Artemis and Caspian: The Spy

Chapter Twenty Seven

 Lady Kendra sighed as she sharpened her blood-soaked ax. Flakes of crimson fell gently onto the floor, littering the dark sandstones with splashes of color under the light of softly lit candles. She let the sounds of the camp outside lull her into an artificial peace. She didn't know why but the distant sounds of them settling in for the night always seemed to soothe her. The ruckus of soldiers laying down their weapons and unhitching their armor, flaps of tents being strewn open, the clatter of pots and pans as people gathered around the fire to eat, their laughter, all of it was like a symphony of music to the Lady's tired ears.

It was the sound of her people in the quiet before the storm and they were happy. She hoped they were happy. For the first time in hours, Kendra played with a small smile that spread across her lips. The only thing that felt off was the absence of her husband. The medics insisted Lord Terrowin stay the night in the infirmary after his latest near death run in. They wanted to watch over him. She didn't like it but after witnessing the mess that at some point must have been his arm, she really didn't have any right to complain.

Kendra stopped briefly to sneak a glance at his side of the bed. Empty. Not even the blankets were disturbed where he usually sat to talk to her at the end of each day. They had been pulled tight by servants that morning, untouched since the night before. It was like they had erased all trace of him. The only evidence that proved his existence at all was a tunic he left folded on a trunk at the foot of the bed. He had a weird quirk about leaving his nightwear out where everyone could see it.

Kendra ground her ax harder. At least she had that. Once she was satisfied with the sharp edge of her weapon, she propped it next to her bed. It glinted under the moonlight streaming through her window and against the orange of the candles. She hesitated for a small second before she ripped open the covers, still wary about sleeping in the bed without Terrowin there. She couldn't help herself from peering over at his tunic again sitting like an invitation, lonely on the trunk. As strong as the Lady of Calatan was in her constant fight against indulging in her own emotions, even she had to admit that she possibly, ever so slightly, missed the presence of her husband. Giving in, she tiptoed over to the trunk, scooping up the lone tunic in her arms. She would tell no one of this.

Content, she finally allowed herself to slip under the covers, holding the tunic close to her chest. Sleep was hard to come by for the Lady of Calatan. Ever since the war, her busy mind forced her awake, reliving battle strategies made that day, worrying about a possible attack. Terrowin lying next to her always calmed her down and his arms around her waist eventually gave her enough peace to catch a few hours of sleep. Now lying there with nothing but a smelly tunic for comfort, she didn't know what to do with herself. She felt like a useless child waiting for her mother. For a second she considered sneaking up to the infirmary to be with him.

No, she scolded herself, don't be ridiculous. Groaning she rolled over on her side, forcing her eyes shut. She was going to get some sleep whether her mind liked it or not, even if it took hours of trying. This was going to be a long night for the Lady of Calatan.

...

Lord Cerberus softly slid his sword into its hilt as he peered from his tent into the empty camp. He listened for a moment, trying to sense any kind of movement but nothing stirred. Only dying embers laying in piles of ash greeted him in fire pits guarding the tents of soldiers. His army was too exhausted to care about his nighttime escapade but he couldn't be too careful. If he got caught, even by his own men, it would waste precious time he didn't have. He needed to beat the sunrise. Cerberus lay a foot softly on the ground outside his tent, shifting his weight against the soft green grass, trying not to make a sound. Sleep-deprived Guilamontian soldiers were still soldiers trained since birth to hear a pin drop over the roar of thunder. Like a phantom slinking through the dead of night, Cerberus continued to stalk towards the end of camp, putting feet down delicately against the earth. Once he'd finally reached the threshold that sharply divided the camp from no man's land, the Lord relaxed, quickly darting behind some trees that lined the left perimeter. He clawed at his memory to tell him where to go.