How He Paid Back

The curtains were fluttering in the wind.

Outside, the moon was rising high above the towers of Halcombe, pale and full, casting silver light across the rooftops. Inside, the office was dimly lit, a single lamp burning on the desk.

Rourke was sitting on the chair near the window, his eyes looking out at the moon. But there was nothing behind them. They were empty, hollow, fixed on something far beyond the glass. His hands lay loose in his lap, unmoving. The usual precision of his posture was gone, replaced by the heavy slouch of a man carrying too much.

A knock was heard at the door.

"Father. You should come home now. It's getting very late. It's almost midnight."

It was Fiona. She was leaning against the door frame, her voice was soft, but there was worry underneath it.

"You go on without me. I'll be there in a while." Rourke did not move his eyes from the moon.

"You already said that. I heard it, went home, and then came back because Mom told me to. And you're still saying the same thing." She stepped inside the room, her footsteps quiet on the wooden floor.

"It's not your fault. You were just doing your duty. You don't need to feel this bad. Let's go home, Father."

Rourke's voice rose a little. "You go home. And heat some water for me. I will be taking a bath." He paused, his tone sharpening. "And stop prying into this matter. Just focus on your training to become a handler."

The response left Fiona without words. She stood there, her mouth slightly open, searching for something to say. There was nothing. She had nothing to counter it.

"Yes. I will." Her voice was quiet, but there was a crack in it. "But I also managed Wren. I feel bad for her too."

She ran out. The door banged shut behind her, and her footsteps faded down the hallway.

Rourke just sat there in silence.

An hour passed. The moon climbed higher. The lamp on his desk burned low, the flame guttering in the breeze from the window.

It's because of me. I should have protected her. I couldn't do anything. Now she is trapped. She was already carrying so much. And she even took the blame so that nothing would fall on me.

"And what did I do for her? I just clapped."

"That clap did a lot, Rourke. You gave her hope. You turned those officials to her side." A voice came from somewhere in the room.

Rourke looked around. He wasn't able to see anyone. He looked behind him. He looked to his side. There was no one there.

Suddenly, a hand caught the window frame. It applied force, and a figure pulled itself up.

"Who? Who is it?" Rourke jumped back, his hand moving in a stance.

The face was now visible. It was Silas. "Hey, chill. It's me." He climbed inside the office, swinging his legs over the sill and landing softly on the floor.

"What are you doing here? Did you climb up?" Rourke calmed a little, which was strange considering he was looking at a wanted man.

"Of course I climbed. I can't just walk in through the front door."

"Why are you here? Do you have a death wish?"

"Death wish? I'm not dying until I pay a certain someone back." Silas sat down on the edge of Rourke's desk, crossing one leg over the other. "Anyway, why are you being so whiny? Don't tell me the great handler of the Rourke family is crying his heart out alone."

Rourke shifted, turning to face Silas fully. "It's because of me that Wren is in this state. If I had stopped those inspectors, or handled the situation better, none of this would have happened. That girl has been fighting with herself all this time, and now I just made it worse for her."

Silas let out a chuckle. "What are you saying? What happened was good. It was necessary for her. She finally faced herself. I think everything that happened in that hall was really necessary."

"What do you mean? Now she is trapped. And now the Crown knows about her status as the legendary Fatebinder. Her whole life is ruined."

"Well, as for trapped... we have a way to get her out."

"How?"

Silas pointed toward Rourke. "It's sitting right in front of me."

"You mean me?"

"Yeah, I mean you. And we have to do it tonight. We don't have enough time. It's time for you to pay her back."

Rourke immediately stood up.

"The Hollow Choir is moving to the site of the Hush. I don't know what they're planning to do, but we need to move too." Silas stood up from the desk, his expression unreadable.

"But how do we get Wren out of here?"

"You go in. Convince Wren. And tell me a route with the fewest officials. I'll handle the rest." Silas pulled out a glass bottle from his pocket and a strip of cloth. "And after we get out of here, I'll manage that too."

Rourke immediately began telling him about a less crowded route, pointing out the side passages and the gaps in the patrols. His voice was low and urgent, his mind working through the layout of the building.

"Take care of it, Silas. I am indebted to you. I will pay you back."

Rourke moved out, rushing through the hallway toward the garrisons. His footsteps were quick but quiet, his breath steady. He stopped at the corner and took a look at the security. Three men were stationed near the front door of the garrisons. Five more stood behind them, directly in front of Wren's room.

A hand landed on Rourke's shoulder. Silas. "Now go on."

Rourke cleared his throat and started a slow, unhurried walk toward Wren's room. The officials turned to him as he approached, their postures relaxing when they recognized him. They cleared a path without question.

He reached the front of Wren's room. "Is she in here?"

"Yes, sir. She is inside."

"And who else is with her?"

"Her protector, Rowan. And an old man and a small girl. No one else."

He knocked on the door and opened it. Inside, the room was dark apart from a single lamp burning on one side. The light pooled softly on the floor.

Rowan was sleeping on the floor, his back against the wall, his sword resting beside him. Pryce was sleeping on the bed, his cane propped against the frame.

Wren and Della were sitting by the lamp. Della was in Wren's arms, her small body curled against Wren's side. Wren saw Rourke and immediately stood up.

"Rourke. How is it outside? When is the Crown leaving for the Hollow Choir? Rowan told me you were made the head of this whole mission."

"That doesn't matter. How are you? You collapsed back there. Are you feeling better now?"

"Oh, that. Wren... I asked too much of myself. I was only unconscious for a little while."

"Well, that's good."

Rowan and Pryce woke from their sleep. Both of them sat up, blinking in the dim light, their expressions shifting from sleep to alertness in an instant.

"Now get ready. We're leaving," Rourke said.

"Where?" Wren was confused. Rowan and Pryce were confused as well.

"For the Hollow Choir. They've started moving toward the Hush site."

"But I'm restrained. Did the Crown release me?"

"You're escaping from here. From the Crown. From the capital. Do what you want to do."

"What? Why? How? There's so much security outside. And your job... if they find out you did this, what will happen to you? What about Fiona?"

He approached Wren and took her hand in his. His grip was warm, steady. "You are leaving. I will make it happen, and you will follow. Because of me, you were trapped here. And you took the blame that should have fallen on me. So now, let me pay you back. And this time, I will handle the situation. I swear."

Della was still hugging Wren, her small arms wrapped tight around her waist. Wren looked down at her face, at the wide, trusting eyes. Then she looked back at Rourke.

"Okay. I will."

Rourke turned to Rowan and Pryce. They were already ready, both of them standing near the bed, their expressions set with quiet determination. Rowan met Wren's eyes and nodded once.

"Let's go, Wren."

"What?"

Rourke got to the door and slowly opened it. He looked through the gap. The five officials were on the floor. All of them were in deep sleep, their chests rising and falling in slow rhythm, their weapons still at their belts. That damn Silas.

He opened the door fully, guiding everyone out. The three guards at the garrison entrance were also out cold, slumped against the walls like discarded dolls.

They all rushed through the hallways, following the path that Rourke had laid out for Silas. Along the whole route, officials were asleep. Some were sitting against walls. Some were lying flat on the floor. All of them were breathing deeply, their bodies completely still.

So that's what that bottle was for.

Rowan asked from behind, his voice low. "Who did this?"

Wren added, "Why are they out cold?"

"That? That must have been that friend of yours." Rourke didn't look back.

They reached the final door that led outside. But the door wasn't there. The hinges were empty, the frame bare.

This guy. I told him to wait here for me. I was going to unlock it for them. But...

They got out through the gap where the door had been. The cool night air hit their faces. The moon was high now, washing the streets in silver. In the distance, they saw a silhouette. They ran toward it.

It was Silas. There was a carriage near him, dark and sleek, its horses stamping quietly in the night. "Took you long enough. You managed to convince her, Rourke?"

"Yeah. Now leave. This instant."

"What? You're not coming with us?" Della stood near Wren, her voice small.

"No. I'm not. I need to handle the mission I was assigned. But I will be there. I promise." Rourke's voice was firm, but his eyes were soft. "Now get in, all of you."

All of them got into the carriage. Silas stayed outside a little longer, leaning against the carriage door. "Will you handle the breakout that will happen when her disappearance is discovered."

"I will take care of it." Rourke paused, looking at the carriage. "Where did you even get this thing? It looks even more luxurious than a Crown official carriage."

"You just need a little leverage over the right person." Silas smiled, then climbed into the carriage.

The horses shrieked and started moving along the road. The carriage wheels turned, and the vehicle began to fade into the distance, swallowed by the night.

Rourke stood there longer than he should have. He watched until the carriage was only a dark shape against the darker road, until the sound of the wheels had faded to nothing.

A smile crossed his face. It was tired, and sad, and strangely warm.

"I was the one who brought you here, trapping you. And I am the one sending you off. How did this happen?"

The night was quiet around him. The stars watched from above.

"Be free, Wren. Do what you want to do."