The guards took Libby away in the night. They probably thought to cut down on the panic by doing so, but Libby’s outraged yells destroyed any chance of a quiet getaway. No one could do anything about it, and though a few prisoners called for the guards to let her go, most people watched as they dragged Libby, struggling, down the hall and out of the prison.
Logan did his best to console Fynn from the next cell over. The boy cried anyway. Logan understood his feelings better than anyone else in the prison.
Logan spent much of the next day speaking to Fynn in a hushed whisper, trying to coax the should-be toddler into conversation. Attempts to cajole Fynn into healthier conversation only turned to sobbing, however, and soon Logan gave up on a back-and-forth. Instead he settled for stories of the old days, and these seemed to bring Fynn out of his sobbing, though he remained largely silent.
“Yeah, your sister was a hellhound, man,” Logan continued. “Bet she still is. Your dad ever tell you that we were supposed to get married? That was a weird experience, lemme tell you.”
Fynn’s chains clinked a little.
“My dad was nuts back then.” Logan fiddled with the curl of hair dangling from his forehead, a staple of his appearance since his birth. “Batshit nuts, ‘scuse the swearing. He’s a bit better now. Anyway, your sister Eve was the Lord Knight of our kingdom, ’n dad wanted me to make her part of the family. I said no, of course, but nobody listens to me, so they set up this bigass wedding - ”
Nagi, half asleep in her cell across the hall, snorted. “Shoulda robbed the treasury ’n run, kid. That’s what I woulda done.”
“You aren’t royalty, missus,” Logan shot back. “Probably get caught in a fortnight spendin’ it on expensive booze in some tavern anyway.”
“Up yours,” Nagi yawned. She went back to sleep.
“So anyway.” Logan reached through the bars so Fynn could see his hands gesticulating, thinking it might help the boy feel less lonely. “They set up this wedding, ’n my dad hires mercenaries for the catering. Buncha big, burly dudes, moving cakes around, setting up chairs, stringing up decorations… wouldn’t believe how ridiculous it looked, Fynn. Really was something. Granted, I was kinda sick at the time, but I remember it well enough to be ironically impressed. Or something. Your sister, though, she barely - “
“What is she like?”
Logan clamped his mouth shut. He hadn’t expected a question, and it kicked him right off his train of thought. No ticket, no service. “Huh?”
“Eve.” Fynn clanked a little more loudly. “And… and Grayson, I guess. Mom never talks ‘bout either of them, and dad… well, he’ll say stuff about Eve, but I can’t tell… if…”
Logan jumped back on the train. “If he’s romanticizing her?”
A clank. Logan suspected it was a nod. “Uh, I guess that’s what… what I mean. I think. He won’t say anything bad about her. And, uh…”
Logan smiled. Classic Dragomir. “I get ya. Um… lesse… Eve, Eve…”
Memories. Logan thought back to all the times he’d interacted with Eve, which, he realized, weren’t that numerous. She’d come and gone as she’d pleased, seemingly ignorant of anything outside slaughter. Her only words heralded destruction. Yet on some rare occasions Eve had revealed small hints of other thoughts: Watching ants drag food to their colony, staring intently at a rose in the royal gardens, watching a sunset, looking at her father and mother’s house from afar… only Logan ever caught these moments, and he knew they hinted at a little girl hiding beneath the warrior.
“Eve…” Logan shook his head. “Eve’s a complicated lady. Far as I know, though, she loved her mom ’n her dad with all her heart. I owe her my life. Hell, my whole family does. So in my books, Eve is pretty awesome.”
Fynn didn’t answer for a long time, so silent that Logan couldn’t even hear him breathing. “I hope I meet her some day.”
Logan slumped against the wall of his cell. “Me too, kid. Me too.”
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