Chapter 28 - The Next Mourning (Patreon)

I woke up peacefully with a smile for the first time in years.

The sunlight through the window was gentle, warm, and just bright enough to nudge me into consciousness. For a few blissful moments, I simply existed—my body wrapped in tangled sheets, the soft scent of last night lingering in the air, and the warmth of someone beside me.

Then self-consciousness began to creep in, a flutter of embarrassment as I realized the state I was in.

My dress shirt clung to me, half buttoned and sticking to my skin. It was the only thing I still wore from the night before besides my underwear. Some clothes were scattered around the room. My skin felt gross yet oddly cozy.

To my left, Christopher snored softly into his pillow. Besides a pair of long pants, he was mostly nude. His well-toned body looked distractingly inviting. The warmth from where he’d been pressed against me still lingered on my side. I could smell his faintly sweet and musky skin, sending a flutter through my chest.

I wanted to stay there, soaking in the feeling, but embarrassment burned behind my eyes.

Have to get up sometime. I told myself as regret washed over me. And I’m so happy my horns didn’t stab him on accident.

The details of last night, after the kiss on the bed, were vivid in my mind, playing over and over again like an embarrassing play.

I should have washed beforehand. I thought, crossing my legs. He moved too fast…not that I minded…

For a heartbeat, I let myself bask in it. Someone wanted me. Someone had said they loved me. To me!

I peeked at Christopher’s mouth and quickly looked away as my cheeks reddened.

Completely weak to compliments and touching. I grumbled internally, sinking into the bed. Thankfully, we didn’t do the whole thing. I actually didn’t get to do anything. It’s…

Even my own brain struggled to rationalize last night. At the start of the day, I thought I was an ugly monster. By the end, I realized I was beautiful, and the person I’d been pining over told me he loved me, then treated me like a dessert.

I grabbed the nearest pillow and smothered it into my face, stifling a scream. The last thing I wanted was for Christopher to wake up. I needed time to myself to let everything settle within.

“You’re not quiet at all,” said Christopher.

I removed my head from the pillow and stared at him. His eyes were still closed, but he had a smile on his face and his mouth was partially open.

“How long?” I asked.

“As soon as you woke up, I woke up,” answered Christopher.

“…did you peek?”

Christopher opened his eyes and stared at me. “The whole time.”

I grabbed the pillow, tucked it into my body, buried my face into it, and stared at Christopher with half-closed eyes laced with unease. “You should have said something.”

“But I couldn’t say anything. I was too busy admiring you. You were so cute.”

“Shut up…”

“Took everything I had not to finish what we started.” He rolled over until his face rested on the other side of my pillow. “But I’ll be patient. Some other time. Promise.”

I didn’t say anything but buried my face deeper into the pillow.

“Cute.”

“I’m not,” I grumbled.

Christopher pushed the pillow down until my face was visible. I tried to fight him, but he pressed his face closer before I could snap it back in place.

“Absolutely adorable,” cooed Christopher. His voice was silky and warm.

The closer he got, the more my heartbeat picked up.

Slyly, he removed the soft barrier between us and tossed it behind him to the floor. It landed with a slight thump, which rang loud in a room silent save for scattered breaths.

I stared at his face, biting my lip, my heart hammering. A thousand thoughts whirled in my head, none of them settling. Eventually, my pessimism won out in the end, like it always did.

“…do you regret it?” I couldn’t help but ask, even with the breakthrough I’d had the previous night.

“You? Never,” he said without hesitation. “You’re like a rainstorm in a drought. A torch in a pitch black cave. A gust of wind in a suffocating fog.”

“Poetic.”

Christopher’s hand moved to my hip, sending electricity down my side. He scooched closer, his eyes never leaving me. “I’m a man of many talents.”

“You certainly love to talk.”

“Strengthens the tongue.”

“Sh-Shut up!” I squealed, pushing him as a flashback ran across my head.

Christopher playfully caught my wrists and moved them around his neck, using my reaction to drive us closer. “I’m sorry. Teasing you’s too fun.”

“Keep doing that and you’ll sleep alone from now on,” I grumbled.

“After only one night? No one would be that cruel,” he jested. “I deserve at least two.”

“Fine. Two more, then never again.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“I can’t change your mind?”

“Don’t think so,” I said in a soft voice.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

The atmosphere was tense with expectation the more we talked. Gradually, our bodies grew closer and closer. Each time we spoke, the words grew softer, their undertones deepening.

Then we kissed.

No alcohol involved. No miscommunication. No embarrassment.

It was probably going to happen sooner or later. I decided to let go of any reservations I had. Why not now?

Slowly, Christopher rolled me over until he was on top of me, the entire weight of his body pressing down. The pressure felt nice, even though he was heavier than I expected.

We broke apart to breathe.

“Are you okay?” asked Christopher.

Embarrassed, I looked to the side. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded, eyes closed and cheeks red. “It’s okay.” I frowned. My eyes popped back, and I looked at Christopher. “Are you sure you want to?”

“Want to what?” He seemed genuinely confused.

“Sleep with a devil,” I said bluntly. “I’m sure there have been others, but you’re a prince, and I’m—”

“One of the best people I’ve ever known,” interruped Christopher. “No one’s had a greater impact on my life than you besides my mother.”

“Ah…”

“And there haven’t been others,” muttered Christopher, embarrassed.

“Really?!”

His face soured. “Why so shocked?”

“I just…expected…maybe Gabby at some point…or someone in Camden…”

“Never Gabby,” confirmed Christopher instantly. “And no one else.”

“Never?”

“Before I got the Crest of Kings, everyone ignored me. When I did get it, people were desperate to get close to me. Not because of who I was but because of my potential,” said Christopher. “I’ve had five genuine relationships in my life. Three of them are dead. All I have is you and Gabby.”

“Maybe we should bring her in here,” I joked. The conversation was getting too serious, and humor was my backup for dealing with anything real.

“Maybe some other time.”

I slapped Christopher in the chest.

“What?” He leaned closer, smiling. “You’re the one bringing up other people. The only one I want is right in front of me.”

Shit.

I reached forward and pulled Christopher down into me.

We started to move, and our fervor grew. I felt his—

Bang! Bang! Bang! The door rattled. “Your Highness? Are you awake?” a voice called from the other side.

Christopher and I froze.

“Maybe he’ll go away,” said Christopher.

We waited.

Bang! Bang! Bang! The man knocked again. “I have an important message! Are you awake? Are you decent?”

“Dammit,” cursed Christopher.

We waited again.

This time, the door swung wide open, and a young man nearly tripped coming in—Atticus, if I remembered right. His hair was sticking up wildly, and he seemed to be staring very intently at the floor.

“Your Highness, I—” Atticus looked up, saw Christopher over me, my body tangled in the sheets, and froze. “Oh.”

“How urgent is this?” asked Christopher curtly.

“Exceedingly so,” Atticus squeaked, his head dipping instantly to the floor as his face burned red. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise. Baron Thorpe requested you. Something urgent. Won’t tell me what.”

“Fuck!” Christopher rolled off me. “Wait outside. I’ll be out shortly.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Atticus responded, dipping his head.

“Oh, Atticus,” I called.

The man stopped. Shuddering, he looked over his shoulder at me.

“Speak of this and I will peel you like a fruit and feed your barely-living corpse to a monster,” I said with a perfect smile on my face. It didn’t reach my eyes, which were wide and unblinking as I bore them into Atticus’s first.

“O-OF COURSE!” squealed Atticus as he fled the room. “I SAW AND KNOW NOTHING!”

Christopher and I were left alone.

“I will finish whatever this is as soon as humanly possible,” said Christopher as he rummaged around the room for new clothes.

I pulled the bedsheet far up to my neck. “Want me to come with?”

“No. Stay right there.” Christopher pointed at me seriously, a pair of boots in his hands. “I will be back.”

“Oh. You will?” I grimaced. “Mood’s kind of ruined, isn’t it? What’s the point?”

“Careful now. Atticus might die if that’s true,” joked Christopher—or, at least, I thought it was a joke.

“Depends how fast you are,” I admitted, matching his tone.

“Hopefully quick enough.” Christopher finished putting on his boots. His entire outfit was new and complete. He traced over to my side of the bed and kissed me. “I will see you shortly.”

I watched him move the door. His hands were on the handle. Just as he was about to open it—

“Christopher,” I called.

Christopher turned back to me wordlessly.

“Come back soon.” I lifted the bed sheet. While he was getting dressed, I’d…relieved myself of my remaining attire. “I’ll be waiting.”

The look of pain that flashed across Christopher’s face was immeasurable as he stared at my body.

I let the sheet flap back down as I grabbed the corner and held it tight against my chin. I can’t believe I did that.

Christopher didn’t move. Not an inch. It looked like all the energy had drained from his body.

“Have fun!” I waved, not bothering to offer a second peek.

“Someone better be fucking dead,” groaned Christopher as he exited and slammed the door.

I rested my head on my pillow. My horns lightly scratched the bed frame as I did, agitating me, causing me to move slightly. 

“Was I too bold?” I wondered, suddenly so embarrassed that my legs and arms started to tremble. I slapped both hands over my mouth. “Will he think less of me? It looked like he liked it, but I don’t want to…I don’t even know what I want.”

Exhausted, I rolled over. In my haste, I neglected my horns once more and popped a pillow.

“Dammit.” I yanked it off my horn and tossed it across the room. Feathers flew out of the scar I etched across its fabric, swarming like a blizzard in the morning light. “How did I not stab him in my sleep?”

Usually, I wore soft leather sleeves over them that I had Harkin make. I’d ruined too many sheets, clothes, and furniture to not do something about it. It was a whole day of measuring and crafting until I had my horn sheathes, basically. Usually, I put them on before I went to sleep, but it was the last thing on my mind the prior night. 

Thankfully, that pushed me out of my feelings and got me out of bed. I trotted around the room, twirling, pacing, and leaping as boredom slowly trickled into me. 

“Wonder what the Baron wanted?” I muttered. “Must have been important if he didn’t tell Atticus.” I puffed out my cheeks and crossed my arms over my chest. “He should have just brought me along. Is this going to be a thing now? Him leaving me behind to do work?”

In that moment, I made it my personal goal not to let this happen again. If it had happened yesterday, before the stuff between us arose, he would have brought me along. 

“It better not be male protectionist bullshit,” I grumbled. “I’m so much stronger than him. I swear, if it’s that, nothing’s happening today.”

Soon, I stopped making sense. As time went on and my boredom increased, I began to mutter to myself even more. I wouldn’t even remember most of it within the hour. It was just ramblings to pass the time.

But soon, my patience hit its threshold.

“It’s already been over an hour. Where are you?” I walked over to the window and looked outside. There was no commotion, screaming, or changes. No fires off in the distance. No dead bodies in the street. Nothing. “What did the Baron want?”

Part of me wanted to leap out the window and walk around. I wasn’t someone who liked to sit still for too long. The other part of me, shamefully, wanted to stay behind like a good girl so I could be praised and pampered. 

“Focus!” I slapped myself across the face as those weak thoughts, accompanied by admittedly dirty ones, began overwhelming my sense of independence. “You are a reincarnated archdevil with white eyes. You are not some pathetic, boring person who pines over me,” I told myself, pepping myself up. “You’ve probably dated loads of people before. You just can’t remember them. Don’t let this affect you! Do what you want!”

I felt like I wasn’t making much sense, but it all felt good to say out loud for some reason.

Minutes later, I was lying on the bed posing.

“Should I do this?” I asked myself, rolling over to my stomach and kicking my legs, still very much naked. “He comes in. Bam! There I am. Vulnerable. Bored. Playful.”

I smashed my head down into the pillow in front of me.

“This shit is taking too long,” I muttered, fed up. “I’m going to find him. If I stay here any longer, I’ll get even weirder than I already am.”

I hesitated initially, wondering if Christopher would be proud of me for waiting, then rolled my eyes at myself. I am not going to become that kind of person.

Opening my codex, I tore out a page and dropped it onto the bed while I stood up. A stack of clothes appeared from the fabric, releasing my adventuring clothes. 

I put on the pants first. They were tight, long leather pants with stylistic belts hugging my legs and waist. The leather was cool and stiff at first, then softened with each stretch. In the front, two belts stopped short of my belly, framing the toned ‘V’ I’d earned through years of exercise.

For a top, I wore a tight shirt that covered my chest and arms, leaving my midriff bare for a breeze. The soft fabric slid smoothly over my skin, making me feel powerful and eye-catching. Overtop, a cropped jacket—mostly just two puffy sleeves and a hood tied at my neck—settled around my arms and shoulders. I tightened belts in key places throughout my tops, feeling the click and tug as they locked into place, before turning to the mirror.

The point of the outfit was to show off my Mark of Enslavement…which was gone…

I quickly changed immediately into a hoodie, sighing as I stared at myself in the mirror. “Fantastic.” I gave myself a thumbs-up. “I guess I’m pretty, huh?” I said, twirling. “Ass looks great in these pants still. Too bad about the top.” I pumped my fists. “Everything’s fine.”

For a split second, I was dangerously close to feeling confident. That was new, and frankly, terrifying. 

I made myself move before I started overthinking again.

I went to open the door and walk out but paused before my fingers touched the handle. “Probably shouldn’t go out this way,” I realized, turning around and heading toward the window.

I slid the glass and wood frame open and let the morning breeze, cool and bracing, hit my face. My hair bounced around my temples and horns. Christopher would probably say something about ‘using the door like a normal person.’ But what’s the fun in that?

I swung my legs out, feeling the rush of air, and dropped to the ground.

Before my feet touched the ground, I summoned a rush of wind that swirled around my ankles, holding me aloft for a half-second. The sensation was exhilarating—weightless and powerful. My boots hit the dirt with barely a sound. 

A few people glanced in my direction.

I froze.

No one hates you. Remember? Just smile and act nice.

I put on the sweetest grin I could muster and waved. “Sorry about that! Haha…did I scare you? My bad.”

“Oh. Not at all,” one passerby said.

No one else spoke. They merely glanced at me for another second before continuing with their day.

Absolute indifference. I realized. Has it always been like this?

“That was so fucking cool,” I heard someone whisper a little ways away. His eyes darted to me briefly as he chatted with his friend. “Can you do that?”

“No idea, and I’m not going to try it,” his buddy whispered back as they headed further into town. “There’s always someone better.”

I couldn’t help but beam.

I was basically humming as I walked back into Beginner’s Rest and sat at the counter, right behind Gabby, who was serving a customer. 

The inn was already alive with noise and the smell of hot bread and something frying in oil. Voices rose and fell around the bar, boots scuffed against the floor, and sunlight painted shifting squares on the tables. 

I slid onto a stool at the bar counter, just as Gabby handed drinks to a pair of travelers. They disappeared into the morning crowd, leaving Gabby to drop her head onto the bar with a dramatic sigh. “I’m so tired! Got like five hours of sleep…where are Bruno and Tannin at?!

“Want me to take over?” I said, leaning over until my head was as near to Gabby as I could get. 

“Gah!” Gabby lifted her head, recoiled, and slammed her back into the bar. “Why do you always do that?!”

“Tradition!” I slammed my fist on the table, then dramatically pointed at Gabby. 

She blinked. “You’re cheerful today. Seriously, who are you and what have you done to my gloomy friend?” Suddenly, her memories from the night before returned all at once as her work died down. She bounded forward until our noses nearly touched. Both her hands slammed into the counter. “What happened with you two?!”

I was forced to reel back to avoid our heads butting. “Nothing.” I grinned coyly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Cut the crap. I am part of the reason you even get to smile today.” Gabby jabbed her finger into my cheek. She actually looked a little pissed. “Spill.”

I contained myself for one more second before leaning forward. “Fine!” I said, too eager to share. 

At the end of my recounting, Gabby and I held hands, squealing. A couple of regulars glanced over at the end of the bar, staring, trying not to stare at the two of us losing our minds. I caught their eye, shrugged, and squeezed Gabby’s hand tighter. 

“Do you think you’ll make things formal?” asked Gabby.

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “Depends on him.”

“That guy has talked about you nonstop for years now. All dreamy and whiny.” She let me go, clasped her hands, and put them beside her face as she dramatically mocked Christopher. “I wonder what she’s doing? Do you think she’ll like this? Gabby, what should I say to her? Blah, blah, blah!” She dropped the act and crashed her elbow down onto the bar. “It was cute at first, but after a while, I just kept thinking either you’ll both die alone or finally speak and never leave a room for a month. Do you know how hard it was to have you both whine about each other to me and me say nothing?”

“You should have said something,” I suggested.

“You would have ignored more or claimed I was lying. Christopher would have tried to do something, second-guessed himself, and given up before coming back to me with a full-length report on his failure. You’re both perfect for each other in your abilities to not make decisions. Congrats!” She pursed her lips. “Then again, you two have many reasons not to trust people, so I understand. It’s kind of why I think you’ll work out. Similar backgrounds. Similar hardships. You just need to talk.”

“That’d be nice,” I admitted, taking in everything Gabby said. “You saw him leave, right?”

“A while ago. He went out with Atticus. It looked urgent.”

“Did you see where?”

“I don’t pay attention to anything as soon as that door closes,” admitted Gabby. “Sorry. He did look nervous, though.”

“Atticus?”

“Him too, but I meant Christopher. They both looked worried.”

I frowned. “Then Christopher should have come back and gotten me.”

“Men are like that when they have something to protect,” Gabby told me. 

I moved off the bar and walked away. “I don’t need protecting,” I said as I exited the inn.

As soon as the doors shut behind me, a cold, uneasy feeling started to creep in. Worry began to fill my mind. What is happening?

I walked to the back of Beginner’s Rest to where the Baron’s party was staying.

It was surprisingly empty.

The guards who were normally out front since they moved in weren’t there. Because of that, it was easy for me to get inside. Even when I arrived, there were very few people from the convoy—perhaps one or two moving about with frantic looks on their faces. They didn’t bother to look at me and only ran away faster when I called out to them.

Everything felt disturbingly empty. There were no guards, no aides—only silence and stillness in place deprived of order.

A knot tightened in my stomach. Something was definitely wrong.

Should head into town. I thought. Look around.

Doing that didn’t answer any of my questions, either.

Everything looked fine. Too fine. Children played. Vendors argued over prices. The world kept moving like nothing had happened.

So why does my chest feel so tight? Why do I keep scanning rooftops like something is about to drop? I thought as I stood in the street with my hand on my hip, eyes scanning everywhere with a frown.

I wanted to ask someone, just grab them and demand answers. But I stopped myself. Twenty-four hours of confidence weren’t enough to erase nearly half a decade of wariness. 

“I can just talk to my parents,” I said, spinning on my heel and marching toward their shop. “They’re more social than me. Everyone likes them. They’ll have heard something.”

A few moments later, I was there.

A large sign with the words “Spice,” simple and boring, sat right at the front of the store. The naming was left up to Quintin, and it didn’t hurt business. It bothered me a little, though.

When I stepped through the door, I was instantly smacked with the pungent, roasted, and dried smells of the world.

My mother, Amalia, sat behind a counter watching my father, Quintin, pry open a crate of product in the back.

“Is that Dr. Bink’s order?” wondered my mother.

“It is,” my father confirmed, looking inside.

“Then you should have brought it straight to him instead of back here. You’ll just have to lug it back out again.”

“We’re closer, and he could use the exercise,” complained my father. “He—oh, Yen!”

Amalia turned to me at his words. “Oh, my baby! How good to see you!” She crossed around the counter to hug me. “To what do we owe the honor?”

“You make it sound like I don’t stop by much,” I muttered, embarrassed.

“Once a month, maybe?” said Quintin. He walked over and pat my head. His finger smoothly rubbed the spot between my horns. “If we’re lucky.”

“I’m…busy.”

“Not busy enough not to have dinner when we’re in walking distance,” grumbled Amalia. “What do you need?”

“What makes you think I need—”

“Is it about the boy?” muttered Quintin.

“His name is Christopher,” I retorted.

“I know who he is.” Quintin stared at me. “You still like him?”

“L-Like him?!” I sputtered. “I—That’s—Not—” I stopped. Took a breath. “Okay. Maybe.” I didn’t plan on talking about that, but it slipped out. Honestly, I was excited to tell anyone who would ask.

Mom gave me a soft, knowing look that made me feel like I was five again. “Then we’re happy for you, sweetie. You can like whoever you want.”

Quintin ‘tsked’ and adverted his gaze, clearly not expecting an honest answer. “We’ll have to have him for dinner sometime then,” he muttered, walking off and trying to make himself look busy.

“But you’ve already met Christopher a bunch of times,” I mumbled, equally awkward.

“Yeah, but this is different now. Gotta put him straight.”

“U-Uh huh...”

My mom watched me with a knowing smile that made me want to vanish. “Don’t mind your father, dear,” said Amalia. “What’d yah stop by for?”

“Right. Have you all heard any weird rumors or noticed anything strange today?” I asked.

“What for?”

“Christopher seemed worried this morning, and parts of the Baron’s party are missing. I can’t find anyone, but there’s nothing obvious happening out in town. Given the store’s position, I thought maybe you all would know.” I paused. “And it was a good excuse to check in on you both.”

“It’s been a peaceful day. Nothing’s wrong. Sales are a bit slow,” said Amalia.

“Nothing by the port either,” added Quintin, much more serious now. “You need help?”

“No, it’s probably nothing. Just wanted to check in and keep you guys up to date. You never know.” I headed for the door. “Send someone for me if you hear or see anything. Don’t take risks.”

I didn’t wait for an answer as I pressed back into the sunlit streets of Sandy Branch.

If they haven’t heard anything, I haven’t seen anything, and there are no signs of distress in any of the major parts of town, then whatever’s happening is a contained tragedy at best. I decided based on the available evidence. But it doesn’t mean that nothing’s happening. Christopher’s nowhere to be seen. His aides aren’t around doing their work. The Baron’s people are absent from the inn. Something is wrong.

The port was quiet. The inn was empty. The streets were fine. That left one place: the stables. Specifically, on the side where the Baron and his people came in. The carriages, the guards, the place they first arrived. If something happened, it happened there. It was the last place with any direct connection to the Baron where there wouldn’t be significant public interest, at least not right away.

And so, I had my next destination in mind.

As soon as I arrived on the scene, I was greeted by a small crowd of adventurers and nearly all of the Baron’s people. A hush hung over the place, as if no one dared speak aloud or mention what they were all looking at. Even the guards looked pale.

Ah. There’s Christopher. I spotted his blonde hair deep amongst the crowd. Slowly, I made my way through the people and guards until I was just over his shoulder. “What’s going on?”

Christopher flinched slightly and peeked over his shoulder. Once he confirmed it was me, he relaxed, but his face was still stern and etched with worry. “Look.” He gestured forward.

My gaze left him and drifted toward the carriages the Baron and his people brought in.

Multiple guards surrounded one carriage in particular.

My teeth clenched together.

Jerome—the Baron’s guard from the dinner the night before—was crammed into the carriage like a discarded doll. His arms hung slack. His throat had been opened clean. Blood soaked the floor and spilled onto the cobblestone in steady drops.

The smell hit me a second later—metallic, sharp, and wrong.

It wasn’t just a random death.

It wasn’t even just a murder.

It was a message.