Awry

66

Elliot looked at the faded red design on Tristan’s hip for a long time.

“What have you stained it with?”

Tristan shrugged. “Whatever I can find that paints the skin. Grass, flowers, berries.”

“Hmm.” Elliot tilted his head. “It is well-drawn.”

Tristan nodded, thinking of Scarlet’s hands tracing the lines onto his skin. “Can you make it permanent?”

Elliot nodded. “I will get my tools.”

The old man disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a set of sharp instruments and a vile of dark liquid.

Tristan lay on the thick, wooden table in the room and looked up at the warped wooden boards of the ceiling.

Using the tip of an instrument Tristan had never seen before, Elliot gathered a drop of ink into the needle point and began to stab away at Tristan’s hip.

After an hour of continuous pricking, Tristan was numb to the feeling of the tool. Next week, he would leave the monastery and start his journey back home.

Not that he had a home to go back to. Deserting the king’s army had surely sealed his fate as an outcast.

“Who drew this design into your skin?” Elliot asked. He had been quiet for the last hour, but his eyes had studied the drawing thoughtfully.

Tristan did not answer.

Elliot stared at the lower half of the tattoo, where the design dipped across Tristan’s pelvis and below his waist. “A girl, then?” Elliot gave a knowing smile.

A picture of Scarlet’s dark hair falling into her blue eyes blossomed in Tristan’s mind, bringing him joy and sadness.

Joy for the memories.

Sadness that there might never be more.

“A girl,” Tristan confirmed.

Elliot nodded. “Is that who you escape for?”

“Yes.”

“Does she wait for you?”

Tristan stared at the old ceiling for a long time, knowing Scarlet was probably already married to Gabriel. “No.”

“Then why do you return?”

Tristan swallowed and tried to push back the truth. But the truth was resilient and fell from his tongue. “Because I cannot live without her.”

Scarlet saw Gabriel sitting at the dining table alone, staring at the floor. It was late in the evening and no servants were around. The only light in the dining hall came from a handful of lit candles atop the table.

It had been three days since the earl had died and one since Scarlet’s mother had passed. They had both lost their parents in a matter of hours.

Scarlet looked at Gabriel. He was now the earl.

But he was also a young boy.

And she was only a girl.

Scarlet silently entered the dining room and waited until he glanced up at her. “I am so sorry for your loss, Scarlet.” His voice was hushed. “Your mother loved you deeply.”

Scarlet nodded and pulled a chair up to his side. She sat down beside him and, for a moment, they stared at the floor together.

Without a word, Gabriel reached for Scarlet’s hand and took it in his own. He interlaced his fingers with hers and squeezed gently.

Scarlet brought their interwoven hands to her mouth and lightly kissed his knuckles.

They would be okay. They would.

One boy. One girl. Lots of heartache.

Scarlet stayed at Gabriel’s side and stared at nothing with him.

She squeezed his hand.

They were lost. But they had each other.