Maró hid his face in his hands and froze. He remained silent far too long, and while the silence weighed on everyone present, Reed stayed calm and waited. It was clear that Maró had to consider everything that had been said, but he would not be able to refuse. First, searching for other paths was a matter of time, and time was always short when planning serious things. Second, Reed himself cut off quick and foolish ways, tirelessly reminding that he had not agreed to the barricades.

  They sat in the already familiar room. Everyone who was interested and had the power to decide the outcome of the conversation had gathered. Reed felt uncomfortable, but it would have been harder had Meredith and her displeased gaze been nearby. She still refused to talk to him, and Reed tried to stay out of her sight because he did not understand how to end this torture.

  Now he sat opposite Maró, surrounded by mages and ordinary kreyghars who cared.

  "You do realize how risky this is?" Maró finally asked.

  "Not as risky as if I went straight in," Reed countered. "It will give me time. I won’t go into the castle without cover."

  "This could cost us."

  "And the other option would cost me. I didn’t agree to die for you. Besides, what’s the point? If I die, no one will pay me. That would be very disappointing."

  "What kind of a man are you?" Tallis asked, interjecting while Maró thought.

  "None at all, darling," he mimicked Tallis's tone snidely. "I’m not a human, in case you haven't noticed."

  "Tallis, please," Maró interrupted her just a moment before another irritating phrase could escape her mouth. The mage turned his gaze back to Reed. "I will try. I’ll do what I can."

  "I only need papers to prove that I served a master. Any master, invented or already dead. Preferably dead."

  "Why?"

  "It’s more realistic," Reed shrugged, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "The master died, and I’m looking for a new home like a proper titled slave. I could even kill some master if it helps."

  Maró's face took on a strange expression somewhere between surprise and disgust. Tallis looked at him with blatant contempt. A whisper went through the hall, making Reed suddenly feel sick. Look at all these righteous people gathered here. As if paying to kill an inconvenient person was perfectly normal as long as it was for the benefit of a caste gifted with elemental powers. Yet here was Reed, a stronghold of immoral cruelty, offering to kill to stay safe at least in some measure. Hypocrites.

  "Don't look at me like that," Reed said, leaning back in his chair. "Serious business requires sacrifices. On the path to your goal, you will lose people, and there is nothing you can do about it. Because an idea is a bloodthirsty, arrogant lady. You will have to sacrifice people, and they better be not someone you care of. It is strange you still don't understand that."

  "Only the advisor must die."

  "Because you say so?" Reed asked. "You decided on advisor, and so it is right, but if I speak of collateral damage, you look at me like I am the incarnation of Haderat. That is only because it was not your decision. So how we’re different here all of a sudden?"

  "Because he kills for the common good, not for money!" Tallis slammed her hand on the table.

  "And did you know that if you wrap shit in silk, it remains shit?" Reed replied. "It doesn't matter why you kill, because murder is always murder. And you’re not the one to judge me for doing your dirty work. You’re a spoiled and insolent brat. It is mostly bloated aristocrats like you who pay me for blood. So, keep that self-important hole under your nose shut."

  "How dare you? You dirty..."

  "Dirty what?" Reed laughed insolently. "Killer? Elf? Bastard? Or you’re gonna come up with something new?"

  "Stop it!" Maró raised his voice and cast a stern look at Reed. "You are crossing the line."

  "Take your commands somewhere warm and dark." Reed spat. "And, while you are thinking about how to get there, I’ll tell you a secret. Want to hear it?"

  Maró bit his lips angrily but did not answer. Tallis sat next to him, flushed red, looking at Reed with hatred. That only amused him. He had long since learned not to react to the hatred and contempt of the kreyghars. Others remained silent, watching the dispute unfold.

  "You cannot ask for respect if you do not know how to respect in return. I am as simple as a copper coin, but I will not kiss your lackeys’ asses."

  "He’s right," another man spoke up. He was so inconspicuous that Reed did not immediately remember his name. It seemed to be Raymund, some rich prick from Bradenmain.

  Tallis grinned smugly at first, but when she realized Raymund had taken the mercenary's side, she turned to him in confusion.

  "Why is that?"

  "He is doing us a favor. This favor is worth even more than he requested. At least because not every mercenary would take such a job. I am certain someone else in his place would have gone to the King to bargain after the first conversation. The elf returned and agreed to help, but he wants to survive, yet you speak as if he owes us something. Everyone wants to survive. Let him kill if it gives him an advantage and safety." Raymund elegantly ignored Tallis’s attempt to intervene and carefully reached for the piece of paper he had been fiddling with.

  "Well, look at that. Isn’t that a glimmer of common sense here?" Reed feigned surprise but gave Raymund a grateful look. "I wouldn't go to the King, of course, but I can still tell you all to go fuck yourselves. So, you either agree to my terms or I'll remind you exactly where you can go."

  The final words were directed at Maró.

  "I won't pay you for other deaths," Maró said.

  "I'll kill the 'master' for free. It’s my cover. My life is at stake."

  "Don't get carried away. Don't forget your main target."

  "The advisor? And what about the king? Or have you changed your mind?" Reed asked, looking Maró straight in the eye.

  "How do you...?"

  "Do I look like an idiot? It’s perfectly clear what's going on."

  Maró pursed his lips, likely calculating who had leaked the true plans. Finally, he waved a hand, giving in.

  "I don't care how you found out. You can leave after the advisor. We only agreed on him. After that, you owe me nothing."

  "Why settle for little when you can take it all?" Reed asked, leaning forward slightly. The question had a subtext, and he was sure Maró understood.

  "With your price tags, I am afraid we will not manage. You are a very greedy mercenary."

  "Why greedy?" Reed acted offended, placing a hand over his heart. "I simply value my skills accordingly."

  "Are you mocking me?"

  "No. I’ll kill both the advisor and the king."

  "You don't care about our wars, do you?"

  "Yeah, I don't give a damn about your wars. But I have a very personal matter with this one. I’m combining business with pleasure. I will kill the king for free, and then you’ll owe me one small favor."

  "If you weren't an elf, you'd be a politician," Raymund noted without malice, while Maró looked away thoughtfully.

  "That's because a thug and a politician aren't much different," Reed countered.

  "Except for the legal grounds."

  "Yet they march in step over people's heads."

  Raymund pursed his lips and spread his hands in silent "it is what it is." Then he looked closely at Reed. It seemed like he had an interesting thought and didn't know how to voice it. Reed scowled, accepting the staring contest.

  "Have you ever been to Bradenmain?" Raymund finally asked cautiously. Maró perked up, and Reed was caught off guard. He opened his mouth but quickly caught himself, giving a vague answer.

  "They don't like my people in Bradenmain."

  "And how do you know?"

  "Do I look like a fool? Of course, I know what you all think of me, but I'm not that stupid." Reed prayed no one would ask leading questions because Maró already looked ready to do something unpleasant. That "something" would blow his hastily constructed legend, but he hadn't agreed to revelations, only to the work.

  "Then how do you know Meredith?" "She’s from Bradenmain after all. Like me, by the way." Raymund acted innocent, as if they were discussing the weather, while Reed rolled his eyes.

  "My heart aches for you, but I didn't realize I'd walked into an interrogation. Why do you care?"

  "Your face looks familiar," the kreyghar looked like he didn’t lie at all. "And that's an interesting tattoo. A wasp, right?" His finger pointed to the collar.

  "Are you asking for trouble, kreyghar?" Reed smiled dangerously, placing a hand on his weapon.

  "Relax, I'm just curious," Raymund raised his hands. Even Tallis was silent, watching with genuine interest as she tried to see the mark on Reed's neck, which now began to itch. Reed wanted to cover the damn wasp tattoo, but he didn't move. Hiding it would only confirm Raymund's words.

  A heavy silence fell. Raymund smiled casually, while Reed looked hostilely at everyone present. He waited for either aggression or accusations, but nothing happened, making the silence more oppressive. Tallis pulled Raymund's sleeve to get his attention. In response to her silent question, the mage nodded, and her eyes widened.

  Then Maró broke the silence.

  "Fine, have it your way. Don't do anything until I'm sure I can get the papers. I'll let you know."

  "Uh-huh."

  Reed stood up, signaling the end. As soon as the door closed behind him, voices were heard. Fragments of words didn't give the whole picture, but Reed lingered to listen. It was Raymund speaking.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  "...It's him. I'm almost certain."

  "And if it isn't?" Tallis asked quietly. "He says he's never been to Bradenmain."

  "And do you believe everything he says?" Maró’s voice drifted out.

  "I wouldn't have said anything in his place either," Raymund grumbled. "My father once told me that the Wasps were hunted for many years. They weren't just some gang of thugs. They were elite killers and thieves. The price for a mark like his was paid in blood."

  "And you think he’s the one who killed him?"

  There was no answer, but Raymund soon spoke again. "My father was ordered to keep quiet about the fact that the real killer had survived. Later, we went to watch the convicts being sent to Belden, and my father pointed the killer out."

  "You were fourteen then," Tallis grumbled skeptically.

  "So what?"

  They exchanged short phrases, while Reed stared ahead in shock. His heart hammered in his chest, and sweat broke out on his forehead. He even went pale. This was the one turn of events he hadn't expected. From the fragments of conversation, it wasn't clear what exactly Raymund’s suspicions were, but the prospect promised trouble. After all, by Reed's grace, more than one grave had been dug in Bradenmain.

  On weak legs, Reed moved toward the exit while sifting through potential escape routes in his mind. To his great shame, he couldn't find a single one.

  ***

  Maró did not bring any good news for two Moons, and Reed was forced to languish in the mage camp without work or entertainment. The only available activity was brewing poisons, and Iris helped him significantly with that. She could obtain the necessary herbs, oils, vials, and many other things that made the task much easier. As a gesture of gratitude, Reed even taught her how to make Astracian, a sleeping potion.

  When the supply of poisons and potions became more than sufficient, Reed grew bored again and occasionally rode into town. He did this not only to unwind but also to avoid thinking about what Raymund suspected him of, and that Meredith refused to speak to him.

  While Reed could ignore the first problem by joking and keeping a low profile, in case with Meredith, he simply didn't know what to say or how to behave, so he preferred avoidance. To ease the sting of loneliness, he spent a couple of nights in a brothel, but upon returning, he still remembered Meredith in the blue dress and the look on her face that night. He didn't want to go back, but Maró could receive information any day and it was better to get the matter moving as soon as possible. Business does not tolerate personal desires or motives, for Reed was not paid for them.

  One night, he had already left his horse in the common stable and gave her a dried apple. He was about to leave when someone called out.

  "How long are you going to keep running from me?"

  Meredith rose from a small bench hidden in the shadows. That was why Reed hadn't noticed her. She looked the same as always, except perhaps slightly displeased. He already understood that the reason for this displeasure was his own behavior.

  "What makes you think I was running?"

  "You stick with Iris, brew your poisons, and run off to the city for several days," she said. She grimaced, and Reed looked away in shame. It was foolish to assume that his visits to the brothel would remain a secret. "And then you come back smelling of cheap perfume. Avoiding me."

  "You were angry."

  "And that suits you?"

  "I don't know what to say to fix it."

  "A simple 'sorry' would have been enough."

  "I didn't insult you, and I have nothing to apologize for," Reed said. "Manners aren't exactly a strength for people like me. And you know that."

  "I didn't deserve that tone, Hector."

  "I know," he sighed, covering his face with his hand. "It was just too much for me. I didn't know how to..."

  "What was too much?"

  "Everything. Maró, his plot, your involvement in this madness, and everything this scheme will entail."

  "I'm sorry I dragged you into this," she said softly. Reed thought he heard tears in her voice, but when she spoke again, her tone was as steady as usual. "It was... wrong. I knew you didn't want to meet me or participate in Maró's business."

  "I came back on my own. I agreed on my own."

  "And you didn't want to see me. Not then and not now."

  "It's not that your company is unpleasant to me."

  "Then what is it?"

  A lump formed in his throat, and Reed couldn't answer. It was too personal question. The answer was so intimate that to say it aloud would be audacity, even for him. Before meeting her again, he didn’t want to cross paths with Meredith because a child shouldn't spend time in the company of a mercenary. Yet now, the reason for avoidance was entirely different. For that same reason, Reed had tried to find comfort in the beds of others, those whose caresses and love could be bought. He simply couldn't tell her that she stirred him more than he could afford to allow. The last serious involvement with a woman had cost Reed ten years of his life, and even though he knew Meredith was nothing like Morioka, he still couldn't permit himself this feeling. For someone like Reed, it was too great a luxury, more than he could ask.

  "Dita, I..." He faltered again, swallowing hard.

  She didn't speak, watching him searchingly, waiting for an answer.

  "Don't ask me about this, please."

  "Is the answer meant to offend me?" she asked softly.

  "Yes," he said quietly.

  Meredith pursed her lips and didn't answer. They stood in silence, each afraid to look at the other. When Reed finally managed to look at her, Meredith was crying. Silently, as she usually did.

  "Ar'rel, don't," Reed said, wincing. Most of all, he didn't want to hurt her.

  "Why are you so cruel to me, Hector? Why do you try so hard to keep me away?"

  "Because the problem is me."

  She nodded and then smiled through the tears.

  "You owe me a promise."

  In response, Reed silently raised an eyebrow.

  "You promised to tell me what ar'rel means."

  "A ray. Ar'rel is the First Ray that Mother sent to earth to dispel the Darkness that Haderat ruled. The First Ray drove him from the world of the living to where he belongs, so that Mother could give life to her children. When elves call someone ar'rel, they put a slightly different meaning into it. That is what my mother called me."

  "You call me such words, but you still keep me at arm's length?"

  He smiled sadly and nodded.

  "I called you that when you were twelve. And there was no love in that word other than friendship. Because this word is not for the love of a man and a woman."

  "I'm not twelve anymore."

  "It doesn't change anything."

  "And you don't care what I think?"

  "I do."

  "I waited so long for you to return. And now that you are back, you are still somewhere far away, and I am still waiting for you," Meredith said, stepping closer. Her hands slid over his shoulders, causing a wave of goosebumps. He wanted to pull away, so that his body and mind would stop betraying him in the moments when Meredith touched him and looked at him as she did then.

  Everything happening was unexpected, misplaced, and painful. He had never thought of her as a woman, so where did this feeling come from? Reed could not allow this to turn into something more. After all, as Reed once realized, beautiful women do not fall in love with mercenaries. He suspected that love would bring him pain, and he tried to crush it in the bud, just as he always did. Even if Meredith would not belong to him as a woman, he had every chance to keep her as a friend. The stakes were too high, and he was not ready to lose her completely for a ghostly chance to gain her love. The only problem Reed did not consider in his reflections was that Meredith already loved him.

  Reed looked away as she approached. Her palm rested on his cheek, preventing him from turning away completely. He could have seen Meredith’s eyes from very close if he had raised his own.

  "You don’t even look at me."

  "Meredith, please," he said, clasping her hands with his own, though he couldn’t take them away from his face. He closed his eyes and whispered, "Don't. Someone might see. What will they say about you then?"

  "I don't care," Meredith said, pressing her forehead against his cheek.

  She gave him a strange look that held something like resentment, and Reed felt her breath on his skin. Then she pressed her lips to the scar on his face. Reed winced as if in pain, squeezing her hands tighter than he should have.

  When Meredith kissed his cheek again, he couldn't hold back. No woman could replace Meredith, make him surrender, fall at her feet, or spark the same madness she did. Reed knew he would regret this. He knew that when the obsession released its grip, he would hate himself for giving her hope, but he did it anyway. He kissed her. The kiss was clumsy and rushed. It tasted of his defeat and her tears. As soon as Reed touched her lips, he lost control.

  Meredith moved awkwardly as if she didn't know what to do, but Reed claimed her lips like the greatest happiness in life, one poised to shatter before he had even begun to savor it. A shiver ran through her body when Reed touched her neck and ran his hand through her hair to deepen the kiss. He didn't care that Meredith might be kissing a man for the first time. Her timid, soft movements evoked only a tremor of tenderness. Reed never would have thought a kiss could call to the heart rather than the body, for there was no lust in his gestures.

  He didn't want to be rough. As his tongue cautiously touched her damp, slightly reddened lips, his heart skipped a beat. And then Reed realized he had made a mistake. He had to force himself to let Meredith go and regain his composure. Only he knew the effort that step required. Breathing heavily, he squeezed his eyes shut, afraid to look at her.

  "I'm sorry," Reed whispered. "I don't know what came over me, Dita. Please, forgive me."

  He looked as if he had committed the greatest crime in the eyes of the Mother and was now waiting for a just punishment. But Meredith wasn't angry. She wasn't crying, and she didn't even intend to scream.

  "Forgive you for what, Hector?"

  "For what I just did."

  "Do you know how many nights I spent dreaming of seeing you again? Do you know in how many people I looked for your features, trying to find at least an echo of the man I saw in you when I was no longer a child? I dreamed of seeing you in a crowd and of you noticing me. I dreamed of you being surprised by how much I’ve grown. I dreamed you would love me because you had loved me deep down for a long time. The memories of you tormented me, but the torment was sweet."

  "You’ve learned to speak beautifully, Dita." Reed finally managed to take her hands away from his face and turned away. He felt ashamed, and that shame mixed with a pleasure that had now taken on bitter undertones.

  "Does what happened and everything I said really not matter to you?"

  "You have no idea how much it does," he exhaled, covering his face with his hand.

  "Then why do you turn away from me when I open my soul to you?"

  "Because I am not the man you dreamed of," he almost hissed, forcing the words out. "I’m no hero. I don't save princesses, and I don't ride into the sunset. I’m a brigand, a hired killer, and you were too young to understand my nature and who I am. I can't live up to your fantasies because they aren't about me."

  "I know you." Tears of pain ran down her cheeks.

  "No, Dita," Reed forced out, agony in his voice. "You don't know me at all."

  "Then let me get to know you again," she said quietly as she moved closer. Reed felt her hands on his waist. She embraced him tightly, and he trembled at her proximity. "Let me know you, Hector. I don't believe you have changed so much."

  "Ten years have passed."

  "I don't care."

  "I'm old enough to be your father."

  "I don't care about that either. You're an elf. You live three times longer."

  "I'm a killer." This reason should have been the final one because Meredith wouldn't be able to ignore a fact like that.

  Instead, she only raised her chin proudly and replied, "I know. You never let me forget it."

  "Because you should never forget it. Dita, I've lived for more than half a century, and I know what an illusion looks like. You don't long for me, but for the man in your fantasies. He has my face, my body, my name, and my voice, even my scent, but he isn't me."

  "Was it not you who saved me from the gallows back then? Did you not care for me? Did you not protect me for so long that I came to believe I meant something to you? And now you cast me out as if I were some whore. You make me feel like a woman offering herself to a man who does not want her. Look at how many excuses you’ve invented. Why did you even come back if my attention is so burdensome to you? Why didn't you say so from the start?"

  Meredith was crying and angry, and Reed did not like making her angry, yet only he could infuriate her quite so successfully. Cruelty was certainly something he had in abundance. But was it really cruelty? Reed was far too afraid of disappointing her, of proving not to be the man she believed him to be. And then she would hate him, and he could not live with the thought of Dita hating him.

  "I'm sorry," Reed said. He was apologizing far too often already, but this was Meredith. You could not hurt her without apologizing. He stepped toward her and placed a hand on her shoulder to offer comfort, but she recoiled sharply and then pushed him in the chest with all her might. Her strength was not enough to cause harm or knock him down. Reed only took a step back, but there was so much despair in the gesture that he began to feel like even more of a scoundrel than the moment he had kissed her.

  Meredith rejected his second attempt to comfort her. Then, she turned abruptly and ran away without another word. Reed remained standing alone in the darkness with a growing sense of self-loathing and regret for everything he had just done. It would have been better if he had kept running from her, better if he hadn't thought of her so often, hadn't taken her with him to Eisen, and hadn't returned to Forfield. It would have been better if he had gone straight to the port and boarded a ship. Better if Meredith had remained in his memory as a child and a friend rather than breaking into his heart as a grown woman, tearing down all the locks and prohibitions he had built for himself. It would have been better if he had never known her at all.

  ***

  Toward noon, Maró summoned all his lackeys and toadies, including Reed. Meredith was also sitting in the common room, though she did not look his way. She was either angry or simply did not want to remind herself of what had happened, and it was likely a bit of both.

  Maró waited until everyone had slithered in before he finally addressed Reed.

  "The papers will be ready in ten days. You will make it in time for the tournament," Maró said.

  "Excellent," Reed muttered. "And who is it that I was lucky to ‘serve’ already?"

  "Lord Danton Villon. He is still alive and quite old. He must die under tragic but very ordinary circumstances before the tournament begins. His loyal bodyguard, who has served him for the last three years, must learn everything written here before the tournament starts."

  Maró tossed a thick folder onto the table right in front of Reed. The pages were filled with large handwriting, so there should be no issues reading them. Now he had to deal with Villon and return to the capital.

  "I am leaving immediately," Reed stated.

  "As you wish. I am not interested in what you do to him. You do not need to report back."

  "Naturally! I’m not taking money for his death, after all."

  With a theatrical bow, Reed headed for the exit without glancing toward Meredith.