." He chuckles, and opens the door, welcoming me to enter his home with a gesture.

I step into the house, the early morning light streaming in through the small opening that must be the window. It only takes a moment for my eyes to adjust—the room isn't much to look at. There is a single bed in the far corner, near some rendition of a pieced together stove. A makeshift table that is made from a barrel and a slab of wooden planks. 

The door slaps close as Ace steps in behind me, crowding my space for a quick breath. My body lights up, the hairs on my arms rising to attention. I don't want to be the one to look like they're running away, so I remain where I am.

He leans into me and says, "Take a seat. I'll get the letter and make us something warm to drink."

I shiver, but use the excuse of sitting to put space between us. I find a crate near the table and prop myself on it.

"Skip the drink. The letter is all I need."

Ace wanders to his bed, squatting down and pulling up a loose floorboard. I watch as he dips his hand into it and pulls out a metal box. I'm certain that must be where he's hidden all his gold. Then he reaches in again, pulling out a cloth bag that is cinched tightly at the top.

He holds the bag close, shooting a glance over his shoulder at me. The way it's cradled in his hand tells me all I need to know. Whatever its contents are, they are more valuable to Ace than gold. Gently, he sets it down in his bed next to the metal box.

One last dip of his hand through the hole and he pulls out an envelope that appears a bit aged. I rise from the crate and cross the small distance between us. 

He holds it out to me. My hand is trembling and as much as I want to snatch it away from him—I can't get myself to take it. These are the last words of Liam. Once I have them, once I know what he was protecting us from—there will be no going back. And I will have to accept that Liam is gone.

Gone.

My knees go weak at the thought. I lower myself to the floor next to Ace, gaze fixed on the letter. The ink stain of my name scrawled across the envelope. I want to cry at the sight of Liam's atrocious handwriting.

"Elizabet—"

Ace speaks my name, for the first time and with such gentle reverence that it draws my attention to him. Our gazes clash in the dim, morning light streaming in through the pathetic window nearby.

"That's a beautiful name." 

I nod, eyes shifting from his face to my name on the envelope.

"My mother—" the words caught in my throat.