Young Writers Society

"Evidently not." Tomhas rubbed at his eyes, wincing. "Can we talk about something else? I'm sorry, I just...I need to think about other things. Anything at all."

Ky nodded.

She stepped back and sank down in the chair next to him, opposite Sera.

What else was there to talk about? The subject of the war seemed fraught with emotions, so she didn’t want to bring that up, either. And everything else felt trite.

"Where do you come from, Ky?" Sera asked after a long silence. "Before all this, I mean."

"The South," Ky murmured, welcoming the distraction and hoping Loquitur did, too. "In a tiny, tiny township by the Coast. With my Papa."

"Ah." Sera nodded encouragingly. "What was the town like?"

Ky smiled, thinking about her home. "Amazing."

It hit her a moment later. The homesickness. The fact that it'd been stripped from her. That she could never go back. She sobered.

"There were only a handful of families -- maybe 50 -- 100 people in total." Ky wrapped her arms around her waist. "Mostly farmers. We had a blacksmith and a baker and a butcher and an apothecary... everyone else farmed... well, my Papa did, until he got hurt. Then he became the basket weaver for the town." She sighed softly. Life had been so lovely back then. So simple. "But I took care of our farm... well... as much as I could, anyway. I was only twelve when I got taken. But I took care of our horse and chickens and the pig and the garden... couldn't do much else back then."

"Tomhas was a farmer for a little while," Sera said. "Right, Tomhas?" Tomhas nodded.
"I told her that. It was just for a few years, though. I probably wasn't as good at it as you were, Ky."

"I wasn't very good at it, either," she admitted with a smile. "Everyone else did enough that they could go to the next town over and sell things and make money to bring back and buy the things they needed. I couldn't do that. We just traded people for some of Papa's baskets, and then I'd do chores for people in exchange for things we needed -- preserved meat, tools, things of the sort."

She was silent for another moment, thinking back to all the wonderful people she'd "helped" in town. In retrospect, she was a tiny child. She didn't do enough to earn all the things they freely shared with her.

"They were very generous," she murmured. "Everyone in town, that is. I was very small. I didn't do enough to earn everything they gave us -- but they let me believe I did, in the moment. Let me think I was taking care of my Papa."

"Then you were taking care of him in your own way," Tomhas pointed out. "And you were helping him just by being there, I'm sure."

She nodded.

Then the guilt wrapped around her gut, snaking through her tight chest again.

"Yes," she murmured, voice barely audible.

She was the reason he was dead now. He'd become so depressed when she was taken that he took his own life. She'd found out about it when Aleth took her -- he'd been trying to get power over her Papa to make her behave, and uncovered the fact he was dead. That she was alone. All because she hadn't fought hard enough to get away from the slavers. Hadn't tried hard enough to escape.

"I hear he was very sad when I left." She blinked back tears, hoping they didn't notice, since they weren't springing free or creeping into her voice. "Very sad."

(Conversations with protagonists are always landmines, huh?)

"Did Aleth tell you that?" Tomhas asked warily. There was a chance, then, wasn't there, that he was lying? That her real father lived?

(haha they really are)

She shook her head, focusing on the table.

"No... he tried to bring my papa to his house, to prove to me he knew who my papa was and where he lived, so that I'd behave." She furrowed her brow, pain stabbing through her chest. "But he couldn't find him, so he brought Mr. Myrond instead... he was the butcher... and the town official... and... and... Talia's papa." That part wasn't relevant, she realized after she said it. "And... he told me that Papa... he..." She shook her head again, chest tight. "He was just too sad to bear it." She sniffled. "Mr. Myrond wouldn't lie about something like that. My papa is..." Her lip trembled. "I wish I would have tried harder to get away... maybe then..." She let out a sharp breath, closing her eyes. There was no point in maybes. "I didn't. And he couldn't stand it. And..." She swallowed hard. "I suppose neither of us took the separation well."

"I'm sorry," Sera said quietly. "I didn't mean to bring up a sore spot."
"We're all riddled with sore spots," Tomhas said with a self-mocking smile. "You're bound to hit one eventually, Sera."

"It's okay." Ky shook herself, forcing herself to take a deep breath and snap out of it. "I shouldn't have..." Trauma-dumped. "It's fine. I've known for more than a year. And now Aleth can't hurt Mr. Myrond anymore. Aleth had threatened him, instead, when he couldn't use my papa."

She was silent for a long moment.

"At least, I hope he can't." She took a shaky breath. "He said if I ever ran away -- even if I didn't go home -- then he'd send people to hurt Mr. Myrond... and he said that he'd already paid someone to avenge his death, whenever it happened, so if I killed him then I'd... I'd..."

A horrifying thought struck her.

"Oh, gods, I have to get away from your family," she said suddenly, panicked. She'd forgotten that removing Aleth would put her -- and everyone she loved -- in even more danger. Instead of having Aleth coming after her, she'd have trained assassins. Who would stop at nothing to do what they'd been paid to do. And who wouldn't care who they hurt along the way. "Before anyone realizes he's dead. Tadaaki and I have to go. Before someone comes to-- to-- we can't draw them to your Keep. I'll go."

"I'll take care of it," Tomhas said grimly. "Gaius will, too. Nobody's going to come after you and Tadaaki, and Tadaaki's family is safe. If anyone tries, we have ways of dealing with them. I promise."