Sophie

When the house finally settles, I wave away the flames licking at the candle wicks, plunging my room into darkness.

I find it strange to feel so uncomfortable in my own home. This cottage is supposed to be my solace from the outside world. A place where my mother and I can live in peace and not have to worry about anyone invading it.

With the presence of the man sleeping downstairs, I know I’ll get no rest this evening. How can I when a stranger like him could be lurking about the moment my eyes shut?

He was quiet when I rolled the mat out for him, handing him a knitted blanket and one of the pillows from the lounge chair. The materials were worn, well used, but it was better than forcing him to sleep on the hardwood floor in the kitchen—something I would’ve rather done than offer him a nice place to lay his head for the night.

Especially since he’d demanded my mother accompany him back to the capital.

If it wasn’t horrible enough, my mother welcoming him in as if he were an old friend, despite my rather obvious apprehension, continues to bother me. Even as I gather my covers around my body and curl them tightly around me.

It wouldn’t be unheard of if she’d had some kind of vision while staring down at her tea leaves earlier, or had sensed something within the soldier’s heart that spoke to her. She’d always been one to look deeper than what the surface level of a person revealed, to see who they really were on the inside.

But what did any of that matter when she’d soon be forced to leave me and our home?

I could kill him.

The thought lingers in my mind as I stare up at the ceiling above me, the shadows from my curtains swaying slightly from the window’s breeze.

With what we have in our kitchen, it wouldn’t be hard to do. I could simply slip something into his drink or his food in the morning without him being any the wiser.

I am a well studied alchemist, after all.

Throwing off my covers, I slip out of bed and into my set of house slippers before heading down to the kitchen. If poisoning him will keep him from taking my mother from me, then so be it. I’m not above using desperate measures.

Even if it ends with someone dying in my childhood home.

The only problem after that is figuring out what to do with him afterwards. . .

The kitchen is quiet when I enter. My ears pick up nothing, not even the sounds of the soldier sleeping in the living area. Nervously, I poke my head past the kitchen’s threshold, relaxing slightly at seeing the lumped form on the floor near my mother’s favorite chair.

Good. Still there.

With that, I grab a kettle and set it on the stove, coaxing life into a healthy flame. My eyes scan along the dried herbs and other jarred ingredients we keep on the rack above it, spotting the yellow mushrooms and mosswort. Typically, when used together, they’ll induce a hallucinogenic paralysis.

Add a little belladonna to the mix as well?

He’ll be dead in minutes.

Pulling all three jars off the shelf, I uncap them and sprinkle a bit of each into a tea cup. My stone pestle grinds them down into a fine dust, easily undetectable to even the most skilled tongues.

While I doubt this soldier will have any idea what I’m feeding him, I can’t be too cautious.

As soon as the water is boiling, I pull the kettle off of the stove and pour it into the tea cup. The steam from it burns a soft gray, slowly dissipating when the herbs dissolve completely, leaving a nearly clear liquid behind.

Excellent.

I may not be any good at magic, but alchemy is the area where I shine.

Or rather, it’s the only area.

I carefully grab the teacup and cradle it in my hands. My steps are light as I head into the living area and over to the soldier. The moonlight from the window spills in, draping over him like a soft blanket. He really is beautiful, up close like this. It’s startling to imagine someone this fair faced wielding a sword and using it in battle.

What would it be like to see his mouth pulled back from his teeth, a battle cry expelled from his lungs while he plunges his sword into an enemy? Would it be glorious, or downright appalling?

He sleeps on his back, one hand resting over his chest while the other is tucked under the thin blanket. I can’t help but watch his chest rise and fall in slow succession, trying to ignore the way my stomach flutters slightly.

Perhaps I’m being too hasty. Killing an imperial soldier is a crime punishable by death. If I were to be found out or accused of hurting him in any way, I might as well kiss my life goodbye. My mother would be lucky to not get dragged into the fray, either.

I let out a soft exhale.

Dark eyes snap open to immediately focus on me. “What are you doing?”

My entire body freezes in place.

Oh, shit.

“Um,” is all that manages to come out of my mouth.

He slowly sits up, his eyes focused intently on me.

The silence between us is deafening. Accusatory in a way, even if I haven’t exactly done anything yet. Me, standing over him like I’d been in the middle of watching him sleep, is probably the last thing he’d expected to see when he opened his eyes.

How can I turn this around?

“I made tea.” I lift the cup in my hand. As if that’s somehow going to explain everything.

His brow shoots up. “In the middle of the night?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Admitting a half truth is better than a full on lie. At least this way I can come across as a little more authentic. “I’m nervous about my mother’s journey tomorrow. She isn’t used to traveling such long distances.”

Strangely, something passes over his face. An expression I can’t quite name, though it softens his features somewhat. “She will be kept safe.”

“I hope so. She’s. . .” I shift between my hands. “She’s all I have, you know?”

I doubt he cares.

Why would he, when this is just a job? A task from the Emperor to set forth and track down every mage and magic user in the empire on the sole chance that one of them will be able to help. We’re nothing but a rotating line of failures, one by one dropping like flies for whatever reason.

My life here with my mother is no different than any other sob story I’m sure this soldier has come across in the past, probably dozens of times over already.

What purpose would getting invested in people he hardly knows do for this man? Other than get him killed too, for defying his emperor.

“Sorry,” I murmur, stepping back from where his makeshift bed is.

What he says next completely surprises me. “You should get up early and spend the rest of the morning with your mother. We won’t be leaving until noon.”

That’s not at all what I would’ve expected to come out of his mouth. Offering me advice and what sounds like a little bit of sympathy? How odd.

But perhaps I’ve misjudged this man. Maybe underneath all of his gruff attitude is someone who understands the gravity of his task—taking magic users from their homes and marching them to their doom.

“Now go to bed,” he says, turning to face away from me as he lays back down.

My eye twitches at his tone, too close to a scolding parent than I care for. Or maybe he really is just an asshole.

Spinning on my heel, I head back to the kitchen to dump out the tea before making my way back upstairs. If I were smart, I’d force it down his throat and be done with him. What does it matter if I have blood on my hands afterward?

He certainly doesn’t seem to care that he has any on his.

My teeth grind together as I slip back under the covers.

Making the best of a bad situation is all I know how to do. It’s all I’ve ever known. Yet the longer I lay here and stare at my ceiling, the quicker my anger soon fades into fear.

What will I do when my mother is forced to leave? How will I be able to handle never seeing her again?

I can’t do it. I won’t.

If tomorrow really is the last day I’ll ever see her again, I’ll need to do something before that happens. Something drastic that will get the imperial soldier to reconsider taking her altogether.

Tears well in my eyes.

I can’t lose her. It will most certainly kill me.