Liam Vale's Arc

Chapter 2 of 7

Morning came, and Liam had nothing to bring. That was the whole point. He stood at his window and watched the street below fill with carts. His hands felt strange, useless. For years he had never walked to her without a flower, a story, some small gift to soften the meeting. Now he owned nothing that proved he could be honest. His charm had always been the proof. Today he had to leave it behind. His basset hound lay across the doorway, ears flat, watching him with heavy eyes. Liam knelt and rubbed the dog's soft head. "No tricks today," he said. "I don't even know what that leaves." He reached for the drawer where he kept small valuables. His fingers closed on his mother's locket. He almost pinned it to his coat, ready to use it, to unlock some woman's pity with a sad old story. Then he stopped. That would be another trick. He set the locket back and closed the drawer. He walked out with empty hands. She was pruning her herbs when he arrived. A woman with purple hair leaned on the stall beside her, arms crossed, a padlock charm hanging at her throat. She looked Liam up and down and laughed. "So this is the flower man," she said. "Where's the bribe? I heard you never come empty." She had clearly heard the whole story. Liam felt the old urge to charm her, to win the crowd. He swallowed it. "I brought nothing," Liam said. "She asked me to." The purple-haired woman raised an eyebrow at the herb-seller, as if to ask what the game was. The herb-seller kept clipping her stems. She did not smile. "Say something true," the herb-seller said. "Not clever. True." Liam's throat went dry. He had no line ready. "I don't know who I am without the trick," he said. "I gave the same flower to three women because I was scared no one would want the real me. I'm scared now. Standing here with nothing, I feel like a fool." He heard his own voice shake. He hated it. He kept going. "But I'd rather be a fool who tells the truth than a charmer you shake your head at." The purple-haired woman stopped grinning. She glanced at the herb-seller and went quiet. The herb-seller set down her shears. She looked at Liam a long time, longer than before. Then she reached under her counter and set a cup of tea on the wood. "Sit," she said. "That's the first thing you've said that wasn't for sale." Liam sat. His hands were still empty, but they no longer felt useless. He had come with nothing and she had let him stay. It was not trust yet. It was a door, cracked open. He picked up the tea and knew he could never charm his way back through it. From here, only the truth would work.