Val held Styk’s Blade of Samal in her hand, balancing it on her fingers as she stared down at her sleeping lover.
They were sailing north at a rapid pace, the Great Golden Canal Project not far ahead of them. Corminar, who Val had just about saved from death—not that anyone had thanked her for it—thought that the canal would be abandoned now, it having served its singular purpose. Arzak wasn’t so sure, and had volunteered to keep watch on the upper deck just to ensure they didn’t run into any trouble.
But none of this was of concern to Val in that moment; she had bigger things to worry about. Like what to do with the information that Niamh had handed her on the flagship—that Styk was the son of a Player.
He’d been so kind to her after learning what her real class had been, and she would have loved to return that favour, but… There was a difference between being naturally gifted at Witchcraft and being the spawn of the invaders from the ascended world. That was something that ran in the blood. Something that, maybe, couldn’t be overlooked.
Val adjusted her grip on the knife, holding it like Styk would, when he intended to use it.
None of the others knew. Not yet, at least. Val had considered telling them, warning them of what they were travelling with. They had the right to know. But Val… just couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
Who really was he? What did she really know about Styk, truth be told? He’d always glossed over his past life, and the people he’d killed. Not to mention how he reacted to any talk of his parents, though at least Val understood why, now. Styk might have been content to not know where he’d come from, but Val wasn’t.
Could she really trust a man like that?
Val toyed with the knife, knowing she wasn’t going to do it. Knowing she couldn’t do it. No matter Styk’s sins, no matter who he was… she couldn’t kill the man she loved.
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She placed the knife gently down next to Styk, where she’d found it, and turned away.
A large figured loomed in the doorway. Val’s heart skipped a beat at first, expecting danger, but then she recognised the shape as Arzak.
‘How much of that did you see?’ she whispered, thankful that Styk was a heavy sleeper. Maybe not as heavy a sleeper as Lore, but heavy nonetheless.
In answer, Arzak, gestured for Val to follow her up onto deck. This… probably wasn’t a good sign. If her orc friend had seen her with the knife, playing with the idea of… Well, best not to think about it, really.
Up on deck, Arzak turned to her. ‘You know?’
Val took a very literal step back. ‘You know?’ she threw back at her friend.
‘For some time. Do research of own back in Rose Home. About Sisyphus Artifact. About who can use. About… him. Thought better to keep close. To watch.’ The orc looked down at the newest of her pair of swords. ‘He not show sign of turning out like Players.’
Val wished she could agree. ‘You sure? Have you not heard all this stuff he’s been spouting about us being heroes? He’s really beginning to see himself that way. As a hero.’
‘Is problem? Long as he do good…’
‘He think we… he thinks he is better than everyone else. Don’t you see it?’
Arzak stared back at her for a moment. ‘Mm-hmm.’ She nodded.
‘Do we really think that’s not how Players start out? We know they think they’re being honourable. We know they do stuff for people, get people lauding them. But then, as time passes… Suddenly they think themselves heroes without actually doing anything heroic.’
Arzak remained quiet, allowing Val to sit with this thought for a time. The waves splashed against the hull. The lights of the canal glowed just ahead of them. It was this, the sight of the Great Golden Canal Project, that made Val realise what she had to do.
‘I’m… going, Arzak.’
The orc nodded, taking this in her stride. ‘No. You not go. We go.’