Midnight Moon

Chapter 32 - Echoes of the Past

Neyerith sat in the flickering dark as the candlelight dwindled. The silence of the night was filled by the occasional hoot of an owl outside, the creaks and thumps of movement from downstairs, and the soft breathing of his companions. He was glad for the sounds; they grounded him, reassured him, reminded him he wasn't alone in these moonlit hours.

He had spent so many nights alone over the past fifteen years, drifting between seedy taverns in seedier towns. Sometimes he would find someone to spend the night with, yet a brief relief and some fleeting warmth made little difference in the absence of emotion. He could enjoy himself for a time, but eventually he would be alone again in a cold bed.

He had been in bed when his world came crashing down for the first time. He made do with a blanket and bedroll then as well, sleeping on the earth beside the other soldiers drawn into the War of Two Kings. He couldn't remember the face that hovered over him as he was shaken awake that night, but he did remember their stricken expression, and the numbness that spread through him at the news that his father and older brother were dead. That night had made him the new Lord Sae while still a teenager, a title he had never expected nor wanted.

The second time everything fell apart, the screams of the wounded and dying around him had been replaced by shrieks of his companion for that evening. The soldiers came to his home in the middle of the night, charging into the house before he could catch wind of their approach and flee. They barged into his room and ordered him out from the lush sheets, to be transported straight to Beyall for his trial. As he had dressed for the last time in resplendent clothes that were his only through death and treachery, he knew he would be Lord Sae no longer.

Neyerith lost everything to the crown - his family had been slaughtered in a fight that was not their own, and so much of the wealth his ancestors accrued was stripped away for his mistakes alone. He was all too aware of the irony that he now battled for someone else. Even more ironic, the first person in over a decade to trust him was the Princess of the very kingdom he betrayed.

A tear slipped onto his cheek. He was fairly certain Tia was still awake, watching him through a sliver under her eyelids, but he didn't bother to wipe it away.

He could not claim that Veanna had stirred in him any great sense of fealty to his kingdom or monarch, but he could not pretend he felt no loyalty to her. It was more than an obligation, it was a need to protect this girl who had been truly kind, whose sense of duty and honour had stirred up even an unscrupulous wretch like him. Perhaps she would make him better than he had been, the shining knight that the scared boy and careless youth had never managed to become. If she woke up.

Neyerith turned to the bed, to Veanna's sleeping face. She looked more serene now than she had before, less like she was wasting away. He placed a hand on her forehead and found it cold, but breath still rose from her lips.

Looking so young and tranquil, she reminded him of his sister Elvie back home, whom he had left years ago and had never seen since. She was his half-sister, and he told himself time and time again that made it alright for him to leave her behind, although it had never been a distinction he'd cared about before.

She had been a baby when the men of the house left for the war, and a toddler when only Neyerith returned. While his approach to many of the lordly duties had been lacklustre at best, he had tried his best to make her childhood enjoyable, to make up for the memories she would never have of their father and brother. Yet that had all been torn apart when he was dragged from their house in front of her confused and frightened eyes.

Elvie was only a few years younger than Veanna; she would be coming of age soon. He wondered whether she was noble like Veanna, or brave like Tia. Maybe she was musical like his mother, or bookish like hers. Ancestors forbid, maybe she was like him.

No, his stepmother was far too pragmatic to let that happen. She had cared for him like her own son, especially after they had lost everyone else, but with his last glimpse of her cradling a sobbing Elvie to her chest, he knew that she would have done anything to have prevented him from entering her life - to protect her daughter. And he agreed.

Neyerith wiped his cheeks. He sniffed and looked down at Veanna again, enduringly cold and still. He had no idea how much time had passed, but her face was now shrouded in darkness.

"Come on, Princess," he murmured, "I'll do anything if you'll just be okay. I swear I'll cut off all my hair. Ancestors, I'll never sleep with anyone again. Okay, I might not keep that promise, but I'm willing to barter." He paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Please wake up, Veanna. No one else laughs at my jokes." No one else believes in me.

He turned back to the door, unable to watch her motionless face. He had failed to protect her in the temple, but he would guard her now. Anyone who tried to enter the room would die before they could lay a finger on her.

***

The candlelight was dwindling, the edges of shadows softening in the muffled moonlight. Neyerith lit a second candle from the flame before the illumination could disappear, and heard Tia shift in her chair as the fresh light bloomed. She stirred and stretched, shaking her weary muscles. Her face was shrouded in shadows, but her eyes glinted as she focused on him.

"I will watch her now," she whispered, her voice slightly hoarse from sleep. "You should rest."

Instead of answering, he twisted to take Veanna's medicine from the table by the bed. He was grateful for the ointment he had been given, as movement was eased now that his injury was as numb as his backside had become. He could feel Tia's sharp eyes on him but continued to drip the concoction into Veanna's mouth.

"You need to sleep," Tia insisted again.

Neyerith shook his head and rose, slipping back into his jacket. "I need to stretch my legs." He couldn't sleep yet - closing his eyes would force him to see the faces of those he had killed and the loved ones he had failed.

"You are going outside?" she hissed. Though he couldn't see her expression, he knew her eyes were narrowed at him, her lip no doubt curled in disapproval.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I can't stay here, and no one will recognise me." A glance showed the illuminated lines of her expression were unconvinced. "I won't be long."

Neyerith knew she wanted to argue the point, but he was not going to be swayed any more than she was. He almost reached for the money left over after paying the healer, but his hands twitched and stayed by his side as he strode to the door.

With Veanna lying deathly still, the pouch felt like blood money for a journey that had only led to danger.

He had some money of his own, and he needed a drink.