The Skewed Throne by Joshua Palmatier

Author:Joshua Palmatier [Palmatier, Joshua]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: PENGUIN group
Published: 2012-01-21T19:26:13+00:00

Once outside the stifling tavern in the night air, I moved swiftly toward my niche, past people I barely saw before swerving around them. My mind was blank, empty. There was nothing to feel except the heavy weight of food in my stomach, nothing to taste but a strange fear tinged with a sickening excitement, all flavored like butter, smooth and slick inside my mouth. . . .

I stumbled over a trailing length of rope attached to a crab trap, caught myself against a wall. My heart thundered in my chest, so hard it hurt just beneath my breastbone. I coughed roughly, then straightened.

Drawing in another deep breath, I leaned my head back against the stone of the wall behind me.

I could still smell oranges.

I drew in a few more deep breaths, coughed half- heartedly, and sank down into a crouch, weight on my heels. On the street before me, a few people moved. Some slowed, watched me warily. No one came close.

I closed my eyes. Against the darkness, I thought about William grabbing my arm, felt the instant surge of fear, of desperation, of dread that this was another rapist like the first man I’d killed . . . or another Bloodmark.

But William wasn’t one of those men. I could see it in his eyes, in his confused expression, in his mussed, clean hair. I could see it in the way he’d held out his hand to stop me from attacking a second time. And it was in his smile.

I shifted uneasily, feeling again that trembling sensation deep inside, somehow warm and tense at the same time, and strangely guilty.

I turned away from the sensation, thought about Borund instead, about how he’d offered the food, about his eyes. He’d been wary, reluctant at first, the wrinkles near his eyes tight. But then he’d relaxed, smiled, put the butter on that first slice of bread. Not the slow smile of Garrell Cart before he’d taken the girl on the Dredge, before he’d killed her. No. Borund’s smile had been amused as he watched me take that first uncertain bite, as he watched me slather the butter onto the second slice myself.

But he’d also had me followed, watched, stalked. Like I imagined that ex-guardsman I’d killed had stalked me, or like Garrell Cart had watched the girl with the green cloth. Predatory.

Wariness twisted my stomach, made worse by William’s confused eyes, by Borund’s smile.

And by the oranges.

Erick had given me oranges. I’d trusted him. I trusted him still, even though I felt that I’d betrayed him in some way by killing Bloodmark. Even though that last image of him, at the edge of Cobbler’s Fountain, before we’d found Mari, had been gray mixed with red. I didn’t know what the red mixed with gray meant exactly, but I still trusted him.

I squeezed my eyes tighter, felt tears near the edges, felt them burn.

I suddenly wanted Erick back, wanted him there, at the edge of Cobbler’s Fountain, waiting. I wanted to see his hard expression, his dark eyes, his scars.

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