Blogathon - Entry 8

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Excerps: Transients

Prologue

The blood on his hands was just starting to dry when the guards arrived. It itched, all dry and flaky, with the questionable consistency of greasy ashes. He’d sustained no injuries of his own. His erstwhile opponent still lay where he had fallen, face-up to the sky. Ash’d thought about closing the man’s eyes, but something – be it superstition, fear or residual dregs of anger – made him reluctant to touch the body.

Killing should not have been this easy. That is, the physical aspect had been about what he expected. He was younger and better trained with a sword, if lacking in battle experience. But he’d thought the reality of having taken a life would hit him harder; that the guilt of it would be overwhelming. He’d thought, at the time, it would be worth the price. What he felt instead was nothing, or the next closest thing to it. His hands itched and he shivered in the morning cold, but his thoughts declined to move in any direction whatsoever.

The first thing the guards did was check on the dead man. They must have thought he'd fallen over drunk; Gods knew it happened often enough. The second thing they did - much to Ash's discomfort - was ask him if he was injured. The thought of him as a murderer hadn't occurred to them yet. The last time one of the Fae had died... Well, it was a long time ago and Ash remembered the date all too well.

He didn't protest when they finally took him into custody.


Normally, the trial would be postponed - sometimes for years, if the culprit had offended someone in power - but they couldn't very well lock up the Duke's own grandson and heir and lose the key. His case was heard that very afternoon.

Ash had never seen his grandfather look so haggard. The old man had heard numerous grievances in his day and judged them without a glimmer of emotion. Even now, he was composed, for all that he wouldn't look Ash in the eye.

"I have but one question to ask of you," he said. "A simple one, or so I would hope." He steepled his hands under his chin. "Why did you do it?"

"I told you I'd do it." Ash's voice was calm. Mostly. "When I found my mother's killer, I would," he swallowed. "I'd return the favor." The words, meant to sound grand, rang hollow in his ears.

The Duke shifted in his chair, gnarled hands clenched over the armrests. He hadn't always seen eye-to-eye with his impetuous daughter, but his grief when she died had been shatteringly real. "You have evidence of this?"

Ash named his source. The old man could be trusted and the room was empty but for the two of them and a guard sworn to silence. "There was mistletoe in her food. The coward had used poison."

The Duke's eyes narrowed. "'That coward' had the good sense to commit his crimes quietly, without throwing the Court into scandal. You'd learn well to do the same." His words carried a dangerous undertone.

Ash bristled. "You'd have done the same thing, if you knew he killed her."

"Your mother," the Duke said, "would have called the raising of iron against one of your own people the greatest of heresies." His hand came up to cut Ash off before he could protest. "No matter what crime he may have committed. Last I checked we were not barbarians.

"Having said that, I would be a hypocrite if I were to sentence you to death." The fact that the old man would never have the heart to do so was left unsaid. "You will be sent into exile."

Ash tamped down a cringe. A hundred years among the Seelie would be dull but not unbearable. Besides, not all of them were pompous windbags. Some could be fun with enough encouragement.

"You'll be sent to Earth. You will live among the humans."

All right. Ash could live with that.

"You will live as one of them, to be precise."

"What?"

"I could hardly send a criminal among mortals with his knowledge and powers intact, now could I?"

Ash hadn't expected the words to hurt as much as they did. "I won't remember who I am?" he asked.

His grandfather shook his head.

"That's not so bad," Ash forced himself to say. "A due punishment."

"Except that it's not. Were you anyone else, your situation right now would be much more dire."

Ash knew this already, but it still made him uneasy. "I never asked for special treatment."

"Now you sound like her." The old man sounded both cynical and wistful. "But even if you never ask for it, you'll receive it nonetheless. It's part of who you are; part of the life you're bound to lead. I hope you learn this eventually. So many lessons you've still to learn..."

"But as a human?"

"Precisely." The Duke lowered his voice. "Sometimes you must be who you're not to learn who you are."

"And if I already know who I am?"

"Then you are a greater idiot than I would except from one of my own blood." And there, the argument, unbalanced as it was, was ended.

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