Chapter 20

Sephira smiled brightly. She had finally been able to schedule her day to include a trip to the market that would buy her enough time to visit Kestrel as well.

Why did she feel like she needed to keep her connection to him quiet?

She had nothing to hide.

Kestrel fascinated her though; the way he carried himself reminded Sephira of her father and uncle. He seemed so different from the other beggars that littered Fiell. He was strong despite the hell that had been thrown at him since he was a child.

As Sephira walked she found herself thinking about the conversations they would have. Kestrel kept surprising her with his unusual intellect. She hadn’t expected such wisdom from one who had grown up on the streets. Though if Sephira were honest with herself, she wasn’t sure what she assumed of someone who had spent their lives on the street except that they would be caked in grime. Thankfully she had been spared that fate when her uncle Aris had stepped in after the death of her father. For that she would be forever grateful to her uncle.

What had happened to her mother though? Why couldn’t she remember?

Sephira chided herself for not paying attention when she bumped into a fish-cart. She had let her lack of memories interfere with her again. That was happening all too often these days. Why now though?

Sephira reminded herself needed to be more careful than ever due to her uncle’s newfound status as a folk hero.

There was no such thing as anonymity anymore.

Her uncle’s heroic actions had put him and his family under the eye of the public. People worshiped those they admired, and her uncle Aris’ actions had fascinated the city of Fiell.

Sephira hated the attention.

Sephira had quickly taken to wearing a scarf to disguise herself in the style of the Allehan women of the south who thought showing their hair and neck was scandalously immodest.

Though few, there were enough Allehan women the city that nobody thought to look twice at her.

Sephira hated that she had to disguise herself to escape the house and the eye of the public that had fallen on her uncle Aris, and by proxy, the rest of his family.

She wished to return to anonymity.

Thankfully though, she had been spared the brunt of the public eye when her uncle had taken his metalvine and broken the hands of a relentless penny-paper reporter who wouldn’t stop harassing Sephira for her story about being the daughter of both an infamous traitor and celebrated hero.

After that few other reporters dared to approach her. Still, Sephira hated the feeling of eyes constantly following her. Like her uncle, she would much rather go unnoticed than be forced into the spotlight.

Sephira strolled through the colorful alleyways that paralleled the Trout River and soon arrived at the small house before she realized it. She knocked at the small burnt red door. Her excitement at seeing Kestrel’s face befuddled her.

Why did she feel herself being drawn to him?

She smiled despite herself when she heard Kestrel shout, “wait a minute! I’ll be there soon!”

Sephira smoothed her hair and fixed her green dress.

Seconds later the door popped open. Kestrel smiled at her and invited her in. The deep purple bruises that had covered his body were fading into a dirty yellow.

What would he look like when he was fully healed?

He smiled again and beckoned her to the small stool near the bedside he promptly returned to.

“I see you’re walking around now,” Sephira flashed a grin. His quick recovery buoyed her heart.

“Not as much as I’d like, but anything is better than being stuck in this smelly old thing all day,” he replied as he patted the mattress he had sunk back into.

“Hey, you should be happy you have a bed to sleep on. My old body is aching from a lack of proper sleep you whelp,” Wallace said as he stepped into the room from outside where he had gone to grab vegetables from his tiny root celler. “Good to see you Sephira. Here take these.”

Sephira obeyed the old man’s command and hastened to his side. She grabbed a handful of vegetables from him and placed them on the small wooden counter that doubled as a cutting board.

“I’m glad you’re here. I need to go pick up some more supplies. This young man eats so much you’d think that he hadn’t ever had a decent meal before. It’s like he grew up on the streets or something,” the old man joked at Kestrel’s expense.

“You should count yourself lucky that I’m eating it. I can swear I saw the neighbor’s pig vomiting when you tried to feed the leftovers to him.”

Wallace laughed. “Sephira, would you mind taking these vegetables and making them into something edible for us poor lonely bachelors?” the old soldier asked her.

She nodded a yes. A small part of her wanted to be offended at the assumption, but it passed quickly. Sephira enjoyed cooking and she found herself looking forward to Kestrel’s reaction to her creations.

“Good. Well then, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it,” Wallace grunted. “And Kestrel, if you can manage it, try to move around some more. Help the young lady.”

The pair blushed as Wallace closed the door.

A short, but very awkward silence followed.

“Well, I’ll get to working on our meal,” Sephira said with a forced cough.

Kestrel nodded in reply and Sephira couldn’t help but notice that his cheeks were still stained red from embarrassment at the old man’s remarks.

She allowed herself an indulgent smile.

The duo chatted while Sephira fetched some of the water that Wallace had placed over the small fireplace. He had been heating it to use in the atrocious tasting herbal tea he forced Kestrel to drink every couple of hours. The old soldier had insisted in its medicinal properties, but Kestrel argued that if the taste could kill, it wouldn’t matter how good it was for the body.

He expressed his thanks to Sephira when she freed that water from it’s fate of turning into that noxious substance.

After Sephira grabbed the water, she asked Kestrel to cut some vegetables for the soup. Kestrel nodded and hobbled over to the counter where he took the cleaver and began his best attempt at copying what he’d seen Sephira doing before. She went to grab a freshly killed chicken that Wallace had provided.

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“That looks good,” Sephira said minutes later, upon spying the small pile of onions and celery Kestrel had just chopped up. “But I think those pieces may be too large. They need to be smaller.”

Kestrel obeyed and resumed his dicing of the vegetables.

Sephira had nearly finished gutting the chicken and cleaning it by the time he finished and she smiled when she inspected his handiwork.

“You’ll make a fine house-husband yet,” she laughed as she saw his face redden. “You look exhausted. Go and sit. I can do the rest.”

Kestrel reluctantly obeyed and returned to the small bed where he laid back down. He was loath to admit it, but her joke about him becoming someone’s husband had buoyed his heart. From the moment Kestrel had taken Cillia under his wing, he had known that he had always wanted to be a father in some deep corner of his heart. He wanted to have his own child and give it the future that he had been denied. He would redeem the mistakes of whatever man had poured his seed into his junkie of a mother.

All Kestrel had ever really wanted was a family.

Minutes later Sephira had finished adding the rest of the spices, topping it off with what she referred to as her secret weapon; wild Sage. Kestrel had no clue as to what Sage was, but she told him it was an herb that grew in the plains east of the mountains.

Whatever it was, it was better than the tasteless tack that the old warhorse, Wallace, called food. Kestrel looked forward to Sephira’s intermittent visits for more than just companionship. Any reprove from the horrendous concoctions Wallace would burn together was welcomed indeed. Kestrel swore the old man had learned to cook from the Wendig tribe. Only monsters could produce such terrible food.

Sephira hadn’t believed Kestrel’s grumbling until she’d tasted some of the food Kestrel had hidden away. She had washed her mouth out five times afterwards.

Kestrel’s stomach was rumbling by the time the soup was boiling.

“That smells amazing. Nothing like the slop that old man Wallace calls food. It's a small wander that you haven’t found someone yet. You can actually cook, and emperor’s balls, you’re beautiful,” It took a minute before the last part had slipped out of his mouth that Kestrel realized he’d said it aloud. “Sorry, sorry.”

What would she think of him?

Sephira turned her head quickly to hide the furious blush that bloomed across her cheeks. How was it that something that would come off trite by everyone else who said it caused such a reaction when it came from Kestrel?

“Idiot,” she muttered under her breath.

“What?” Kestrel asked.

“It’s nothing. Anyway, how is your recovery coming along? I see you’re walking around much more than before,” Sephira spurted out.

She needed to change the subject. She didn’t want Kestrel seeing how much his words had flustered her.

“Yeah, despite how much I complain about the old coot, and how much of a slave driver he is, he truly does know what he’s doing…In more ways than one,” Kestrel responded, recalling what he had said about magic. “What about your uncle?”

Sephira blanched a little as the subject of her family came up. She felt terrified of what might happen when he learned she was the niece of Aris Ravenscroft, the man whose soldiers had killed the only person Kestrel loved.

Sephira didn’t want to jeopardize their burgeoning relationship, so she answered as vaguely as she could.

She walked to sit on the stool beside Kestrel’s bed.

“He healed up quickly. He says that it was just stress that caused his coma, but I know he’s lying. I just don’t know why. Anyway, he was recently elevated in his position for some recent accomplishments. He says he didn’t do what they think he did, but there was no way for him tell everyone so without losing face for his employers, so while he isn’t publicly denying it, he’s trying to downplay all the rumors as much as he can,” the words flowed from Sephira’s mouth. She found herself sharing much more than she intended despite herself.

“What does your uncle do?” Kestrel’s question caught her off guard.

“Um, he’s in the city government. He’s in charge of making sure the streets are clean,” it wasn’t a lie…

“I can see how that could be stressful. With all the gutter rats like me roaming around, I might have a breakdown too,” Kestrel joked in a self-deprecating manner.

“Don’t EVER talk about yourself like that!” Sephira surprised herself as she shouted at Kestrel. His shocked look brought her voice down immediately. “I’m sorry, but why would you talk about yourself like that? You may have lived on the street, but if you believe you’re a rat, that’s all you’ll ever be. And that’s not you! You have the potential for great things.”

She didn’t look at Kestrel as she got up and returned to stir the soup.

His heart tumbled as he thought of her words. He didn’t know how to take them. Kestrel wasn’t used to people caring.

“I’m sorry, it was wrong of me to shout at you like that,” Sephira turned from the soup to face him.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled, unsure of what to say. Kestrel didn’t know how to respond to the concern he saw in her face. “I’m just so used to it that I couldn’t think of anything else to say.”

“Well, you should think of something else,” Sephira said. Her tone told Kestrel there would be more discussion on the subject.

A long awkward silence followed her stern correction. Both were lost in their thoughts and chagrined at what had happened. It wasn’t until the soup that’d been neglected boiled over that the silence was broken.

“Ahhh, I’m an idiot, I totally forgot about the stew,” Sephira said. “If I’m not careful it will be as bad as Wallace’s slop.”

She turned back to the soon to be dinner and blew on the broth while stirring it to cool the mixture down. Soon it was under enough control that she was able to take it off of the fire safely and test it.

“Here Kestrel, try this,” she offered the spoonful to the young man who raised himself up from his prone position to taste the sample.

He took a slurp and coughed. “It’s so HOT!” Kestrel yelled. His eyes were watering.

Sephira tried to stifle a laugh, but couldn’t and soon she was chuckling hard enough that Kestrel feared she might spill the rest of the spoonful on his lap so he quickly gulped down the rest.

“It was quite good, thank you,” Kestrel said as he fanned his panting mouth.

Sephira burst into a second round of laughter at the site of Kestrel, who, for all the world, looked exactly like a puppy she remembered from her childhood. He even had the same shaggy hair.

Sephira’s giddy mood soon infected Kestrel and the both were laughing. Kestrel begged mercy after Sephira let out a little snort that sent them both into another fit of laughter. “Please stop! I think I’m gonna break another rib!” he cried.

That made Sephira laugh harder.

After the giggling died down Sephira went to retrieve the wooden bowls Wallace kept in his pantry.

Almost by some sort of magic, Wallace appeared in the doorway as the soup was being poured. It was as if he had an extra sense that told him whenever a meal time would be and he would only show up after everything had been prepared.

“Thanks!” he said as he snatched up a bowl and walked over to the bed where Kestrel was laying and plopped down beside the young man.

In a second Sephira was at his side and grabbing the bowl from his hands. “How do you expect Kestrel to grow into the fine young man we both know he can be when you act like such a pig around him? Now go sit at the table,” she commanded the soldier.

Kestrel couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“And you.” Sephira pointed a finger at Kestrel. “You better shut up. Now you’re mobile, you have no excuse. You’re gonna sit at the table with us and learn some proper manners. Do you understand?”

Kestrel blanched slightly and let out a nod as he took Sephira’s outstretched hand and found his footing. Soon all three were at the table and after a quick blessing that Sephira insisted on saying, they began to eat their meal.

“Thank you young miss,” Wallace said after slurping down a couple of spoonfuls of the soup and tearing a section off a loaf of bread that seemingly appeared from nowhere.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad to see you enjoy it,” Sephira replied with a gracious smile that lit up the small room.

“Your father, rest his soul, would be proud of you,” Wallace replied offhandedly.

“You knew my father?” Sephira leaned towards Wallace. “How did you know him?”

“You old idiot. You told yourself you’d not bring up anything to do with Sephira’s family, and now you paint yourself into a corner you can't get out of,” Wallace chided himself.

He really was a fool.

Wallace knew from the way every muscle in Sephira’s body had tensed that there would be no escaping her questions.

“You know I served the military,” Wallace said.

“I remember.”

“I served with your father and uncle. Those two served under me when they were fresh recruits. They were some of the best men I ever served with. I could go on for days about stories between the three of us. Your father saved my life on more than one occasion. One time, he came this close to be killed himself,” Wallace held his fingers up.

Sephira leaned in to hear more and Wallace obliged. He told her of meeting her father as a fresh recruit and how they had fought to have her uncle assigned to the same company as them. He told her tales of their exploits in the mountain campaigns fighting against the Wendig tribe.

Kestrel watched the two reminiscing.

He felt alien. He didn’t belong here. He felt like voyeuristic watching their heartfelt exchange.

“It’s truly a shame how things unfolded,” Wallace added on, a deep regret filled his voice.

Sephira nodded.

Tears stained her eyes. The men respected her silence.

Finally she said. “I wish I could remember him. I just wish I could remember…”