Page 8 of Ruby & Onyx

Amelia took over the local school after Mrs. Whitehurst succumbed to the blight that swept town two years ago – the same sickness that stole my mother. She has that sort of soothing, gentle manner that calms even the rowdiest of children, making her a perfect fit for the school. She even looks the part with a tight bun knotted at the nape of her neck, kind eyes, modest clothing, and tiny, birdlike features.

At one point, I thought that we could be friends. I liked her energy. Plus, if I have to put up with Tana, it would be nice to have someone like Amelia around to mellow her out. But she never opened up to me, so I shoved that thought down so deep that I couldn’t feel the sting of rejection. I don’t blame her though, who would want to be friends with the loner lurking on the outskirts of the village?

Tana looks like she might explode with excitement as she says, “Do you know that trader from Alium? Paul, I think.”

Even though she’s looking at Amelia and not me, my heart nearly stops at the mention of Paul’s name. I’ve been racking my brain to make sense of his words yesterday.

The time for your homecoming nears.

Your seat shall be returned to you.

The nations will bow to you.

Return!

Who in the name of the gods was he talking to? What was he talking about? I can’t piece it all together. And why is Tana asking about him now?

Amelia shrugs.

“Paul?” The name has been ringing in my head for so many hours that I question whether or not I said it aloud. “I saw him yesterday. Why do you ask?”

“I heard reports that a guard found him dead last night. A knife plunged straight through his heart. The poor, poor soul. From what I heard, his face was frozen in a state of shock. His hands left grasping at the dagger buried in his chest.” She acts out the motions as she speaks, theatrically plunging an invisible dagger into her chest and falling to the ground.

Amelia bashfully raises a hand to her mouth to cover her laughter in an ‘I shouldn’t be laughing, but it’s too funny not to’ kind of way. I, on the other hand, couldn’t be further from laughing.

Is it possible that we’re thinking of two different people? I saw Paul, the grouchy coffee trader, in the market only twenty-four hours ago, so it couldn’t be him.

No, no, no.

Why would anybody harm him? Sure, the man is a grouch, but was he capable of offending someone so badly that they stabbed him?

When the two are done giggling, apparently unbothered by the gruesome news, Tana returns to her feet. Before she can steady herself, I ask, “Was he robbed?”

“That’s the thing,” Tana answers. “Both Joliah and Troyen say that they saw him in the market, alive, last night around sunset. And then, before the sun fell below the ground, a guard found him dead. Nobody saw a thing in between. Joliah and Troyen were taken in for questioning, but apparently, they were as dumbfounded as everyone else. Only a ghost could have done it!”

“How is that possible? There’s no way that someone could walk in and stab the man through his heart completely undetected,” Amelia says with more sarcasm than empathy, making me question whether the nice school teacher persona is just an act.

“True, but maybe the killer, or killers, hid in plain sight and waited until nobody was around before finally striking.” She looks far too excited to be discussing death. “Do you think one of those prowlers did it?”

She’s voicing my greatest fear and doesn’t even know it. I can hardly breathe, and my heart is pounding like my soul is trying to escape from my body.

“No! There’s no way someone could penetrate the barrier, much less reach the market, stab a vendor, and escape without a single person noticing. And, like I told you yesterday, the person that I saw in the woods exploded into bits the second he touched the barrier. Anyone with half of a brain would stay far away after seeing that. Even if they tried, they would be nothing more than a pile of ash right now.” I’m not sure if I said this to reassure Tana or myself.

“Oh, who knows! We could speculate all day, but where would that get us? I deal in facts, not conjecture,” she says.

I cough to cover the laugh bubbling up in my throat. That couldn’t be further from the truth, given the number of times I’ve listened to her spin theories and weave tales about even the most mundane events.

The conversation shifts suddenly when Amelia exclaims, “Tana! Rupe is over there in the corner. Should I speak to him?” A flirtatious smile spreads across her face as she waves at a red-haired boy standing near the fountain. Tana turns to Amelia to whisper something in her ear, leaving me out of the loop and snickering at whatever it is. The two of them walk in the other direction without saying goodbye.

A pang in my chest reminds me that I do mind being excluded. It’s always been this way with them, though. I try to swallow the rejection and refocus on my intention for coming here – the feast – but my mind is spinning too wildly and spoiling my appetite.

Rather than force down unwanted food, I decide to pocket a few things that will carry well and call it a day. I peek over both shoulders to make sure that nobody’s looking, and once I see an opening, I stuff some grapes, potatoes, and a loaf of bread into my satchel.

Could I pocket the stuffed mutton without it ruining my dress? No, I would leave a trail of meat juice that leads from this table all the way back to my cottage. Instead, I reach out toward the oranges but stop when I hear Lady Lora’s voice booming over the crowd. Everyone turns their attention to the center of the garden, and I use the opportunity to nab a couple more mangoes and a sliver of rum cake.

Every year, Lady Lora spends over an hour rambling on about the blessings from the gods, our thankfulness for future prosperity, and on and on…

“Thank you all for coming today.” Her voice is amplified by magic and echoes through the garden. Only Lady Lora and Lord Myles are capable of magic, and any sign of its use quickly grabs attention. “Today, we honor Manka, our God of Life and Death.”

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