The Great and Terrible: No Monsters Like Hers
The Great and Terrible: Chapter 11

My heart thudded against my ribs. Am I ready for this? “I thought we were chatting.”

His expression never left the realm of serious, and I sighed. What topic caused such a serious shift in his demeanor?

“Remember your promise to me. This is payment for your room and board,” he said. “I expect complete honesty and speed.”

“Same,” I replied, a subtle reminder he owed me, too.

Stare unwavering, he leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “You recall when the trapper mentioned your resemblance to someone, I’m sure.”

Not the direction I’d expected. “I do. He isn’t the first to mention it. But how did you hear him? You were off fighting rabdogs.”

“I’d already killed the pack and returned to you. The trappers had you surrounded. They were waiting until first light to make their move. Since you were so eager to rescue the drivers, I decided to let your captors lead me straight to their camp.”

In other words, I’d semi-mourned his death and bloodied my feet for nothing. Had worried for nothing. Anger infiltrated my cells. “You couldn’t take a moment to let me know you were okay? They told me you were dead.”

He frowned, revealing a tinge of curiosity. “Did you care one way or the other?”

“Yes!” I burst out before I could think better of it.

His frown deepened, as if he were unsure what to think about my confession. But dang it, I did care. He might be slightly robotic and a beheader of innocents, but he wasn’t a bad guy. Mostly.

Jasher reclined in his chair, a picture of masculine perfection. His wet hair stuck out in spikes. The heat from the bath had given his dusky skin an almost rosy undertone. He wore a clean white tunic, with an untied V-neck that gaped, displaying the beginnings of his tattooed pecs. Black leather hugged powerful legs. No socks or shoes adorned his feet.

“I have eyes, you know,” he muttered, shifting his weight to the side. “You even bargained to peer into them.”

Oops. Mortification blistered my skin. I’d spent however long staring at his body. Leering. “Apologies. I was lost in thought.” Truth, if not the full truth.

Expression blank now, he picked up the conversation as though it had never lagged. “I, too, thought you resembled someone, but I convinced myself I couldn’t possibly be correct. Until the trapper offered confirmation.”

So the executioner had an idea of who I resembled. Good. “I’d love to hear your thoughts.” Wait. His expression might be blank, but his posture certainly wasn’t. He gripped the arms of his chair with white knuckles. Had my leering affected him perhaps? Or did his reaction stem from his suspicions, whatever they were?

I gulped as suspicions knocked on the door of my mind. What if he referenced my mother?

“Tell me about your mother,” he said.

I forgot how to breathe. “Who do you suspect she is?” I knew Mom had visited or lived in Hakeldama. What I hadn’t considered until now: She might’ve been born here.

“Tell me about her,” he insisted.

Nerves kicking up a fuss, I rubbed the shadow ring. “Her name was Sandra Shaker. Sandra Ori before she married my dad. She was an artist at heart. Loved to draw and paint, but also to write.”

Jasher did nothing but breathe for a moment. The longer he waited to respond, however, the more he pulsed with iron resolve.

“What?” I demanded, wringing my hands. “Tell me.”

“Are you sure you wish to know?”

Yes! No. “Maybe?” Oh, my goodness, oh, my goodness. “Please tell me.”

He inclined his chin. “Twenty-one years ago, a king and queen ruled the City of Lux, a kingdom where the provinces converge and the beating heart of Hakeldama.”

Okay. So far I didn’t see a reason for his demeanor. “They are the royals you mentioned before?”

“Yes. Their names were King Ahav and Queen Sandrine Ori-Emet.”

Sandrine Ori’Emet. Sandrine—Sandra—Ori. Oooh. I gulped. A queen. Who’d been married to a king, here in Hakeldama. Twenty-one years ago, right before my birth. The fact that she used to tell me stories about a fallen king…

I peered down at the band on my finger. The colors appeared more vivid, as if a different gemstone filled each setting. “I don’t know how what you’re telling me is possible, but go on. Please,” I repeated with a croak.

“From the stories I’ve heard, both the king and queen were killed by monstra. Though there were whispers the queen escaped to your world…pregnant with her first child.”

Pregnant. I pressed a palm against my mouth. “You expect me to believe my dad isn’t really my dad. No. Absolutely not.” I shook my head with force. That wasn’t possible.

“Denial isn’t proof, Moriah.” A gentle rebuke.

I shifted in my seat. All right, if his implication was possible—which it wasn’t. But if it wasn’t…biologically related to my dad? Information I wasn’t equipped to process while also processing the fact that my mother had once ruled this strange, terrible land.

I had to shove my next question through clenched teeth. “What would this connection mean for me, if it were true?”

“I’m not sure. History doesn’t paint the king and queen in a favorable light. In fact, they are considered a topic never to be mentioned. If you are indeed their child, a princess, there’s nothing but animosity for you to inherit.”

I gripped my knees. “My mother was kind and gentle with a ready smile. No one in their right mind would paint her as anything but amazing.”

“My words weren’t a smear on her character. They were merely a statement of fact.”

“I want to read these so-called history books.”

“There are none. Little trace of the royals remains. Those who remember them do not speak of them. To my knowledge, only a lone portrait survived public burnings.”

My nails dug into bone. “Who’s in power now?” Did I have family members in Hakeldama?

“All relatives were executed by citizens soon after the king’s death. As the world descended into chaos, the Guardian seized the crown, replacing the Ori-Emets to bring order to the land.”

I waved a trembling hand in a please continue gesture.

Jasher nodded. “Soon after the Guardian’s ascension, he discovered a journal written by the king. Or queen. I’m not sure which. I’ve never read it. Either way, he studies it often and keeps it contained inside a locked room only a trusted few may enter. I’ve had the privilege only twice. That’s the reason I’ve seen the portrait. It, too, remains in the locked room.”

My determination to reach the City of Lux reached new heights. I must see that portrait and read that journal. “I won’t comment on any of this right now. I need time to think.” And a distraction until this sense of rawness dulled. “Tell me about your parents. Your brothers.”

Jasher stared at me, silent for a long while. So long I figured he’d ended the conversation. Then he stated, “I don’t wish to discuss my parents, but I will tell you my brothers are both enforcers in the royal army, like me. More and more, Anders has been wandering off, neglecting his duties. Reese and I cover for him as best we can, but this time he has disappeared for much longer than usual.”

Concern dripped from his last words. “You love him,” I stated.

“Very much. Along with Reese, he is the most important person in my life. But he will cause us nothing but trouble if he fails to report to the Guardian on time.”

The Tinman had a heart, after all. Go figure. “There must be a reason he keeps wandering off.”

“Yes. He dreams of living a normal life.” Jasher scoffed. “Marriage and children.”

“Not a fan of commitment.” I mimed writing in a book. “Noted.”

“There’s no law against it, but most royal guards choose not to have a romantic partner. If ever they must be executed, we are the one assigned to do the deed.” His voice tightened at the end.

Yeah, that would deter me, too. “Do you have any leads on Ander’s location?”

“Only that he was seen in the forest.”

Wait. The chapel landed atop a man near the forest who’d worn an executioner’s boots. Two strikes…

I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth. No. No! The odds were too high. Astronomical. Jasher’s beloved sibling hadn’t died by being crushed under a building brought here by tornado. So there was no need to mention it. No need to risk incurring his anger. His blame. Punishment.

He stood, a tower of muscle and might as usual. “We tell no one of your potential connection to the former royals. Understand? Others might assume you’re here to reclaim power.”

As if I would ever wish to live in this land. “I understand,” I assured him, grateful.

He lifted his chin. “Take the bed and get some rest. Tomorrow will be a busy day.” A few steps took him to the couch, where he stretched out, leaving me baffled by his kindness.

“But you paid for the room. You should enjoy the bed.”

“Your pet is cozy, and I have no wish to cuddle a rabdog.” He patted his stubbled cheek. “I like my face.”

That made two of us. But he wasn’t wrong about the rabdog. Nugget was indeed cozy. And he was my pet, wasn’t he? Somehow, I would replace a way to bring him home with me. He’d have plenty of room to run and play on the farm, without fear of being spotted.

“Thank you, Jasher. For everything.”

“You are welcome.” His gruff tone did strange, wonderful things to my insides.

I rose and padded to the bed to curl up beside Nugget. The furball awoke briefly, licked my neck, yawned, and snuggled into my warmth. Almost content for the first time since my impromptu trip, I whispered, “Goodnight.”

A pause. Then, “Goodnight. Princess.”

Something warm and wet brushed my cheek, luring me from a dead sleep. I blinked open my eyes to replace Nugget sitting up, grinning down at me. Happiness radiated from his perfect face. Aw.

Reaching out, I scratched him behind his ears. Whoa! He’d gotten bigger. I jolted upright and looked him over. He’d doubled in size. At least! No doubt he weighed over twenty pounds now. Goodness. Carry him for miles? Not without wanting to cut off my arms.

“You must be hungry.” I certainly was.

I threw my legs over the side of the bed and padded to the couch. Hmm. No sign of Jasher. His bag was gone, too. Frowning, I searched for any indication of his presence. If he’d ditched me…

A note! I rushed to the dresser and swiped up the piece of paper.

Food for you and the mutt waits in the cabinet. Eat and join me downstairs. J

His penmanship surprised me, though it shouldn’t have. It was exactly like him. No nonsense, bold, and sharp.

All but drooling, I opened the cabinet door and discovered what might be biscuits and sausage gravy, plus another bowl of meat and a pitcher of milk. I fed Nugget before relocating to the table, pleased to replace Jasher had cleared away last night’s dishes. How domesticated of the forever bachelor.

As I ate, my mind drifted to my mother. A topic I’d struggled to hold at bay throughout the night. Though the rawness hadn’t dulled, I was going to have to untangle a few details if I hoped to experience peace. I wouldn’t do a deep dive, setting myself up for another onslaught of confusion and frustration. I’d just take a small dip into the shallow end.

Here goes. Sandra—or rather, Queen Sandrine—had once ruled this awful kingdom alongside a man named King Ahav. Maybe she’d loved him, maybe she hadn’t. If history wasn’t skewed, he’d been a man despised by his own people. She’d been pregnant when she fled, but to my knowledge, my mother had given birth to no other children, which ensured one of three scenarios:

She lost the baby. She gave up the baby. I was the baby.

If option three proved the winner, my sweet daddy wasn’t my father.

My next bite settled like a ball of lead. Unless someone came forward with new information, there was no way to glean the truth about my parentage. Here, now, I preferred not to know. No one mattered more to me than my dad. Or my mom, if she lived. Did she?

I glanced at the shadow ring decorating my finger and wondered if she had returned to this world when she vanished from mine. Someone could’ve dragged her back.

Hope lived and died in a single heartbeat. If she were here, someone would have recognized her, and word would’ve spread. Jasher would’ve picked up whispers.

Sadness settled on my shoulders as I returned my dishes to the cabinet. Enough swimming in suppositions. I had a journey to complete.

I used the toilet, cleaned up, and anchored my hair in a ponytail. Though I was tempted to leave the mass hanging free, if only to garner another dazed look from Jasher. Pulling on my boots, I debated what to do about Nugget. Lock him in the room or bring him with me and risk another pistol?

Probably best to bring him. If someone came into the room with the weapon… Yeah, best to bring him. “Come on, Nugget.”

Eager to please, he followed me out the door.

I descended the steps and glided into the lobby, instantly engulfed by the scent of coffee. Rowdy piano music played at greater volume. Women filled the area, sitting at tables and chatting, but they weren’t laughing and making merry. Today, they scowled and snapped their words.

“You’ve won Drogan three times, Leona.” Natalie, the speaker, pointed a finger in the mayor’s face. “A statistical impossibility.”

A chorus of “yeah” rang out.

“Are you fraternizing with him?” someone else demanded.

“Never!” Leona puffed up, clearly going on the defensive. “The first and second wins didn’t happen concurrently, which greatly increases the odds of a third. Now, enough of this. Conversation over.”

Someone bellowed, “You’re cheating, we just don’t know how.”

“I should get a turn with him!” Natalie spread her arms. “He killed my parents in front of me.”

The protests ceased upon notice of my arrival. At my feet, Nugget bared his teeth and growled, his eyes flashing red.

Murmurs of “the rabdogs” broke out. The music halted abruptly. Women jumped to their feet, chairs skidding behind them. Everyone pressed against the same wall. Leona shoved her way to the back, hiding behind her constituents.

“Get that filthy creature out of my town,” she demanded, peeking around a woman’s shoulder.

I braced for a showdown. “I suggest you don’t insult my dog.” There would be consequences. Bad ones. I might look like a fluff of nothing, but I was farmgirl scrappy.

“I suggest you leave with it before I have you jailed,” she snarled. “I’m in charge here, and my word is law.”

At least no one brandished a weapon. Nope. Wrong. Several unsheathed daggers.

“She’s with the royal guardsman,” stated the bartender, who stood at the fore of the crowd.

Natalie nodded. “Both are under his protection.”

The mayor paled, but she also found her courage and shouldered her way forward. “What are you doing with an executioner, girl?”

“That is none of your business,” I replied, trying to cobble together a plan. Make a run for it, hoping Nugget gave chase?

A door shut with a hard thud, saving me from having to act. Jasher and his heavy footfalls entered my sphere. He carried an unconscious man over each shoulder. Men he tossed to the floor. Women rushed over to check out the males, ohhhing and ahhhing. Nugget allowed the interaction without freaking.

“I believe the price is ten silvers each,” Jasher stated, raising his chin.

He looked good. Really, really good. Dark hair tousled. Color high. Weapons strapped all over. A bruise decorated his jaw.

“Ouch.” Before I considered my actions, I reached out and grazed my knuckles over the injury. “You got popped a good one.”

Our gazes tangled as he leaned into my touch. That once sporadic, now constant sizzle of awareness flared between us, igniting flutters of desire in my belly. A skill only he possessed. Not even Theo, the guy from the diner, had roused more than a halfhearted interest.

When Jasher slipped his thumb between my hand and traced the pad over my OZ scar, the flutters amplified into a warm, delicious ache.

“Who did you capture?” I asked, pretending I wasn’t breathless.

“Bounty hunters.” He motioned to the wanted posters with a tilt of his chin without looking away from me. “Others will come until we remove the brand. A task Keren can perform without causing you pain. Not much, anyway.”

“I’ll do it,” someone piped up. Keren, I guessed, glancing over at the blonde bartender. “But in return, you will escort Leona far from this town.”

Leona gasped, rearing back. “You can’t do that.”

The rest of the crowd expressed their approval with genuine cheers.

“We can and we will, if Jasher agrees,” Natalie stated.

Keren arched a brow at the executioner. “Well?”

“That isn’t how this will go,” he stated, a dangerous edge to his tone.

Sensing an opportunity, I announced, “We’ll agree to your terms, but only if you double his bounty fee, too.” How badly did they wish to be rid of the lottery cheater?

As Leona sputtered, I tamped down a surge of guilt. Meet your consequences, Mayor.

“Jasher?” Keren asked, requiring assurance.

He worked his jaw, but he also gave a clipped nod.

The bartender and Natalie exchanged grins before saying in unison, “We have a deal.”