Imposter

Chapter 14

The festival last night had left Jericho exhausted. He'd woken up in a stranger's bed and was forced to dress in a hurry before the girl next to him woke up and made things awkward. He'd jogged all the way home, stopping only to buy a sticky bun from a vendor that was open from last night.

When he got home, Marie was sleeping and he crept up to the attic.

"I bought something for you," Jericho said softly, crouching down next to his sister. "Are you hungry?"

Viviane swallowed, shaking her head faintly. She pulled her knees up to her chest, dropping her gaze to the floor.

"You have to eat sometime," Jericho said. "Please, Vivi."

Karel should have died. Not her skies-damned son. It should have been Karel.

He was the one who'd started the whole mess.

He ruined her. Jericho sat down next to his older sister, blinking rapidly and reaching subtly for her hand.

"I'll do whatever it takes to make this right again," he told her. "You know that, right?"

As usual, Viviane didn't respond.

"You know that story you used to tell me when I was a kid?" he asked. "About the unicorns and how their horn holds the power to heal everything?"

Viviane lifted a thin hand, pressing it lightly above her heart.

Even a broken heart?

But not a broken heart.

"It'd be a worth a shot," he said. "I'd go to the ends of the realm to find one for you."

And after he healed her with it, he'd bury the horn between Karel's eyes.

"You know I'll make him pay, right?" he asked to fill the silence between them. "I'll do whatever it takes, Vivi."

A tremor went through her body and Viviane leaned over slowly, resting her head on his shoulder. A tear slipped down her cheek, followed by another and another.

Jericho wrapped his arms around her, holding her while she cried silently.

Inside, the fire in his heart threatened to boil over.

If he wanted to join the Young Executioners, he'd have to prove he would be useful to them.

Jericho dug out a pair of his father's old throwing knives in the attic, ignoring Viviane's watchful eyes.

He didn't have a sword or a crossbow to practice with, but maybe he could impress their leader with a few knife tricks.

Jericho set up a target facing away from the house, and pulled out the first knife. It was lightweight and the dusty blade still had a wicked point.

The first three tries, the knives all just smacked into the target and fell into the grass. He clenched his jaw, a vein pulsing in his temple.

"Don't use so much force. You're throwing it like you're trying to knock someone out," Karel's voice whispered in his ear, a memory of the past.

His advice had been helpful back then, but knowing it was coming from him just made Jericho angrier now.

When Karel wasn't cozying up to Viviane and poisoning her mind, he'd tried to suck up to Jericho.

"I was six, not braindead," Jericho muttered, snatching the knives off the ground.

He hadn't fallen for the nice guy image Karel had painted on so neatly. He'd seen through the cracks. His parents had seen through the cracks.

Viviane had slipped through them and never returned.

They'd been so close that day, when Karel had tried to help him with knife-throwing. Jericho should have reached up and slit his throat and ended it all right then.

It wouldn't have been too late to save Viviane.

When Jericho finally got comfortable with his progress, he packed the knives up and headed back inside.

Marie was at the table, drinking a cup of tea. She looked at him with sleepy eyes. "You've been at that for an hour," she said. "What's made you mad now?"

She should have put her foot down. She should have found a way to make sure Viviane wouldn't keep seeing Karel.

She should have found a way to stop their disgusting affair before Karel took her to bed and ruined her.

"Nothing," he said curtly.

Marie narrowed her eyes. "How was the festival?"

"Karel's still alive, so it could have been better," he muttered, filling a glass with water.

"That should change soon," Marie said, rubbing her forehead. "I heard the Young Executioners are coming to town."

And he was going to help them make Karel pay.

"Do you still want to join up?"

"I do," he said stiffly, "but it's going to be hard, considering I'm Viviane's caretaker because you—"

"We'll figure something out," Marie interrupted. "If joining up is truly what you want, we'll figure something out. I won't up and abandon my daughter just because you leave home."

"Really?" Jericho chewed on the inside of his cheek. "You won't. . .you won't forget about her?"

Marie smiled tiredly. "I know things have been rough these past years, but I do love her. Despite everything she did back then, I love her."

But it hadn't been her fault. Not all of it. Karel had put a spell on her. He was the one who had made Viviane rebel against her parents.

"And I love you," Marie said, standing up and pinching his cheek. "Even if you're moody all the time."

"Mom, stop," he said with a scowl, slapping her hand away. "Why are you in such a good mood?"

She smiled at him, walking over to the kitchen sink. "It's a beautiful day, Jericho. You should smile more often."

"Who is he?" Jericho asked when she started to walk back to her room. "Your date?"

She paused, turning to give him a smile over her shoulder. "Don't worry about it," she said. "You'll get to meet him someday."

Or maybe he would wake up one day and there wouldn't be a single trace of his own mother ever living in their home.