"Only Cowards Stay While Traitors Run"
Title: Only Cowards Stay While Traitors Run
Author: Rissy James
Characters: Cain, DG, Glitch, Raw (appearances by: Jeb, Tutor, Lavender, Azkadellia, Ahamo)
Pairing: Cain/DG
Rating: 14+ (subject to change)
Summary: The fade to black was merely the blink of an eye. Respite for only seconds. After all, the road is long.
Only Cowards Stay While Traitors Run
When Last We Met: Wyatt Cain waits restlessly in Central City, aware that the only thing anchoring him there is loyalty to DG - and guilt for having run out on her six months before. Patterns of life in Central have been shifting imperceptibly, alerting those who are prepared for change that the inevitable approaches.
Chapter Eight: The Cusp of Obligation
It was the middle of the night when the pounding on his door came. As Wyatt bolted awake, it was his first instinct - done while his eyes were still bleary with the cobwebs of slumber - to reach for his pistol; still buttoned into its holster, merely the touch of the smooth, treated leather calmed him enough to force his legs out of the bed. Leaving the revolver holstered and hanging from the bedstead did little for the hostility he felt toward whomever was still banging on his door, seemingly intent on waking the dead along with everyone else in the palace.
Cain wrenched the door open, but his rage dissipated at the sight of Glitch. Though he'd always been remarkably pale, the man on the other side of the door was a shade of white that Cain could not recall ever encountering before - which was saying something, as just before the fall of Central City, he'd busted a den of vapour addicts who hadn't left Lower Central in more than four annuals.
"Remember the thing?" Glitch said, brushing shoulders with Cain as he barged his way into the room. "The thing? The thing we've been waiting for?"
Growling, Cain closed the door. "What 'thing'? Is Lavender dead or did some idiot in the Sin District start running his mouth off with the wrong people within earshot?"
Glitch blanched, if it were indeed possible. "You're very crass, do you know that?"
"So you've told me," Cain said. "Since you're not tearing a strip off me for disrespecting Lavender, I can assume she's still alive."
"Hopeless, utterly hopeless!"
"Can I go back to bed then?"
"You most certainly may not," Glitch huffed. "We need to make ready to leave. As soon as you're decent." He motioned vaguely at Cain's bare chest and pyjama bottoms.
Cain raised a curious eyebrow. "Leave?"
"As soon as you're decent," Glitch repeated. He remained silent as Cain went into his adjoining bath to dress. His instincts told him to wear his travel clothes; and so it was the worn, familiar garments that he clad himself in, reminding himself of the morning of his departure from home. Already, it had been twelve days; he felt that he'd left the new house by the creek a lifetime ago, and it seemed that his adventures were just beginning.
He emerged from the bathroom, buttoning his cuffs as he went, to find Glitch closing up the windows.
"What's happened?" Cain asked, moving onto the front of his shirt, buttoning it closer to his throat than he normally cared for.
At Cain's impatient glare, Glitch threw up his hands. "Honestly, why is everyone always under the impression I have my nose into everything that happens around here? I just do as I'm bid, you should think about doing the same."
"I thought you were the one that said you were the smartest man in the Zone."
Glitch laughed. "Hardly. It must have been someone else lauding my many talents. They are so very widely known. I once overheard myself being spoken of in an establishment of questionable repute by an Elonian fellow who had the most -"
That, Cain decided, was more than enough. "I'm going back to bed," he said, and pointed at the door. "Fill me in on everything at breakfast, would you?"
"Well, it's no wonder that DG is so bent out of shape about you," Glitch said, his arms crossed impatiently. "What is it that they say about leading a horse to water?" The added smug grin was overkill.
Cain was forced to bite down hard on the tip of his tongue to stop the slur of curses that wanted to come tearing out of his mouth. "Your insights are beginning to bother me," he said instead. He decided that a drastic change in subject was long overdue. "I'm not walking into this blind."
Glitch rolled his eyes. "Were you always this paranoid, Wyatt?"
"Being locked in a lunchbox for near a decade will do that to you. Now what happened?" He settled his stance, making it quite obvious even in the dim light that he wasn't about to move anywhere until he got the answers he wanted. Glitch, for his part, held out for as long as his patience lasted, grimly viewing the imposing figure in front of him as - well, Cain wasn't all too sure; a deterrent, an annoyance, perhaps. No more than two minutes passed before Glitch heaved a sigh of surrender.
"There was an incident at the gate this evening," he said finally.
"What kind of incident?"
"A group of men got into a confrontation with the guards on shift. The details are a little sketchy, but I've heard they were recognized as having served under the Sorceress directly."
Cain felt a familiar clench inside his chest. Longcoats. If there was one consolation to be had, it was that Zero was under lock and key, about as far from the conflict as possible. When it came to her soldiers, the long, long arm of the Sorceress, there were those who had surrendered after the siege on the tower, and those who had not. There were those who stayed loyal to Azkadellia and who now worked to restore the O.Z. as she did, and those who fought against it.
"How many of those deserters do you figure have joined up with the New Resistance, then?" Cain grit his teeth at the thought of former Longcoats swelling the ranks of those who opposed Azkadellia's renewed rule; men who didn't give a damn about the Zone, plotting alongside the rebels simply to see her suffer.
Glitch seemed not to want to give it a thought; if Cain guessed right, then he'd already worked it out in his reassembled brain a long time ago, and cared not to revisit his answer. "Until tonight, it's been mostly speculation about the numbers," he said instead. "If it weren't for scouts like your son, we'd have gathered virtually no intelligence at all."
Cain's breath caught, an involuntary reaction that spoke too loudly of his vulnerability. "Jeb?"
Glitch had the decency to look horrified at his mistake; he faced Cain with all the timidity of a spooked animal. "Did I say your son? I meant -"
Sighing deeply, Cain shook his head, and held up a hand before his friend began stuttering. "It shouldn't surprise me that my boy's got secrets of his own," he said, knowing no one was at fault but himself for being caught off-guard. He was just about done with all the smoke and mirrors. "There anything else you want to tell me, or do you like the taste of your own shoe leather?"
Glitch smiled. "The only benefit is that talking around one's own foot is rather difficult, therefore limiting further errs in speech." There was a definite drip of sarcasm to the words.
"Funny part is you keep trying any way." While Glitch puffed up proudly, Cain could only feel a twinge of annoyance at how far they'd strayed from the trouble at hand. "Now I don't see how a scuffle at the gate is reason enough to drag me out of bed. What went on? With all the people out there -"
"Decent tactical cover; a crowd full of innocent people, and supporters of Lavender besides," Glitch said.
Cain let his head hang, a hand going to his face to cover his eyes. "Was anyone hurt?"
"One of our men was beaten up pretty bad. There were no arrests made; the army has sent their scouts out to find out what they can, but they aren't going to find the culprits once the undercity has swallowed them up. You know that as well as anyone."
"So we smuggle DG out in the middle of the night," Cain muttered; he squeezed his eyes shut, still blocking out all light with his hand. In the darkness behind his eyelids seemed the only place he would ever find peace. "I don't know, Glitch, this all seems a bit hasty to me."
"Lavender has given the order, and Azkadellia upholds it. We have to take her away from here, and she's got no choice but to come with us," he said; he gave a short, disbelieving laugh. "I don't think she'll put up much of a fight."
Cain could have smiled. If there was one assiduous change that had come to affect DG, it was that she always, without fail, listened to her sister.
The stables were located along the northern perimeter of the palace grounds, far placed from the decorative gardens that hugged the southeast section of the gate, farther still from the kitchen gardens on the southwest wall. It was here that she found him. Cain had offered to oversee the packing of the horses, not for the reprieve of Glitch's overtaxed brain but to get as far from the palace as possible while still being where he needed to be. No doubt that it was from the headcase that DG had learned to look for him.
"I was hoping I wouldn't find you here," she said, disappointment clear.
"Then why'd you come lookin'?"
She stopped short; he was standing at the end of the long, cobblestone drive-bay, just inside the wide-open doors. It was near-dark, but there was no dawn in Central City, never had been; the city's interior glow filtered down enough to see marginally well. He was watching two stable-hands saddle and pack their horses, readying them to be transported by trailer to the woods outside the city, as far as vehicle transport could safely take them.
Lingering in the doorway, she didn't turn her head to look at him, but watched the two hands pet and pamper the horses they were burdening. "There is a strange woman in my room right now packing up everything I own," DG said. "Or there was. She and I had words when she tried to touch my sketchpads."
Cain cast a sidelong glance at her, certain she wouldn't make eye contact with him; sure enough, she was too mesmerised by the lamplight catching on the polished saddles, the jingle of clasps and buckles. He kept his mouth shut, though he sure as hell hoped she exaggerated when she said everything.
"I went to see my sister," she said, breaking into his thoughts, "to find out who the old bat was."
Cain braced himself. "And?"
"Az, she... she wants me to go to Finaqua." She spat the words from the back of her throat like sallow bile. "That's why you're here, isn't it?"
He weighted his answer carefully, trying to decide on the safest route; there was making her mad, and then there was hurting her, and then there was letting her down.
"I'm here," he said, "because our friend Ambrose sent me a letter, saying you could use a friend or two, considering. It was mentioned that things could come down to this, much as it pains me to admit that it has. It's all been out of my hands since I got here." He glanced over again to see her standing straight and stiff, her back against the damp early summer air, her front bathed in the soft yellow light spilling out of the stable doors.
"I can't leave my mother," she said, her only excuse that would stand up against obligation.
"The way I understand things, it's your mother's order, not your sister's." He sighed, knowing in his heart that somewhere along the way, he was going to regret telling her. Still. "Just until things calm down around here. If it puts her mind at ease, remember?"
"What about my mind?" she asked , turning her eyes, her entire body, toward him. "No one seems to be wanting to put me at ease, do they? You've been here two weeks, and never once said, 'just a heads up, the rebels might drive us south'. I think that borders on lying to me!"
"No one lied to you. Glitch and the furball have been under the impression you've got enough on your plate as is."
At the far end of the drive-bay, the two stable-hands kept halting their work with obvious pauses, straining to hear. Rolling his eyes, Cain moved away from the wall, and angled himself so as to block the princess from their view. He could do little about the rising edge in her voice, worried more about being overheard than about the tongue-lashing he was about to receive.
"What happened that's bad enough to come to this?" she asked; he could see her disappointment showing through the cracks in her hardened exterior; she wasn't as invulnerable as she tried to be.
"Little loose-lipped, zipperless bird told me there was a tussle at the gate tonight, between security and men they believe are part of the New Resistance," he said, keeping his voice low with the presence of the hands ever on his mind. He watched DG's face for signs of - well, anything, really. Any reaction at all. She only stared at him, waiting for him to continue, never believing that something so small could be shaking up her closed-in world. "It's enough to get your mother and your sister agitated, and it's got us hauled out of our beds at - Glinda's sake, I don't even know what time it is."
"It's a quarter to four," she said automatically. "Did you say 'Glinda'?"
He grimaced, caught. "It's just an expression, kid."
"I can tell that much. I just - I've heard that name before."
"I've no doubt," he said, "with the books you've been reading." 'Sometimes Fabricated but Mostly Accurate', indeed.
"Who is she?"
Wyatt didn't answer right away, how could he? He was in no position to start giving the kid lessons in folk legends. Much to his dismay, she took his silence as cause to start ribbing him. He endured it for seconds only before holding up his hand and near growling at her. "This is the kind of thing you should be asking the mutt about, not me, Princess." He'd meant for that to be the end of it, with a tone of finality and a bite to the last; he should have remembered who he was dealing with.
"I thought we'd covered Tutor's unwillingness to teach me anything but magic," she said, frowning. "Even then, it's more coaching than teaching; it's not exactly swish and flick. Besides, you brought it up. So, who is -"
"Old stories to put children to bed with," he said shortly, "and not worth the time it would take to tell them."
"Humour me. Who is she?"
He looked over her face once, unhappily noting the glimmer of hope - of something - in her eyes, and how easy and natural it could be to humour her if he just let it be. It wasn't exactly encouraging, knowing how much she'd take if he offered her even the slightest inch. Still. "Not is. Maybe not even was. At best, the divine, at worst, a witch. Long gone by your family's time." He glanced over his shoulder, seeing the boys far down the drive-bay taking their sweet time packing up the horses, not knowing the urgency - or maybe, like him, not seeing it. He'd best move on before the questions started again. "Where'd you say the new kid was?"
"Didn't. He's around."
He smiled at her vagueness. Around was a very broad term. "How'd you manage to lose him, then?" he asked.
"I didn't; he followed me down here. I guarantee he's around here - ish," she said.
Cain raised an eyebrow. "Is he."
She finally turned her face to him, a crinkle to her nose. "Are you surprised there is someone who can pull off discreet better than you?"
He snorted. "You got some nerve, kid, I'll give you that much."
"Hardly," she said with a roll of her eyes; she reached up on tiptoes to glance over his shoulder, watching the boys still at work. "If I had the nerve, would they still be shipping me off to Finaqua?"
"Wouldn't exactly call it being shipped off."
She froze. "Then what would you call it?"
Cain chuckled quietly to himself; nope, he wasn't gonna fall for that, no matter if she were straightening slowly to her full, albeit diminutive, height, no matter if she turned her prairie-sky eyes on him to cut him straight to the quick. "Deege, there always comes a time when we've got to put our heads down, take orders just for the sake of it."
"You said you weren't here to take orders."
He smirked. "We aren't talkin' about me, though, are we?"
"No surprise there."
To wipe the unimpressed pout from her face, he tried to be honest. "No one's orders but yours," he said, "I already told you that. And you still haven't told me to leave."
DG shifted uncomfortably, the soft soles of her trainers scuffing quietly against the dirt. "I think after keeping these secrets from me since you got here, you deserve being stuck here."
"Oh, really." He raised an eyebrow. "Well, they weren't my secrets to tell."
She nodded, quite fetching in all her seriousness. "Not to mention leaving me the way you did, which was downright dirty and mean."
She spoke with cold acceptance, and he considered himself chastened, which didn't bring the relief that atonement would - if and when he ever achieved it. He watched her until she became self-aware, and even under the artificial lights of the palace grounds, and the false starlight carried down from the buildings above, he saw her blush.
"Brainless, heartless coward," she mumbled, turning away so that he'd never know if she were smiling or frowning, if her cheeks stayed heated or if the colour faded as quickly as it'd come.
"Begging your pardon," he said, wanting to cut off any more outcries against his character before she got loud enough for the eavesdropping stable-hands to get an earful. "But, speaking of my due punishment, you gonna be ready to ride today?"
Tight-faced, she nodded. "I've been daydreaming about taking off for the last two months," she mumbled monotonously low, so he wondered if he'd heard her right. "I should be excited, but..." She paused, shrugged her shoulders. "I hate this."
He set his jaw firmly against the twinge of sorrow in her voice, seeing more than he cared to in her deep frown, the downward curve of her shoulder; something running through her mind was bogging down her spirit. There was damn little he could do about it, didn't have the time to fret over it, and knew precious little what to say to her besides. Sighing, he nodded his chin toward the palace, reached out to touch her elbow lightly.
"We'd best try meet up with the others," he said, not letting his touch linger. She watched his hand intently as it fell back to his side. "And we'll see what we can do about that woman going through your stuff. We need to travel light and you need to pack your sketchbooks. Think we can make it through this together, kiddo?"
Table Of Contents
One - Two - Three - Four - Five
Six - Seven - Eight - Nine - Ten
Eleven - Twelve - Thirteen - Fourteen - Fifteen
Sixteen - Seventeen - Eighteen - Nineteen - Twenty
Twenty One - Twenty Two - Twenty Three - Twenty Four - Twenty Five
Twenty Six - Twenty Seven - Twenty Eight - Twenty Nine - Thirty
Thirty One - Thirty Two - Thirty Three - Thirty Four - Thirty Five
Thirty Six - Thirty Seven - Thirty Eight - Thirty Nine - Forty
Author: Rissy James
Characters: Cain, DG, Glitch, Raw (appearances by: Jeb, Tutor, Lavender, Azkadellia, Ahamo)
Pairing: Cain/DG
Rating: 14+ (subject to change)
Summary: The fade to black was merely the blink of an eye. Respite for only seconds. After all, the road is long.
Only Cowards Stay While Traitors Run
When Last We Met: Wyatt Cain waits restlessly in Central City, aware that the only thing anchoring him there is loyalty to DG - and guilt for having run out on her six months before. Patterns of life in Central have been shifting imperceptibly, alerting those who are prepared for change that the inevitable approaches.
Chapter Eight: The Cusp of Obligation
It was the middle of the night when the pounding on his door came. As Wyatt bolted awake, it was his first instinct - done while his eyes were still bleary with the cobwebs of slumber - to reach for his pistol; still buttoned into its holster, merely the touch of the smooth, treated leather calmed him enough to force his legs out of the bed. Leaving the revolver holstered and hanging from the bedstead did little for the hostility he felt toward whomever was still banging on his door, seemingly intent on waking the dead along with everyone else in the palace.
Cain wrenched the door open, but his rage dissipated at the sight of Glitch. Though he'd always been remarkably pale, the man on the other side of the door was a shade of white that Cain could not recall ever encountering before - which was saying something, as just before the fall of Central City, he'd busted a den of vapour addicts who hadn't left Lower Central in more than four annuals.
"Remember the thing?" Glitch said, brushing shoulders with Cain as he barged his way into the room. "The thing? The thing we've been waiting for?"
Growling, Cain closed the door. "What 'thing'? Is Lavender dead or did some idiot in the Sin District start running his mouth off with the wrong people within earshot?"
Glitch blanched, if it were indeed possible. "You're very crass, do you know that?"
"So you've told me," Cain said. "Since you're not tearing a strip off me for disrespecting Lavender, I can assume she's still alive."
"Hopeless, utterly hopeless!"
"Can I go back to bed then?"
"You most certainly may not," Glitch huffed. "We need to make ready to leave. As soon as you're decent." He motioned vaguely at Cain's bare chest and pyjama bottoms.
Cain raised a curious eyebrow. "Leave?"
"As soon as you're decent," Glitch repeated. He remained silent as Cain went into his adjoining bath to dress. His instincts told him to wear his travel clothes; and so it was the worn, familiar garments that he clad himself in, reminding himself of the morning of his departure from home. Already, it had been twelve days; he felt that he'd left the new house by the creek a lifetime ago, and it seemed that his adventures were just beginning.
He emerged from the bathroom, buttoning his cuffs as he went, to find Glitch closing up the windows.
"What's happened?" Cain asked, moving onto the front of his shirt, buttoning it closer to his throat than he normally cared for.
At Cain's impatient glare, Glitch threw up his hands. "Honestly, why is everyone always under the impression I have my nose into everything that happens around here? I just do as I'm bid, you should think about doing the same."
"I thought you were the one that said you were the smartest man in the Zone."
Glitch laughed. "Hardly. It must have been someone else lauding my many talents. They are so very widely known. I once overheard myself being spoken of in an establishment of questionable repute by an Elonian fellow who had the most -"
That, Cain decided, was more than enough. "I'm going back to bed," he said, and pointed at the door. "Fill me in on everything at breakfast, would you?"
"Well, it's no wonder that DG is so bent out of shape about you," Glitch said, his arms crossed impatiently. "What is it that they say about leading a horse to water?" The added smug grin was overkill.
Cain was forced to bite down hard on the tip of his tongue to stop the slur of curses that wanted to come tearing out of his mouth. "Your insights are beginning to bother me," he said instead. He decided that a drastic change in subject was long overdue. "I'm not walking into this blind."
Glitch rolled his eyes. "Were you always this paranoid, Wyatt?"
"Being locked in a lunchbox for near a decade will do that to you. Now what happened?" He settled his stance, making it quite obvious even in the dim light that he wasn't about to move anywhere until he got the answers he wanted. Glitch, for his part, held out for as long as his patience lasted, grimly viewing the imposing figure in front of him as - well, Cain wasn't all too sure; a deterrent, an annoyance, perhaps. No more than two minutes passed before Glitch heaved a sigh of surrender.
"There was an incident at the gate this evening," he said finally.
"What kind of incident?"
"A group of men got into a confrontation with the guards on shift. The details are a little sketchy, but I've heard they were recognized as having served under the Sorceress directly."
Cain felt a familiar clench inside his chest. Longcoats. If there was one consolation to be had, it was that Zero was under lock and key, about as far from the conflict as possible. When it came to her soldiers, the long, long arm of the Sorceress, there were those who had surrendered after the siege on the tower, and those who had not. There were those who stayed loyal to Azkadellia and who now worked to restore the O.Z. as she did, and those who fought against it.
"How many of those deserters do you figure have joined up with the New Resistance, then?" Cain grit his teeth at the thought of former Longcoats swelling the ranks of those who opposed Azkadellia's renewed rule; men who didn't give a damn about the Zone, plotting alongside the rebels simply to see her suffer.
Glitch seemed not to want to give it a thought; if Cain guessed right, then he'd already worked it out in his reassembled brain a long time ago, and cared not to revisit his answer. "Until tonight, it's been mostly speculation about the numbers," he said instead. "If it weren't for scouts like your son, we'd have gathered virtually no intelligence at all."
Cain's breath caught, an involuntary reaction that spoke too loudly of his vulnerability. "Jeb?"
Glitch had the decency to look horrified at his mistake; he faced Cain with all the timidity of a spooked animal. "Did I say your son? I meant -"
Sighing deeply, Cain shook his head, and held up a hand before his friend began stuttering. "It shouldn't surprise me that my boy's got secrets of his own," he said, knowing no one was at fault but himself for being caught off-guard. He was just about done with all the smoke and mirrors. "There anything else you want to tell me, or do you like the taste of your own shoe leather?"
Glitch smiled. "The only benefit is that talking around one's own foot is rather difficult, therefore limiting further errs in speech." There was a definite drip of sarcasm to the words.
"Funny part is you keep trying any way." While Glitch puffed up proudly, Cain could only feel a twinge of annoyance at how far they'd strayed from the trouble at hand. "Now I don't see how a scuffle at the gate is reason enough to drag me out of bed. What went on? With all the people out there -"
"Decent tactical cover; a crowd full of innocent people, and supporters of Lavender besides," Glitch said.
Cain let his head hang, a hand going to his face to cover his eyes. "Was anyone hurt?"
"One of our men was beaten up pretty bad. There were no arrests made; the army has sent their scouts out to find out what they can, but they aren't going to find the culprits once the undercity has swallowed them up. You know that as well as anyone."
"So we smuggle DG out in the middle of the night," Cain muttered; he squeezed his eyes shut, still blocking out all light with his hand. In the darkness behind his eyelids seemed the only place he would ever find peace. "I don't know, Glitch, this all seems a bit hasty to me."
"Lavender has given the order, and Azkadellia upholds it. We have to take her away from here, and she's got no choice but to come with us," he said; he gave a short, disbelieving laugh. "I don't think she'll put up much of a fight."
Cain could have smiled. If there was one assiduous change that had come to affect DG, it was that she always, without fail, listened to her sister.
The stables were located along the northern perimeter of the palace grounds, far placed from the decorative gardens that hugged the southeast section of the gate, farther still from the kitchen gardens on the southwest wall. It was here that she found him. Cain had offered to oversee the packing of the horses, not for the reprieve of Glitch's overtaxed brain but to get as far from the palace as possible while still being where he needed to be. No doubt that it was from the headcase that DG had learned to look for him.
"I was hoping I wouldn't find you here," she said, disappointment clear.
"Then why'd you come lookin'?"
She stopped short; he was standing at the end of the long, cobblestone drive-bay, just inside the wide-open doors. It was near-dark, but there was no dawn in Central City, never had been; the city's interior glow filtered down enough to see marginally well. He was watching two stable-hands saddle and pack their horses, readying them to be transported by trailer to the woods outside the city, as far as vehicle transport could safely take them.
Lingering in the doorway, she didn't turn her head to look at him, but watched the two hands pet and pamper the horses they were burdening. "There is a strange woman in my room right now packing up everything I own," DG said. "Or there was. She and I had words when she tried to touch my sketchpads."
Cain cast a sidelong glance at her, certain she wouldn't make eye contact with him; sure enough, she was too mesmerised by the lamplight catching on the polished saddles, the jingle of clasps and buckles. He kept his mouth shut, though he sure as hell hoped she exaggerated when she said everything.
"I went to see my sister," she said, breaking into his thoughts, "to find out who the old bat was."
Cain braced himself. "And?"
"Az, she... she wants me to go to Finaqua." She spat the words from the back of her throat like sallow bile. "That's why you're here, isn't it?"
He weighted his answer carefully, trying to decide on the safest route; there was making her mad, and then there was hurting her, and then there was letting her down.
"I'm here," he said, "because our friend Ambrose sent me a letter, saying you could use a friend or two, considering. It was mentioned that things could come down to this, much as it pains me to admit that it has. It's all been out of my hands since I got here." He glanced over again to see her standing straight and stiff, her back against the damp early summer air, her front bathed in the soft yellow light spilling out of the stable doors.
"I can't leave my mother," she said, her only excuse that would stand up against obligation.
"The way I understand things, it's your mother's order, not your sister's." He sighed, knowing in his heart that somewhere along the way, he was going to regret telling her. Still. "Just until things calm down around here. If it puts her mind at ease, remember?"
"What about my mind?" she asked , turning her eyes, her entire body, toward him. "No one seems to be wanting to put me at ease, do they? You've been here two weeks, and never once said, 'just a heads up, the rebels might drive us south'. I think that borders on lying to me!"
"No one lied to you. Glitch and the furball have been under the impression you've got enough on your plate as is."
At the far end of the drive-bay, the two stable-hands kept halting their work with obvious pauses, straining to hear. Rolling his eyes, Cain moved away from the wall, and angled himself so as to block the princess from their view. He could do little about the rising edge in her voice, worried more about being overheard than about the tongue-lashing he was about to receive.
"What happened that's bad enough to come to this?" she asked; he could see her disappointment showing through the cracks in her hardened exterior; she wasn't as invulnerable as she tried to be.
"Little loose-lipped, zipperless bird told me there was a tussle at the gate tonight, between security and men they believe are part of the New Resistance," he said, keeping his voice low with the presence of the hands ever on his mind. He watched DG's face for signs of - well, anything, really. Any reaction at all. She only stared at him, waiting for him to continue, never believing that something so small could be shaking up her closed-in world. "It's enough to get your mother and your sister agitated, and it's got us hauled out of our beds at - Glinda's sake, I don't even know what time it is."
"It's a quarter to four," she said automatically. "Did you say 'Glinda'?"
He grimaced, caught. "It's just an expression, kid."
"I can tell that much. I just - I've heard that name before."
"I've no doubt," he said, "with the books you've been reading." 'Sometimes Fabricated but Mostly Accurate', indeed.
"Who is she?"
Wyatt didn't answer right away, how could he? He was in no position to start giving the kid lessons in folk legends. Much to his dismay, she took his silence as cause to start ribbing him. He endured it for seconds only before holding up his hand and near growling at her. "This is the kind of thing you should be asking the mutt about, not me, Princess." He'd meant for that to be the end of it, with a tone of finality and a bite to the last; he should have remembered who he was dealing with.
"I thought we'd covered Tutor's unwillingness to teach me anything but magic," she said, frowning. "Even then, it's more coaching than teaching; it's not exactly swish and flick. Besides, you brought it up. So, who is -"
"Old stories to put children to bed with," he said shortly, "and not worth the time it would take to tell them."
"Humour me. Who is she?"
He looked over her face once, unhappily noting the glimmer of hope - of something - in her eyes, and how easy and natural it could be to humour her if he just let it be. It wasn't exactly encouraging, knowing how much she'd take if he offered her even the slightest inch. Still. "Not is. Maybe not even was. At best, the divine, at worst, a witch. Long gone by your family's time." He glanced over his shoulder, seeing the boys far down the drive-bay taking their sweet time packing up the horses, not knowing the urgency - or maybe, like him, not seeing it. He'd best move on before the questions started again. "Where'd you say the new kid was?"
"Didn't. He's around."
He smiled at her vagueness. Around was a very broad term. "How'd you manage to lose him, then?" he asked.
"I didn't; he followed me down here. I guarantee he's around here - ish," she said.
Cain raised an eyebrow. "Is he."
She finally turned her face to him, a crinkle to her nose. "Are you surprised there is someone who can pull off discreet better than you?"
He snorted. "You got some nerve, kid, I'll give you that much."
"Hardly," she said with a roll of her eyes; she reached up on tiptoes to glance over his shoulder, watching the boys still at work. "If I had the nerve, would they still be shipping me off to Finaqua?"
"Wouldn't exactly call it being shipped off."
She froze. "Then what would you call it?"
Cain chuckled quietly to himself; nope, he wasn't gonna fall for that, no matter if she were straightening slowly to her full, albeit diminutive, height, no matter if she turned her prairie-sky eyes on him to cut him straight to the quick. "Deege, there always comes a time when we've got to put our heads down, take orders just for the sake of it."
"You said you weren't here to take orders."
He smirked. "We aren't talkin' about me, though, are we?"
"No surprise there."
To wipe the unimpressed pout from her face, he tried to be honest. "No one's orders but yours," he said, "I already told you that. And you still haven't told me to leave."
DG shifted uncomfortably, the soft soles of her trainers scuffing quietly against the dirt. "I think after keeping these secrets from me since you got here, you deserve being stuck here."
"Oh, really." He raised an eyebrow. "Well, they weren't my secrets to tell."
She nodded, quite fetching in all her seriousness. "Not to mention leaving me the way you did, which was downright dirty and mean."
She spoke with cold acceptance, and he considered himself chastened, which didn't bring the relief that atonement would - if and when he ever achieved it. He watched her until she became self-aware, and even under the artificial lights of the palace grounds, and the false starlight carried down from the buildings above, he saw her blush.
"Brainless, heartless coward," she mumbled, turning away so that he'd never know if she were smiling or frowning, if her cheeks stayed heated or if the colour faded as quickly as it'd come.
"Begging your pardon," he said, wanting to cut off any more outcries against his character before she got loud enough for the eavesdropping stable-hands to get an earful. "But, speaking of my due punishment, you gonna be ready to ride today?"
Tight-faced, she nodded. "I've been daydreaming about taking off for the last two months," she mumbled monotonously low, so he wondered if he'd heard her right. "I should be excited, but..." She paused, shrugged her shoulders. "I hate this."
He set his jaw firmly against the twinge of sorrow in her voice, seeing more than he cared to in her deep frown, the downward curve of her shoulder; something running through her mind was bogging down her spirit. There was damn little he could do about it, didn't have the time to fret over it, and knew precious little what to say to her besides. Sighing, he nodded his chin toward the palace, reached out to touch her elbow lightly.
"We'd best try meet up with the others," he said, not letting his touch linger. She watched his hand intently as it fell back to his side. "And we'll see what we can do about that woman going through your stuff. We need to travel light and you need to pack your sketchbooks. Think we can make it through this together, kiddo?"
Table Of Contents
One - Two - Three - Four - Five
Six - Seven - Eight - Nine - Ten
Eleven - Twelve - Thirteen - Fourteen - Fifteen
Sixteen - Seventeen - Eighteen - Nineteen - Twenty
Twenty One - Twenty Two - Twenty Three - Twenty Four - Twenty Five
Twenty Six - Twenty Seven - Twenty Eight - Twenty Nine - Thirty
Thirty One - Thirty Two - Thirty Three - Thirty Four - Thirty Five
Thirty Six - Thirty Seven - Thirty Eight - Thirty Nine - Forty