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“I think you should take him with you.”
Joss, who was throwing the last of the dirty laundry in the basket, stood straight up, scowling at Henrik. “I’ve done this countless times. I don’t need help.”
“He can at least help clean his own clothes,” Henrik justified, keeping his voice soft so it wouldn’t travel. “Besides, he’s getting around a lot better. I think getting him out of the house would do him some good.”
Joss grabbed the basket, pressing it against her hip to help carry it back downstairs. She figured the silence between her and Aric since last night had been loud enough for Henrik to take a hint that they didn’t want to be around each other. But at the same time, she couldn’t just assume Henrik would babysit a full-grown man, especially one she made him bring home. Besides, he had his own chores to do, and by the sound of things, wanted to do them in peace like he normally did.
Unable to make a decision, she started down the stairs, Henrik following right behind. As they reached the open room, they found Aric sitting in front of the lit hearth, sewing the last rip in his pants with the thread and needle Henrik provided to him. The pants looked expensive, and while his shirt had been a lost cause, he was trying to salvage the only thing of real value he had left. He was very meticulous about it too, and she couldn’t help but marvel at how easy he made it look, as if this were a regular occurrence. But then she saw Flynn’s clothes he was still wearing with the sleeves rolled up and his own boots on, and she assumed he was fixing his things so he could leave.
Henrik rounded past her, heading straight for Aric. “How’s it coming along?” he asked.
“Almost done,” Aric mumbled, too busy finishing the last stitch before tying it off.
“Well, why not go with Joss to the creek to get it washed?” Henrik advised, side-eyeing Joss who glared back. When he looked back at Aric, he was met with the same exact look.
Aric understood he had overstayed his welcome with the lad and showing that he was improving only made him antsier. He already pegged Henrik as a creature of habit, and while he never gave the impression openly that he wanted him gone, Aric could sense he had disrupted the only control the lad had, which was his routine. It was obvious the others before him didn’t stay this long, so he was the new ground they were treading on.
Looking to Joss, he saw she was being reserved in her annoyance, glancing at him before shifting, her eyes dropping to the basket. She had kept her hair down, which he had grown to like, and despite the awkwardness now, he found himself more drawn to her. He knew he shouldn’t go, that she really didn’t want him there. He only heard bits and pieces of their quiet conversation upstairs, but the tone was loud enough. However, he couldn’t make her clean his clothes. She had done enough; she didn’t need to do his laundry too.
He also hadn’t forgotten the Mask, remembering how easily he entered the cottage. He needed to get his stamina up, and this little trek to whatever creek they were headed to would be good practice.
“Yeah, sure,” Aric finally stated, checking the stitching and finding it would hold. Hoisting himself slowly up, he nodded to Joss who took the cue by opening the front door and waiting for him.
“Actually, you might want to put a cloak on,” she thought out loud, turning towards the armoire.
“I’ll be all right,” he said, stopping her. “I tend to run hot, anyways.”
The excuse seemed to suffice, and when Aric limped to her, he handed her the pants when she stretched her hand out, silently asking for them. Stepping out into the fresh air, Aric admired the yard he had stared at from the window, hearing Joss closing the door before following him.
Those first few minutes were quiet, both eventually falling into step next to each other as Joss led him past the barn to a little trail that wound into the overgrown brush. The thick trees provided shade against the late morning, the storm passing overhead with another bellowing in the distance.
The calm before the storm, Aric thought as he admired the rolling dark clouds.
The sun suddenly beat against his face as they entered an open field, and he shielded his eyes briefly with his hand as he scanned the greenery, dotted with wildflowers. It was a peaceful sight, one that made the uncomfortable silence between them less stifling. The only sounds around them were the crunching of wet grass under their boots and the birds chatting in all directions. A cricket chirped as they moved by, and Aric felt himself smile a bit, taking in a deep breath of the fresh, clean air.
Joss, however, trudged along next to him, trying to figure out what to say. He would be leaving soon, and she didn’t want to not have a last conversation with him. At least they could part amicably, a sharp contrast compared to all the other men who left before him.
“So... no more questions?” Joss asked softly, finding it was the only thing she could think of to say.
Aric grimaced, partly due to the aches in his muscles that were beginning to press into him. “I think I’ve pried enough,” he stated offhandedly. Deep down, he was afraid she’d start asking about his past, but a small part of him was also afraid she wouldn’t. He couldn’t tell her the truth—he made up his mind about that—but he kind of wanted her to want to know him. The fact she didn’t pry was unnerving.
Joss nodded, respecting his silence.
“Unless you’re up for one more?”
She glanced at him and was met with a small smile. She smiled back, his cue to proceed.
“What would you be doing if you weren’t the town executioner?” He couldn’t help himself to ask, figuring that maybe he could keep the conversation innocent this time. Silence seemed to only hurt him, given how busy she often made herself. Light conversation was the better alternative.
Joss thought about it. “I’d be a farmer,” she answered promptly.
“I was sure you’d say a nurse or something.”
“I’d still do that on the side.” She smiled slyly at him. “But I’d rather be growing things instead of burying them. If I had it my way, I’d grow enough food and herbs to help feed the infirmaries so people would have the nutrition and medicine needed to get better. Maybe even help stop these food rationings.”
“Very noble,” Aric commented, knowing the only way he’d be a farmer was if someone chained him to a barn. Despite liking her company, he did miss the city life, the bustling personalities and easy work.
“Do you like being a messenger?” she asked, readjusting the basket to carry it better.
Aric thought it was a safe question. “Yeah, it has its perks.”
“Like...?” she pressed, curious now.
Aric couldn’t help but smile, glancing at her as she kept pace with him. “Well, I get to meet a lot of interesting people,” he thought out loud, realizing that he wasn’t exactly lying. “I’m also able to travel and see new things. My job isn’t very stagnant.”
“Sounds rather adventurous,” she commented, seeing they were reaching the end of the field. A line of blackberry bushes stood guard underneath the tangle of trees that rose lazily overhead.
Aric couldn’t deny his job could be, largely when retreating from the deeds without being caught. That thought raised the image of the Mask, causing an unsettling feeling to wash over him as they entered under the shade of the trees. He followed as Joss found a small trail that wound tightly around the blackberry brush, the thorny vines trying to grab hold of their clothes.
“Have you ever stopped an execution before?” Aric asked, being careful to sound nonchalant instead of suspicious.
Joss was taken aback by the question until she remembered the story she told him about Henrik. “No, I personally haven’t. I’d suffer my own consequences if I did.”
“Really?” he questioned.
“Like I said, executioners have their own rules to follow. Prohibiting an execution would lead to serious disciplinary action, and depending on how bad the objection was, that would decide the gravity of my punishment. There have been executioners who have tried helping and even rescuing the criminals, and they themselves were met with the noose.”
So it would be a serious offense, Aric thought, relieved. Joss would have to perform the execution no matter what, which meant he wouldn’t have to intervene after all. They’d both live.
As if the news had cleared his head, he heard the movement of water trickling into the air, and in those last few steps they cleared the blackberry bushes and found the creek. It was wide and lazy, slipping past the smooth rocks that lined across the way in random spots, making a jagged bridge if one wanted to cross.
Joss hopped down from the dirt embankment onto one of the rocks, the basket causing her to teeter a bit before she found her footing. Setting the basket down, she dug around for the soap she packed, the scent of lemon and lavender lingering in the air. Grabbing one of Henrik’s shirts, she caught Aric out of the corner of her eye, finding he was surveying the scene with his hands on his hips.
“Want to explore a bit?” she offered, finding he had that same look in his eye Drakon would get after being cooped up too long in his stall. He needed to stretch his legs, to regain a sense of himself that had been stagnant, since he was obviously the type who didn’t like to stay in one spot for too long.
“Don’t you need help?” he asked, knowing he needed to stay despite wanting to roam.
“I’ll get a head start on this,” she assured him. “Go look around. It’ll do you some good.”
Smiling, Aric took the invitation and began his way across the creek by use of the stone path. He was slow at first, testing out his leg until he realized the aches were livable and that if he pushed himself he’d be just fine.
Making it to the other side, he looked back at Joss, who had knelt down and started scrubbing one of the shirts with the soap. “I’ll be right back,” he told her, and after she acknowledged him, he carefully climbed the embankment and made his way past the thick brush. Snaking around bushes and fallen limbs, he found he had stumbled into the woods, the trees closing in and creating splotches of sunlight on the dirt that hadn’t been overrun by foliage. He meandered until he came next to a tree, having to rest against it when his side ached.
He didn’t hear the footsteps, or the breaking of any twigs or rustling of leaves. All he felt was the sudden blade against his back, the presence of someone right behind that he had subconsciously been expecting.
“This is your reminder,” a voice hissed behind him, a tad muffled. “His death will take place tomorrow at 10 o’clock in the courtyard of Town Hall. The servant’s door will be open to allow you entrance. The first closet on the left holds your quiver and arrows. Make sure the execution goes through without interruptions. If not, you won’t be the only one we visit next time.”
This wasn’t the voice of the Mask, Aric realized, his hands automatically up. He shifted, monitoring where the blade was when the man pressed the tip of it harder in warning.
“I need you to give your leader a message for me,” Aric stated, something in him growing protective. “No matter what happens tomorrow, he leaves the woman and her friend alone. He only deals with me.”
“Or what?” the man asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.
“Or this will happen...”
Immediately, Aric twisted around, using his arm to knock the blade away while his other hand grabbed the man’s wrist. Before the attacker could react, Aric had both his hands on the man’s grip, using his momentum to pull the attacker’s arm back, who growled inside his own mask. The sharp move caused him to release the blade into Aric’s care, and in one quick swipe, Aric used the man’s own knife to slit the side of his neck. His shoulder and leg twitched in pain from the sudden movements, and Aric released the man, watching as he stumbled backwards, groaning and grabbing his neck, the blood oozing in between his fingers. Realizing the wound was deep, the stranger turned and staggered away at an awkward run, disappearing into the undergrowth.
Aric knew the man wouldn’t make it that far. His years of being a professional had taught him to cut just enough to not risk hitting an artery, but he knew he had been clumsy, paying more attention to eliminating a threat than sending a warning.
Oh well, he thought with a sigh. If the man died and the Mask or his henchman found him, that would be a clear enough message.
Seeing the blood dripping from the blade and splatter against his hand, he checked his apparel, heaving a thankful sigh when he saw the blood somehow missed it. Holding the knife away, he hurried back to the creek, hoping there had only been one attacker. Something in him pushed him along, a sense of urgency in case he was wrong.
Approaching the embankment, he came to the last of the bushes and saw that Joss was still there, rubbing his pants with the soap before dunking them into the creek. The basket was already filled with folded but wet clothes, ready to go back. He felt his shoulders relax until she looked up and saw him before he had a chance to clean himself up.
“Have fun out there?” she called out.
Thankfully for the bushes, she didn’t see the knife still in his hand. He casually smiled, dropping the blade into the undergrowth. “Quite the adventure,” he replied, keeping his body turned as he made his way down the embankment to the water’s edge, favoring his leg that was beginning to ache more from all the excitement.
Joss dropped her gaze, too busy trying to finish the last of the clothes so she could get them hung in front of the hearth. She smelled rain in the air, and not wanting to take the chance had planned out how to dry their clothes. As she worked, she couldn’t help but admire the stitching, seeing up close how clean the lines were.
Aric swallowed hard as he watched her. He stepped onto the first rock, and then the second. It was halfway across the creek that the idea came to him. Quickly, he pretended to slip, falling on his other knee to save the wound on his leg and flinging his torso against the current. He went a little too far though, submerging his upper half more than intended. When he pushed himself up, he was drenched, his blonde hair smeared across his face as the shirt clung to his body. He looked at his hands as if to make sure he was okay, but really he was checking for the remnants of blood. Some of it was still there, so he wiped and flung his hands as if regaining his bearings.
Sitting on his heels, he pulled his hair back out of his face. That’s when he noticed Joss and he did a double take, his smile of achievement turning into slight embarrassment.
She was already on her feet, wading ankle deep into the creek to help him. She had stopped, wide-eyed, watching to make sure he was okay.
Feeling guilty yet flattered, Aric tried to brush it off with a wider smile. “Trying to save me again, eh?” he teased.
“It seems you’re the type that keeps needing to be saved,” she quipped back, wading back to the rock where his pants had been dropped.
Aric didn’t lose his smile as he made his way back, making sure not to trip and stumble for real. Standing on the shoreline, he found she had finished, his pants now folded in the basket with the rest.
“I’m sorry I made you clean those. I didn’t realize you’d be done so soon,” he said, knowing he should have stayed to help despite the little voice saying earlier that they were being followed.
“It’s not a big deal,” Joss replied, hoisting the basket up. She didn’t want to admit that she had hurried, working faster than normal in case she needed to go find and help him.
The weight of the wet clothes was evident as she carried it back against her hip. While she didn’t ask for help, Aric couldn’t stand back and watch this time.
“We can both carry it,” he pointed out, taking the basket from her and setting it down.
“That’s not necessary,” Joss rebutted, but Aric shushed her.
“I have a whole other arm that can be used and that fall did nothing to my leg. Here, I can help,” he replied, grabbing one of the handles.
Joss’s eyebrows knitted together as she watched, but seeing his reasoning, she gave in and grabbed the other handle.
“See? We make a good team,” he heard himself say. Swallowing hard, he hoped he wouldn’t let anything else slip out.
“Only when you can stay on your feet,” Joss remarked, a sly smile forming that caused Aric to laugh.
As they made their way to the field, they fell into step together, the basket swinging slightly between them as they kept the same pace, the silence now comfortable between them. It came subtly, that sense of familiarity, as if he could feel himself doing this for years to come.
No, you have to say goodbye, he reasoned. He wouldn’t just leave like the others, though, or like all the times he’d done it himself. He’d thank her and say wonderful things to her, true things. But then he’d leave and go back to where he was meant to be. And maybe one day, when he was old and needed a quiet life, he would come back and find her here, needing the same type of company.
That would be their love story.
He could live with that. He told himself he could as he faintly remembered the man he had stabbed in the woods, who would be running back to his superior unless he had already died from blood loss.
