No Solace (The Flames of Retribution - Book 1)

Chapter Thirty-Eight - Confessions

As Governor Path stood there in front of me, I was shocked at how thin he'd become. He was not the jovial man I knew the year before, having aged at least ten years in that short time. I stood nervously in front of him, wanting to ask him straight out what he was doing there, but knowing that would be foolish.

Taking a deep breath, I pasted on a benevolent smile and bowed before the man. "Hello, sir. We are seeking Frances Partridge."

Sorrow hooded Jatron's lids at the mention of my father and he shook his head. "I am sorry, but France Partridge no longer lives in this place. I was his friend, however. Might I ask why you sought for him?"

My hand twisted in my robe as I lied to the man who was like my second father. "I come bearing some gifts from a friend. Gladys Brightgarden."

He opened the door wider. "Come in Father, and you as well, Sister."

The great room was adorned with opulent decorations, a stark contrast to the modest upbringing I had experienced. The dining table, where Father liked to visit with his friend, was still there, however. I wanted to fall down before his favorite chair and weep, but I kept it together. My eyes traveled across the scarred surface of the table, spying the flower I'd naughtily carved into it as a child and one of the tears I'd struggled to keep within me leaked out. I rubbed my eyes as though the dusty air from outside was the cause of it.

Jatron motioned to the table, and my steps faltered as I walked towards it and sat down.

"So what is this about Gladys? I had no idea she'd prepared a will."

"She did not. There was a technight in Aluraparine who was quite close that wished to bequeath gifts in her name."

He nodded at that, not seeming to be interested in the reasons.

My curiosity got the better of me, and I finally asked, "Are you ill, sir?"

Jatron's eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and resignation. He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his thinning hair. "Yes, I am ill," he admitted, his voice filled with weariness. "It's been a difficult year, and my health has suffered as a result."

My heart sank at his words. I had always seen Jatron as a strong and resilient man, and to see him in such a weakened state was disheartening.

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir," I said, my voice filled with genuine concern. "I will pray to Faluel for his healing grace. Then, I presented a small bag of jewels I'd planned to use for bribery and gave them to him.

Jatron smiled weakly, his eyes filled with gratitude as he pushed them back to me. "Thank you, Father. Your concern means a lot to me. I'm afraid jewels cannot heal a broken heart, but I accept your prayers."

As Jatron expressed his gratitude, I suffered under a weight of guilt. I knew that the jewels were merely a distraction, a way to divert his attention from the truth. But I couldn't bring myself to tell him the real reason for my visit. Not yet.

However, I was burning with curiosity as to why he was living in my house. So I asked him.

"Ah... well... Frances and I were the best of friends in school, and while he was alive and in hard times, he would never let me help him-" Jatron broke off as emotion overtook him. He let out a shaky breath, then pulled out a graying handkerchief to wipe his eyes. "When his daughter was murdered... I tried to keep him from himself. But, alas."

I swallowed the grief down, and nodded briskly. "My condolences, sir. Would you mind terribly telling me your name?"

"It's Jatron Path."

"I heard that is the name of the governor of Sanfelton."

"No longer. I resigned when Frances died. I couldn't bear it, the unfairness of it all."