The Fall Of Snow: Guard Your Heart

12. Twelve

Twelve

The Ruby Ring

A spen's condition has gotten worse. So much so that he stays in bed while the others head out for the day. I bring him tea and broth and cool cloths for his head, but nothing seems to ease his pain. Despite several attempts at fuzing a cure for him, I haven’t been able to deliver. I couldn’t even fuze a bit of pain relief for him. Every time I try to fuze, I end up stuck and frustrated. Spent and useless.

The clock is ticking and I am running out of time.

Tonight, instead of dinner at the cabin, the group is heading into the nearest town to visit a tavern where they will get some kind of elixir that helps Aspen's headaches.

Apparently, he also experiences joint pain and chronic fatigue, but the headaches are what really slow him down, the intense pounding affecting all of his senses. That is what the elixir is for. He says the other symptoms are nothing he can't handle, spoken like a true warrior. The pain he endures must be astronomical if it can bring even a nearly seven-foot-tall warrior down.

To no one's surprise, Huck denied my request to come along on the trip, but his opinion was quickly overruled by the others when I explained that I am not some kept woman, and he is not my keeper. No one was willing to argue with that, which is how I ended up in a noisy, dark tavern in the city of Albanon. I keep my hood up in the booth, not wanting to tempt fate as I eye the patrons around the room.

Bar maidens with bulging breasts come around taking orders and coin from the surrounding tables, and music filters through the thick air from the back of the room. A few men and a beautifully tall woman battle to be heard amongst the loud chatter of drunks. It's like nothing I've ever seen before. Men and women have all but abandoned their inhibitions as they gamble and flirt and dance. They all seem to be letting loose—all but one.

It's clear that Huck is the one leading this exchange as he sits across from me, stern-faced as his eyes scan the room. No doubt looking for whoever supplies them with the elixir. I quietly sip my ale as I glance around the tavern at the stags mounted on the walls surrounding us. Each one with an impressive rack of eight points or better. I look into their marbled eyes and can't help but think it is barbaric to mount the head of a kill, giving the animal no respect even in death. I shake my head and instead eye Bear as he dances with a young woman with auburn curls that brush her hips. They laugh as he spins her around too quickly and nearly knocks her into a nearby table. It could be his brawn, but it could also be the ale.

I chuckle to myself when I see the female singer pull Coy up onto the small wooden stage, his cheeks heating with a blush that spreads to his ears. The crowd cheers as she encourages him to join her in a song. He pulls his harmonica out from his leather vest and sits on the stool beside her. I've come to realize that Coy's harmonica is never too far from him. The ivory plates on either side are intricately carved with whirls and inscriptions. I haven't gotten close enough to see what it is but it's clear the instrument is very special to him.

The song begins and people clap to the beat. The female begins to sing an upbeat melody, but I can't seem to tear my eyes away from the fast movements of Coy's harmonica, his lips sliding from one end to the other in short sharp moves. It's mesmerizing.

My fun comes to a halt when a man comes to our booth and slides in next to me. Dark ink marks his arms and the side of his face, while the other side is pockmarked with scars. This man is anything but welcoming. His presence screams danger, and I fight the urge to duck under the table.

I see him eye my right hand curled around my ale mug, at the blinking face of my ruby ring and quickly pull it under the table when I realize his intrigue. I should have turned the stone around to the palm side of my pointer finger before entering this tavern, but the heirloom is too precious to me to ever think of removing it entirely. I'm fully aware this ring is like a walking beacon of wealth in a world where my survival relies on being inconspicuous, but I've never had the heart to take it off. If this man knows my mother or recognizes me, I have no doubt he would kill me right here in this booth without a blink of an eye.

A metal bar pierces the center of his nose, and he smells of sour liquor and sweat.

"You have what I need?" Huck says in a way of greeting.

"You have the money?" The man replies.

"I always do." Huck pulls a small pouch from his leather vest and slides it across the worn table. The man weighs it in his hand without opening it to count the coin. He pockets the pouch and pulls out a bag from under the table, placing it in front of Huck. As Huck examines the contents, the man examines me.

"And who is this?" The man eyes me like he's sizing up a honey-glazed hog. His breath is hot on my cheek.

"None of your concern," Huck quips, eyes burrowing into the man's soul. If looks could kill, the yellow-toothed male beside me would be a corpse. The dealer seems offended by Huck's response, a snarl forming on his face, but Huck doesn't seem to care.

"Maybe I want it to be my concern." He raises a brow at me, and I try my best not to recoil into the booth. If there wasn't a target on my back, I might have the nerve to slam this man's head right into the table before us. But I resist. The last thing I need is to draw attention to myself .

All I want is for this man to leave. If I can help Aspen in a way that will ensure the group never has to cross paths with this dealer again, I will.

"Are we done here?" Huck asks, drawing the man's attention away from me once more.

"Until next time," the man purrs as he exits the booth. My skin crawls as he leaves. I wait to see if Huck will say anything more, elaborate on who the man is, or explain their dealings, but he doesn't. He just adjusts the glass vile in his pocket and downs the rest of his ale.

His looks are unnerving as we sit here in silence. No one should look that good—dark tousled hair perfectly askew, lashes for days, stubble accenting his jawline, straight-edged teeth. Not to mention the chain disappearing into his shirt that perfectly shows off his broad muscled chest. Absurd. And then to have the most arrogant personality on top of it? What a waste.

“See something you like?” Huck cocks a brow.

“Not even a little,” I reply without a pause, a sneer curling my lip.

I'm saved by Archer, who pulls me from the booth and onto the dance floor. I try to tame my worry about drawing attention to myself and enjoy the music as the silver-haired warrior twirls me under his arched arm. Most of the patrons here are already drunk as it is. No need to spoil the night with paranoia.

I let the music move through me as I sway and dance with Archer, who is quite the dancer himself. His steps are synchronized and sure as he twirls me around like we're two pieces of a unit. I've always picked up dancing naturally, but never have I been allowed to dance as freely as this. No steps to memorize, no form to uphold. Just the flow and beat of the music.

Boots click on the wooden floor as the harmonica synchronizes with the band and I realize as I'm laughing at Bear's solo choreography, that I haven't been this relaxed in a very long time. I haven't been this free, this at peace in much too long. What is the point of living if it isn't for moments like these? Soon I will settle into a place that I can call home and just live freely.

Terran brings another round of ale to the table for us all, and I take a break from all the dancing to down half a mug in one long gulp.

"Slow down there, Snowflake. I'm not carrying you home." Huck takes another sip from his mug as he eyes me like I am a child who needs to be watched.

"I don't need or want your advice. I'm a grown woman who can take care of herself." I watch as the corner of his mouth tugs upward in a smirk. Terran rests his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in.

"Yeah, Huck! She doesn't need a guardian. She's got me." Terran's proclamation is lighthearted and sweet, his words slightly slurred from the ale.

"Yeah!" Bear chimes in, clinking his mug against ours in a cheer. Ale sloshes from his mug, splashing down my hand. Huck just eyes us as if we are his entertainment for the night as if he finds us comical.

“Anyone up for another round?” With a collective yes from the group, I down the rest of my mug, slamming it on the table, and decide to hit the ladies’ before heading to the bar. "And quit calling me Snowflake." I turn and leave before Huck has a chance to slip in another snide remark and head out the door to the right of the bar where the privies are.

The night air is brisk now that winter is here. The one lousy lantern that hangs from the tavern sways in the wind, flickering the flame. It takes my eyes a few moments to adjust to the darkness, but when I do, my heart sinks to the floor as I see a dark male figure just ahead. My magic instantly rises from its slumber, coming to the surface of my skin with nowhere to go, as always. Like night sprites pinging against a glass jar, trying to get out of containment, trying to break free. On instinct I grab my dagger, pulling it from its sheath.

"Ah-ah-ah. Not so fast, feisty one." Strong hands grab me from behind, whirling me to face the dealer who sold the elixir to Huck. He stalks toward me as I try to wiggle myself free from his unseen compatriot, but the man behind me has such a strong grip that I worry he might shatter the bones in my arms. The shine from my glowing irises hazes my vision and I clamp my eyes shut. My mind spins with the possibilities of what is to come. This has to be a bad dream I'm about to wake from.

"You're a pretty little thing, aren't you? Red lips, fair skin." He stands in front of me now as panic and adrenaline course through my body. "Silk black hair," he brushes his hand down my cheek, pushing a rogue tendril back from my face. Without thinking I spit at him, opening my eyes a crack, earning a kick to the back from my captor that brings me to my knees. Pain lances up my body as my knees crack on the gravel.

"Holy hell. And a powerful thing, too. Look at those eyes." Immediately I turn my head away from him in response. I beg my magic to do something, anything to free me from this filth of a human. Fuze, dammit. Fuze into his skin and stop his heart. Solidify his blood. Blind him. Turn his muscles to stone. Something. Anything!

My mind is practically shouting within my skull, and I could cry in frustration from this useless power I hold. Fury and fear mix and dance around my nervous system.

As my hands go numb, my blade hits the wet stones beside me, and my heart sinks a little more. The dealer nearly rips my shoulder from its socket when he pulls my right hand towards him, admiring my ruby ring and my heart swells just a sliver when I think he doesn't want me, he wants my ring. The music and chaos inside are so loud I doubt they'll hear me, but I give it a try anyway.

"HEL—" The wind is knocked from me when the dealer's fist sinks into my stomach. Hot tears stream down my face filled with anger and despair as he picks up my dagger and trails the tip of the blade along my jaw.

"Now, now baby. We don't want your little friends to interrupt." His tone makes me nauseous and my body begins to shake. "Look at this pretty thing. Almost as pretty as you," he coos as he inspects my ring, turning my hand from side to side, watching the stone sparkle under the lamplight. His grip on my hand is so tight, I can feel the bones grinding against one another.

When the dealer yanks on the heirloom, nearly dislocating my finger in the process, I do something that could possibly result in the slitting of my throat. I bash my head back into the man’s face behind me before launching it forward into the dealer’s face, resulting in two flailing idiots and a pounding headache. I can still feel the sick crunch of bone and cartilage against my forehead. Not wasting another second, I turn to flee.

The man who held me still is on the ground, cradling his face in agony. The dealer makes a noise that sends chills to my bones. I run to find sanctuary within the tavern full of patrons but come to a halt when I feel rough fingers curl around my arm.

The dealer grabs me by the elbow and throws me onto a pile of bagged grain. Blood flows to my fingers again and my knees throb. I scurry back but I cannot stop shaking. I shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have fought back. I can live without the ring, but it's too late now.

The dealer hovers over me, blade at my neck. My mind is screaming for him to stop, but I've lost the ability to form words. Fear grips me by the throat, and I can do nothing about it. I squeeze my eyes shut to block his hideous face from view and decide that I'm not going down without a fight. If he slits my throat with my own dagger, then so be it. At least my death won’t come at the hands of my mother.

The best course of action is to kick him away from me if I can just bend my swollen knee enough to get my foot between the two of us. Most of his weight is on me, pinning me in place as a sadistic smile crosses his bloodied face. Pathetic whimpers come from the ground near us, proof that the other man is still alive and in pain.

I wiggle higher onto the pile of grain when the back door of the tavern slams open, light and sound pouring out from within. Our heads snap toward the dark figure in the doorway, and I hear the dealer curse under his breath. He scrambles off me, swinging my dagger with abandon when Huck stalks towards him with a lethal glare, stepping right over the other man.

Even in the darkness, his amber eyes glow like flames. Death incarnate.

The dealer doesn't have a chance to use my dagger as Huck knocks it from his grasp with one quick swipe. He grabs the dealer's head and slams it into the brick wall of the tavern, an angry heat roils from his shoulders. The dealer shrieks, and it looks like his skin is burning off from Huck's touch.

In an instant, Huck pulls the chain from beneath his shirt and creates a spark from the stone pendant. I question my sanity when a flickering flame burns in the palm of Huck's hand like he's controlling the element before the flame begins to grow.

In the darkest tone I've ever heard, he says to the dealer, "I will make sure you never lay another hand on anyone for the rest of your miserable life." With the flame flickering, Huck turns to me for a moment as I try and lift myself from the grain and fail, my arms like wet noodles.

"Can you walk?" Huck's voice shakes with anger. I nod, still unable to speak.

"Go find Coy. Tell him to take you home." I scramble to my feet, feeling every bit of pain surging through my body, but push through it, my feet carrying me farther away from the dealer. I don't need to look back to know what is going on behind me. I can hear the earsplitting scream of the dealer as his skin burns from the flames. From the look in Huck's eyes, I know he wasn't exaggerating.