Chapter 5

Date: 11/20/1852 Town: Thornwell In which Letha defiles a grave.

At first, Letha had planned to avoid Aristeo at every turn. But the day after she decided this, she realized how silly it was. There were arrangements to oversee, rehearsals for the event, and after all she wouldn't be able to avoid him if they shared a house and a bed. She was sure, knowing the sort of person that Aristeo was, that she would need to oversee every aspect of his performance to be sure he didn't embarrass her.

A week after they had met, Letha found herself waiting outside of her family's graveyard for her fiance to appear. She expected his clothing to be more normal now that his parents weren't forcing him into it, but she was sorely disappointed to discover that the poet shirt and animal bone belt were there to stay. As was the flamboyantly detailed vest that dragged her eyes too it as much as she'd like to never look at him. He even had a top hat on, and it made him look absolutely ridiculous at his height. She hopped off of old Gerard's grave, which she'd been using as a seat, and wandered over to greet him.

"You're late." She chimed smugly.

"You're annoying." He responded glumly.

She chose to ignore him this time; she could tell there was no heat behind his insults. And despite how he insisted otherwise, she knew he was fully incapable of saying anything positive. With a cool smile she took his hand and led him along the road, "I trust you've been studying the vows."

"It's only four sentences."

"You'd be surprised how badly it can go..."

"No, I wouldn't." Aristeo paused, and hesitated before speaking, "My brother couldn't remember them when he was married. He dropped the candle on his bride's skirt."

Letha couldn't help laughing. She knew Aristeo's brother, Octavius Regis. He was one of the record-keepers for the Elders, along with Nicholas. He was the polar opposite of Aristeo, so obsessed with rules and organization that a rumor had spread that talking to him for a minute took an hour from one's lifespan. And to imagine him spilling flames on the dress of Lucentia Regis, the most strict and proper woman in Thornwell, was impossibly funny.

"Too bad, if you mess up like that it won't be funny at all. Everyone will be expecting it."

"I don't plan to mess up."

"Good. Well, in that case, and seeing as they're so easy, why don't you repeat them for me?"

Aristeo's fingers tensed in her grasp. "No."

"Why not?"

"They're... embarrassing."

"Oh, that's silly. With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, for I shall be your wine. With this candle, I will set your dress afire..."

She had expected a laugh, but Aristeo just stared at her with a deadpan expression. It was somewhat chilling to behold; with his skin so pale and cold, his hair so dull, he looked like a corpse when he wasn't talking. She went quiet herself, and she could feel they were going back to square one.

After the silence had gone on quite long enough, she spoke again. "It's fine if you don't remember them, we have three more weeks. But you must practice with me."

"I won't see you the week before the wedding, it's bad luck."

"Well, that will be a pleasant vacation for both of us. But I'm not going to forgive you if you light me on fire."

Aristeo bit his lip, and his gaze strayed toward the ground. Letha considered pitying him, but it was probably her doing that he was acting like this. Surely if she had been submissive he would be forcing her to admire him... it was best they left things the way they were.

The silence fell over them again, and she resented it more this time than ever. Silence was boring, and she had seen such potential for a lively marriage... dragging Aristeo along on adventures was hardly worthwhile, but calmly leaving him at home while she ran off wasn't very exciting either.

She needed to break this silence. Her eyes strayed along the road, to a pair of young maids chattering outside of a Regis house. They were both startlingly blond, and had to be a year or so younger than herself... for all the benefits of her stature, she envied them the choice to wait and see if they like their fiances before marrying. Nothing depended on their reproduction, nothing truly important.

"Those are Matthew's sisters." Aristeo muttered, and she realized she'd been openly staring at them.

"Matthew?" she pondered, the name not at all familiar.

"One of our farmhands. Elodia visits him when she has time."

Letha remembered Elodia. She was Aristeo's elder sister, and one of the best warriors in the barracks. But the elders had decided she had spent long enough avoiding marriage, and there was no place for a woman over twenty in the battlefield... the worst excuse Letha had ever heard. She wondered if Elodia might know something she ought not to. But more importantly...

"Why do you know his name?"

"Whose?"

"Matthew."

"Oh." Aristeo responded dumbly, "Because Elodia says it all the time. 'Matthew, clean my boots'. 'Matthew, shine my saddle'. 'Matthew, this', 'Matthew, that'."

Letha couldn't help smiling at that, and she could tell the smile unnerved Aristeo. Perhaps this marriage wasn't all bad, if she would be Elodia's sister-in-law.

"I won't let you treat me like that." Aristeo said quickly, "I'm not some peasant boy you can give orders to."

"That's not truly your decision, is it?" Letha muttered, wistfully considering the matter, "You can't very well expect to control me."

Aristeo opened his mouth to object, but they both knew she was right. He held no power. And so he was quiet for just a moment before speaking again, "Where are we going?"

"The elders' graveyard."

Aristeo stopped walking. "We aren't allowed in there."

"That's true." Letha slowed her pace, but tried to tug Aristeo back into motion. "But the first courtship should be exciting, should it not?"

He didn't have a response for her. He simply stared at her, awe-struck by her impropriety, before sluggishly following her. It took several minutes for him to complain, but the complaint came.

"What if someone sees us?"

"We'll look utterly improper." She responded coolly, "And the elders may even call off our wedding."

It was nearly silly how quickly Aristeo relaxed, and how calm he became. At the very least, she could tell they had similar goals. But she doubted it was truly the case that they would give up their chance to pair them.

Silence continued to be the calling card of their relationship, but it was calmer, warmer as they made their way to the elders' graveyard. Unlike the lesser Regis families who could keep the previous farmhands and maids of their house, the elders' graveyard held any body they chose, from anywhere in town. Regises, peasants and halfbloods alike shared graves in this place, and it was a sign of shame for one's body to lay here. It meant you had something to hide, or something to be ashamed of, and the elders knew it.

Aristeo had never truly stopped her, but now that they were here she could tell he was nervous. His hand was still in hers and it was cold and tense, like a dead man's. His legs moved slowly, and he carefully skirted the graves while Letha ran her hands over the tombstones.

"Why did we come here?" Aristeo let go of her hand belatedly and crossed his arms angrily, staring across the field.

"We're investigating." Letha took a few steps away from him before he tugged on her sleeve.

Or rather, his fingers dug into the fabric. He was too nervous to be anywhere near gentle about it. She paused before glancing back and raising her brows.

"What exactly are we 'investigating', pray tell?"

She hadn't expected him to care much for the rules, but she couldn't say she was surprised that he was a stick in the mud. His brows were furrowed in frustration, his posture tense as he tried to pull her back. She frowned at him and tugged her sleeve away from him.

"Someone has gone rogue near the barracks, I intend to get to the bottom of it."

"It's none of your concern, the elders will-"

"The elders have done plenty." Letha grimaced, and stepped away before he could stop her again, "They gave me away to you so that I would keep my mouth shut. I'm taking matters into my own hands."

"And- and you think they'll let you get away with that?"

"No, I don't expect they will. But they've already given me you, what more can they give me without raising a few brows?"

Aristeo opened his mouth to argue, but instead he just shook his head and started pacing. He was such a flighty boy... it really did show how little he'd been told 'no' in his life. Letha sighed and walked back to him, "I just want to find one of the warriors, ask a few questions and be done with it. Then we can go... I'm not sure, we can do something fun."

"It's not going to be fun if you're around."

"Well, that's hardly the attitude to keep around your fiancee." Letha propped her fists on her hips, "If you don't want to participate, stand here and guard the area. And come warn me if anyone comes by."

"And get in trouble with you?"

"It's your duty as my husband."

"I'm not your-"

"You will be. Back to the gate. Sit. Stay."

Aristeo glowered at her, but he wasn't stopping her and that was what she thought was important. With a smile of determination she turned on her heel and walked back into the cemetery, glancing back to see Aristeo... actually following orders. How nice.

The graves in this graveyard were deeper than those in the rest of the village; necromancing graves were shallow to allow quick enchanting and recovery, but these graves were meant to stop the unauthorized from communing with the dead.

Luckily for her, some addle-brained stable boy had left his shovel propped against the fence. Taking a moment to hitch her dress up to the best of her abilities, Letha took the shovel and glanced over the graves, trying to decide the best one. The stones were small and flat unlike the cross-shaped stones in shallow graves, and the names didn't mean much. But after the careful consideration of about three seconds, she drove the shovel into the grave of Acantha Thornwell.

The dirt was soft and moist, her shoes sunk into it with each swipe, and the seams of her sleeves wouldn't allow her to dig very quickly. But if she had chosen the right grave, she would have an invaluable lead. And, after all, asking Aristeo to do the hard work was out of the question. She had no patience left for his whining and negativity.

It took far too long and her hair was heavy with sweat, her dress feeling much too tight around her chest by the time she was done, but she managed to get low enough for her mind to feel the body below her. She wiped her curls from her forehead, and dug the shovel into the earth beside her as she closed her eyes and cast her mind downward. One foot below her feet, there was the coffin. Speaking should be safe, but she crouched to hear the dead woman better.

"Hello in there? Can you hear me?"

There was silence.

"Acantha? I need to ask you a few questions, it's very important-"

"She can't hear you."

Letha straightened up in shock at the unfamiliar voice - she couldn't remember the last time she hadn't recognized a voice. A man was perched on the lip of the grave she'd dug up, barefoot and with ginger hair slipping over his pale, freckled face. He looked a few years older than herself, and nothing like a Regis. His appearance was so odd, she couldn't think of anything to say and simply stood there, gaping like a goldfish until he spoke.

"The name's Letus."

He had a mischievous grin, and a thick Irish brogue that made him sound like even old Gerard was of higher class than him. But the name was Latin, and she knew only the Regis had the honor of a Latin name in Thornwell. He certainly didn't seem like an outsider, despite his looks... he seemed perfectly at home in this sanctuary of evidence.

"Now I know I look odd.. I ain't about t' try and tell ya how I'm related t' this whole lot. The important part is, I look over these graves here, makin' sure no one comes snoopin' around and the like. You wouldn't happen t' be snoopin', wouldja?"

Letha glanced around at the hole she was currently inhabiting, wiped a bit of dirt from her cheek and shook her head, "No."

Letus paused and burst into laughter. Letha furrowed her brow, unsure of whether she could trust him. After a good hearty guffaw he began to calm himself, and forced his words through his last giggles, "O' course, o' course - don't look like it, neither. Listen, Acantha ain't here."

"But the body is right-"

"Aye, the body's there - right as rain, like. I make sure o' that meself. But the soul ain't here, and that's what matters, ain't it?"

Letha froze. She knew what that meant. Bodies and souls separating... the only way to accomplish that was to destroy the soul in question.

"See, Acantha knew a little too much, and she was... disposed of, humaine-like. If I may make a suggestion, miss... em..."

A pause passed, before she stuttered a response, "Letha."

"Miss Letha, if I may be so bold, I'd suggest you find your way out afore anyone with authority finds you. We wouldn't want you knowin' more 'n' your share, would we?"

Letha opened her mouth to argue, but she found no words. She simply held her hand out, and Letus helped her back out of the grave. His grip was harsh, his skin cold... she wanted to be away from there as quickly as possible. And as she passed he smiled, and it made her shudder. "Don't you worry, I'll clean up here. It's your first offense.. it'll be our little secret, m’dear."

Letha refused to turn back. She grabbed Aristeo by the arm, ignored his protests at the dirt on her dress, and hurried away as fast as her heeled boots could take her.