The next morning came too quickly. Deskin had offered to be on watch for the night, and the ridged bark of the tree he had chosen to lie against had left deep divots in his already sore back. Though the old man had stirred himself awake at some point in the night and even offered to take a shift, as Deskin peeled open his dreary eyes that morning, the tortle was snoring away on the ground.

  “Some watchman you would be,” Deskin scoffed.

  The last debris of gray skies had parted to reveal the orange hue of dawn. As he rubbed the sleepless night from his face, he spotted a figure in white gleaming in the shadows of a low elm tree.

  Verna’s head was bowed, kneeling in the dirt with her side exposed to his. Her soft lips whispered gently, almost imperceptibly quiet amid the chitter of birds around them. She could not see him. Those violet eyes were closed off to him. But her silver hair was pulled back. Exposing that long neck, he could not help but let his gaze linger on.

  She was beautiful.

  In the early kisses of the low sun, she seemed to glow in a way he’d never seen, but it was her voice that drew him closer. The stubborn snap of her words, the judgment that flew off her tongue. It was matched and exceeded by the gentle curiosity in her gaze.

  It bothered him.

  Try as he might, ever since he saw her, his mind wandered to her. Through all the mess this job had brought, he had leapt between her and the Death’s Row. It was an irritating pull that he had yet to explain or dismiss. An emotion that he’d much rather have squashed in its infancy, yet he found himself walking towards her. Taking the gentlest of steps to not disturb her for even a moment.

  “Lady of the dawn,” Verna whispered. “Great goddess, hear my prayers. Guide my mind and protect my soul. Aid me so I may see to those misguided and help them find their way to you. Protect the people of Meerside and all those fleeing from violence. Let me serve in Your honor. Let me feel Your touch. Bless those who strive in Your task.”

  She took a deep breath, her eyes flicking open. “Goddess!” She blurted. “Why are you standing there?”

  Deskin raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

  “Didn’t mean to sneak up on me while I was mid-prayer?” She snapped. “I understand you have no respect for my faith, but common decency would expect you to resist gawking at a Sister while she completes her duties.”

  “I wasn’t gawping,” Deskin said quickly. Already, the calm he had felt around her twisted into a bite of irritation. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but if this is how you treat everyone in the morning, I can see why all the preachers are such an irritable bunch.”

  “We are not irritable.” Verna stood, her hands on her hips. “We are pious.”

  “Too pious for a simple good morning? Or is that another rule you have to follow?”

  Verna sighed, the anger in her face fading. “You are right. I apologize. I was startled, is all.” She bunched her lips into a polite smile. “Good morning, Deskin. How did you sleep?”

  “Fine enough.” He rolled out his sore shoulder and nodded to Lapat. “Not as well as him, but well enough. How about you?”

  “Is that what I heard all night? I thought his snoring was a wild animal in the brush.” Verna smiled, and Deskin felt his body relax.

  “I’m surprised you are up already. It’s barely dawn.”

  “At the temple, it was a responsibility of mine to prepare the meals for my brothers and sisters. Often, I was awake several hours before anyone else.”

  “You had to feed everyone?” Deskin asked. “Must have been busy.”

  “It could be. Though I relished my tasks. It was my purpose.”

  Deskin considered the endless late nights he had endured. Even the thought of waking early every morning was enough to drive him back to bed. “You didn’t ever tire of it?”

  “No, I actually enjoyed it.” Verna smiled. “In the morning, the temple was quiet. I could work and pray alone. It was peaceful.”

  “Is that what I interrupted? Morning prayer?”

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  “Yes.” Her face tightened suddenly, as if tasting something sour. “I’d rather you not disrespect it as well.”

  “I wasn’t going to,” Deskin said quickly. “Really, I was just curious.”

  Verna’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

  “Listen, I’m sorry for what I said before. I was upset. It wasn’t right. All of this,” he waved his hands at her robes, “is foreign to me.”

  “You don’t know about Our Lady?”

  “I’ve known a few, but not this one, no,” Deskin laughed, but quickly squashed it under Verna’s stare. “No, I don’t know about her. Or any of the others.”

  “But surely you had a temple in your hometown. Or an altar? The Order sends brothers and sisters to even the most remote of villages to spread Her word and care for Her flock. Surely you saw someone.”

  Deskin shrugged, shifting from foot to foot. “Not my town. Hells, it would have been nice to have someone looking after us. Or have someone to blame when things went south. Kinda hard to have any faith when the harvest is rotted or the locusts come back.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. Your home must have been very remote. Someone should have been there in Her stead, guiding you, caring for you, teaching you Her words.” Verna shook her head. “Who healed your sick?”

  Deskin scoffed. “Ain’t no holy man around to rub his hands and make our wounds vanish with a little hocus pocus.”

  “We don’t rub our hands and hocus pocus-” Verna clenched her jaw, taking a deep breath. “That is not all the Order provides. When we care for Her flock, we do more than just summon Her blessings.”

  “Isn’t that what you did to my back?” He scratched the dirty bandage clinging to his ribs.

  “That was not Her,” Verna explained. “That was simple herbology. A bit of biology and a dose of medical training I’ve picked up over the years in Her service.”

  “Why bother with it? When you can snap your fingers and fix anything with a bit of magic, why bother with the bio-logy and stuff?”

  Verna stiffened, her eyes shooting to the ground. “It...it is complicated. Her works, I mean. I don’t...”

  Deskin stared at her, confused. She had been loosening up, normal. But now, it was as if she were tight as a screw. Had he done something wrong?

  “If it’s private, I get it. No worries sharing secret preacher stuff with some guy. We all got our hidden stuff. I won’t pry.”

  Verna chewed her lip, her eyes never leaving the ground. “It’s not that it’s hidden. It’s...Well, I just...Thank you.”

  They stood there silently. The weight of something said but unseen hung between them like a curtain.

  “I’m sorry no one from my Order visited your home,” she said quietly. “I can’t imagine life without Her.”

  “Don’t know life with her to be honest,” Deskin said awkwardly. “So, didn’t change much. Maybe things would be different. Maybe not. But I’m here now, aren’t I?”

  “You are,” Verna laughed softly. “How did you get here?”

  Deskin felt a sarcastic remark form on his tongue, but he stowed it away. “You mean how did I wind up in Meerside?”

  “No, I pieced together that it was to rob the temple. I assume you planned to steal the ring and flee the city shortly after.”

  Deskin clicked his tongue in the affirmative. “Was supposed to be a quick in and out. One last job, nice and easy, but obviously that didn’t go according to plan.”

  Verna raised her gaze to his. A curiosity glimmering in her violet eyes. “Why did you want to steal the ring?”

  “Just a job. Hangman directs us. Pays us out on completion. This was just one of them to do. I didn’t know it would go like this. I didn’t know you would get involved.” A pang of guilt gnawed at his stomach.

  “Did you always want to be...one of them?”

  “One of them?”

  “You know...a member? A criminal?”

  Deskin took a deep sigh. This was too much. This was too far. He hadn’t come over here to talk to her about his past. He hadn’t come over here to talk at all. In fact, he couldn’t remember why he had.

  “We do what we must. It isn’t what I wanted, but when has anyone ever cared about that?” Deskin wung his hands tightly. “Why did you stay up with the temple? Just for fun?”

  “No,” Verna said softly. “I was born into it, brought in when I was a kid.”

  “Not having any other choice doesn’t sound like a very good reason to stick around.” Deskin felt the words come out in barbs. He didn’t know why he was so angry. But dammit, he was.

  “I thought I could help people,” Verna said softly.

  Deskin felt the fire of anger dissipate in a second. It was as though he was armed and ready to fight, but now he was left naked. Why didn’t she fight back? Why didn’t she shout him down?

  “Can help people just fine without the temple. Patched me up without any goddess hanging around you.”

  “I suppose so, yes.”

  “Didn’t look like they were treating you right. You could do a hells of alot more good without them. So, why do you stay?”

  She pursed her lips as if the question was something she was ashamed of. “I have to. I’m supposed to. She is my goddess. I am destined to serve Her. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

  “Well, maybe serving her ain’t doing anyone else any favors. Serving her didn’t keep us from going hungry. Serving her didn’t fix any broken bones. Serving her didn’t save my mother-” Deskin froze. He had almost slipped. He had almost spoken a truth that couldn’t be shared.

  “No,” she said sadly. “It didn’t. Why do you stay?”

  He couldn’t look at her. The question was so clear and kind, but it opened too much. It risked too much. The walls he had built all his life all screamed to shut up, to walk away, to lie, cheat, steal, anything to keep her out. But he couldn’t.

  “I can’t leave. Not yet.” His confession was a whisper, almost afraid to let the words fall, should they carry on the wind and expose him entirely. “I have a debt. To them. To the Hangman. I can’t leave until I pay it off. Or else...” The cost was too much to admit. Too horrible to imagine.

  “Or else, what?” Verna’s gaze was on him. Warm and soft, he nearly melted and told her everything. But he couldn’t.

  “Or else bad things will happen.”

  The forest was quiet around them. Though the sun was shining, though the breeze was soft, though the air was warm, Deskin was cold inside. He had to be. It was the only way to survive. It was the only way to protect himself. It was the only way to keep her out.

  He walked to the forest. Anything to build the distance between them. Anything to stay safe. Anything to stay alone.