"I did the right thing," Oswin said to the empty air surrounding him. "Didn't I? If Lord Hector knew the truth about his brother's illness he would have left Lord Eliwood's side to come home. Lord Eliwood needed him more. It was for the best that he didn't know."
Except, of course, Hector had figured out the truth in the end anyway.
Oswin sighed, looking up at the night sky as if he expected it to come crashing down on him any minute. It was simply a no-win situation, whether he lied or told the truth the result would be the same. Devastation.
"Lord Oswin!"
He was almost relieved to hear Serra's voice shouting to him from across the courtyard followed by her running footsteps.
"Serra, what are you doing out this late?" he asked as she came to his side.
"I couldn't sleep," she said. "So much has happened within the last few days! Ninian died, then all those awful morphs attacked us, now we're to set out for Dread Isle tomorrow?" She gave a heavy sigh. "It's just too much!" She looked up at him. "What are you doing up so late?"
"I suppose I'm a little worried myself," Oswin said. "What with Lord Uther-" He stopped himself; Hector finding out had been bad enough, he didn't want to imagine how Serra might react. "Still in Etruria," he finished, "and the prospect of facing Nergal."
Serra raised an eyebrow.
"Were you going to say something else? About Lord Uther?" she asked, leaning against his side.
"No." Oswin wrapped an arm around her shoulders, draping his cloak over her to keep her warm. "No, he's simply taking longer than expected in Etruria, and that's all."
"Lord Oswin-"
"Serra." He gave her a stern look. "Please, don't worry your head about Lord Uther. I know he hasn't been well, but he's recovering and I'm sure he'll be back in Ostia before we finish at Dread Isle," he lied. She frowned, but seemed to accept this.
"I hope so," she said, "and I hope he plans to give me a great reward for all my hard work!"
Oswin had to smile a little at that. No matter how dark things became, she was still the same Serra. He pulled her closer, resting his cheek against her hair; she smelled faintly of violets and the weight of her small figure against his was strangely comforting. For a split second he wanted to tell her everything. Lord Uther's death, the look on Lord Hector's face that still haunted him, how long he'd struggled with keeping the secret versus being honest.
"We should go inside," he finally said.
"We should," Serra echoed, "I need my beauty sleep."
But neither one of them made any move to leave.