Jayne dead.

  As he strode away from the house, hands in his pockets and his head lowered, Petyr tried to imagine what she looked like when he’d last seen her.

  Only two days ago, but the memory was already fading...

  Like many of the girls in Windust, Jayne was nothing more to him than another fling to pass the time, another easy way for him to prove himself a true conquering heartbreaker.

  A strange pang of guilt passed through him at the thought of her dead body, cold and lifeless.

  It wasn’t the fact that he had tried to seduce her for sex. That didn’t seem too important to him.

  No, what bothered him was that he couldn’t even remember the last thing he had said to her.

  Petyr could vaguely bring up the image of her long face as she gazed out wistfully at the sea, with Windust behind her, just a little while before they’d argued.

  Just before that stupid skysail appeared that seemed to bring all these troubles along with it…

  What did she say? Petyr wondered, unable to recall. The exchange escaped him.

  In the memory, her mouth moved; but no words could be heard.

  Maybe her last words, and no one will remember them.

  What was there to do? Petyr couldn’t blame himself for acting cruelly at times.

  He couldn’t pretend Jayne was important to him; she wasn’t. Even as far as Windust’s slim pickings went, there was no way in which she stood out.

  It was the world that was cruel, and the gods that allowed anyone to be born only to live such an insignificant life. If I were a god, this wouldn’t be happening.

  In the time that he thought the matter over, Petyr hadn’t gotten very far from the house.

  He was only a few meters up the road when he heard a whistle from the forest the treeline that ran parallel to it.

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  Of course. How could he have forgotten? That damnable woman.

  Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Petyr shuffled into the forest, at which point she popped up from behind a tree.

  “Where might you be headed to?” she said, peering at him suspiciously.

  “To town,” he said sharply. This no longer felt like an occasion for politeness.

  “You remember we—”

  “My girlfriend was found dead.”

  Avesta gave no particular reaction. “To my knowledge, you have many girlfriends; but only one job to do right now.”

  To have known that, she either needed to have been around long enough to spot him with different people, or she had eavesdropped in on far more conversations than he previously could’ve imagined. Just how much does she know about me? About others in Windust?

  Petyr’s gaze stayed with her stony face. “It wasn’t you that killed her, I hope.”

  When his father had accused him of the same, that caused an outburst of indignant emotion to break out from the depths of his usually dull heart. Avesta, on the other hand, didn’t appear too bothered by the suggestion.

  “There would have been no reason for me to do so,” she said, her tone perfectly smooth. “As far as I can tell, she is of no importance.”

  You cold bitch, he thought, hating her for saying that, though he was thinking the same not a minute ago.

  How awful it was for a death not to cause mass grieving, but confusion because of how little you mattered.

  The utter indifference in Avesta angered him and caused him to feel ashamed at his own.

  Still, for someone who seemed so upset at the idea of his father making drugs for bandits, she seemed oddly unconcerned about the death of an innocent girl.

  “You will have to keep to what we’ve agreed,” Avesta said. It wasn’t a threat—not yet. The tone did hint at it, though.

  “After I come back from town.”

  “I would remind you that you are already going against what we agreed upon. Do not make me regret allowing you this freedom.”

  Petyr took a step closer and tried to find his backbone. “I just told you my girlfriend is dead! Probably murdered. So I don’t give a shit what we agreed upon. Your stupid little plan can wait.”

  Avesta pursed her lips, biting back whatever instinct there was to lash out. “This is not how agreements work where I hail from.”

  “Too bad. Maybe go back there. What are you going to do? Kill me? Cut off my other ear? Go ahead.”

  He turned and rushed back towards the road, expecting her to strike him from behind. Try me.

  To his surprise, she neither struck nor followed him out.

  He was by himself again, sun burning up in the sky, accompanied only by the choir of cicadas in the grasses. Good, he thought. I’m not your slave to push around.

  With that resolved, he turned towards his destination once more—towards town—determined to find out what exactly happened to poor Jayne.

  Out of all people, why her?

  She was harmless. Innocent. Plain.

  Maybe even good.

  The thought of getting back at the bastard that did it and prying back some control over recent events filled him with a surge of energy.

  Yes, he thought. I’ll find him. And I’ll rip his goddamn head off.