Chapter 6 — Red Eyes

As of late, Snake had recurring, odd dreams. Each one revealed something significant about the murders he’d committed.

“Please eat, Snake.” Fallon urged, pushing his plate before him once more. The potatoes were cold, as was the thin slice of lamb. Snake had hardly spared it a glance. “You eat it.” He muttered, dipping his quill in ink as he continued to write away.

Each time these dreams occurred, he fetched parchment and wrote down what he could recall. Given how vivid they were, it was rather easy.

“King Alaric would never do something like that.” The woman raised a suspicious brow at the soldiers.

“Perhaps he never would, but we could.”

“How preposterous. I will not involve myself in something so heinous and foolish. How would we ever achieve something like that, anyway?”

Snake had the conversation written down, a magnifying glass held to his eye, the other squinted. 

“Snake.” Fallon repeated, his foot tapping impatiently against wooden floorboards. He leaned down to get a peek at the papers, which Snake quickly pulled away. “You can’t read this.” His heart pounded.

“Just what on Earth is going on with you? You’re acting as though you’ve been seeing ghosts. You are not yourself at all these days.”

“It’s none of your concern, Fallon.” Snake hissed, keeping the papers close to his chest. 

“You are my concern.” Fallon disagreed. “You hardly talk to me anymore. You aren’t eating, and I can’t remember the last time we laid down together.”

“You’re upset because I won’t sleep with you?” Snake knew that wasn’t it. He knew he was grasping at straws, and his heart clenched as the accusation left his mouth. Fallon wasn’t sex driven. Sure, he liked it, but it wasn’t the only thing on his mind. And Snake knew he was acting oddly—but of course he was! Coming to the realization you were a murderer was no pebble that rolled off the back. 

The tree had already grown, and with the coming autumn, every rotten leaf that fell seemed as though Fallon was one step closer to figuring him out. One step closer to leaving.

Rationally, Snake would eventually get over it. He’d been left by his parents, by Laina, by Alaric. He understood what it meant to be alone. He understood why he would be better off that way. But if there was a single star in the night sky aligned just rightly so and gave him a glimmer of hope that, maybe this time, someone would stay, he would cling to that star like a lifeline. Especially if it meant that the person staying was Fallon.

Fallon’s brows knitted, his freckled nose wrinkled. He dropped the plate onto Snake’s desk with a loud clink. “Eat. Please.” The plea ended in a voice crack neither acknowledged. Not outrightly, anyways. A week ago—before Snake remembered, he would have made a jab at Fallon about it. But the tower was tense, obviously, and neither Fallon nor Snake had bothered making much conversation, much less teasing like they used to.

Snake sighed, setting the papers down on his desk once his study door closed. He stared down at them, reading them over. Why was it that he could remember in his sleep, but not when he was wide awake? Why was it that he could recall every trade made and alliance formed, dating back to before he was born, but he could not remember a murder he committed himself just two weeks ago? What a traitorous thing, the mind.

The day continued bleakly. The skies were gray, which was no misfortune for Snake. It was actually quite refreshing compared to the bright, sunny days that made his skin itch and burn and blister. Today, he could roam freely about without the need for a cloak. Not that he had anywhere to go. Fallon had decided to take the lead in the investigation, assuming that if it were something even Snake did not want to follow through with, then it was too dangerous for a civilian or lesser scholar. Snake had left his study with a heavy heart, wearing high-waisted, black slacks and a white button-up with frills at the cuffs of the sleeves. It was soft and silky and felt wonderfully relieving against his sensitive skin. He should apologize to Fallon, he decided. He did not want things to remain awkward or tense between them. Fallon had never truly been angry with Snake—in fact, the scholar believed this was the closest Fallon had ever come to it, but it still did not settle well within him. When he opened the door to Fallon's room, he was utterly stunned. Fallon was nowhere to be seen. Snake raised a white brow and huffed, sitting on the edge of the bed with one leg crossed over the other impatiently.

Not once since Snake came to live with Fallon had the king ever left without telling Snake first. It felt unnatural, seeing Fallon’s quarters empty without knowing where he was, and something about that made Snake irritably uncomfortable.

He had been gone for nearly an hour now. The investigation had taken him toward the bridge. Something about the deaths had continued to gnaw at him. He had spoken with the captain of the guard first. Then two merchants. Then a farmer whose fields bordered the road leading toward Vaust. Nothing.

No one had seen anything. No one had heard anything. And that, more than anything, bothered Fallon.

By the time he returned to the castle, the rain had begun—it wasn't heavy, merely a fine autumn drizzle that darkened the stone and gathered in droplets along his hair. He stepped through the corridor toward his chambers, pulling his gloves from his hands as he walked.

He stopped when he saw the door. It was open. Of course, Fallon knew who would be inside, but Snake never entered or left a room without closing the door. He pushed it open wider, gaze immediately landing upon Snake sitting on the edge of his bed.

For several seconds, Fallon simply stared, then his shoulders relaxed, dropping a fraction. The stiffness in his jaw eased equally.

“There you are.”

His voice held none of the irritation from the previous days. If anything, there was relief in it. Fallon closed the door behind himself and leaned against it, studying the scholar for a moment.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he crossed the room, removing his damp coat and tossing it over the back of a chair.

“I went back to the bridge.”

“And?”

“Nothing.” Fallon sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “I questioned the guards. The merchants who use the road. A farmer who lives near the eastern path. No one saw anything.”

He glanced toward Snake, “The culprit must be quite fortunate to have not been seen by anyone.”

Snake’s heart clenched. Sure. Fortunate. 

"I apologize." Snake blurted out. "I should treat you better than this—you are always so kind to me. I've simply had a lot on my mind regarding the murders. To be quite honest with you, I'm not sure I'll ever know what happened." He sighed.

“Well, when I find out, I’ll tell you. Just because you’re not investigating doesn’t mean you’ll be left in the dark.”

If only that’s what Snake had meant. He nodded, “Well, I appreciate it.” His voice came soft.

“Look, Snake, I have no idea what happened to you. But you should know you are not alone.”

Snake met Fallon’s gaze with red eyes. “I know.”

“You do not have to tell me immediately. Collect your thoughts, and when your mind is more sound, I will be here.”

Of course he would be here. Fallon was always there. For now.