Erador spread his arms across the sheets and dangled his knees off the bed. He strained his ears to try and hear the whispers, but was given sounds of the wrung mop and fibers swishing across the floor. Shade was quiet, and paying attention. Erador sat up. The side of the throne was framed in the doorway like a portrait. Pillows were tucked under Judgment’s erect back. He hoped it wouldn’t be his last memory of his father.

  Sescina’s wide frame shifted in front of Judgment. Her hair was tied in a high bun, pins struggling to keep the tight curls in place. She laid her ear on Judgment’s slow rising chest.

  Erador looked around the bedroom. The sunflower wallpaper clashed with the deep pink sheets, but matched the golden-colored dresser across from the bed. Erador couldn’t remember the last time this room was used as its intended purpose, a sitting room. It had been adapted because Judgment didn’t want to be on the fourth floor of the manor in his quarters. Maybe it reminded him too much of what he lost.

  Erador leaned back on his hands. A shelf ran from one corner above the doorway to the other. Wooden animal figurines were spaced in one row on top—another honor to the last Paradins. He looked over the varying heights; the movement painful as he noticed the uneven placing.

  He clenched the comforter and got up. His hands worked as he rearranged the figurines from smallest to largest. Dust floated in the air and tickled his nose. Most he handled with care, reminiscing about his pleasant moments with the Paradins who owned each mark. A few he loathed holding, and some he had no idea who the person was behind the tattoo.

  Erador brushed the dust off the octopus. Footsteps stopped in front of him and a body loomed in his peripheral vision. He was met with Mikra’s blank face through his dark brown curls; the only expression he conveyed. Erador’s stomach churned and he had this urgency to get away, but he tried to ignore it.

  The sleeves of Mikra’s white shirt were to his elbows. Folded clothing was draped on his forearm, near the tattoo of an octopus with its tentacles wrapped around a sunflower. Erador stepped aside to let him in and set the octopus figurine in a new place.

  Drawers opened and closed as Erador grabbed the bat. He sized each carving to find its rightful place and stopped. A duplicate bat was second to the end. He pulled it down. They weighed about the same, but the bats were carved differently. One had spread wings while the other hung from a branch. Duplicate marks hadn’t existed since the Paradins abandoned Lucrethia. Maybe it was left behind.

  He blew the dust off and turned the bats over. Carved into the bottom of both were the initials “CL”.

  Erador’s brow furrowed as he tried to discern the name but only one came to mind. His father didn’t whittle, did he? Maybe the initials were a coincidence. He set them down. Erador stepped back and his chest filled with relief as he examined the proper alignment. A memory of Loma clapping flashed in Erador’s mind as Shade’s hands moved in the same motion on the wall.

  “I’m not taking a bow,” Erador snapped.

  Shade’s fear drowned in and he slipped back into the shadows. Erador leaned against the door frame. In the throne room, Sescina stretched Judgment’s arm. Feet shuffled behind Erador as flecks of dust drifted onto his shoulder. He wiped it off and looked up. Mikra stretched his arms above the door as he rearranged Erador’s hard work.

  Erador’s jaw tensed as Mikra picked a shirt from the dresser and walked past him. Heat rose inside him at the sight of the figurines back in there original place. He tore his gaze away and followed his sights to the throne room and plopped on a bench, allowing the cold marble to extinguish his irritation.

  Sescina patted Judgment’s arm, placed two fingers in her mouth, and whistled sharply. Mikra looked up from the shirt he rested on a table and she ushered him over. She motioned an invisible utensil to her mouth. Mikra grabbed a food tray from the water table. She moved to Erador and took her place next to him.

  “How’s my father?” Erador asked.

  “I've helped his sores to be a bit smaller,” Sescina said. “Let’s hope he eats.”

  Mikra set a tray on an end table beside the throne and picked up a bowl. He spooned broth into Judgment’s mouth. Erador was relieved to see his father eating.

  Yuni sat in the corner on a stool, drinking from a wine glass. His insides curled. Having a new visitor in town should’ve been enjoyable, at least that’s how it used to be. Now, any outsider felt like they were against them―especially a witch.

  “I heard you recommended that witch.” He relaxed his face, but frustration slipped in his voice.

  Sescina straightened. “I did.”

  Her proud tone prickled Erador’s skin. “Why her?”

  “Because she was the only witch who agreed to help Lord Judgment. No one else wants to associate with him.”

  Erador blinked and focused on Sescina’s brown eyes. “That’s the only reason?”

  “No. She was cheap.”

  “Cheap? Really? Yuni made it seem like she was being paid a lot.”

  “Well, our services are included,” Sescina said, gesturing at Mikra. “It’s hard enough to find a witch let alone one that’s skilled with magic.”

  “Oh, I’m sure she’s enjoying the pampering.” Erador glared as Yuni examined her purple nails. “Where did you find her?”

  “Oh… Mikra did outside Morgo Reis. After he told me about her, I recommended her to Judgment.” Her cupped hands tensed in her lap. “She trained under the witch who has the spell we need. I was sure it would be much harder.”

  Erador didn’t see it as fate. It sounded too good to be true. A set up to make his father feel like he was in good hands before he was murdered cleanly and no one would suspect Yuni. Seeing the raw skin on Sescina's palm, he wished his father could be saved. Every time she used her element to heal, her skin was burned. She pulled cloth binding from her bag and wrapped it around her glove that only covered the top part of her hand and tips of her fingers. He never asked why she wore gloves that way, possibly to hide some of the scaring and still use her element.

  Every time he saw her she seemed to have more gray hairs and wrinkles. The stress was getting to her, aging her. Her plump cheeks could no longer fool him into thinking she was younger. While part of him was grateful she helped his father for so long, he wondered if her care was prolonging his suffering. As much as he didn't believe Yuni was honest, part of him wanted her to be. Sescina wouldn’t have to heal Judgment and could get the break she deserved. They all could.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “It might be difficult for Yuni to get that spell. That or...” Erador furrowed his brow as Yuni finished her drink, savoring every last drop. She was as desperate for alcohol as she was for candy, and she only confirmed his assumptions when she licked the inside, but the remaining red wine that coated the glass was thick as paint. “She could be lying.”

  “Erador,” Sescina scowled and let out a sigh. “You haven’t given her a chance. Don’t let your trust issues cloud your judgment.”

  “Can you blame me after the Paradins abandoned my father?”

  “People change.”

  Erador leaned his back on the wall. Fourteen banners hung below the balcony. It was nothing compared to hundreds that used to fill this hall. The emptiness matched the atmosphere of this room. People used to compete to earn a place as a Paradin. No one cared anymore. The marks were pointless now, not as if Erador believed in them to begin with.

  “They gave up on him,” he said.

  “We haven’t and we won’t. You should be thankful someone is willing to help.” Sescina frowned, squeezing his hand. She tried to hide her winch with a smile. But he knew her hands hurt daily. She sacrificed pieces of herself all for his father. Erador wasn’t sure he could have that kind of impact on anyone.

  Erador’s chest weighed as he looked at the broth that dribbled from Judgment’s chin. Mikra wiped it with a cloth. Though Erador didn’t want to admit it, he couldn’t blame the Paradins for leaving. The man who once struck fear in his followers could barely lift a finger.

  “How do you take care of him? I don’t think I could handle it.”

  “He’s bad, yes, but I’ve seen worse.” Sescina looked down and stretched out her apron. The white color had old stains of brown and new spots of red. “As much as I admire Lord Judgment, I have to distance myself at times.”

  “So, that’s why you were mean when I was sick.”

  Her throaty laughter filled the air. “I wasn’t mean. You used to exaggerate for attention.”

  “I didn’t,” Erador protested.

  Sescina smiled. “You were over your ailment when Loma came and snuck you sweets. She spoiled you.”

  Erador grinned. “Maybe a little.”

  “In a way, I don’t blame you,” Sescina said, leaning toward his ear. “Your father was hard on you.”

  Erador’s face dropped. His past crept into him like a storm cloud shadowing the sun. As the cherry root scent and click of boots drifted past him, rays of light cut through the darkness. He looked up. Erador’s gaze followed Haven as she walked to the throne. Her braid dangled past her hips to her dark pants. He rubbed his sweaty palm on his leg and smoothed back his hair.

  A hum rumbled in Sescina’s throat. “I see.”

  “What?” Erador glimpsed at Sescina. Her gaze glued to him, as she rubbed her chin. Cheeks hot, he tugged on his boot laces and re-did the knot, to avoid her prying eyes.

  “Why don’t you tell her?” she said.

  Erador dropped the laces. “She doesn’t want a relationship.”

  He shifted on the bench when Sescina stuck her tongue in her cheek and nodded. She wouldn’t let it go if he didn’t find some reason for her not to.

  “I don’t think she’s interested in me. Not in that way.”

  Sescina nudged him in the side. “But you haven’t given up.”

  “I should.”

  “Don’t,” Sescina said. “If you can wait this long for your father to be cured, you can wait for her.”

  “More like I’ve seen him suffer and he’s going to die.”

  Sescina smacked his cheek. The clap echoed throughout the room, catching everyone’s attention. Erador’s face burned. It wasn’t the pain that got to him, it was the curious faces.

  Sescina waved them off and put a rigid finger in Erador’s face. “We worked hard to find that witch. Yuni will save him. That blood will heal. You won’t give up on him and you won’t give up on her.” Her soft gaze moved to Haven. “She’s the balance you need.”

  “Shade is my balance.” Shade separated from his shadow and nodded. “Haven is... family.”

  Sescina frowned. “You want more than that.”

  “But Haven doesn’t.”

  Sescina shook her head and touched her necklace of an anchor. It wasn’t like her to wear jewelry because she was always working, but maybe it meant something to her.

  “Why not spend an evening together as... friends?” Sescina said. “I’ll cover for you. You both can use a break.”

  “Sescina,” Erador touched her hand. “You work hard enough.”

  “Too late.” Sescina rubbed her upper lip. “She’s coming.”

  Erador’s head shot up. Haven walked toward them and he ducked his head. He mentally cursed Sescina as his leg shook. Pressing his hand into his thigh, he forced it still. Sescina pushed on his back to make him rise.

  He hissed under his breath, “Don’t say anything.” He smoothed his shirt as Haven stopped in front of him. “Haven,” he said in a high pitch.

  “Sescina,” Haven bowed her head at the woman who wiggled her fingers in greeting. Her eyes met Erador, but they were distant. Cold. “You can go, Erador.”

  Sescina kicked his calf and he grunted at the pain. He clenched his fist to keep his face straight. Erador shot a glare over his shoulder as Sescina stretched her arms, her gaze wandering away.

  Haven moved to the throne. Sescina jabbed her finger, mouthing, ‘Stop her’.

  Erador shook his head. “I’ll do it when I want to.”

  “Do what?” Haven said, turning.

  A smile crawled up Sescina’s face. His father’s sipping filled the room. Erador wanted to melt into Shade. Most of all, he wanted to berate Sescina for putting him on the spot.

  Erador cleared his throat and turned around. “Will you spend an evening with me?”

  Haven’s eyebrows drew in. “You mean… No.”

  Erador’s jaw tensed. He knew the answer, but hearing it from her was like a stake to his chest. He gave a stiff nod and glared at Sescina who forced a smile. As Haven moved away, he let out a painful breath. Sescina forced him to face his fears of being rejected by Haven. Erador stomped down the rug, picking up to a jog as feet pounded after him.

  “Wait!” Sescina called. “Erador, I’m sorry.”

  He stopped in front of the door and whirled around. “Don’t push me next time.”

  Sescina frowned and looked to the floor. Erador shoved open the front doors and moved down the steps into the night.