My Willful Flame

Chapter Thirteen

He had a scary look in his eyes at that moment. The disturbing darkness he was hiding, was clawing to come out. I could see it. He pleaded for fairness, for no bloodshed shed but in reality, he wanted it. I wondered if he started to hear voices of his own.

He was like me.

I had placed myself away from them. They had built a fire before the night and were trying to keep warm. The clothes they wore were unforgiving and I knew some of them would be dead within a few days. This weather wouldn't spare the good ones.

Sitting against a tree I watched Andres by the fire, talking to an old man blowing air into his hands. He placed a hand on the man's back and smiled at him before rising.

I straightened my back as he walked toward me.

"Can you keep warm?" he asked placing himself against a tree close to mine.

"These clothes were made for this weather,"  I stated shortly. He was hard to read. I had no idea what his intentions truly were. True they would be dark but to what extent?

He nodded. "You stole them didn't you?"

I said nothing but merely looked at him.

"There is a stain on your sleeve. It's old so I figured you stole it. And I sense you've been here before but I don't imagine you are from anywhere near here. Your dark hair tells me the desert, but your way of talking tells me you come from the capital. You refuse to let us help you with whatever it is you need to do which tells me it's dark and selfish. And I think you've been hurt in a way that has hardened you and made you refuse to put others before yourself." He paused and crossed his arms over his knees. "I am not judging you. I don't know how I've lasted this long, how I am still able to smile knowing at some point I'll be just as unhinged and cold as you.

My mouth had dropped slightly but I quickly closed it, raising my brows. "Wow, that was quite a judgment. You are very observant." He had been this whole time.

"No, I'm just desperate."

"You got it wrong though," I admitted.

"Tell me." He crooked his head, curious.

"What I have to do is not for selfish reasons. It's quite the opposite." I knew I was looking arrogant because I felt it. He seemed to know he had all the answers. He was just like me. A presuming, judgy, know-it-all all. It would crush him quite soon. It always did.

"I owe someone my freedom," I said knowing a confession was born. Not even Mayra knew.

What she thought I was going there for, was to save Xander. But I had no plan and no intention of walking out of it alive. I was heading into the lion's den to free him and if I succeeded I wouldn't give a damn about my freedom. I already had a taste and it was bitter. It was nothing like I thought. The world was not worth it to me knowing he was caged up. But I could die if he was safe. If he lived. I would finally find my peace.

"You still love..." His eyes fell and mine widened.

Why would he say that? Why would he think...

"You are angry, not broken. You still fight for someone and have the will to do anything for them. You're still lucky."

"Lucky?" I was bewildered. Lucky was never a word I had or would ever use to describe myself. Luck had never followed me or graced me with its presence without a cost. Not without a price.

"All of the men here have nothing left, no one. They've been hurt and beaten and starved. They have been robbed and seen their friends collapse from exhaustion. The war has claimed so many already but here you are. Fighting monsters to keep yourself alive. The desperate glimmer in your eyes is fear. You are scared to lose because you still love someone enough to fight for them. That's a luck none of us have anymore. All we can do now is survive for ourselves and even that isn't enough to keep someone going."

It had been a while since a stranger had compelled my eyes to water.

"I don't even know if he's alive," I said low, suddenly feeling tiny and vulnerable.

Andreas nodded.

"But you have faith he does because you love him."

I was frozen. I had never thought that. Never said it. Not to him or anyone. How could he know? Could he tell me how I would know? If it was real?

"I owe him. That's all." I insisted. But there was no convincing him, I couldn't even convince myself. It was only half the truth. The only part I would speak out loud.

"Enough to be sitting here, trusting a stranger."

"I don't trust anyone."

"Exactly."

Silence fell between us, as we were staring at each other.

"Is your faith broken, Andres?"

"Yes."

"Then why aren't you dead?"

"I wanted to be." He paused shamefully. "But then I saw hope slash a man's throat."

Hope. The forever curse. The unofficial name. My name. Why couldn't I escape it?

"So what's your next move?" I carefully asked.

"Well, it should be to fight you for that blade." He said with a smile, letting his eyes drift over the silver.

My hands moved instinctively to the handle and I felt the darkness glaze over my eyes.

"Revenge will get you killed," I warned.

He snorted, "By you or them?"

My patience was slipping. "What is it you want?"

"Help us. Help us be free."

"You are." I said knowing it was a lie.

"Not all of us."

"I am not a hero," I said coldly. I wasn't and I wouldn't be. Not for them. The strangers.

"You are now."

"No. I told you I wouldn't."

"Your words are from your head. But your actions, out there, they were from the heart." He said putting a palm to his chest.

He was manipulating me and I was letting him.

"Help us be free."

Free. No one helped me until that mysterious stranger. I was lost until then. Until my luck had turned, but with a price

The selfless stranger.

We locked eyes.

"Okay."