Adam
32nd Day of Summer, 997th Year of Grace
The air in the meeting room was the same as always--stale and damp, heavy with the smell of spill ale that had long since seeped in between cracks of the stone floor.
I sat in silence with my arms folded and one boot tapping against the leg of the table.
Crow appeared at last with his hood drawn and voice like gravel. "There is a new matter at hand."
He set down a parchment on the table, pressing it down with his palm. I leaned back into my chair.
"As you all know," he began. "Lord Edward left with his retinue six days ago to join the war effort on the western border. In his absence, all authority over the governance of Belmire was left in the hands of his heir, Lord Elijah. But we have received reports that the one wielding actual authority in the castle is not the young lord but Thorne Graceford, his uncle.
His voice lowered. "Thorne has issues a strong of decrees over the past few days--levying new taxes, seizing grain from farmers and demanding 'contribution' from guilds already facing shortages."
A murmur rippled through the room. I heard John curse under his breath beside me while Felton only frowned as he weighed the implications.
Crow pulled back his hood and his dark eyes found mine. "The True Faithful have determined that Thorne's misrule cannot be allowed to fester. It is time to prune the rot before it spreads."
"And the young lord?" Felton asked. "What of him?"
Crow crossed his arms. "Informats at the estate say he has not left his chamber in days. His meals are delievered to his door, untouched for hours before they are taken in. He is unwell, or does not care about the city. Either way, the boy is not taking any actions."
"Then what?" John raised an eyebrow. "We slit the uncle's throat and toss him in the river? Won't that cripple the household now that the Governor has left?"
"No." Crow's tone sharpened. "The True Faithful believe it will force Lord Elijah to rise. If he is worthy, the pressure will temper him. Otherwise, he is bound to be crushed someday. If he cares enough about the city and its people, he would surely bend to necessity and grow into a leader worthy of this city in the future."
My stomach twisted.
Worthy of this city? No. That isn't what the True Faithful care about. What they want is simple--the Governer's household cornered and desperate enough to bend to the True Faithful's demands.
I knew their game. Yet, I caught myself thinking about Alex and the words she had told me a few days ago. I was also reminded of the man in my dream who told me and opportunity would arise for me to resolve all my troubles.
Alex was confused about what to do with Elijah Graceford. She cared so much despite not even knowing his name or his actual identity. But from the way the young lord acted, he was not a man to be trusted.
If killing Thorne will cause the pressure of governance to crush Elijah then all my troubles will be solved.
Crow's words broke my reverie. "Are you up for the task, Adam? You're one of the few agents best suited for the job."
All eyes turned to me.
I let the silence linger for a moment before saying, "Fine. I'll do it."
"Good." Crow's lips curved into a smile that didn't even reach his eyes.
The meeting was dissolved soon after.
Cloaked were drawn tighter, chairs scraped against stone, and one by one the shadows that has crowded the room slipped out the door.
Crow approached me as the others filed out and placed a hand on my shoulder.
"You know what must be done," he whispered into my ear. "Get rid of him without leaving any trace. Make it seem like faith itself struck him down. The True Faithful will praise you for your contributions."
"I don't care about their praises," I muttered.
"I suppose not," he said, chuckling. "But you certainly care about your sister, don't you? I've heard regarding the young lord and her from other informats."
I said nothing and left.
Elijah
32nd Day of Summer, 997th Year of Grace
The chamber was dark, save for the thin slice of moonlight leaking through the curtains.
I had not lit a lamp in days. But perhaps darkness suited me better--if it kept the world at a distance. If it kept her at a distance.
I told myself that being confined was a mercy to her.
Yet, every time I closed my eyes, I saw her. I recalled the way her eyelashes trembled when she turned from me. I recalled the way her voice carried fire within when she declared that she was no one's toy.
Perhaps, she had struck--no. Perhaps, she had awakened something within me.
Because I had begun fearing the void I had carried within my heart all my life.
I wanted her, yes. I wanted her with a violence that shook me to my very core. Yet I was terrified to consume her. I was terrified to ruin her and lose her.
It was a sudden realisation--if the void within me reached her, it would destroy her and I wanted to protect her from myself.
So I shut myself away.
"Is it love?" I muttered, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.
I pressed my back against the cold wall and clenched my fists until my nails cut into flesh.
I swore to the Lord that I would never see her again. That I would rather be devoured by the void from within than risk watching her burn because of me.
The meals left outside the door grew cold while servants came and went, whispering in the hall with questions about the health.
Perhaps, I was sick.
Maybe not in the body, but in the heart--or the hollow place where one ought to be.