Had someone told me six months earlier that I would one day spend a frantic morning trawling the shops of my all-time least favourite city for a gown in which to meet a rebel king-killing Nord after having caught a necromantic serial killer, I would have laughed in their face. Nevertheless, there I was: handing over a fistful of coins in a dingy little store in the Grey Quarter for a gown, which if not as snug as I would have liked and much too long was still very lovely, and frankly far more than I realistically could have hoped for. I admired the blue silk taffeta and little seed pearls with open glee as I handed over the asking price without haggling, and afterwards I suspected both Revyn Sadri and I had walked away thinking we had got the better deal.
We met Tobias in front of the palace. I couldn't help noticing that he looked very handsome, clearly having taken pains to tidy his hair, shave his stubble, and buff his armour until it gleamed.
"The avenging heroes arrive, eh? Ready? Nice dress, Kirilee." He flashed us a grin and preceded us inside.
As we were led through the legendary Palace of Kings to its great hall I curiously examined my surroundings. Personally, I thought the place very dank and gloomy. There was no art here, no sunlight filtering through airy open spaces, just endless oppressive corridors of undressed grey stone. Inigo muttered under his breath, "Anyone who wishes to rule from here must be a depressive hater of light and joy." I found myself agreeing with him.
Finally we entered the great hall and throne room. At the far end of the long room stood an enormous carved throne, large and solid as the Nord peoples themselves, and occupying it a great blond boulder of a man dressed in full armour and a fur-trimmed cloak. Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, the Bear of Markarth; the man responsible for so much bloodshed that every stone in his miserable city could have been painted an accusing crimson. As we walked across the hall, our footsteps ringing sharply against the echoing stone, I felt my fists clench by my sides.
The Jarl was flanked by two men; one paunchy and well-dressed, the other dour and armoured. The first, who I assumed must be the steward Jorleif, stepped forward as we approached. He made a rather pompous little speech about our bravery, heroism and clever reasoning having brought a dangerous killer to justice — with no mention of necromancy, I noticed — and commended us to the Jarl and 'future High King' as Protectors of the City. I schooled my face to blandness. This was not the time.
Jarl Ulfric himself had been staring distractedly at the ceiling through all of this, but he now fixed us with his steely gaze. I forced myself to remain straight-backed as I was regarded by the Jarl, the war criminal, the kingslayer; to others, the hero. So, this was the man who had murdered King Torygg, and was rumoured to have escaped execution by summoning a dragon. He definitely had a power, which I could keenly feel. Not magic, but something else; just as forceful, and just as able to change the very fabric of the world.
I was suddenly afraid.
Then he spoke, and there was such intensity, such strength and will in his voice that I could understand the rumours of his having shouted King Torygg to pieces.
"I thank you, Protectors, for your services to my city," he rumbled. "What boon would you ask in return?"
The thought flickered across my mind: he was clever, too. He knew that we would ask for only modest gifts, and he would learn much of us outsiders by the request we made of him. This would have to be considered carefully, I thought, and I was glad when he turned first to Tobias.
Tobias, of course, asked for nothing. "It's my honour and duty to serve my city and my Jarl in whatever way I can," he said, sweeping into a bow.
Smart man. He knew how these games were played.
Ulfric Stormcloak nodded graciously, and pronounced, "Nevertheless. Such fine service should be rewarded. Detective Tobias Swift-Water, you are to be promoted to Detective Captain, with all the trimmings accompanying your new rank. You will also receive a reward of ten thousand septims."
Tobias had to work hard to conceal his shock: it was evident that he had not expected any monetary reward to be so large. Making a low bow, he stammered his thanks.
Next it was Inigo's turn. If Ulfric Stormcloak felt any distaste at a Khajiit standing before him in his court he hid it well. He voiced his question again, and this time it was his turn to raise his eyebrows in surprise: Inigo asked for nothing more than a sweetroll. I suppressed a giggle as he explained that he could think of no greater reward than Skyrim's finest contribution to the culinary arts, waxing lyrical about the treat's many wonderful qualities.
Eventually the Jarl cut him off. "Will someone bring this … er … guest a damn sweetroll already!" he said, some exasperation bleeding through. He also granted Inigo ten thousand septims, which Inigo graciously accepted.
"I will be able to buy very many sweetrolls with all this coin," he whispered to me. I saw the corner of Tobias' mouth twitch.
The Jarl then turned to me. Once more he repeated his question, and I had my answer ready.
"I ask only the opportunity to perform for the Jarl at some future time, to be arranged."
Ulfric Stormcloak nodded, seeming to have expected something like this, and began to announce my reward of gold too, but I cut in. The Jarl looked surprised; the steward frankly appalled.
"— In addition," I said, "I would request that Aventus Aretino be allowed to return to his home, if I am able to find him a suitable guardian. And any gold that was to be given to me I would ask to be used instead in refurbishing his home."
There was a stunned silence, broken by a peal of rough laughter.
"You've got balls, girl," Ulfric Stormcloak said, leaning forward on his throne. "I'll give you that. Speak to Jorleif, and we will see what can be done."
We were then dismissed, and I curtsied as carefully as I could, trying to disguise my shaking legs. Somehow, leaving the hall felt like escaping the lair of a dangerous beast. Tobias waved us goodbye, while Steward Jorleif led us into his office to discuss Aventus' future.
Unfortunately, the steward said it was not quite so simple as all that. "The boy simply cannot be allowed to return home from the orphanage unless someone of prominent standing adopts him as their ward," he explained irritably, polishing his spectacles. "In the past there have been far too many unscrupulous guardians frittering away their charges' fortunes and inheritances. Someone trustworthy is required to oversee and take responsibility for the child's finances until he comes of age."
"Couldn't one of us do it?" I asked.
"No. You're too young, for a start," he said, pointing at me, "and you're both too unknown, in any case. However, if you can arrange for someone who is of adequate standing to take on the boy, then yes, it could be arranged that he be returned to his family home."
I thanked him and we left the palace, pondering the problem. No obvious solutions presented themselves, so we decided our first priority remained removing Grelod from the orphanage. That way at least Aventus would have a safe place to live in the meantime — not to mention that we could not, in good conscience, leave such a monster overseeing any children. So we asked Tobias to keep an eye on the boy while we were gone — we didn't want him performing any more dark rituals — and Recalled to Riften.
After materialising we headed straight for Mistveil Keep. "It's lucky we found this gown," I said to Inigo, smoothing the skirts carefully.
"Why is that relevant?"
"I need to look impressive enough to Laila. I'm counting on the fact that even though she probably doesn't know that I'm of a higher station than her, if I look and act the part she'll still unconsciously trust and act on my word. I hope."
"Ah, I see. You think that if you seem noble, she will be more likely to do as you wish?"
"Exactly," I said. "Nobles listen to other nobles, and often only to other nobles. It's an unfortunate but true fact of life, Father taught me." I stopped for a moment in front of the keep to arrange my hair, and to make sure I could remember the finer points of the speech I had prepared to convince Jarl Laila to have Grelod the Kind arrested.
Less than half an hour later we were back outside the Keep.
"I can't believe that actually worked," I said to Inigo.
"Neither can I, my friend. Did you see Mister Saerlund's face? He certainly could not believe it either!"
I shook my head. "I guess she's so used to being bossed around that acquiescing to the will of someone who looks and acts like they should be in charge is almost second nature."
It was a shame, for Riften's sake, but I would admit that in this case I was glad of it. Laila had agreed to at least have Grelod detained while my allegations were investigated, and had ordered one of the guards to accompany me to the orphanage.
Things very quickly went nightmarishly wrong.
"Grelod the Kind, you're under arrest," the guard said, facing the knobbly old woman. Unfortunately, she did not seem inclined to come quietly.
"Get out!" she screeched. "You have no authority in my orphanage! Out, I said! Out!"
"Ma'am, I'm afraid I can't —"
"Out! Out! My orphanage! Mine!"
"Ma'am, please —"
Suddenly a knife appeared in her hand. "Get out!"
The roomful of children watched in horrified fascination, high pitched whispers rustling like the breeze through leaves. The guard's hand moved to the sword on his hip.
"Ma'am, I'm going to ask you one more time —"
"Out!" she shrieked, launching herself at the stunned guard, knife outstretched.
It was over in an instant: the guard pulled his sword from its scabbard to parry her attack, and the still-shrieking old woman impaled herself upon it.
I stared in shock, the blood draining from my face. We'd barely been in the orphanage a few minutes. I'd come here to witness an arrest, to see justice being done — and instead had unknowingly precipitated murder. A high-pitched keening rang in my ears. Terrible and cruel she may have been, but to die such a pointless, senseless death …
A noise broke through my stupor, and I realised in horror: the children! For them to have had to witness such a scene — but to my utter astonishment, to a child they were cheering and clapping, jumping up and down, celebrating the old crone's death.
"She really must have been awful," Inigo muttered.
"Please," I whispered, "can we go. Please."
The orphanage's other attendant, a rather shocked looking woman named Constance Michel, rounded up the children while the guard cleaned away the body and headed back to the Keep to report what had happened. Inigo and I, however, headed for the stables. We needed to get back to Windhelm, to let Tobias and Aventus know what had happened.
"You are still very white," Inigo said, as we rode in the carriage in silence.
I shook my head. "I … don't feel good about what happened."
"Kirilee. You heard what Aventus said. Do you really think the world is a worse place without Grelod the Not-At-All-Kind in it?"
"No … but … that's not how it was supposed to happen. She should have been properly tried and sentenced. That wasn't justice. And what about those children? Seeing their first death before they even have all their adult teeth?"
"They did not seem to mind."
"That's not the point."
Nevertheless, it was true that at least the children were now permanently freed from Grelod's cruel oversight, and Constance seemed like a perfect replacement, kind and warm and caring. She clearly loved the children very much, and now that Grelod was gone wanted to work hard to have them all adopted into permanent homes.
"You know," Inigo said, after some time, "you are always so quick to help others. You will throw yourself into difficult or dangerous situations for the sake of strangers without hesitation. Both Aventus, and with Mister Tobias' murders. You did not have to do as much as you did."
"Yes, I did," I said. "That's my duty. Father always taught me that with the privileges that come with title and wealth comes great responsibility, too. We're the servants of our people, and should always use those privileges to improve the lives of others where we can."
"But, Kirilee." Inigo's brow furrowed. "You are not the ruler of any of the people here."
"It doesn't matter," I said without hesitation. "Even if others don't know my station, I still have the privileges of my upbringing. I'm educated, I have my magic, and the skills and knowledge I learned by spending all that time among the nobility and at court. By the standards of most people here I'm also quite wealthy, even just on my own coin. I can still do a lot to help others, and so I should."
Inigo nodded. "I understand. But why then will you not do the same for yourself? Why will you risk your life for others, but run away from your own problems? Should you not perhaps take the same responsibility for your own well-being, and help Kirilee the same way you helped Aventus, or Tobias, or any of the many others whose lives you have touched? You did not run away when they needed you — perhaps it is time to stop running away when you need you."
I considered what he had said. He … was right. As always. That frustrating, irritating, wonderful cat. I needed to stop running. I needed to talk to Felix.
We arrived back in Windhelm as the sun was setting, entering the Aretino house to find Tobias and Aventus playing checkers on the dirty floor. Tobias was shocked at how things had played out, but Aventus was gleeful, singing and dancing around the room. Tobias drew us aside.
"I'm worried about the lad," he said softly. "Something seems a little … off, a little broken in his head. I've never met a child so fascinated with death. I'm hoping now his life can go back to normal, and maybe he can … avoid what could be a very dark path."
I told Tobias my idea for having him move back home. He frowned.
"It's a good idea, aye, but I dinnae know of any who'd take the lad on. He's called cursed, in the city, what with losing both parents so young, and then the business with the Sacrament. And he was always a strange child — but I'll ask around," he said. "I ken that old Angrenor Once-Honored was a good friend of the family, back before he lost everything. He could probably be persuaded to take over the day-to-day business of looking after the lad, if you can find someone to oversee it all."
I nodded. I would do my best.
In the meantime, though, Aventus would have to be shipped back to the orphanage. He didn't seem to mind, gladly agreeing to pack his things, and eagerly anticipating seeing his friends again.
While Aventus was packing we bade farewell to Tobias.
"We'll probably see you quite soon," I said. "What with trying to find a way to bring Aventus home. I expect we'll need to visit the city again in the near future."
"That's great," he said. "I cannae wait." He sounded like he meant it, too.
Tobias patted Meeko, shook hands with Inigo, and to my great surprise, swept into a bow any Breton courtier would have been proud of and kissed me on the hand. Then he immediately broke the mood by grinning and asking for my autograph. All three of us laughed as I scribbled on a scrap of paper, and then Inigo, Meeko and I Recalled home.
I breathed deeply as I climbed down the steps into my apartment. It had been a whole week since I had left Solitude. It was so good to be home, in my own snug little apartment, surrounded by my things and my life — even if my contentment was veined through with anxiety about the morrow, when I would have to face Felix and find out whether I had lost him forever.
But Inigo was right. It was time I helped Kirilee face her problems; and so, as I prepared for a good night's sleep in my own bed that I had missed so much, I resolved that that was what I would find the courage to do.
I woke, groggy and disoriented, in absolute darkness. My head was covered by a scratchy burlap hood which smelled awful, like dried blood. I was wearing only my undergarments, my hands were bound, and I was lying on what felt like wood. Where was I? What had happened? I struggled against my bonds, stifling a scream. Then my hood was removed.
Shivering in the cold, I blinked against the sudden light. I was on the floor of a mostly-empty shack. The windows were boarded up, but it felt like it was still night-time. A cheap oil lamp illuminated the interior; nothing furnished the shack save for some broken boxes and crates, a few piles of burlap sacks, and a lot of dust.
And a woman, in red and black armour.
They had finally caught me.
At that, the panic really set in. I lay naked on the floor as the woman examined me; my eyes wide, teeth chattering, too afraid even to struggle.
"Well, well," the woman said, slowly clapping gloved hands. "The hunted becomes the hunter. So, Grelod the Kind is dead. Oh, don't worry, I'm not angry — it was a fine kill. Well done." A catlike smile spread across her face, but didn't touch her eyes.
My fear became muddled with confusion. Did she think I had killed Grelod?
"I didn't kill her," I said, my tongue thick and heavy. "There was a guard — an accident —"
She waved my explanations aside. "The weapon doesn't matter. The manner doesn't matter. You, little mouse, were the one who heard Aventus Aretino's request. You were the one who moved the pieces that resulted in Grelod's untimely demise. It was your kill, whether you intended it to be or not. But," she said, leaning forward and her eyes narrowing, "that creates a certain … problem. For that kill should have belonged to the Dark Brotherhood. The Sacrament had been performed. You stole it. Before we were bound by contract — but this time you interfered in our own game. So now it's time for you to … repay the kill. A life for a life." She gestured to a corner of the shack, where one of the mounds of burlap sacks lay.
My thoughts were slow and sticky. Had I been drugged? "Wha— I don—"
The woman reached out and yanked me upright by my bound wrists. She sliced through the rope with an unusually long dagger which had materialised in one hand, then turned me around and pushed me towards the pile. I stumbled, landing hard on my knees, my hands falling on the sacks.
Except that it wasn't a pile of sacks. There was something solid and warm there, and I fumbled the uppermost sack away to expose — Meeko.
Terror shot from stomach to scalp, frigid and painful as though icicles had erupted within my flesh. "Meeko — Meeko!" I cried, my hands flying over his thick fur. There were no wounds I could find, no lumps or bumps or blood, but he wasn't moving —
"He's alive," I heard from behind my back. "For now."
"Thank the Divines — Meeko hold on, hold on —"
Pushing through the fog in my mind I reached for the forms and strung them together into the strongest healing spell I knew, blessing Danica all the while — but they slid right off him. "No!" I sobbed, pushing harder; but no matter how hard I tried, no matter how deeply I drew from the energy around me, the spell wouldn't take.
A low, menacing chuckle cut through the stale air.
"You've got it all wrong, little mouse. Your task tonight is not to heal. Don't you remember? A life for a life."
Shaking like a leaf in a storm, I turned slowly around. The woman leaned nonchalantly against the rough wooden wall, arms folded, twirling a knife between the fingers of one hand. The other, I noticed, still gripped the long dagger.
"What do you mean?" I said, my voice shaking as badly as my body. "What have you done to him?"
"Just a sleeping draught. But not one you can wash away with magic, I'm afraid."
She tossed the knife towards me. I flinched, but it landed point down in the floor by my knees.
"A life for a life." She smiled cruelly.
"No!" I gasped, backing away from the knife and wrapping my arms around Meeko. I tried to pull him away, as far from the woman as we could get, but he was so heavy, and I was so very weak. "No, I won't! I can't!"
"You will. You will kill your pet, in return for taking the kill which belonged to us. After that your debt will be repaid, you can go free, and we can resume our own little game of cat and mouse. Although … this little mouse has teeth, doesn't she?" Her eyes hardened. "Henrik sends his regards, by the way. Julia and Galithor obviously," she hissed, "can't."
I shook harder, and clutched Meeko tightly to me. For the first time, her voice had betrayed emotion. She was furious. I didn't think this game would end with my walking out of this shack alive, whether or not I played along. Which I had absolutely no intention of doing.
"And if I won't?"
She smiled again. "That sleeping potion wears off in one hour. If the mutt's not dead by then, I'll kill first it, then you. It will not be quick or painless for either of you."
My heart hammered in my ears. I could feel Meeko's own pulse still beating against my breast, but only slowly, and very weakly.
Feigning a yawn, the woman settled more comfortably against the wall. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere. Oh, and little mage?" she said, even as I had begun to draw the forms for Recall into my mind. "If I see those skinny little fingers so much as twitch towards spellcasting position, my dagger will find your heart before you can summon a single form. Understood?"
I jerked my head in assent.
"Good. Quickest and cleanest way is right across the throat." She drew her thumbnail across her own, eyes glittering in the lamplight.
Tears streamed freely down my cheeks as I cradled Meeko's limp form. What could I do, what could I do? Recall took far too long to cast, and I couldn't even risk summoning Inigo; I had no doubt she would carry out her threat without hesitation at the slightest hint of spellcasting. Likewise for trying to escape through the door — besides, I wouldn't leave Meeko, and he was too heavy for me to carry without magic. I had no Inigo, no flute, no magic; nothing that could help me escape this: my worst nightmare, come alive.
No. My sluggish thoughts finally caught up. There was a magic I could use.
Danica's death spell.
I shook harder. Yes. I could use it. The assassin might be watching my hands, but all I'd need was time enough to speak three syllables, and she would be grievously injured, perhaps dead. We would be free.
The forms sprang unbidden to my mind. I stared at the woman in black and red. She stared back with cold eyes and a mirthless smile. It would be so simple. Such an easy spell. I could save both Meeko and myself.
All it would cost would be my innocence.
I clutched Meeko as tightly as I could, his fur damp from my sweat. For him. For him I would pay the price of taking a life.
My lips parted. The forms stood bright and clear in my mind. Even now, faced with the death of both myself and one of my closest friends, I hesitated. Could I do this? Could I really kill someone in cold blood?
The assassin's eyes still held my own. I didn't have a choice. Not if I wanted Meeko to live.
I began to cry harder, my stream of tears turning to heavy sobs that wracked my body and made it difficult to breathe. Never in my life had I wanted to do something less. Once I crossed this threshold I wouldn't, couldn't be the same person any more.
The syllables strained against my lips; the forms strained against my mind. Why was I still waiting? There was nothing else I could do. This was exactly the reason I'd learned the spell in the first place. My lip curled to make the first sound as the forms blazed bright behind my vision. I'd never known a spell to come so easily. It was like it wanted to be cast.
Wait. There was one other; one even easier, and a thousand times more familiar. Suddenly an idea seized me — I had no reason to think it would work, but had to try something. Anything to avoid casting the death spell.
I pushed the burning forms out of my head, and instead reached for three others. "I-ni-go!" I screamed, tethering each form of the summon spell to a syllable of my best friend's name; desperately pushing them together into a spell that tore from my throat, leaving it burning and raw.
Instantly he appeared in the centre of the shack. It seemed he already knew something was wrong, for he was fully dressed, and had his sword drawn and ready. The woman snarled, recovering quickly from her moment of shock, but Inigo was quicker; as she launched herself towards him his sword flickered, slashing across her throat.
Unlike her thumbnail, Inigo's sword bit deep. A hot flash of blood, a burbling sigh, and she crumpled to the ground, lying still and silent in a growing puddle the same vivid scarlet as her armour.
Inigo had already turned away, and in two long strides was by my side.
"Kirilee," he said, as I collapsed into his arms. "Kirilee, you are unhurt? Thank the Moons! Meeko?"
"He's — he's all right, I think," I choked out between sobs. It hurt to talk, my throat damaged by my improvised spell. "She said — just sleeping potion —"
"Let us hope she was telling the truth." He drew me closer to him, enveloping my small, shaking body completely. "Hush, Kirilee. It is all right. I am here. You are safe."
Once I had Recalled us home, and Inigo had made me a hot mug of chocolate from my treasured little hoard, I told him the story in a raspy whisper from a cocoon of blankets. I'd insisted Inigo settle Meeko across my lap, and my fingers moved gently through his fur as I spoke.
Wake up, I begged. Please, wake up.
"This is … unbelievable," Inigo said, beads clicking in his hair as he shook his head. " I am more relieved than I can say that you and Meeko are both unhurt. And I am very glad you did not have to resort to using that spell. I … would not like to see what taking a life would do to you."
"Neither. When I didn't think I had a choice … Inigo, I've never felt so … so …"
"I know, my friend."
My fingers tightened in Meeko's fur, and I blinked back tears. It still seemed hard to believe that casting the summon spell verbally had actually worked. I could only imagine it had something to do with the strong bond of friendship and love between Inigo and myself. My throat hurt more than it ever had even during my worst illnesses, but I considered it a small thing to trade.
I took a small sip of my cooling chocolate, wincing as it passed my throat. "But what about you? You seemed to be expecting me to summon you."
"I was — or at least I was hoping you would. I was up late with Mister Corpulus and Felix, telling them all about our time in Windhelm. They are very glad we are back safe, by the way. We talked very long into the night, and I had many goblets of wine."
"You saw Felix?" I croaked.
"I did. You must speak with him tomorrow," he said. "But going on. Before bed I went outside for some fresh air to clear away some of the wine haze. That was when I spotted them. Shadowy figures, near your apartment. I shouted and ran up here, but by the time I arrived, they had gone — and so had you, and Meeko." He hung his head. "I was very frightened. Kirilee, I have never been more frightened. But I knew you had your spells, and you were with Meeko, so I retrieved my sword, and then I waited. I hoped and trusted that you would either come back yourself or summon me to save you. I am so very glad I was right."
"Me too, Inigo. Thank you." With one hand I took his, and squeezed it tightly.
Suddenly I felt a stirring in my lap, and heard a whimper.
"Meeko!"
He managed a sleepy whuff, then pushed himself up on his front paws and licked me on the chin.
"Are you okay? They didn't hurt you?"
Another whuff, and another, longer lick, from collarbone to chin.
I threw my arms around his neck and buried my face in his fur.
"I'm so glad," I whispered. "I love you. I'll never let anyone hurt you. I promise."
His tail thumped against the bed, and he stuck his wet nose into my ear. The heavy weight which had been pressing against my heart for the past hour finally lifted, and while once again my tears flowed freely, this time they were accompanied by laughter.
I was very nervous when I went down to the Skeever the next morning. How was it that I could escape kidnap and attempted assassination the night before, yet still feel frightened at the prospect of facing Felix? I shook my head angrily at myself. It was ridiculous.
"Kirilee!" cried Corpulus, as I pushed open the door to the inn. He hurried across the common room, and wrapped me in an enormous hug. "We were so worried," he said gruffly into my hair.
Was he talking about the night before? Or my week in Windhelm? Tears sprang into my eyes. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm back now."
He held me at arm's length, examining my face. "Don't you ever disappear like that again, you hear me? That's not how you treat family, Kirilee."
"I know. I'm sorry," I said again, the tears spilling onto my cheeks. "I'm so sorry."
Corpulus pulled me back into his arms and held me for several long moments. I hugged him fiercely back.
Minette's welcome and subsequent chiding were even more vigorous than her father's, but I won her forgiveness with my gifts from Windhelm: two of Candlehearth Hall's unique ales, brand new and so far unavailable anywhere else. Elda didn't normally let unopened bottles pass her threshold, but her attitude towards Inigo and I had taken a sharp turn after our role in solving Susanna's murder.
"Where's Felix?" I asked anxiously, once Minette had dashed off to add the bottles to her collection.
"On an errand," Corpulus said with a sly smile.
"… Oh." Though I was very nervous about seeing him, knowing that he didn't even want to be here to see me after I had just escaped from the jaws of death, even if he were to end things with me straight after … it wounded me more than I thought possible.
"Well, um. I guess I'll check back later, then. I've got to go to the College," I said flatly, and trailed back out of the inn.
Viarmo, of course, was not so sentimental. He barely looked up from his desk when I knocked on his door, merely grunting, "Good to see you again. I trust your studies haven't suffered too much during your little sojourn from the city."
"They probably have," I said, "but I suspect you'll think the trade-off is worth it. I've won an audience performing for Ulfric Stormcloak."
The horrors of the past week were almost worth it for the look on Viarmo's face alone. "Wh-how? Tell me everything. Immediately."
After begging a cup of water for my still-painful throat, I related the whole tale. His astonishment only grew the more I spoke, but his surprise turned to open delight when I told him about the audience with Ulfric.
"This is perfect," he said, scribbling animatedly. "Just the piece of the puzzle we've been looking for. You're still here?" he said, looking up from his notes. "Bugger off. I've got important work to do."
"Yes, Headmaster," I sighed.
"Oh, but do make sure you put in an appearance in Riften this weekend. And keep working at that younger whelp," he called after me, as I headed for the door.
I had a lesson with Master Six-Fingers — she hadn't even noticed I'd been gone — and after another futile check of the Skeever resigned myself to an afternoon of distracted study. Despite my mess of emotions, I needed to master the healing spell I was working on before my next session with Danica on Fredas, especially after having missed the last one with no notice. I anxiously hoped that she wouldn't be too angry with me, and resolved to make sure my spellwork was perfect to compensate. If only it wasn't so hard to concentrate. Where had Felix gotten to?
Felix wasn't at the Skeever in the evening either, but shortly after I had arrived home I heard a knocking at my door.
"Just a moment," I called, struggling into a new nightdress. I assumed it was Inigo — though he didn't usually bother knocking and just let himself in — but instead my heart jumped into my throat.
It was Felix.
I stared at him for a moment, rigid with shock. He looked very uncomfortable and nervous himself as he shut the door behind him.
Then our eyes met, and we collapsed into one another's arms. He pulled me so tightly to him that I could barely breathe, one hand around my waist and the other in my hair. I squeezed my eyes shut and held him just as tightly. I could hear his heart beating very fast.
Eventually we broke apart, and I was astonished to see his eyes were filled with tears.
"I was so afraid," he whispered. "So very afraid. I thought I'd lost you forever. First you disappeared, and Inigo said you'd gone to Windhelm, where young women like you were being murdered every other day — and you'd been gone a whole week — and then you were kidnapped from your bed —" He pulled me closer. "Kirilee. My larkling. I never knew I could feel fear like I did this past week."
I broke away, hanging my head. "I'm so sorry, Felix. For leaving without saying anything, yes — but mostly for all the other things I didn't say."
Felix let out a long, slow breath and ran his fingers through his hair. "It was … a lot to take in," he said.
My heart stopped, and I held my breath. Was this the end?
"… But take it in I did."
"R-really?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was he … was that a smile?
"I did a lot of thinking while you were gone, and … well … I was an idiot." That time it definitely was a wry smile I saw. "I spoke to Da, and the Radiant Raiment sisters, and even your Viarmo about what you told me — well, the gist of it — and they … very much put me in my place."
"You're joking," I said, clapping a hand over my mouth. "Viarmo? You went to talk to Viarmo?"
"I did. He was … unimpressed. Him and Da both." He grimaced. "Both of them just rolled their eyes and asked whether I was really so wool-brained that I hadn't already realised that of course you were nobly born, and mayhap you had very good reasons for keeping that to yourself in a foreign province. And Viarmo … well, the gentlest thing he called me was a 'soft-headed simpleton'. He actually said I should stay away from you," he said ruefully, "as apparently … ah, what was it? That's right, you have 'more important things to do than play nursemaid to a little boy who should clearly still be on his mother's apron-strings.'"
I giggled. "And your father?"
"Da said that if I was stupid enough to have run off a woman who was clearly too good for me, yet somehow seemed to want me anyway, then I deserved whatever misery I brought on my own head. And also that I'm a twice-blind idiot if I thought you were the sort of woman who'd appreciate me asking your father for permission to court you. He cuffed me like I was still a boy, and sent me away to think about what I'd done. And Mina? She stopped talking to me altogether, after saying that if anything happened to you because of my … idiotitude then she'd show me just how quickly she's been learning the sword from Inigo. My own sister." He shook his head.
"And … what you think about it all?" I asked softly.
Felix fixed me with his rich earthen eyes. "What I think," he said, "is that I love you. No matter if … no matter what you are or who your Da is." He took my hands. "I'm so sorry, Kirilee. I'm sorry I blew up at you like that. I was just shocked. You're — you're not like other nobles. You're not like the one who killed Sorex. It wasn't fair, the things I said. I hope you can forgive me."
I stared at him wordlessly. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. He loved me?
He then dropped one hand and pulled from his pocket a delicate gold chain, on which hung a small gold medallion. "I used the money I'd saved for a message-bird to buy the gold to make … this," he said. "It was what I was finishing up today. It's … a gift, and a token, if you want it to be. To, ah … to signify that we're courting. Because … because I still want all the things I said before. I've never met anyone like you. I want you to be mine, and for me to be yours. I don't care if your father disapproves — as long as you want it."
He lifted his eyes to mine once more. "Do you?"
My heart was beating so hard and fast I thought it would explode. Every inch of my skin tingled with the same agony-ecstasy I'd felt after communing with Mara, and a hot, bright happiness burned inside me, filling me to the brim with a joy so intense it was almost painful.
"I … I do, Felix. And … I love you too."
He didn't seem to know what to say. He stared at me, eyes moving over my face, as though fixing every freckle indelibly into his memory. Finally, he reached out and fastened the necklace around my neck. I shivered as his fingers brushed my skin, and pulled him down into a kiss — gentle at first, then increasingly fierce and hungry. We broke apart. I gazed into his eyes, and saw there a roaring inferno of passion and desire, so different to his usual restrained, soft-spoken self. From the expression on his face, I gathered he saw the same in my own.
I held out a hand. He took it. I led him to the bed.
He didn't leave til morning.