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Aric sank into the tub, sighing and groaning as the water welcomed him. He hung his head back on the rim, letting the heat take him, enjoying the way it cocooned his body in peace.
He tried to relax, but all his mind kept doing was drift back to the woman on the other side of the door. The way she offered to help him into the bath, all reserved and gracious until he slipped his clothes off, seeing that familiar hunger in her eyes he had seen dozens of times before. He always liked seeing that look on a woman’s face, but on Joss it was a look he had wanted to see, would have begged for if he believed in divine intervention. And when he saw it, that flicker just before she excused herself to give him his privacy, he couldn’t stop reminiscing about it.
You’re curious too, he thought to her as he closed his eyes, smiling at all their possibilities. He knew he couldn’t act on it, but that didn’t mean his fantasies couldn’t run wild. They could have had a great love affair, he admitted, if only under different circumstances; his current circumstance being a masked psychopath that even he had never encountered before this last job.
Eventually sitting back up, Aric rested his arms on the edges of the tub, examining the full complexity of his wounds. There were still bruises and cuts, some on the mend while others took their time, and his two worst injuries were sore but healing nicely, thanks to the clean stitches and whatever salve Joss had been applying. He had had stitches before, always in a hurry to be rid of them. But these ones he wanted to keep just a little longer, for reasons only his heart knew and his mind couldn’t fathom.
It has to be the tea, he reasoned, wondering if whatever medicine she mixed in his drink had softened him. Maybe there was some truth behind her sister’s damnation. It would have been easy to follow those rumors to explain his own predicament, but deep down he knew the truth; he liked Joss and he wasn’t supposed to, and that had made the situation even more appealing for his deranged heart that had never known such things.
His eyes wandered back to the door, to the stool sitting next to it and the towel and fresh clothes she had laid out, replacing his own that were gathered to be washed. He already assumed these were one of her brother’s clothes, and the memories of their tale made him wince. He felt suffocated, until he realized it was simply the steam of the water and his choking thoughts. Shaking his head, he knew the answer to this scene even before it could become his problem.
“I can’t have you,” he whispered, speaking intimately to her without her even being there. It was meant to be a final decision, drawing a line he wouldn’t cross. But as he sank down into the warm water again, he realized that despite making up his mind, his feelings hadn’t changed at all.
On the other side of the door, Joss had made herself busy. Dishes were cleaned, clothes collected to be washed, and Aric’s bed changed without his gaze and words interfering. Staying busy reminded her that he was a guest, putting distance between her and someone who would be leaving once ready. He would get on with his life and she would need to step aside, allowing her small part to end.
By the time she finished, Joss found he was still in the tub and Henrik wasn’t back yet. Listening to the way he sighed and how the water sloshed, she waited for sounds that would reveal he was getting out—or at least that he was ready, in case he needed help—but nothing came.
Heaving a sigh, Joss shook her head at herself, knowing she was being too attentive. She had always kept a watchful eye on the others, but at this point in their progress she knew when to back off and let them do things on their own. Normally she wouldn’t eavesdrop, standing there in the room’s silence and hoping to catch a sound that would tell her what he was doing.
Absentmindedly, she rubbed the back of her neck before pulling herself away, meandering to the shelves and eyeing the spines of the books. Scanning them over, her gaze wandered to the desk, and she couldn’t help but imagine Aric’s reaction upon seeing the pardon replies. She wanted to believe he had been shocked but not horrified, that it wouldn’t scare him away entirely. However, part of her knew that was too good to be true. Everyone left; he’d be no exception. He was just being courteous, something she admired and missed, not often coming across someone with those traits.
As she stared, her mind looped back to the pardons; of the king and kingdom that was the bane of her family’s existence.
“Thank you for the clothes.”
Joss snapped awake, finding Aric standing in the doorway of the water closet. Flynn’s shirt was a little baggy on him, making the pants he tried on earlier and wore now look more form-fitting. She faced him head on, smiling in satisfaction after she assessed his clothes. “Of course,” she replied, trying to ignore the way his wet hair looked after he had attempted to dry it. The way it draped against his shoulder, part of it framing his face, was an attractive sight that would have made her catch her breath if she hadn’t caught herself beforehand.
There was a pause, both of them wondering if the other would speak up first. As Joss was about to ask how he was feeling, Aric commented, “I’m sorry again about the desk. About everything.”
Joss noticed their previous conversation playing in his eyes. “No need to be.” She brushed off his words, pulling herself away to retrieve the salve and bandages. She heard the slow patter of Aric’s feet as he approached the hearth, drawn to its warmth.
“Those pardons,” he was saying as he moved. “Is that the only way to free yourself from all this?”
“So far, yes,” she replied, grabbing the right jar with the strips of cloth draped over her shoulder. Turning, she saw Aric teetering where he stood. Knowing he had overexerted himself, she came to his side, directing him to one of the plush chairs facing the hearth. Grabbing a nearby blanket, she decided to check the more awkward wound first. “I know you just got dressed, but I’m going to need you to pull your pants down so I can rebandage that wound.” She extended the blanket to him so he could still keep his modesty while she could keep her attention elsewhere and not humiliate herself again. She knew she blushed when helping him in the water closet, and she wasn’t about to repeat that mistake.
He smiled at the blanket, knowing full well what it meant. As he shimmied the pants down, Joss turned her back to him, fiddling with the jar in the firelight.
“What if your brother comes back?” he asked as he worked, breathing heavily as he managed to complete the task and sit down, the blanket wrapped around him.
“Then he’d be the executioner and I’d attend to things here,” she replied, peeking over her shoulder to find he was decent again. Pulling a nearby stool over, she helped prop his leg up.
“Wouldn’t that be good enough?” Aric asked, watching as she bent down on her knees next to him. He rested his hands across his lap, hoping he wouldn’t embarrass himself.
“Well, I wouldn’t have to kill anyone anymore,” she said as she looked the stitches over. “But I wouldn’t get to live either. This would still be an executioner household. If he were sick or died first, I’d have to take up the ax again in his place.”
Aric hummed in thought, realizing there really was no freedom unless the king allowed it. “Or you’d have to marry one,” he blurted out, realizing what he said when Joss looked at him questioningly.
“Or that, yes,” she confirmed, confused that he mentioned it but too busy making sure his wound wasn’t infected to linger on his words for long.
Cursing at himself, Aric needed to change the subject fast. “So,” he started, “I’ve heard your story, but what’s the story behind Henrik?”
“Henrik Vanzant.” Joss grinned as she spread the salve over his wound. “He was a street urchin when we met. He got pulled into some schemes by a few other orphans who had formed a gang for themselves. It was more out of protection, but that didn’t mean they didn’t get into trouble.”
“I’m assuming it was thievery,” Aric assumed, knowing most children living on the streets had to resort to it.
“As always,” Joss confirmed, setting the jar down and pulling a cloth still hanging across her shoulder. As she wound the bandage around Aric’s leg, she continued. “They were all sentenced to hang, but my father could tell Henrik wasn’t the ringleader. He was too young, too scared.”
“His hand probably didn’t help either,” Aric mumbled. When he saw that he had caught Joss’s attention, he clarified, “He showed it to me.”
Joss nodded, wondering why Henrik would have taken his glove off, something he never did. “He actually uses it pretty well. Most times I forget about it.”
Aric cleared his throat, feeling sheepish he had mentioned it. “So your father saved him, I take it?”
“He had a change of heart just when he put the noose around Henrik’s neck,” Joss replied as she tied off the bandage. “He told the council publicly right there that if they spared Henrik’s life, he’d take him in and see to it that he’d change his ways. Because of his age, they figured he’d have a better chance at redemption than the others, so they agreed. My father had me pull the noose off him and take him down to stand with us. I held his hand as he watched his friends being hanged.” She remembered she had held his cleft hand, recalling how surprisingly strong his grip was when he flinched in fear after the lever was pulled.
“How old was he?” Aric asked curiously.
“Seven,” she said as she grabbed the jar and hoisted herself to her feet.
Seven. The word echoed into Aric’s brain, rattling him as he realized that even those keeping the law didn’t take pity on anyone.
“You can go ahead and pull your pants up,” Joss instructed as she turned to face the hearth, using a bandage to wipe off the extra salve still smeared on her fingers.
Aric did what he was told. “Seems you both have dark pasts,” he commented as he finished. He knew the shoulder was next, and so without being told, he pulled the shirt gently off his arm so it slung sideways across his chest, exposing his arm, shoulder, and part of his torso.
Joss felt the weight of those words, and as she turned back around, they seemed to anchor her down when she could have easily become allured by Aric’s appearance. “A lot of people have it worse,” she reasoned, grabbing a chair this time to sit next to him while she examined his shoulder.
He watched her intently, looking for any signs of the mutual attraction he saw earlier. He succumbed to his fate when he found she was hiding it well this time, knowing it was for the best but still unable to dismiss the pinch of disappointment.
“I know executioner bloodlines that have gone extinct for the same type of things my family went through. When that happens, their roles are usually appointed to someone else or bestowed upon a criminal seeking pardon. Often those types of executioners are killed for committing crimes themselves. So my past, and even Henrik’s past, isn’t different from others around here.”
Aric blinked at her but didn’t say anything. He could only stare as she inspected his shoulder, keeping her head down from his gaze as she checked the wound and then applied the salve. So she didn’t want pity, he understood, knowing exactly how that felt, which is why he never disclosed anything about himself. He had his own past, but it had been so long since he thought of it that most of the details were gone.
“The difference is that these other people aren’t you,” he said, causing her to gaze up at him. Up close he saw the gold flecks in her honey-colored eyes, and he stammered when he caught himself wanting to lean closer. “Or Henrik, for that matter. No one in their right mind would be so kind if they had your past.”
“Kindness isn’t hard,” Joss retorted as she set the jar down again, grabbing a bandage and beginning to wrap the wound.
“Oh, it is,” he breathed out with more sincerity than even he realized. “Hate is so much easier. But kindness? That takes courage.”
Joss wound the bandage, stealing a glance at Aric, whose eyes wandered to the hearth. The firelight caught the green and gray colors, enriching their hues, and she had to rewrap a section after staring at him for too long.
“Staying also takes courage,” he admitted. “How they leave says a lot about them.”
Joss slowly stopped wrapping, holding her place as she stared at him. Knowingly, Aric faced her, and she could see he was talking about her brother.
“He was just scared,” she whispered, trapped in his gray-green gaze.
“He ran when it was easy. You stayed when it was hard. That says a lot about the both of you,” Aric reasoned, looking at her pointedly.
She wanted to believe him. She wanted him to keep talking, to keep telling her things that were sweet and felt good. She especially wanted him to keep looking at her in the way that he did, his eyes softening in compassion, his attention fully on her and not what she was. But when the front door jolted open and a dripping-wet Henrik appeared, it was like a cold rush of reality had entered the room. Startled, she looked from Henrik to Aric, watching as he leaned back, pulling his fixation away from her.
“That took so much longer than necessary,” Henrik was griping, closing the door and hanging the cloak against the doorknob of the armoire, only to reveal the cloak hadn’t done much to protect him from the storm. “I need to go change again,” he mumbled as he departed, stalking up the stairs.
Joss finished wrapping Aric’s shoulder, working in silence as she tied the ends off. Seeing that he continued to stare into the flames, Joss quietly grabbed the supplies and stood to put them up. She listened for any movement, any more words that would draw her back into conversation.
Unfortunately, there were none. Aric was too caught up in keeping to himself, realizing he was getting too attached despite what he had decided back in the tub. He needed to back off, to not get involved so much, to stop asking so many questions and care about the answers. There was an intimacy there that was intimidating, and he hadn’t realized it until Henrik came in and shook him from the trance.
Joss, however, didn’t see the conflict in his stony gaze nor the racing thoughts that were all about her. All she saw was that he had withdrawn, not needing or wanting her company anymore. Something about Henrik interrupting them had somehow embarrassed or awakened him, it seemed, and she knew that trying to spark up a conversation would be pointless. Coming to terms with his decision, Joss left the room to make sure Henrik had something dry to wear, all while leaving Aric alone in his shame of knowing he was falling for her.
