Act One

Chapter Twenty-six

Crumbling Walls

Paden had never realized just how big Hightown was until she tried to run full speed from one end of it to the other. By the time she reached the market square she was gasping for breath and a sharp pain stabbed her side. Her vision blurred, whether from exhaustion or tears she couldn't tell, perhaps it was both.

Her foot caught on the edge of a broken paving stone and she crashed to the ground. She tried to break her fall, throwing her hands out, and was rewarded with a stinging pain as her palms scraped against the rough stone. Her knees hit next, causing her to let out a groan of pain. And then she just laid there, gasping, sobbing, miserable and pathetic.

Not ten seconds later she heard footsteps running over to her, and before she had a chance to see who was there, Anders' voice spoke between gasps for breath.

"Maker, Paden, you run fast!"

Paden pushed herself into a sitting position and saw Anders bent over, hands braced against his knees as he tried to catch his breath. Paden forced her tears back, forced her emotions behind their walls, but it was not easy; this time they were demanding to be set free, but she was still not ready to let them go in front of someone else.

She held her hands up, staring with tear-blurred eyes at the bloody scrapes on her palms. She made no move to get up, feeling too weak and defeated to make the effort.

"You shouldn't run off like that alone," Anders scolded once he had recovered enough. "Hightown at night is not a safe place."

Paden snorted, still staring at her hands. "You think I can't take care of myself?"

"You're strong, Paden, and you have skills," Anders allowed, "But against a mob of Pretenders even you'd be overwhelmed."

"So that's why you chased me all the way across Hightown? To protect me?" Paden said, her tone bitter.

"One of the reasons," Anders said, and then he crouched in front of her and took her bloodied hands in his.

Paden's heart skipped a beat and she glance up at him. He had his eyes closed, his brow furrowed. And then a soft white glow enveloped their hands, and Paden felt healing energy tingle across her palms and into her fingers. A moment later Anders pulled away and Paden looked down at her palms, smooth and whole again. She closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh.

"Thank you," she whispered, feeling her anger ebb away a little more each second that Anders was there. Something about him seemed to have a calming effect on her.

He gave her a smile of acknowledgment, and then rose to his feet, offering her a hand to help her up. She took it, and then they both sat down on the bench under the tree in the middle of the square.

After a moment of silence Paden sighed. "I made of a fool of myself."

Anders chuckled softly. "I won't argue with you there."

"Thanks."

He lifted his hands in a slight shrug.

"Sometimes my brother just gets on my nerves…so…much." Paden stuck her fingers in her hair and leaned on her elbows, clenching her jaw tightly.

Anders said nothing to that, but just watched her closely.

"Maybe Carver is right," Paden said after a few moments. "I'm not cut out for this, Anders. I'm not used to this mercenary work. I grew up a farmer's daughter. The only reason I'm able to do any of this is because of my magic. Without that, though, I'm nothing. Bargaining, diplomacy, fighting…" she shook her head and looked up at him. "I'm just stumbling though the dark with all of it."

Anders gave her a faint smile. "I think you're being a little too hard on yourself. Who hasn't stumbled through life at some point? I'm pretty sure I've done far more stumbling than you have. Paden, you're in a strange land, but you've made a name for yourself. You didn't do that by playing the idiot. You've got a good head on your shoulders, and you have a good plan in the works. No one said it was going to be easy, but I think you're doing what you need to be doing right now."

"Really? You don't think I should just get a job as a waitress or something and bide my time?"

Anders shook his head. "You won't get anywhere that way. Me? I'm biding my time, and it will not end well, I'm sure. Besides, you would never make enough as a waitress to buy back your family's estate—not with the way refugees tip anyway."

"I suppose not," Paden agreed. Then she looked at him. "What do you mean it won't end well for you?"

"Sooner or later I'll be found out. I'm a fugitive, and fugitives can't stay put for long before having to run again."

Paden studied his profile for a moment, feeling a lump rise in her throat. "Anders…you won't…run without telling me, will you?"

He frowned at her, a question in his eyes.

"You won't just suddenly disappear one day, right?" The idea of that possibility squeezed Paden's heart in a grip of fear. In a very short time Anders had become the one rock in her stormy sea of a life, and to have him suddenly gone was not a notion she wanted to entertain.

He gave her a sympathetic look that was in no way reassuring. "Paden…I warned you about getting involved with me. It's not safe, and the only guarantee I can give you is that you will be hurt one day because of me. The knowledge of that kills me a little bit every day."

Paden's chin trembled as she looked down at her hands. "So are you saying you'd rather we part ways right now and never see each other again? That it would be better for us both in the long run?"

After an extended moment she glanced at him, but he refused to look at her, affirming her question with his silence. That caused tears to well in Paden's eyes, but she closed them tightly to keep those tears from falling. She cleared her throat and forced a brave smile.

"Well, that's tough," she said. "I think you're stuck with me for good now."

He obliged her with a soft chuckle. "I suppose there are worse people to be stuck with."

"Like my brother?"

Anders' chuckle deepened. "Is it bad that he was the first one to come to mind?"

"You haven't met my uncle yet," Paden said drily. "I'd rather be stuck with Carver any day."

"Speaking of which, what are you going to do now?" Anders asked, bringing the conversation full circle.

Paden shrugged. "I imagine Carver won't be speaking to me for a while. But give him a couple days and he'll act like it never happened."

"And you think that's the best course of action?"

"It's what's worked for us for a long time. We aren't close enough for anything more than that."

Anders nodded his understanding and made no further comment on the issue.

After an extended but comfortable silence, Paden rested her head against Anders' shoulder and closed her eyes, exhausted. After another moment she felt his strong arm slip around her shoulders, tugging her close. Paden's heart fluttered, but she quickly relaxed in his comfort, deciding to just live in that one, precious moment, as if it was the only one they would ever have.

—

Carver entered Gamlen's apartment, slamming the door shut behind him. He unstrapped his sword from his back and tossed it on the table with a clatter. The noise brought Leandra out of the back room.

"What in the Maker's name is going on out here?" she exclaimed, frowning at her son. "Carver?"

"Nothing," Carver mumbled. "Just had a fight with Paden."

Leandra sighed. "You two, always at each other's throats—a lot more so these days it seems. What was this one about?"

"Nothing important," Carver said as he slumped into a chair by the fireplace.

Leandra sat down in the chair across from him. "If it wasn't important then why were you arguing about it?"

Carver glared at his mother. "You're one to talk. The way you and Gamlen go on, it makes Paden and I look like best friends."

Leandra sat back sharply, as if his words had physically slapped her in the face. Carver noticed and regretted his words, but it was too late to take them back. He rested his head in his hand and closed his eyes.

"You're right," Leandra finally said. "Gamlen and I don't get along well these days. But there's a reason for that. I'm angry with him, for what he did with the will, lying to us like that, and for what he did with the estate. Maybe once we get the estate back I'll be able to forgive him, but for now things will remain as they are between us."

She paused, and Carver could feel her gaze on him.

"Carver, why are you angry with Paden? I know you two have always had some rivalry between you, but this…this is more than that. You're actually angry."

Carver sighed and dropped his hand to the arm of the chair. "We had an argument about a job. Just a difference of opinion. You needn't concern yourself." He stood up to go to the bedroom.

Leandra's voice became stern. "Carver Hawke, you may be a man now, but I am still your mother. I have a right to know what goes on in my children's lives."

"I don't know what good it would do," Carver said, feeling annoyed that his mother just couldn't let him be. "It's not like you could help the situation at all."

Leandra frowned. "I'm not as useless as you think." She stood from her chair and went to Carver, gripping him by the arms gently, she looked up into his face. "You two are all I have left in this world, Carver. And since we came here we've all been drifting apart more than ever. I want to know what's going on with you two."

Carver looked down into his mother's gray eyes, and suddenly he was ten years old again with a skinned knee.

Whenever he had skinned his knee or cut his hand or fell off a horse, his mother had been the only one he could turn to for comfort. The only one in his family who seemed to love him unconditionally. Even his father had expected him to "take it like a man," long before he was ready to be a man. His mother had always been his rock; the shoulder to cry on when he was a boy; the voice of reason when he was a young teen; and even now the hardened nineteen-year-old could not deny those ernest eyes filled with a mother's love.

His shoulders slumped. "She keeps getting us these jobs that don't pan out, and for all our efforts we never get paid."

Leandra frowned. "If you never get paid then how is there eight sovereigns in that expedition fund you've got going?"

"Fine, yes, we've been paid a couple times. But we should have twice that by now. And most of that is from scavenging anyway."

"I don't understand, Carver, you're blaming your sister for not getting paid?"

"I'm blaming her because she picks lousy jobs," Carver said. "And she's taking some of them from Athenril! Can you believe it? I thought she had a little more pride than that."

Leandra squeezed Carver's arms and then sat back down in her chair. "We've all had our pride compromised since coming here," she said softly. "Maker knows I sure have." She looked up at him. "Your sister's doing the best she can, Carver. Don't be so angry with her."

"It's always about her, isn't it?" Carver said. He returned to his chair and sat down, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. "She puts it on herself, you know? She's always got to be the one to get things done. Always has to be the one who makes the big decisions. But she doesn't want to shoulder any of the blame when things go wrong."

"You've always been more than willing to pile it on her shoulders yourself, Carver," Leandra chided.

"Just giving credit where it's due."

Leandra sighed. "Carver, your sister has always looked out for you and Bethany. From the moment you two were born she was so in love with you. She wouldn't let you out of her sight for weeks, and as you grew she was right there beside you, ready to show you the world. In those first few years you and Bethany learned everything from her. You followed her everywhere she went, counted on her protection and guidance. She was practically a hero to you two."

Carver scoffed lightly. "And then the magic happened."

Leandra bit her lip and nodded. "Yes, it's true, your sister's magic did change things. But not over night. It was still many years before you drifted as far apart as you are now. And even now, you still look up to her, you still follow her."

Carver shook his head. "What choice do I really have, Mother? She won't let me have my own life. It's all about her, her magic, about keeping her secret. I can't do anything lest it attract too much attention. And you know what? I think she likes it that way. Anything to stay on top."

"Carver, now that's not fair," Leandra chided gently. "She's been the leader of you three her whole life. And just as a mother will never stop being a mother even when her children are grown and gone, Paden will never stop being your big sister."

Carver felt emotion stick in his throat unexpectedly and he glanced away, swallowing hard.

"Since your father died Paden's taken up a lot of the slack, and I know it hasn't been easy for her. Your father left some pretty big shoes to fill, and I know she's been overwhelmed." She paused and leaned forward, resting a hand on one of his knees. "But you're not a little boy anymore, Carver. You don't need her like you used to. But I know for a fact that she needs you, more than she ever has before. You need each other. You're all you have left."

Carver clenched his jaw tightly as the emotion lodged in his throat grew into an enormous lump that was painful to hold back. He had been holding it back for so long, but finally it was just too much. It broke through, a great sob filled with a year's worth of grief and guilt and bitterness. It sputtered from his mouth unwittingly as he fought to remain in control. But it was too late. The dam had been cracked and would no longer stand before the flood.

More sobs followed the first, and Carver buried his face in his hands, his shoulders hunched, shaking from the force of his grief.

"Mama…I miss Bethany," he gasped.

Leandra left her chair, and in an instant was kneeling in front of her son, her arms slipping around him, rubbing his back gently as he rested his forehead against her shoulder.

"I know," she said, emotion straining her voice as well. "Oh, my sweet Carver, I know you do. So do I…So do I."

Nothing else needed saying as mother and son clung to each other, finally sharing a moment that should have happened a long time ago.

Grief over the loss of his twin had slowly eaten Carver away, until he felt like only a shell of his former self. When Bethany died he had felt hollow, cut in half and gutted, the parts of him that mattered most taken away. Those parts of him were still gone, never to be replaced. Bethany had not been just his sister, she had been part of his soul. When she died part of him had died with her, and learning how to live without her sometimes felt just too hard.

It was easier to pretend it didn't matter. Easier to pretend that he was fine. But he was not fine, and to keep the charade intact the walls had to be built thicker and higher. Blame had to be placed elsewhere; on his sister, and his mother, on Gamlen. To admit his own guilt would be admitting a weakness. To admit any weakness would compromise those carefully constructed walls. Walls from which he would shoot arrows at his family, at his friends, to keep them away, to keep them from seeing inside those walls, from seeing how weak he really was.

As Carver clung to his mother in that moment the walls began to crumble, wounds began to heal. It was not an instant process, and would likely never see completion because he could never be truly whole again. But at least it had finally begun.

—

Author's Note added Jan. 16, 2014: To all my loyal readers, I'm sure you've noticed that I haven't posted a new chapter for a while. This story has unofficially been on hiatus for a few months, as my muse has run off on me, and real life has encroached too much. I haven't said anything until now because I was always hoping I would get a chance to write more any day. But I have finally decided to officially announce this story is on hiatus for an undetermined amount of time. I have to focus on a couple other stories for a while, and once I get them out of my system I'll return to this one. I am very sorry to keep you all hanging like this, but I hope that you will be able to look forward to the day when I'll be adding chapters here again soon. I want to thank each and every one of my readers and betas for supporting me this long, and I look forward to seeing you all again soon. :)