An Affinity For Fire

35. Tarragon

They left it to Clover to explain.

Tarragon glanced between her and Bryn, the latter of which was frowning sceptically at everything she said, but thankfully not outwardly dismissing any of the story as ridiculous lies.

Leo was shuffling from one foot to the other, constantly shooting his gaze down at his knife, lying abandoned in the grass.

"Don't" Tarragon hissed. "He's right, you wouldn't win. Let's at least wait and see if honesty works before we try anything else stupid."

"I'm not going to fight him," Leo muttered back. "I just want to get on with cutting the ruddy tongue out. If we don't get it out and preserve it soon, it's going to go ... bad. I don't know. I'm not familiar with rotting flesh."

"Neither am I," Tarragon said, "But I think we can leave it another few minutes while we wait to see if we're getting arrested or not."

"Everything alright over there?" Bryn asked, sharp eyes narrowed at them both. "Something you'd like to share?"

"All good," Leo assured him. "Just discussing the, urm, the tongue." He pulled his lips into a tight smile, which did nothing to hide how uncomfortable he was with the macabre nature of the topic.

Bryn held his suspicious gaze on Leo for a moment, before turning back to Clover and gesturing for her to continue.

"Well, this is awkward," Leo muttered. "Imagine if we got this far, only to end up in prison for ruddy poaching."

Tarragon tried not to snort. He didn't need Bryn paying their conversation any more attention. "Poaching is the least of our worries. You do realise, even if we get away with this, Calio is going to be at the Quartenrary Festival. I doubt she'll take kindly to seeing us again. Me, particularly."

"Yes. Well. That's another problem for our future selves to deal with."

The silent guilt and rage that had swirled in Tarragon's gut for the last week bubbled up. "That's all this is to you, isn't it? A problem that needs solving. We actually seriously hurt her, and in a more literal sense, Dallas, too. I don't think you and Clover have come to terms with that, yet."

Leo's throat bobbed, but his unaffected mask didn't faulter. "I will have plenty of time to regret the means once the ends have been reached. If  they're reached."

Tarragon clenched his jaw, too exhausted to argue. He continued to study Clover and Bryn.

Leo took and released a slow, heavy breath. "Look ... I understand why you didn't want to tell us about the dagger."

At that, Tarragon turned to face him.

"Now, I'm not saying I would have kept it secret, because I wouldn't have. But I get it. You didn't want her to suffer any more than she already had."

Tarragon swallowed back the ache emerging in his throat. "She wouldn't have suffered as much if we'd just been honest with her. We should have explained everything and asked for the dagger, like a tried to tell you."

He expected a defensive retort, but instead, Leo's eyes dropped to the grass. "I know. I'm ... I'm sorry."

Tarragon didn't know how to respond at first. Especially given that Leo's steely resolve had finally melted, his face crumpling in what could only be described as an expression of defeat. As much as he hated to admit it, he felt a pang of sympathy for the boy.

"All of this will be over soon," was all he managed to say, but Leo gave him a grateful nod.

It was at that point that Bryn started to approach them, Clover following close behind him. Tarragon straightened his back, his whole body stiffening as he waited for the words of either acceptance or condemnation.

"This is the most absurd story I've ever heard," The Ocassan prince said. "But, luckily for the three of you, I have made the irrational and probably foolish decision to believe you, and to keep quiet about this little hunting escapade."

Tarragon released a relieved sigh. "Thank you."

"I'm grateful, too," Leo said, "And I don't mean to rush anyone, but seriously, can I deal with the tongue now?"

Bryn rolled his eyes. "Alright, get on with it."

Leo gave him a brief smile, before resuming hacking at the siren's mouth and scurrying off to the house, severed tongue in hand.

Tarragon shook his head. "And that's all the gratitude you're getting from him for sparing us from prison. Seriously, how is it that you consider him a friend?"

Bryn winced. "He's a lot nicer when he isn't so ... tightly coiled."

Clover snorted. "You sure that's not just a sharp jawline and some soft, golden hair swaying your opinion?"

Bryn shot her a glare so fierce it frightened Tarragon, despite it not even being directed at him. "We discussed that in private."

"Oh, Tarry won't say anything," Clover said, shrugging off the icy remark. "I know far to many of his secrets."

Tarragon raised both hands in defence. "I have no idea what you're both talking about, and, honestly, I'm afraid to ask."

Bryn didn't respond, an embarrassed frown twisting his sharp features.

Clover, her own sense of humour undiminished, gave Tarragon a playful nudge. "Hey. Three out of four. Just a bit of owl blood to go, and we've got our mage." She grinned, and he couldn't help but return a smile, letting the triumph of the milestone sink in.

Then the horrors of the beach crawled back into his memory.

"I will be more than happy to celebrate at a later time, but for now, Bryn, is it alright if I use your family's baths? I know none of those creatures actually touched me, but I can practically feel their hands on my-" He couldn't even manage to get the word skin out, a heavy shudder running down the length of his spine.

Clover made a repulsed, gagging noise. "Be grateful you're not the one who had their lips on you."

He made the mistake of glancing down at the dead siren's mutilated mouth. Bile rose to his throat.

"You can use the baths," Bryn said, "Once you've decided what to do with that." He pointed at the siren's corpse.

To Tarragon's extreme relief, Clover offered up a solution before he had to volunteer to deal with it. "If you give me a hand, Bryn, we can carry it to the Kelpie stables. You think Onyx fancies a midnight snack?"

Bryn's brows raised. "Actually, that's not a bad idea." He grabbed the creature's wrists, while Clover got a grip on its tail, and together, they half-carried, half-dragged the body away from the cliff.

"Have a good bath, I'll see you in the morning," Clover called as they disappeared into the darkness.

One item left. Tarragon almost couldn't bring himself to believe it. One more item to acquire, one more journey to take in two days' time, one more kingdom to visit. Then home. But he wouldn't let himself feel relief yet. Not with all that could still go wrong.

With the sound of the sea fading behind him, Tarragon headed inside for one of his last baths before another week and a half on the road.