No.
No, I would not be coming back to find the man again.
Even if he did set my blood alight like no one else before.
Even if he had a face crafted by the old goddess of beauty herself.
Even this Oren, in his unearthly, hallowed divineness could not sway me from returning back to my sister and her husband and begging them to leave me, to leave this place and flee, or else the king's man would find her as well as me, and he would not be merciful.
The king's men were many things, but merciful was never one of them.
I could barely focus on the rough terrain ahead of me as flashes of Oren's deep umber hair struck me almost as hard as the stray whips of branches and thorns that dug deep into my skin, painting once porcelain, now deeply tanned skin with gashes and lines of glistening golden blood, but still I did not slow my pace.
Not even as the ratcheting heart inside my chest threatened to give way wholly and completely to the panic swelling in that blood now dripping down my calves as I lifted my skirts so as to not hinder my steps.
Racing past sky high conifers and live oaks that stretched so high their leaves and pine needles blotted out the full blue above, the turning of the seasons bled into my surroundings and only then did I realize my grave mistake.
I had waited too long.
Marlisa and her husband, Drevan, along with the child growing in my sister's stomach would have to get as far away from me as they could.
They couldn't be associated with me any longer.
I'd run away in the night if I had to, but I refused to continue being a danger to her and her unborn child any longer.
I slowed as the signs of the small village we'd settled into upon arriving too long ago came into view, and I threaded my fingers through the hair on my sweat soaked head rife with twigs and small branches decorating the pale auburn color it held once it was properly washed and cleaned.
Too long.
We'd been living in relative peace amongst the innocent people in the villages decorating the land around Avanth for too long, and even though the land was a few week's trek and a boat ride away from the king, no matter where I ran, how far I trudged—somehow, someway, he still found a way to sink his talons into me.
The wind ruffled my skirts and sent a breeze flitting through the air scented with baking bread and that undeniable fragrance of the harvest.
The weather would turn, and I'd need to travel farther south to reach the warmer climate toward the Port of Barron, maybe even stow away on a ship bound for the Irenic Ocean and the unheard of continents to the West, somewhere even the king couldn't find me, if somewhere like that even existed.
The telltale sounds of chopping lumber and hard at work blacksmiths reached my ears and I tuned out the myriad of music of everyday life and bound for the small wooden cabin we'd slowly began building the moment we arrived, only to think better of it and veer left to the markets.
I'd need supplies for the trip away, and if the king's man, Oren, was still following me, I didn't want to lead him directly to my sister, undefended during the day while her husband was hard at work in the mines.
I would miss her more than anything, more than the contrary friends I'd made, more than the comforts I'd acquired.
I wouldn't miss her more than Peter, but then, that was a different kind of pain, a different kind of way to miss someone, in the way that you miss the scent of the spot behind their ear that you could dig your face into when you were scared or happy or content.
That kind of pain, the knowing that they would never again hold your hand or twirl you around in the blinding twilight of a spring night, or stay up all night with you to watch the sunrise, bleary eyed and awe struck at the watercolors painting the sapphire sky in hues of pastels and vibrant pigments so bold it almost hurt to behold...
The kind of pain where, even if you could forget they were dead, you couldn't forget that you were the one to strike them down in the end, and it was all. your. fault.
"Two silver pieces for that one right there. It would look beautiful against your fair skin."
Marlisa had somehow snuck up behind me without my noticing and held a scrap of royal blue fabric against the backdrop of the turning autumn day.
"I don't have the money for wasteful fabrics. Why aren't you back at the cabin? The weather is turning, you could catch your death out here if the cool air—"
"If I had known you would be more overprotective than Drevan, I would've left you back in Port City."
The mention of our old home, the place where we'd grown up and laughed with our parents before my 'gift' emerged sent shockwaves of deliriously blinding pain through me.
Port City, where the cliff faces of the limestone sea wall blanketed the top in lush green grass so soft it was more a bed than the ground, wildflowers growing as the fog overhead loomed not like a menacing villain but a longtime friend coming back for a visit.
Would I ever again see the clouds painted marble grey and white as outcroppings of domineering mountains pointed toward the sky as if spearing itself into the world, a promise and a beacon for lost souls, travel weary and aching for even just a shred of home, but those mountain peaks?
They were better than any northern star pointing the way back, a whisper of a life familiar and comforting, shouting softly, 'home, home, home.'
My older sister pursed her cherry stained lips and cocked out a hip, jutting that belly of hers even more, making her seem farther along than she actually was.
"Your skirts are torn, and you look like a bird nested itself in your hair. What happened?"
Thankfully she didn't chastise me about going off into the forest as she so often did.
I resigned my facial features, as sharp and yet plain as those of my sister before me, and rolled my shoulders back, like it wasn't a lie coming to the tip of my tongue, but the truth.
"I tripped on the way over. I thought I heard one of the beasts in the forest and began running, but I didn't duck the branches, and, well..." I trailed off, lifting the hem of my dress to expose my calves to her and she sucked in a breath, wide blue eyes brimming with concern.
She didn't question my lie, most likely due to the fact that I had a streak for tripping and stumbling around regularly, so there was a bit of truth to my words.
At least the actual beasts of the forest hadn't come for me during the noisy, lousy run through the woods in my mad dash to escape Oren.
I surely would've been gobbled up whole by their carnivorous maws had I not reached the town line so suddenly, a force helping me along, moving me swiftly on my feet, almost like the wind was carrying me on its back like a helpful friend.
"Josephine," she chided, like I was the babe in her womb instead of her sister who'd saved her from more harm than she had me, but I still enjoyed her doting, most likely because I never received it from our mother.
At least with Marlisa, I could pretend like someone else could take care of me, instead of having to do it all myself.
It was nice, living in the illusion of safety, at least for a time.
But we'd gone complacent, too long in one place with no danger was a danger within itself.
We needed a jolt every now and then to keep us on our toes and always looking over the horizon for the evil that surely awaited us, and in my grief, I'd allowed Marlisa to be the lookout instead of being on guard myself, and look what happened—one of the king's men had found me almost immediately.
What a waste Peter's honor and memory would become if I let them take me and my sister.
What a waste of his fate, to love someone like me, someone who could kill him with a single breath and note of my voice.
"I am well aware I need to be more careful, no need for you to voice it. Again."
Her twinkling laugh filled my ears and I basked in her beauty once more, memorizing those features, those bright blue eyes filled with a glow no doubt extra luminous from the growing life inside of her.
Her hair, as pitch as a starless night sky, curled and twisted in long braids and spirals near her temples, accenting her rounding face and the soft tilt of her mouth as she looked upon me with a love that followed me to the ends of the earth, even as the danger was tenfold for the sister of a dangerous creature with a mouth of lethality.
I would leave her, and be glad for it, because that only meant one less thing for her to worry about, one less problem for her to bear, one less burden on her shoulders.
I knew she didn't view me as a burden, but it was hard to feel the opposite as we traversed the rough continent, running, hiding, constantly in fear of the day where they would find us, when the king would find her, and show no mercy.
Not for Marlisa, not for Drevan, certainly not for me.
"Well, I do believe the Sanderson brothers are looking this way. Quickly now, pull that mess from your hair, wipe the dirt from your cheeks," she whispered conspiratorially, as if I could ever be interested in another man again, as if the death of Peter wasn't still fresh on my mind every moment of every day, as if anyone could ever compare to the beauty and loveliness and intrigue of the man I'd just met in the woods—wait, no.
No, Oren's beauty was not something that I was hung up on.
I refused to allow his appearance to taint the truth of what he was, even if he was the most striking man I'd ever seen, bathed in a sunshine glow that speared him with lightness as if from the inside out.
No, I wouldn't think about it. Not at all.
"Marlisa, I am not interested in either one of the Sanderson brothers, and even if I were, I—"
My words faltered as my sister's face paled so drastically she became almost transparent.
Her rigid frame shook slightly and her chin wobbled as I followed her line of sight to where her fear had gotten the best of her, and suddenly it was my turn to shake.
I did not fear easily, and those that I did fear were worthy of that terror, that fright in my bones that rattled around inside of me and threatened to rip me in half with its power.
They were here.
The king's men.
Here, in Laria, the small and peaceful village town far away from the king's jurisdiction and close enough to the royal gates of Avanth that the ruling family there could have grounds for war with his kingdom, but he didn't care about that, not with the plethora of lethal and destructive weapons at his disposal.
The king collected oddities, people who were ordinary on the outside, but blessed or cursed with gifts and attributes that served his own nefarious purposes on the inside.
He would hunt them to the ends of the earth to find them, but for some reason, despite there being an overabundance of Sirens in the world, he hadn't found anyone like me with my particular gifts, and he wanted me. Badly.
How he hadn't found another Siren in the whole of the world of Irena, I had no clue, but I wasn't about to call on him and risk being found in order to find out.
The three men were strolling through Laria as if they were the owners of the village themselves, dressed in their battle worn uniforms, black and grey armor covering their cloth and trailing the unwed women as if dogs scouring for a bit of tail to plunder.
Leering and whistling, the men threw crude gestures toward the women who blushed and quickly strolled away, closer to the sanctity of their homes on the outskirts of the village.
The market quickly folded up their tables, packed up their tents and hid their business from the king's men, as if they had any say regarding what occurred in a kingdom that their ruler did not govern.
"What are they doing here?"
"I have no idea, but don't act out of place. Be calm. We spread enough rumors about my coloring and appearance that all they know is they are looking for a woman of nineteen years. They won't be able to recognize me, or you. We will get out of this, I swear to you."
And then I would get Marlisa to her home and disappear in the dead of night.
The men swaggered forward, picking at the scattered jewelry on a table in the midst of packing up, the elderly woman manning the table flushing and backing away slowly into her tent and shaking slightly while they perused her collection.
I could have sworn she began chanting the prayers of the old gods under her breath, her hand movements following that same ancient pattern that those interspersed along the plains still practiced.
"What do we have here? A free brooch for my lady waiting for me back home?"
The men at his side chuckled as they began pocketing the priceless treasures the old woman spent day and night crafting and perfecting, silver tears slipping down her cheeks in her agony of them stealing her life's work.
Where were the soldiers of Avanth? Had they no care for their people?
In the months and months that we'd been staying in Laria, I had only spied two soldiers in the small village town, and they had been on horseback leaving the kingdom to deliver messages to neighboring lordships.
"Please, these are to feed my family. Surely, you must have some gold pieces, from your kingdom? Your king must pay you handsomely for your hard work."
The elderly woman pleaded with the men, but they only jeered and scoffed at her in return.
"For this trash? Hardly more than polished bronze, but you know the saying well, don't you? You can polish a broken, worthless nail until it shines, but it will still be a broken nail. Worthless."
Rage bubbled up inside of me as I made a mental note to leave as many silver pieces as I could with the old woman before I left, but the majority of my money would be left to Marlisa.
Maybe I could pitch a tent in the wilds of the Briars, camp out amongst the stars, the wind, and the deadly beasts who wanted to use me as their late night snack.
It would be better than writhing in mournful agony day after day and on constant edge of the question on the tip of my tongue, if today would be the day they would find me, find us.
If today would be the day they took her away from me, just as I took Peter from this world.
"It is you who are worthless. You leave that woman alone, and put back her jewelry. You would be so lucky to have a woman so talented even spit upon you, let alone to own one of her pieces."
I cursed my sister's freely flowing mouth, the anger that coursed through her swiftly enough to pry open her voice and speak the truth that so desperately wanted to flow out of me, as well.
At this point, most of the patrons of the market and vendors had disappeared into their adjacent shops and locked their doors, until all that were left were the soldiers, the elderly woman, and the two of us staring out, albeit one of the two of us more shocked than the other at the outburst that just occurred.
"Oh, all this anger coming from a pretty woman carrying a babe. Perhaps it's the bastard in your womb making you say such simple minded things," one of the soldiers directed toward Marlisa and the red I was seeing earlier turned a deep, wine rich color in my mind.
The voice inside of me stirred, begging me to unleash its cursed gift and reduce the men before us to nothing but blood dripping carcasses.
I reeled in that power, that evil flowing throughout my body, and held onto the rope tethering me to the real world, not allowing myself to dissolve into the pit of anger that would allow me to unleash myself upon the men.
Even if I escaped and ran, the news of killing them with my voice would reach the king and his men far sooner than simply hiding under their noses, never tipping them off to what was right in front of them the entire time.
"And what about the one beside her?"
They crept closer, hands on the swords at their sides, and I allowed myself to dissolve into my gift a fraction, the wind whipping past us in a flurrying gale, tearing through the hair atop my head and slicing brisk air into the bare skin of my arms and upper chest.
"Maybe she's on her monthly cycle. Look how angry she is," the man in the middle yelled, laughing along with the rest of the soldiers.
"Gods above know how irrational the women can become when the bleeding begins. So unseemly for a woman, if you think about it. They're supposed to be such delicate creatures, and yet once a month turn into rabid beasts almost foaming at the mouth, dripping blood."
Their cacophony of laughter blinded me, even as I flicked a gaze behind the men and noted with a relieved breath that the old woman had tucked away the rest of her jewelry and was slowly backing into her attached shop, out of view of the soldiers.
But that just left them standing before the two of us, and I gulped down the nausea rising in my gut.
I would have to use it.
My gift couldn't—wouldn't—allow them to leave, and I wasn't even sure I wanted them to, not if they could carry the information of who they'd encountered during their travels in Avanth.
They'd seen the both of us, knew our descriptions.
My sister had already done the damage, and it was time for me to clean up after her.
"Perhaps it is the men who are rabid beasts foaming at the mouth, and instead of it only happening once a month, it is a constant state of being for them, unable to control themselves and being led by the member between their legs instead of the small, pea sized brain they might have in their heads."
Their laughing died down as they took me in with renewed vigor.
That's it, come closer, draw yourselves in so that I may serenade you with my song that will blind you and deafen you and choke you until you are writhing in agony in a pool of your own blood.
Come closer, men, listen to my power and bathe in it, relish in the glory of my beauty and the pleasure of my voice until you become entranced by the fire burning in my eyes, until you bend to my very will and break your backs upon it.
As if under a spell, the men staggered forward and I could see the flecks of color in their eyes, blue, green and brown that would run red with their blood in a few moments.
"Josephine," my sister warned, tugging on my arm to pull me away from here and these men to stop myself from what I was about to do but I shrugged her off, feeding into the power that I wasn't able to fully drain in the forest earlier because of the man, that man who was so beautiful and yet I could not remember his name, that man who believed I could learn control.
I scoffed. I did not need control.
I was control.
My gift was control.
My gift was in control, I was no longer.
The soft, lilting notes reached their ears and they stopped moving, limbs twitching as if desperate to reach out to me and hold me in their arms.
Men. Such spineless, graceless creatures.
Their only gift would be death.
Men, who took what they wanted and did not ask.
Men, who deigned to breathe while the women they conquered sputtered beneath them.
Men, who broke and stole and devoured and conquered, while women can only take what they give.
They will take my rage and my punishment, and they will choke on it.
The wind whistled in the air, shoving the men back a step as the force of the air knocked into them, but still they remained standing, pushing closer toward me as my voice reached higher and higher into the late afternoon sun, the clouds blotting out the light as the blows from the wind still crashed into them, as if attempting to save them from me.
"Josephine, stop, you don't have to kill them!"
Sweet, merciful Marlisa.
I was not mercy.
Not when they would show none to her.
The swelling cry of my voice lifted higher and higher, reaching a pitch I had never once uttered, words to an ancient and long forgotten worship to the gods befalling my tongue and embattling the men who still stood, still pushed and clawed at each other in their attempt to reach me, but the wind barreled into them instead, keeping their bodies a few paces before me.
"You're scaring me, Josephine!"
A trickle of blood dripped down the cruelest soldier's nose, and I smiled.
I was vaguely aware of an ember inside of me, flaring and begging to be let out.
My humanity, perhaps, or maybe an even larger piece of this power that would cause me to lash out and hurt even more of those around me, so I reached for it, not caring if it was a thread to more power or the lifeline back to my mental control, fanning the flames of that ember inside of me, and all at once, I was back inside myself, back in control, and I balked at the sight before me.
I instantly closed my mouth and shut down the song inside of me, eyes widened as I took in my sister's shaken appearance, and when I reached out to her to comfort her, she jerked.
It was more painful than if she had slapped me herself.
The three soldiers collapsed, shrieking in pain and rage at what the spell had done to them, but before they could continue, the townspeople emerged to find the source of the commotion.
"How could you? You promised! You promised that you would try to control it. You didn't, you didn't even try just now."
There was nausea creeping inside of me at her words.
She was right.
I was weak and I had allowed the curse to control me, manipulate me, whisper to me that it was all perfectly well and fine to steal three men's lives as if they were nothing, not human in the slightest.
I was the inhuman one, not them.
I was the monster.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to—"
"You never mean to, do you? But somehow it still always happens exactly like this, and we have to pack up and leave, again. I'm so tired of living like this, Jo. They're going to find out this was you. We cannot stay here any longer."
Her eyes once filled with luster and gleam darkened, and I resigned myself to allowing this to be our last goodbye.
She didn't need something drawn out and more painful than it needed to be.
"I know you're tired. You won't have to worry about this anymore."
"Won't I? You clearly can't control your murderous impulses long enough to hide away from the king's sight. How could it ever be different? I want a life where I don't have to disappear from my home every turn of the season! I want a real life, for me, my husband, this baby."
I was not included in that wish for a new life.
She didn't want me to be a part of it.
I didn't blame her, either.
There was betrayal lining my sister's beautiful eyes, something akin to fear and suspicion hidden in those blue depths, and I knew.
Somehow, I knew that I had lost her—maybe forever.
I bade a silent goodbye to those shining blue eyes and rounded familiar face, the hair black as a stygian sea, the strands that always seemed to wrap themselves around our spare socks and litter the floors of the cabin.
I bid her farewell, and prayed to the old gods above that she would be well and happy and have everything she wished for.
"Go home Marlisa. Take this and buy some bread on your way."
She didn't look to see that I'd given her everything I carried with me, all of the money I had left.
She turned on a pointed heel and walked away without a backward glance.
I hung my head as I swiped the royal blue cloak she'd been holding up for me earlier and donned it, fastening the pack of things I'd grabbed before the men had arrived, and disappeared into the crowd just as the soldiers began gasping for breath, sucking in their last gulps of air before their lungs stopped working completely.
I didn't need to stop by the cabin—the only thing of true worth that I owned was already safely tucked away in my corset top—my journal.
I stopped at the men's bodies and scooped up the elderly woman's jewels from their pockets before I passed her shop, handing her back her jewelry, but she left one out.
Brown eyes jutting into my own, the leathery, dark brown skin of her hand fit the ruby brooch in my palm as we locked eyes, and I could only give her a nod as I continued, stepping over the dying men's bodies and headed south, toward the Briars and the man that would undoubtedly be waiting for me at dusk.
The World of Irena: