Nightfire | The Whispering Wall #1

Thirty Eight: Missing

Nova could feel Grace's eyes on her across the room. She had felt them on her a lot recently, and she was sure that most of the time she was imagining it. Once already she had caught herself pretending to sleep to avoid a conversation, only to realise that Grace wasn't in the room at all.

Part of her felt bad about it; another part argued that it was the safest thing to do. If Faellian ever found out that she and Grace were friends, let alone...whatever else it was that they had, she couldn't guess what he'd do. At the least he would separate them permanently; send Grace to work on the other side of the castle, maybe, or stop Nova from visiting the kitchens. At worst they would be punished severely, and Grace would get fired for it. Though she had been trying not to get too close, the prospect of Grace leaving was bordering on painful.

It terrified her.

Over the years she had had to build armour out of what she had left to her; reminders and lessons she had learnt the hard way, a distance from company that kept her and everyone else safe. She usually didn't have to work too hard for that, but every now and again somebody would come over all charitable and tried to make friends with her anyway, only to realise that nobody had been joking about what a bad idea it was.

Grace, though – Grace was different. And persistent.

"Anara," Faellian snapped. He clicked his fingers in front of her face and she returned to the present, sitting up straight on her stool and trying to look like she hadn't been elsewhere. "We could do without the imbecilic staring, thank you."

"Sorry, my Lord," she whispered. Her eyes flicked over to the corner, where three maids waited with trays, hands folded in front of them. Grace was closest to the table, and she was staring with intent straight at Nova, as if she didn't think it was obvious. Faellian had his back to her, which was one small blessing, but the Lady Kerrin, who was taking tea in the study with him, had a full view. If she had noticed, she hadn't said anything, but it was a risk all the same. Kerrin and Faellian got on well despite differing values, and Nova had never been quite sure what to make of Kiel's head of house. It was always hard to tell what she would or wouldn't support.

The lady had insisted that Faellian allow Nova to eat, however, so she supposed she could put those concerns aside for now.

"Have the other heads of house been made aware of Nerahardt's presence?" Kerrin was saying, delicately stirring herb tea with her spoon. She sat rod straight, the billowing sleeves of her yellow robe folded back to her elbows. She smiled graciously at Nova, who remembered to take a bite of the sugar cake she had been given. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten sugar cake, and whenever it was, she had probably stolen it and been punished. She should have been savouring it, but Grace's staring and the mention of Nerahardt had ruined her appetite.

"As far as I'm aware, everyone knows except the head of Varthi," Faellian replied, "and that's only because nobody can find him. Her. Whoever it is now. Kiel's teeth, it's hard to keep track. It would be much easier if they bothered to come to court more than once a year."

"I daresay it would not affect them overmuch even if they did," Kerrin said. She took a sip of tea. "They never did involve themselves fully in the Annexe War. It's hard to say if they would bother at all with a second one."

Faellian scowled, and Nova fell still. There was something uniquely uncomfortable about sitting in on a discussion about a war one's own people had started. Atrocities had been committed on both sides, but it was the Caelumese who had scuppered all chances of a friendly alliance. Not that she had had anything to do with the fighting; she had trained to fight, but the war had ended before she finished her studies. It wasn't long after that that she had found Jeorge.