Liam Vale's Arc

Chapter 4 of 7

Liam still did not know what brave thing he could do for the herb-seller. He was chewing on it the next morning when he reached her stall. She was not smiling. She held a bundle of stems too tight, and she did not pour the tea. "Someone came by," she said. "A woman. She told me you're running a new game. That the honest act is your best trick yet." She looked at him. "She sounded sure." Liam's stomach dropped. He knew who. One of the three he'd fooled with the same wildflower. He had earned her anger. "Do you believe her?" he asked. "I don't know," the herb-seller said. "That's the problem." A laugh cut in. The purple-haired woman leaned on the next stall, a small padlock swinging at her throat. She had watched Liam confess days ago, and she still watched him like she was waiting for the mask to slip. "Told you," she said. "Men like him always want something." Liam could have argued. Old Liam would have. He would have spun a story, named the woman a liar, charmed his way clear. He felt the words rise, smooth and easy. He let them die. "She's right to warn you," Liam said instead. "The woman spreading this. I did lie to her. I gave her a flower I'd already given to two others that same morning. She has every reason to hate me." The herb-seller went still. The purple-haired woman raised an eyebrow. "I can't prove I've changed with words," Liam went on. "Words are what I'm good at. That's the whole trap." He reached into his coat and drew out his mother's locket. He had carried it for years and never opened it for anyone. He set it on the counter and pressed it open. Inside was a folded scrap of paper, soft from handling. "My mother wrote this before she died," he said. "She wrote that I lie because I'm scared people will leave. She was right. I've spent my life proving her right." His voice caught. "I'm not showing you this to win. I'm showing you because you asked for one true thing, and this is the truest one I have." The herb-seller looked at the paper, then at his face. The purple-haired woman said nothing. For once she did not smirk. "That woman can say what she likes," Liam said. "I won't fight her. She's owed her anger." He closed the locket and left it on the counter, in front of the herb-seller, not in his pocket. The herb-seller picked it up. She held it a long moment. Then she poured the tea. "You could have lied just now," she said. "You didn't." She pushed the cup toward him. "I don't trust you yet. But I believe this." Liam sat. The doubt was gone, and something harder had replaced it. She believed him. Now she would expect him to prove it with more than a locket.