King of Shadows, Queen of Light
Please do forgive the long hiatus again: chalk it up to an overactive now-eight-month old and, lately, my serious Dragon Age: Origins obsession. I hope I can return to a saner update schedule, say, monthly or so from now on. Here's hoping!
I write to music; this chapter's mood was set by two pieces from David Newman's Serenity soundtrack: Prep For Flight and Love, and Vangelis' Losing Sleep (Be Still My Heart) from the album Voices.
I strongly regret that I do not own any of the main characters, especially a certain paladin… I take full responsibility for that Pendwyr girl, though...
Chapter Fifty-Four: Be Still, My Heart
"Will you walk with me?" I asked Casavir as we left the Halls of Justice in a rather hurried fashion, thanking Brother Colm for his time and receiving promises from him that the set of armor will be ready before we had to depart for my new home.
My head was spinning. I lifted my face to feel the north wind, blessedly cold and biting on my hot cheeks. I welcomed its freezing bites; it helped to clear my head and keep my thoughts on a path I actually dared to follow.
"I need to do some walking and talking. My old beat?" I looked at him sideways, his profile sharply delineated by the light cast by the ever-burning lamps at the Halls' entrance. "I know you planned my second Yule present for me… but I need some air."
He nodded, his eyes full of concern.
"Of course, my lady. Lead on?" He offered his hand, and we set out at a comfortable pace. My heartbeat actually slowed down as we progressed, and it was fortunate that as the weather turned even more hostile, a lot of the inhabitants of the Merchant Quarter decided not to venture out. It was getting dark, anyway, and the colorful lamps filled with oil or with ever-lasting magic lights sparkled all over the archways of the houses and shops.
The cobblestones felt familiar under my boots; we retraced the route I had to tread every day as my beat when still in the Watch. I relished the experience: something told me I wouldn't have the opportunity to walk like this anytime soon… and once the roads thawed and I departed for Crossroad Keep, the chances became even smaller. I was also, again, immensely grateful that he didn't say anything—we still were able to be comfortable in silence.
After a while, I started to talk. Hesitantly at first, but more and more fluently, I told Casavir about my mother's letters, about the past weeks spent trying not to dwell on those too much, about attempting to reconcile my two sides, the new role I found myself, the misguided decision to shut myself off completely from the very persons I was working towards to provide for…and especially from him. How I was still not able to fully accept that I was human and had needs. How I understood him now more, his struggles with his feelings, his sleepless nights, hells, even his cold showers I could see in a whole new light. And the realization that this was an opportunity to create something for all of us, that I could become more than a frontline smasher, as he called it, who might be dead before her thirtieth birthday with nothing but the memory of battles and kills to her name.
"And I missed you. Gods know I did." I finished, as we neared the Wywern bridge. There was a distant thunder, and the air felt cold and damp with winter rain. "I wanted to send a message for you to come and help me so many times I lost count. It's just... all confusing. It still is." I paused: I felt the dark clouds of unhappiness settling over me, and I desperately wished to shake them off before they ruined our time together. "And to top it all, having to learn the meaning of my marks from the armorsmith of the chapterhouse during casual conversation about steel hardening and protective spells tends to um, put a damper on the evening?"
His deep chuckle startled me; he stopped and pulled me towards him so quickly that I stumbled a bit, straight into his arms. I was taken aback for a second by his forwardness, then I remembered that it was I who handed him the reins back in the Flagon on Yule's Eve, and I relaxed.
"Aye, that's true." he rumbled and I felt my pulse quicken as he leaned closer. "You always had a rather unique way with words, my lady."
"Well, I am from West Harbor, after all." I grumbled, nesting myself comfortably against him, not much caring about anybody seeing us at that moment. The wind was cold, and I could use the warmth. We stood under the archways of one of the guildhouses that faced the river at the edge of the Merchant Quarter; dusk was settling in, and apart from the occasional cry of the seagulls, the area was quiet. I brushed my lips against his, feather-light, and smiled. "And we're also rather forward, we Harbormen, so there."
"I hoped so." he deadpanned, and I couldn't help but burst out laughing, burying my face in the crook of his neck, almost bursting with happiness that we were together again. His scent filled my nostrils: a complex mixture of incense, leather, metal, soap and underneath it all, his skin… I felt slightly intoxicated after such a long absence, and it made me bolder than usual in public.
"Well, good." I exhaled, still grinning, and proceeded to make it so for the next few minutes neither of us had any chance to speak. However much I allowed him the reins, there were certain privileges I intended to retain…and, truth to tell, he wasn't complaining. Far from it; from the way his arms held me tight against him, I knew he was missing me just as much as I did.
Rain, sure destroyer of all things nice, has arrived promptly. The brooding clouds, obscuring the evening sky rather fast doused us with an almost-freezing downpour, heavy enough that we jumped apart as if Elanee had knocked on my door again. I looked around for shelter, but too late: my hair and my clothing all soaked through. I could only laugh helplessly and clutch at Casavir again.
"I guess it doesn't matter, now!" I shouted over the thunder that broke over us again, and tugged his head down, framing his face between my gloved hands. The water tasted sweet on his skin, and I drank it in with his kisses, not caring that anyone could see us, or that my cloak got heavy with moisture and my hair was sticking to my head, coming undone from its tightly coiled bun under its own weight.
He finally tore himself from me, grabbing my hand and tugging me into a stumbling run across the bridge.
"Follow me, my lady!" He sounded almost carefree; my heart grew light and almost skipped a beat hearing the pure joy in his voice. "Shelter awaits!" The rest got lost in another clap of thunder.
I was sure we presented a rather spectacular sight to the Watchmen at the head of the bridge by the lampposts: from their stiff salute and the glint of their eye under their heavy oilskin hoods I could just feel the curious recognition, and I knew there would be some talk at the headquarters at the end of the night shift, but what can I say? I didn't much care at that moment, even though I suspected there weren't many members of nobility caught in such distinct lack of decorum, and I could also have sworn no members of our Order ever ran practically laughing out loud across the bridge, boots splattering in the rapidly gathering puddles. A faint whiff of remorse coursed though me, but I shook it off quickly. I really, really needed some distraction from the daily chores I engaged in lately, and I suspected Casavir wasn't merely sitting in my uncle's taproom all this time either.
"Wait!" I called ahead, still half-laughing, lifting the hem of my sodden cloak so it doesn't drag behind me on the wet stones. "Wait! Where do we…?" But my question died on my lips as he slowed down in front of the familiar façade of an impressive stone mansion. He fished in his belt pouch for a key to open the side door carved above the frame with a coat-of-arms I never had the chance to look at in broad daylight so far.
"Oh. Your…your house?" I stumbled over the words, and he turned on the doorstep, smile slowly fading from his lips. I saw it, and quickly stepped closer, linking my arm into his. I didn't want him to think I hesitated to enter or I didn't like it, even though I had broken out in cold sweat about the mere thought of being called this monster of a house's mistress eventually.
"A fabulous idea." I said, with emphasis. "Thank you…really." I tugged on his arm, as a mild reminder. "Casavir? Not that I don't mind standing this close to you forever, but you said something about shelter? It's true that my hair can't get any wetter, but do you really want to hear details about where rain is dripping right now under my clothes?"
"Ah. Yes." He shook himself, with that sheepish grin appearing faintly in the corner of his mouth. "I apologize, my lady. For a second I thought you…"
"For the gods' sake, man, no, I don't mind spending some time with you in your ancestral home!" I'm afraid I raised my voice a bit. "It gives me the creeps, but it's yours… so I just have to take it and learn to like it, right?" And there I did it again…My celestial side shook its head gently, while my human side snickered almost audibly at this mix of West Harbor crude frankness and Tyrran inability to lie.
"I see." he said drily, and his mouth twitched. "I guess, then, I just have to see to it so that it doesn't 'give you the creeps'." Apart from that twitch, his face remained unreadable as he held the door for me. "After you, my lady?"
I ducked his arm and slipped through, into the courtyard, which was in a considerably better shape than last time I saw it. The weeds creeping through the paving stones were gone: I was able to see quite clearly as there were about half-dozen lamps hanging from the walls of the courtyard, casting warm, flickering light.
"Whoa." I said, lifting a hand, fully aware of just how not lady-like I sounded there. "What's going on here?"
"Your Yule present?" Casavir said quietly by my ear. "May we...?" The rain was still pouring, soaking us both, but he seemed entirely undisturbed as he extended an arm with impeccable courtesy.
"All...right..." I said tentatively. "You lead, right?"
"Precisely." He nodded, and steered me towards the entrance with considerable speed. "Once we are in a somewhat dry place, you can ask all those questions I know are just about to burst out of you."
"Hey!" I felt my cheeks redden. "Am I really that transparent?"
"Let's just say, due to some connections between the two of us, I can read you somewhat better than others." He paused in the vestibule, tiled his head to one side as if something just occurred to him and added. "In case it causes you discomfort, my lady, I doubt others can."
"Be still, my heart." I murmured, still a bit ruffled; but I let him lead me up the stairs, only noticing in passing that all the white covers were gone from paintings and furniture alike, and there was considerably less dust than during our previous visit. Either someone had gone through with an inventive application of some Wind spells, or we were not alone in the mansion—and that made me a little wary. I was dripping puddles of water on the marble and the Calimshan rugs, after all. "Um... Casavir, not to be nosy and all, but are you opening the place up?"
"Something like that." he said, with that well-known nervous hand gesture again: raking his fingers through his hair.
"I see; this is one of those questions again that I need to keep until..." I stopped in mid-sentence as we entered one of the rooms upstairs he steered me towards. The fire was merrily cracking in the fireplace, and there was a low table laden with dishes holding finger foods, including lovely flaky crescent -shaped pastries, a bowl with what definitely looked like truffles and...
"Are those strawberries?" My voice sounded ridiculously high and thin, like a little girl's. "Really? But how...?"
"I was um... reminded by a certain monk-in-training..." Casavir stopped next to the table and looked at me, with a small, crooked smile on his lips, "that you happened to have a definite fondness for these...and that you don't indulge yourself very often. And also, that getting a set of armor for you for Yule might be a bit...redundant after I already gifted you one earlier." He took a deep breath. "Therefore: this. I didn't count on the rain though."
"I don't think you could have, unless you have some weather-mage connections." I murmured, peeling my cloak off my shoulders. Carefully spreading it on a chair, I stepped closer to the warmth of the fireplace, drawn irresistibly by the heat the stone preserved. "Do you?"
"You might, actually." He said, watching me settling in front of the fire with my knees drawn up and hands rubbed together. "I mean those Cloaktower mages we worked with, my lady." He explained, seeing my uncomprehending gaze. "I am sure at least one of them in Vale's group had that specialty; the lightning bolts flew a bit too freely at the door of Crossroad Keep to be otherwise."
"You're right…" I shuddered, as the memories surfaced. "Although I really would like to forget that day. At least until it's time to go to West Harbor."
That basement cell…the smell roiling out as Neeshka picks the lock and throws the door open, the unmistakable stench of rotting flesh and human waste…
Not today…My celestial side pulled forward; I could almost feel the white wings unfurling around me protectively. Not now… My mental shields clicked into place almost audibly, and, just like that, the memory was gone.
"Sorry." I became aware that my face was pulled into a pained grimace and schooled my features back into something more relaxed. "Just some unpleasant memories."
"I understand." Casavir said quietly. "I have tried to forget them, too." His hand trailed along the edge of the ornate chess table set alongside the sideboard. "I find that if I occupy my mind with something that involves strategic thinking, it helps. You had plenty to do since we've returned from that assignment; this would be, for all intents and purposes, the first opportunity to assess what exactly happened there and how." He looked up at me. "Do you play chess, my lady?"
I nodded, grateful for the distraction.
"I used to play on evenings like this way too much; both my foster-father and Aevan said it aided thinking and strategic decision-making." My hair was utterly soaked though; I yanked out the ribbon holding it together and unbraided the whole thing quickly before, I knew from experience, it dried into a tangled mess that was a nightmare to uncomb later. "Not saying I was any good at it, mind you, so there's a great chance you actually would win this one if we played." I flashed a half-nervous grin at him. "Kindly notice that I gave up a huge tactical advantage by admitting that, so be nice."
"I am nice." he said with a serious face, finally shaking off his cloak and hanging it from another chair by the fire. "As a return favor, I shall point out that I won the chapterhouse chess tournament for, I believe, five years in a row back in the days." He tilted his head on one side. "Perhaps it wouldn't be the best of ideas to make this a competition match."
"Checkmate, then." I shrugged, pleased by the subtle offering of a game, and the way he issued that challenge. I was aware that yet again, he was giving me a lesson in how to behave in high society, and, truth to tell, I started to miss these, hard as it was to admit.
So I made a little pout and looked up at him.
"Look, this is as far as my courtly skills go, really; I am a passable chess player, but I don't play any other games. Neeshka tried to teach me how to play dice and cards, but I just couldn't find the reason to. I don't play any instruments, I don't even sing except at service and the usual invocations." I thought about that for a second, remembered some nights at the West Harbor alehouse and a couple of instances when Amie dared me, blushed slightly and amended. "At least not any more." I sighed. "'Fun' as such was not exactly a word a foster child of Daeghun Farlong learned early. If it wasn't for Amie and Bevil, I would even have thought about hide-and-seek as something of an utter waste of time. I am boring."
He chuckled.
"Boring would be the last word I'd use in connection with you, meum mel." He lifted a finger. "No, please don't say anything… I am curious to see how long this will last. Me, being outspoken and without restraints, and you being reserved and…um… exceedingly breathtaking."
I stared at him. The change in both of us would have been, I became increasingly more convinced, blatantly obvious to anyone. Somehow, though, I didn't care. Or, rather, I hoped that we could keep these still-fragile and precious moments to ourselves and can carry on with our everyday life just as if we always did.
"Oh my goodness gracious!" I heard someone exclaim from the doorstep. "This just won't do, milord, just won't do! Bornell, I told you, didn't I? I told you you should check, but…"
"Hush, woman." I heard the distinct mutter with a clipped accent. The stiff, razor-thin man standing next to his portly, apron-clad wife bowed slightly. "Milord will forgive the intrusion…just wanted to see if you needed anything else?"
"The Bornells?" I looked at them, astonished, recognizing them from the Corett mansion. "Sir Grayson's Bornells? How come?"
Casavir cleared his throat.
"Erm…it appears that when word got out that you have received Lord Nasher's commission to govern Crossroad Keep, Sir Grayson was, um, presented with an ultimatum from his housekeeper and his butler here."
"Poor thing can't be let into that big heap of stone without a proper staff." Mrs. Bornell sniffed. "My Bornell and I served the Coretts all our lives… now it's time to lend a hand to his squire. You'll need us, love..." She looked at me and clicked her tongue. "And especially now …look at you, with your clothes all soaked and shivering there in front of the fire!" She grabbed my hand and with a surprisingly strong pull got me on my feet. "Up, my lamb, up! Let's get you out of this soggy mess."
I was still slightly dazed from the news that my knight's two most trusted city staff decided to come with me to Crossroad Keep, and that, in the meantime, they apparently applied themselves to reopening the Korranos house… so I didn't resist much as Mrs. Bornell led me out of the room and into one of the suites opening from the corridor. I could barely cast a glance at Casavir as he was similarly ushered out by a solemn-faced Bornell, I assumed, to suffer the same fate at his hands as I was almost thrust across a door by Mrs. Bornell.
"There." She announced cheerily as the door clicked shut. "Let me get the towels and a robe for you, love… get those soggy clothes off and at once before you catch your death."
"But I can't…" I started to protest, wanting to say that one of the graces of our god granted to me as a paladin was that I never got sick any more, but the housekeeper already turned from me, busy rooting through a large chest of drawers in the corner of the room, only dimly lit by a single candle on the nightstand next to the huge four-poster bed.
I looked around. The room showed signs of recently being cleaned: some traces of wax polish on the furniture, bed linen so crisp and white it was almost blinding even in the wan candlelight, the scent of lemons and lavender in the air. Mrs. Bornell chatted cheerfully as she draped a deep blue dressing gown over a chair and handed me a towel for my hair and another one to wrap myself into as she directed me towards one of those fancy screens nobles use to hide behind when dressing. She told me how they heard about my assignment from Sir Grayson, and how, after a long argument that stretched into the night, the two of them decided to leave their grown-up children to care for the Corett household and to threw in their lot with me and my merry little band heading out to Crossroad Keep. Why exactly these two wanted to live in a dilapidated castle with barely any roofs and certainly nothing resembling the furniture either in the Corett household or in the Blue Mansion, as she called this one, was still a mystery, but it would have been rude to just bluntly ask, so I elected to set that question aside for the time being. The towels were thick and fluffy, and I shed my soaked garments with an audible sigh. The dressing gown was silk brocade with silver embroidery worked in, looking deceptively light but feeling warm and smooth against my skin. I could get used to this, I thought, shamelessly luxuriating in the way it slid around me as I walked out from behind the screen, and, after Mrs. Bornell assured me that she'd take care of my garments and boots, she sent me back to the sitting room.
"And don't forget to eat, love!" she added with a wide smile. "I worked on that dinner of yours too much to have it spoiled."
"Yes, Mrs. Bornell. " I said obediently. "I'm sure I won't forget. I am famished."
Paladins never lie. I closed the door behind me, shaking my head and chuckling. Really, what was the last time I had to be coaxed into eating?
The room was empty, the fire cracking merrily, and those strawberries looked mightily inviting… Before I could catch myself, I was standing there next to the table, shoving fruit in my mouth almost without pausing between bites. Wintertime was not exactly famous for an abundance of fruits while growing up in the Mere of Dead Men: this was unimaginable, almost sinful luxury for me. I also couldn't remember any of my meals in the past few weeks—I knew I ate, but all I could recall was hastily gulfed down mouthfuls of something or other, without any recollection of what that actually was. Eating and sleeping were something I did so that my body could function and do all those things necessary for working…Now I had to realize that I was famished, despite the lunch I had at Duncan's.
A light cough from the doorway startled me, almost choking on a piece of fruit.
"I see that we definitely have to work on your table manners." Casavir said with mock chiding in his voice as he looked at me. "If for nothing, I would hate to lose you due to asphyxiation from strawberries."
"I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed. "I just…"
I swallowed as he closed the distance between us and tried not to drop the strawberry in my hand. I kept forgetting just how spectacular he looked without heavy armor or a thick winter doublet and cloak; the fine linen shirt he wore definitely emphasized how wide his shoulders were.
"Erm…Nice lace." I had to say something, and since 'gulp' would have been somehow unseemly for a paladin and Chosen of the Even-Handed, instead I inclined my head towards his shirt cuffs with what I hoped a decent enough smile. "You know, I've never would have thought I'd live to see men wearing lace before I came to Neverwinter." I decided on busying myself for a moment with finding the coffee pot and pouring myself a cup with lots of cream, and also grabbed one of Mrs. Bornell's buttery crescent pastries. It was just as lovely as I remembered.
"I can imagine it wasn't very common in West Harbor. " He reached for a pastry himself; and, although I saw his eating by campfire during our adventures quite a number of times, somehow here, in the sitting-room of his own house, the way he simply bit into the pastry standing next to me, without even a napkin to hold the crumbs, struck me as sweetly, almost sensually, casual. I was sure there was nothing deliberate about it: I knew by now that he tried desperately to relax in my presence, and this was a welcome change from his strict formality at the beginning of our acquaintance.
"Yeah, it would have been great for pigsticking season…" I snorted, thinking about the men gathering around in the darkness of a winter night in Georg's back yard, tossing back small cups of fruit brandy before heading out to the pen where his prize-winning sow was waiting for what was going to be her last sunrise. It would just about have killed them to be seen in what they no doubt thought only women and fops wore, and only in the big city, even.
Well, no one could accuse this man here being in either of those categories...not even Georg, it fluttered through my head. Then I caught myself staring at his shoulders again. I will not start giggling stupidly like a smitten village girl. I will not...I will not...
"Speaking about West Harbor…" I inhaled sharply as his gaze alighted on me and with a short, sharp headshake as if he was displeased by something he reached out and fanned out my hair on my shoulder. "Did no one teach you how to dry your hair in front of a fire, my lady?"
I swallowed again. The nearness of him, his fingers touching the skin on my neck, made my mouth go dry even now.
"What… what do you mean?" I asked, uncertain. "I normally just let it dry if it got wet, unbound, the way Daeghun advised me; I wasn't aware that there was any other way…"
"Elves." He clicked his tongue. "Didn't even occur to him that your hair is longer, thicker and…well…" The way he run his fingers through the tangles again sent tingles all the way down though my spine. Against my will, I felt myself leaning into his palm, my hands shaking so hard the fine Shouware cup rattled on its saucer.
"Here." I felt him take the cup gently from my hand and put it up on the low table next to us. "I'll show you, if I may?" He raised an eyebrow, noticing the expression on my face and the hint of a wry grin appeared on the corner of his lips. "And I really don't bite."
I'll be damned, I thought as I stared at him, fighting laughter. He was quoting my own words back to me from our evening at the Mask.
Fine, then.
"There are just so many ways to answer that that would make both of us blush. I'm not even going to count." I murmured. "So I am just going to say yes. " I settled myself in front of the fire, wiggling my toes towards the glowing embers. I watched him stretching out his long legs next to me, close enough that I could feel the warmth of him.
Quick, Arrighan, think about something suitably boring and neutral!
Like a bucketful of ice water, maybe? my human side supplied, with a slight snicker. Yeah, that would work.
I think I would definitely need an entire tub.
"I...have to ask a question." I managed to croak out in a somehow choked voice. I really hoped I could get over this.
"Hmmm?" His hands continued to run through my hair; it was soothing and exhilarating at the same time.
"I sent you that note only around noon today, and you came very shortly afterward directly from the Flagon." I waved my hand towards the table with its array of delicacies, half of which I didn't even have a chance to inspect. "And there's this feast, and your mansion spotless, and the Bornells..."
"I see." He paused for a second, and I pressed my head into his palm, indicating to continue. "Your Tyran mind, meum mel...indeed nothing can escape your attention. I understand now those stories they tell about you in the Watch." He didn't complete that thought, but took a deep breath and continued. "However, there's nothing mysterious or magical about this...I made that appointment with Brother Colm for your armor fitting already, remember? I was on my way to the Castle when your messenger showed up. I did plan for this, I must confess, and I was perfectly ready to drag you out from your hiding hole, regardless of what kind of work you claimed you were buried in."
"Ready for battle, eh?" The warm fire, the soft rug underneath me, the silky robe, and, most of all, his nearness and the feel of his hands…I caught myself leaning more against him, torn between my own growing need to get closer, even closer, and the reluctance of having that contact leading to something we might not be able to withstand this time.
"Something like that." He acknowledged. "Sometimes you can be your own worst enemy, meum mel, and you know it."
How is it possible that he knows me so well already? I asked myself, feeling my eyelids grow heavier by the second.
"Tell me about the right way to dry a lady's hair. " I said quietly. And I won't even ask how you learned it.
"No doubt you're wondering how I learned this." he said almost exactly at the same moment.
"Yes." I chose not to elaborate on that; I was really willing just stop thinking about it altogether and just feel.
"And I am afraid the answer is rather decidedly un-mysterious. As I told you already, the chapterhouse novices are all housed in the same dormitory; there's no segregation of sexes until one takes full vows. We are all considered Tyr's consecrated; the difference between a man's and a woman's body are taught and known, but as a matter of nature, not something that should be… a secret or something worth dwelling on."
"And it doesn't lead to… discomfort?" I asked, confused a bit. I couldn't help but think about what he told me about Eaydra; however much I decided on not feeling jealous, a small and very human voice inside me kept wondering if he'd ever sat in front of a fire with her like this…
"Why should it?" he asked back. "We are taught to be ready to offer our strength, body and soul, to the Even-Handed. Equally, male and female. And therefore, we are equal in His sight and should not be ashamed. But surely your teacher told you this."
"I am… perhaps glad that he didn't." I answered, feeling my cheeks grow hot. When I had The Talk, it was Retta Starling who told me about birds and bees, and I was greatly relieved that I didn't have to endure Daeghun trying to muddle through it with his usual determinedness to make it through yet another chore related to his foster-daughter. The mere thought of Aevan talking to me about what went on in the dark made me distinctly uncomfortable. "That is…"
"I take it he didn't." Casavir sighed. "Your education is surprisingly uneven, meum mel, if I may say so." His voice deepened. "You said he didn't return last spring when he was supposed to? " I nodded. "Would you… would you wish to search for clues in the Halls of Justice, then? I am sure someone would be able to guide you to his whereabouts…?"
"I really should." I frowned as I realized that I should have done this much earlier. After all, Aevan told me he was from the City originally, before choosing the wandering life of an errant paladin of Justice. It was strange…as if every time I decided to do something about it or bring up my mentor to anyone even remotely connected with the Order, the thought just… disappeared. "Would you do me a favor and remind me before we leave the City for Crossroad Keep please? I don't trust my memory lately."
"Sure." He reached out, grabbed the bowl with the strawberries and placed it in my lap. "I saw you still eyeing these." He explained, seeing me looking at him incredulously. "I think you might as well get comfortable and not to think about work and duties for a while, hm?"
The way his eyes sparkled didn't make it any easier to summon chaste thoughts, but the paladin training in self-discipline held, and I decided to just channel my not-so-innocent thoughts into eating instead. I pulled away from him, set the bowl next to me and wiggled a finger at him.
"Not fair, my lord, oh so not fair." I said archly. "Let me even the playing field here. Otherwise I will be at a serious disadvantage when you decide to finally royally beat me at chess." I held up a strawberry. "C'mere."
We fed each other strawberries until the bowl was empty. We continued with small bits of pastries and cheese, although the cold chicken proved to be a bit difficult to eat while the other one was holding it—that one ended up in laughter and hastily grabbed plates and thick cloth napkins from the table. I made a nest of pillows in front of the fire—something I always dreamed of doing while at West Harbor but my life there had never allowed for it, but now somehow I didn't feel ashamed to admit it to Casavir that. We sipped coffee and sweet, honey-colored wine that made me just a bit dizzy and very, very comfortable. We gave up on chess, after about two turns—I told him I was a bad player and he had to reluctantly acknowledge that I was entirely within my rights to say so. We were so not equal in our playing levels, I might as well have been in a different room—heck, in a different house, for that matter, and it wasn't just because of the wine I wasn't accustomed to.
Instead of playing, we talked about little things, completely unrelated to anything serious: me about life in West Harbor mostly, about Georg's tall tales that sometimes sounded like he was sampling some weird mushrooms from the Mere, about Lazlo Buckman and his famous West Harbor mead, about how evenings working at the alehouse usually ended up with one or more of the townspeople playing on some instruments and someone singing, about the way Daeghun had a fondness for cats that occasionally resulted in finding offerings of mice or birds in our slippers in the morning… When it was his turn, the memories he remembered most fondly always had a tinge of sadness, as they involved so many people who were no longer alive. He described the elaborate ways he and Matty devised to escape his parents when little to go and play on their own; how Eaydra's fondness of sticky pastries got them into trouble with the head cook in the Halls of Justice once; his year spent amongst the poorest of Neverwinter as a novice serving as a protector of the Ilmateri mission in the Docks and how seeing an orphan smiling after what ought to have been her first full meal in weeks filled him with a joy he'd never thought simple acts like that would bring; the quiet hours he spent with the lute I gifted him for Yule since then…
It was as if we both knew that this was to be the last quiet time we can dedicate solely for each other in such quiet and comfortable surroundings for a long, long time to come; as if we both decided to see if we felt the same towards each other if there was no impending danger, world to save, companions lurking around the corner to open the door on us… Not that we went anywhere further than a significant amount of kisses. Okay, thinking back now, maybe our hands wandered a bit… but in the light of the new freedoms I gave him, he was surprisingly restrained and I was, well, let's face it, I was even less experienced than him. So after I jabbed my chin into his sternum the third time and knocked the air out of him with an elbow, not to mention that painful moment when my knee accidentally… well, anyway, we decided just to lay back on the pillows and keep our hands to ourselves.
"So: I suspect I'd need to go to court a lot, hm?" I asked at last, stretching out and turning so my other side got towards the fire. "Once, I mean…well, when we…?"
He understood the unspoken part of that sentence perfectly, since I glanced around in the room previously, then at him, and no doubt his sharp Tyrran eyes also spotted that I was toying with his ring on the silver chain handing at my throat as well.
"I am afraid so, yes." He nodded, folding his arms under his head. "On your own right as Captain of the Keep and Squire as well, of course." His mouth quirked, almost apologetically. "You'll also need to devise your coat-or-arms soon. I suspect some kind of reminder will arrive soon from Nasher's chancery before we are due to depart—they'd need to know it for banners, for some livery items and for the record books, naturally."
"Naturally." I said, a bit dazed. "I just have to do my best to come up with something, then." A thought occurred to me, and I smirked. "But I have to promise you one thing, Korranos."
"Mmm?" he asked distractedly, placing tiny kisses on my knuckles.
"Stop that!" I rapped said knuckles on his head. "Bad paladin, trying to distract me." I took a deep breath. "What I meant to say was that I decided to wear a sword with my full court dress. All the time."
"Well, that would certainly be your right to do as a squire of Sir Grayson, paladin of the Even-Handed and an official of the Lord Nasher." He said thoughtfully, not missing a beat. "You should be prepared for some rather scathing remarks from the ladies at court, though."
"The ladies at court can kiss my…" I started, indignantly, but I caught it just in time. "Aw, sorry. I need tae mind me manners." I continued, consciously slipping into West Harbor brogue, thick as heather honey. "I mean I need to behave, I apologize." I corrected myself. "But think about it: maybe I will start a new fashion?"
"It might catch." Casavir sat up. "Considering the times that might come, it might just catch and be considered prudent, even."
Just like that, the soft, almost mellow mood of the evening was gone, replaced by the present and future coalescing around us with an almost audible swoosh of air. I sighed, resigned, and sat up myself, staring at the flames in the fireplace slyly dying into embers.
"I'll pray that we do everything we can to make that not come to pass, dear one." I said quietly. "I really do. But, since you brought up the times that might come, I might as well and ask—as Nasher's nephew, you have better access to certain secrets than I. Did you find out what has become the prisoner we've found in Garius' dungeon besides Zhjaeve?"
Casavir nodded, heavily. His brows drew down: for a second I could see what he might look like in thirty years or so, and the similarity to his uncle was striking. Invisibly and quietly, the unseen mantle of a ruler settled down on his shoulders, and I stifled a sigh as I recognized with my Sight that indeed, it was a possible future that I glimpsed there.
"You probably can hear it from her own lips soon." He said, looking at me with not a hint of gentleness in his azure eyes. "You are to receive the summons from Nasher in a day or so. It will be just Nasher, Nevalle representing the Nine, Ophala as the envoy of the Cloaktower, me on behalf of the city's nobles, Judge Oleff of course on behalf of Tyr's church. And you, as the one who almost died due to the former ambassador's manipulations." His lips were pressed into one grim line now, as someone delivering news he really didn't wish me to hear. "Torio Claven is to be tried within the week by Nasher's private small court authorized to pass judgements in cases concerning the City's safety and security."
