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One of the men began to speak, only to stutter, and settled for pointing him in the direction instead.
Davron found the house easily because Sigrid and Julie played outside with their swords.
“Davron!” cried Sigrid, bounding up to him.
“Is Benoit here?” he asked. “I need to speak with him. It is urgent.”
“He’s inside,” said Julie, sheathing her sword. “Follow me.”
Davron had to nearly bend himself in half to get inside the front door. Upon seeing the lord, Oskar jumped to his feet. Benoit sat at the kitchen table, sharpening a knife with a specialized stone.
“Welcome!” said Oskar. “What brings you to our home? Please, take a seat.”
Davron glanced at the kitchen chairs. They’d snap like twigs if he sat on them. “I will stand, thank you. I need to be brief, if that’s alright.”
“Of course,” said Oskar, beaming. “Anything you like.”
Then, his eyes swept Davron’s undressed injuries, causing his smile to falter.
It seemed the villagers were unaware of the attack on the estate. Davron was glad the raiders did not cause mayhem in the village before invading the castle. One small mercy, at least.
“Benoit, I need you to ride to whichever village in the province has the best healer.” Davron withdrew a drawstring bag from his pocket and dropped it on the table. “Pay them out of this. The rest is for you. The healer will present themselves to the castle immediately, and you are to ride onward to the address written on the parchment in that bag. There is also a note, which you will personally hand to the master at that address.”
Benoit frowned slightly in concentration as he listened to the instructions, then nodded. He tugged open the neck of the bag and peered inside. His brows flew into his hairline.
“These are solid gold coins,” he said, picking one up and weighing it in his palm.
“Go, now,” said Davron. “Please.”
The young man drew the bag closed and stood. “Right away. I will enlist the healer Reylene. She is the best.”
“Is Amelie alright?” asked Sigrid in a small voice.
She and Julie had witnessed the discussion with guarded expressions.
“Yes,” said Davron. “She will be alright. She might be unable to give you those sword lessons after all, though.”
“Will you give them to us?” pressed the little girl.
“If I am around, I certainly will.”
He was disturbed by how easily he’d taken to deceiving without outright lying. He never should have let people near him. Not Amelie, not Sigrid and Julie and Oskar. Nothing good was ever going to come from it.
“I must go,” he said. “And Benoit? Be careful on the roads.”
The young man nodded, already pulling on his boots.
Davron stepped back outside onto the road, his chest heavy. He had one more stop before returning to the castle. And once he had made it, there would be no going back. His fate would be sealed.
He found her at the same ivy-covered cottage where she had lured Amelie. Levissina was waiting for him, of course. She would have known he was in the village the moment he set foot in it. His life force was connected to the sorceress in mysterious and essential ways. She felt him coming as surely as he felt her darkness pulse through his veins at all times.
This connection was how she realized he’d fallen in love with Amelie. As he pushed open the creaky old front door, he wondered if his love for Amelie caused the Dark One injury, or if it merely infuriated her. Perhaps it delighted her. After all, it meant his demise was imminent. Never before had he fallen in love. Her foul patience had finally paid off.
“Hello, Davron,” breathed the Dark One as he stood hunched over in the cramped, dank space.
His stomach, already churning from corpse disposal, lurched at the smell of rot.
Levissina appeared as an opaque black figure. Solid at first glance, but emitting wisps of vapor when she moved. Her face was reminiscent of her former whole and healthy self, but comprised now of charcoal and ash.
