EDDA
"Edda has a little boy your age," Lady Cigyun told him. Lord Arvis looked up from his book. She'd never been permitted to go to service with either of them - a lowly born plain maid with nothing pretty to wear - and neither, now, seemed to worry about the lack of prayer in her head. Why would they? She'd no reason to meet duke or lady. "I expect you to play nice."
"Play." It was hard to imagine the lord so sloppy in anything, but when he and Cigyun sat at night, he tripped over the verses. Lady Cigyun read them rote from the pages. Fathers oversaw that, didn't they? The spiritual kind and the kind that sired children. She barely knew her father as a girl, and here she was, two and twenty, with only a single prayer to her tongue.
Lord Arvis deserved better.
"You're both children." The carriage hit a rough patch in the road; Sunilda gripped the edge of her seat, snapped from her thoughts of...was it the gods? "You so rarely spend time with children. It might be nice."
He closed the book on his finger. "It's nicest where you are." Cigyun, eyes soft, kissed the top of his head. The lord moved away from her, flustered.
"I also need you to keep Svan company." The lord sighed. "Be kind. If Edda's boy does not mind, perhaps you can take lunch with her." A break from children. Lord Arvis' company was odd, but she found herself not minding it. He was...better than he'd been in Velthomer.
Lord Arvis did not roll his eyes. Too prim a boy.
She'd barely eaten today. Her appetite was fleeting, and the way the carriage shook flopped her belly several times over. Was there any room for food and baby? It was a stupid question to ask Cigyun, so she kept it to herself. "Milady. Do you have snacks hidden anywhere?"
Lady Cigyun looked away from her son, blinking. "I'm out of candy, Svan…"
"Real food."
"Oh! Of course." She turned on her leg, knocking her knuckles against the partition blocking them from the driver of the carriage. No real privacy, though the knight had promised they could not hear much over horses, the carriage itself, and whatever foul jokes the two of them told each other. Lady Cigyun asked for bread in the way she could (maybe a guard's food was all she deserved). "We are nearly in Edda. I tire of road rations myself."
Cigyun then came to sit with her. She ran her fingers along her arm, and Sunilda took the bread before her mind could cloud. "Still road sick, I see. I cannot believe you've a baby so cruel. You may lay on my shoulder, should you please. It's how I got Arvis used to the carriage."
She did, undeniably. She stuffed her cheek with bread to let it soften, and then let herself sit far too close to the duchess. Lord Arvis glared, though now she did not think it was malicious. "I've never been carriage sick."
Lady Cigyun pulled her closer yet. She'd said her shoulder, of course, and not her side. Only a few hairs taller than her, but it was enough. Their bare arms could touch if she wanted it so; roll her sleeves back on her dress and get her fingers up the fabric of Cigyun's gown. "Me and my wee little baby. I did not know it at the time, but your father broke a few rules not asking the king for permission to wed me. We met King Azmur as one."
Lord Arvis flushed again. So embarrassed about one time being a baby. "Mother!" The carriage hit another bump, and somehow Cigyun of all women stabilized her. She did not jostle in her seat or was her head wed to the wall. Something softer to bump into, and she didn't wobble, either.
"It's true. Your father tried to hold you, but you wailed and flailed so loudly I still hear it in my ears. I pressed you to my bosom and silent you fell." Lady Cigyun sighed. "How much easier this would be, were you small again…"
Small again? The lord was not old by any stretch. Old enough to dress and feed himself was old enough. He'd be a man in…eight years? Plenty of time to be hugged. Lord Arvis did not comment, perhaps missing it, pulling his feet up onto his bench. She swallowed. "Lady Cigyun?"
"We'll be in Edda by midday. Best to be on solid ground, hm?" She tapped her fingers together. "Perhaps a week at most. I think so. Thea told me normally these visits last much longer, but time is slim."
Thea…one day she'd learn names, but it was some wife or another, wasn't it? Sunilda only had answers for a few things, and it was not as if Lady Cigyun spent all day wistfully staring out the window of the lord's reading room. Just parts of it.
*…*
(Lady Cigyun lays near, a hand on her stomach. She isn't round, but she knows the child is in her. Winter creeps closer; the prince just left after a routine visit, for the duke is wicked. She wonders why Cigyun's perfume smells different when he leaves, why her lips look made-up when she's never painted them, but knows better than to ask. "You'll let me name 'em, won't you?" She's always pretty, shining valiantly, but in the eves of morning, she thinks her ethereal. "Little Adelaide. Amalia. Arthur. Anwyl." Sunilda doesn't care - she doesn't think most days about the child, so she opts to nod.)
*…*
The Lady of Edda was not nearly as blond as she was led to believe, closer to brown. Not that she was suppose to look, eyes flickering from her feet. She caught the lady's eyes, green and flecked, and she knew her error by the way Edda furrowed her brow.
Sunilda swallowed, ignoring the want to grab Cigyun's sleeve; her own lady saved her from a scolding. "I don't keep Sunny around for her manners." Sunny, as if she did not have a proper nickname, either. "I thank you again for hosting us. I've not meant to keep away, but Velthomer keeps me close."
"I am busy myself," so at least that was true. "Somedays I forget Velthomer has a duchess."
Cigyun smiled. It was tense. "My lord does not let me out often." A few scant trips to Belhalla (not personally invited), but the majority of her time was in the duchy. "No matter now. Grannvale is too beautiful a country to not show Arvis."
"That it is." The aforementioned lord leaned against on the carriage, scuffing his foot against the ground. Hankering for a snack himself (finally), he'd been terribly curt with the duchess, dismissed by his mother. "Your letter arrived promptly. The guest quarters are ready. I will show you."
Letter? It explained the paper and her trips to the post. She rarely asked why she did the errands she did. Lady Cigyun managed the household, and Sunilda fit under that title.
"Sunny." She lifted her eyes. Just barely, if her eyes drifted, she saw more of Edda's duchess: a head and a half taller than her own, blue, almost grey eyes, and despite her earlier thought, she did not feel unkind. "Take Arvis for a light tea. The guards will unpack."
*…*
They spent one night in the guest quarters; several rooms on top of each other, for sitting, eating, even bathing, complete with three bedrooms (the duke, perhaps). The lord was just a door down, and she had a pallet by her lady's door (not that she slept there). Nicer than most she knew.
Then, she was her lord, plus one. "Can we not avoid him?" he asked.
Edda's boy was named Claud. He was blond, at least, and stood the same height as her lord. He wore white, a fair bit, and did not seem bothered by the slight chill. His arms were bare, and his pants stopped halfway between knee and ankle.
She watched Lord Arvis shift on his feet, leaning more on his toes. Was he trying to give himself that bit of an edge? She would not laugh at him, she told herself, but the sight made her smile. Taking lunch meant watching him, ultimately, for the Edda boy did not have a nanny, and Lady Cigyun did not want her son alone while she met with Edda's lady.
"I don't want to play," Lord Arvis said, first. "I don't want to run around and hit each other or climb anything or hide." Cousins, perhaps? Sunilda only ever saw him with his mother (or very distantly, the duke), and the two of them did do those things. She touch his shoulder in the guise of pulling a hair off, brushing her knuckle along the back of his neck. "And my maid is too stupid to be left on her own."
Lord Claud gasped. "That's very rude."
"I don't lie."
"Neither do I." The other young lord scuffed his heel against the floor. "Why can't we play outside?"
"I can't get dirty."
Thrilling conversation. He could, but he didn't like to. "What would you like to do?" Eat with his mother, likely. Then she and the lord could take a walk around Edda's market, for they were often stuck together. She, herself, had promised the lord more paper. "I have board games."
Goodie. Still, she knew the lord liked them a fair bit. He'd invited her a handful of times to play numerous ones, but she was forever daft. Lady Cigyun was his preferred, matched company. "What kind of games?"
*…*
Lord Claud was a quiet boy in a different way than her lord. While Lord Arvis stewed easily, somedays feeling like he only opened his mouth to mock her or talk sweet about his mother (anymore, he asks about the baby too, somedays; does she think they'll like him, what do babies do anyway, how big will they be?), he was chatty when the mood struck. Claud spoke more to say what he needed to than to just talk, and their game of draughts needed commentary.
She did not know what number of game they were on, only that her lord was on a winning streak, ten to four. She was around to make sure her grown, seven-year-old lord did not burn the castle down or get himself burnt, so she watched with as much interest as she could.
"Lord Arvis?" she started.
Still, this baby got her cold anymore.
He leaned back in his chair. She pressed just a bit closer. Lord Claud was in thought, by the cock of his head. "I'm going to run to our villa. I want my coat."
He blinked. "You're not suppose to go places alone," he answered. His eyes left her face, glancing at her belly. Lady Cigyun was a bit protective over her: had it been impressed on the lord? Possibly. "Let me win again and then we can go." She could not tell the lord no, nor did she want to. She knew she'd more comfortable with his company anyway. No one important, but being no one drew that man's attention anyway.
Speaking his winnings into the air made them stop. The games ticked by until his six-win lead dwindled down to one. She knew better than to laugh as he grew increasingly frustrated. He glared at her over his shoulder when he had the moment. Draughts looked simpler then chess, if she could keep up with it. Black over white over black (the lord's set was red and black) to steal the other pieces. They all moved the same; they all acted the same. She knew better than to offer advice—not for claims of cheating, but wary over her lord's retribution—so she followed the game along in her head.
Poor boy.
Her lord won, eventually, as the morning bled into the afternoon. She was hungry, too, but she kept from saying anything. "There. We are done," he said harshly.
"Done?" Lord Claud asked. "I have chess."
That would turn ugly. He got snippy enough with his mother. "I need something from my quarters." He needed something? (What were the wants of a maid?)
"I may come," Lord Claud offered. "It's quicker to go through the manor. I can come and go as I want." Was this playing nice, leaving the other young lord behind? Edda was his home, but she didn't want to leave him alone. Something would happen to him out of sight, and she'd face the wrath for it. From her, it would go to Cigyun (for a misbehaving maid), and back to the duke (for a misbehaving wife).
The duke. She'd gotten Cigyun in enough trouble with him.
"As can I! Just...just not here." True. The lord went anywhere he wanted in Velthomer; too often she found him atop the ramparts, looking out. He tightly folded over the record of their draw in draughts. "Sunilda and I will be fine." He handed the list to her, the unspoken request for her to tuck it in her pocket (and never speak of it).
She caught his hand for a moment longer, back to his ear. "Let the boy come, milord. I'll give you a mint."
One, two, three. "Fine." Then, to the lorded child, "You may show us." He took his hand back, looking in her eyes with his hard ones. One, two, three. "…would you like my cloak for now?"
"I'm not that chilly."
He puffed his cheeks out. "It's your fault I lost. You complained so I had to rush and now you're not even that chilly."
She sighed. How did Lady Cigyun do this day in and day out? Would her child be anything like him? They'd be siblings, after all, raised under Velthomer's roof together. "I will take your cloak." He straightened his back, so she unpinned it. Would a boy's cloak fit her? He was tall and she not; holding it would dampen his temper if not.
Lord Claud was not paying her any attention, packing away his game. Good. Her embarrassment could be in private. Lady Cigyun indulged him. She put his cloak on, intentionally haphazardly. "See, milord? It doesn't fit."
"How odd. It fits Mother." Of course it did. She was the same height, but Lady Cigyun—her lady filled dresses in ways she couldn't. "Oh well."
He lost draughts for her, all flustered, and went so far to offer his coat. Allegedly, he was a sweet boy. "Thank you, Arvis," she said quietly; he went pink. He didn't look at her. She wrapped him back up; the last thing the lord needed was a cold. Two years he hadn't been ill, but why take the risk? Especially so far from Velthomer.
*…*
Edda, true to gossip, took its church seriously. Lord Arvis was scrubbed clean before the sun rose, barely awake yet managing a glower. He fell asleep again on the couch, wrinkling his good clothes. Partially her fault, given how late she let him stay up with the other lord, waiting for Lady Cigyun to come home (home? they were moving constantly).
Lady Cigyun was easy to dress; she fretted the whole while about letting her out of her sight, and if the baby came, send for her. It's horrible, to have one alone. (She was, though, wasn't she? The duke didn't want them, the lord liked her every third day, and her lady was temporary.) She'd need to fetch Arvis afterwards, since Cigyun (woefully out of touch with church by her own admission) would be with Edda's lady yet. "Did you know, Svan, I'm my husband's keeper?" she left her with, her disastrous hand lingering on hers.
Supposedly. A dull girl hazy on church and now constantly sleepy because of the baby in her. Church was best for making pies, a thought the baby agreed with, roused in her belly. She touched the bump. "Why so hungry?" Sunilda asked quietly; the goer beside her glared. Having squeezed inside wearing her lady's maroon cloak, she deserved it. Better than being stuck in the sun. "We'll 'ave pie later."
"Will you hush up?"
She took a step away. "Two pieces." She was kicked. Good for the little thing. When was she to have the child, again? A tiny hand to hold with breakfast…she wanted that, didn't she? Really? Her feet felt heavy, rocking on the balls of her toes. "Okay, honey."
Now she went quiet. Getting dragged out by her collar was not a good look, far too many eyes on her. Listening half to the father and half to her baby, she forgot part of the morning. The sermon went longer than the ones back home (home?), and she was not faithful to begin with.
*…*
Her childhood church was small - it fit the village, plus a father and two sisters, and after service ended, the seats were pushed away so feasting and mild gossip could be laid out. In Edda, she'd been standing all morning, and with dismissal everyone filtered out the large doors. Not wanting to get lost in the river of people, she beelined for the hidden staircase against the flow.
No one stopped her going up the stairs. House Edda's blond hair was hidden under covers for the ladies so she couldn't tell who was who. Her lord was easy to spy, a tangle of red hair amongst the crowd, and where the lord was, Cigyun was never far. She was Lady Brenna and Lord Claud, so she fixed her eyes to the ground. She went to bow, yet was caught at her shoulder. "Hello to you too, Svanny."
Right. How many times could she err with her? "Hello, Lady Cigyun."
Lord Claud said something to Lord Arvis, who's nose crinkled just for a moment. "I've a game in my trunk," he said quietly. Two, technically. He'd stood in his room as she packed for him, complete with morris board and chess. They'd not been brought out, with Cigyun busy as she was, but they were there.
"Not today." Lord Claud stood a little straighter to see down the balcony. Edda's duchess touched his shoulder, and like any good child, he preened under it. "Coming, mother. We can play later."
She was not meant to look.
"Just a moment, Lady Brenna." The woman nodded, leading her son down the stairs. Where was Edda's lord? No matter. Cigyun drew her attention back to her. "Svan." Half a step closer to her, close enough to smell her soap. A bit unkempt, Sunilda tucked her bangs back behind her ears, then tightened the knot under her chin. Cigyun waited for her to finish. "I must leave Arvis with you again. Tea is very popular with ladies," what did Cigyun know? "Plus she and her reading circle have invited me, and my experience with those is anything but boyish."
"Yes, milady." Cigyun grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze. "Do you need anything done?"
"No, dearie. You two have fun. Arvis."
"Must you go?" Lady Cigyun kissed his forehead, ruffling his hair. He did not pout, certainly not in public, but kissed his mother back in a rare show of affection. "Will you miss me?"
She nodded. "Always. I'll be back before you realize." He seemed mildly satisfied, coming to stand beside her. Deciding not to be fussy, he let her straighten his hair out.
Then Lady Cigyun left, down the stairs with her gentle touch on the bannister. Lord Arvis sighed, stalling with any words until they were mostly alone. Some of the sisters chattered below, and Sunilda had an ear for gossip, trying to ignore it.
"Lord Claud is spending the day with his cousins." No need to ask what he'd pick between children and his own company. Why he was so adverse she wouldn't ask; he could tell her if (when) he wanted to.
Had it been poor form to show up before the day of church? They could not help the conditions of the road. He sighed. "Are we getting lunch? Mother gave me her purse."
"We can. Stay close, okay? We'll get something at an inn and then hunt your mother down." (Reading couldn't take that long.) One, two, three. Her normally confident lord did not meet her eyes, tucking his hand in hers. Where did that come from? It didn't matter, jostling her arm so her sleeve fell to cover where they met. Their secret.
Still, "An inn? Mother says Father's the only one dumb enough to drink on church days."
"To drink wine."
"I think Father's dumb."
Doing her best not to frown, "I know, milord." Best he get it out of him now. One of these days his father would take an interest in him, and she didn't want him to slip. She didn't want to encourage it, either. "Let's get going. Your little sibling will not stop negging me to be fed."
"Do they still like squash?" No meat with church.
"Probably. They like everything."
Arvis hummed. He was quiet from the time they squeezed out the church crowds, hand tight in hers, when she stalled to dissect pictures on signs to see where she was, and when she grabbed his hand a little closer as someone bumped into her. Always wanting to go back to his mother's side, she didn't take his quiet as disinterest, considering how much she wanted to be there too.
She kept him in front of her when they could not manage side by side. He fit just so right there, hand firm in hers by the palm. He'd go back to his regular self soon enough.
Edda's guards, lingering and chattering on corners, were more lax than their home ones. What was there to worry about? What was there to fear from the two of them? Not much. She barely mustered anger, let alone rage, towards that man, and if she could not do it there, she could not do it anywhere. The lord bore a temper, but he was not violent.
She squeezed them inside a quiet looking inn. Her experience with them, recently, was slim, but no one was yelling. A boon. Returning the slight wave of its keeper, she led the lord to the butt of a mostly empty bench, nudging him to sit. He listened, on his own accord, and she let herself sit beside him. He did not immediately release her hand. "Sunilda?"
"Yes, milord?" He prickled. Perhaps she thought too soon. She dropped her voice. "What, Arvis?" Her bonnet pulled too much on her ears, so she undid it, tucking it in her hidden pocket.
"I've not gotten out much."
No, he hadn't. He spent part of his day with a tutor (which he cycled through often), his meals with them, and then got ready for bed. Somedays, when Lady Cigyun hid a red cheek from him, his father sent for him; he never came back upset, just his usual brooding self, so she didn't worry (nor was he hers to fret about). "You've done the shopping with me," she offered.
"Sunilda."
"I know." She freed her hand. "I will take you with me more, if you like. You'd be a great help. I can't carry much by myself. I just ask you glare a little less. What will we do if your face sticks like that?"
His cheeks puffed. "That's not true."
"Are you calling me a liar?"
"The butler has told me the same thing. And it hasn't happened."
"I know a man who it happened to."
"No you don't. Mother says you don't know men."
Cigyun. She felt too warm in her dress. "That's enough, milord."
*…*
The lord felt like bickering today. He argued about how the inn served them, and when she told him it was normal. No, it wasn't normal, despite was she said, because what did she know? She didn't know a thing, despite being his senior. She didn't go anywhere, after all, never after dark, even before. Over steamed vegetables he continued to quip at her, but it did not hurt, so she didn't fight back.
(When did he eat outside the home to know? He didn't.)
Still, he wore on her. When he was fed (little sibling much less hungry than they'd led her to believe, or maybe beets turned her sour), she buttoned him back into his coat, then counted out coins from the purse with him. Briefly, she thought about convincing the lord to buy their lady a gift, but kept it to herself. She'd forgotten her last birthday, wrapped up in her own grief.
He wouldn't hold her hand on the way back, but gripped her dress. She took him back to their temporary quarters. It was habit, thinking him to be a child that needed help, but she tucked him into the washroom to scrub his face clean. He didn't shy away this time, sat on the table to make up for her height; she cleaned his face before, just never more. "Sunilda." If she was too rough he'd say something.
"My lord."
"Did you–" one, two, three. "Did you pay attention during the service?" It wasn't like him to lose his words. She paused with the rag in her hand.
"Not since I was your age."
"Are you fibbing?"
Her, fib! Her lady did not tell her what the lord got for his birthday for a reason. "Church is church, milord. Hold still." Strong with his pout, he kept it up when she swiped his mouth clean. Give him back to his mother in good conditions, maybe earn a smile for it, greedy in that way. "You honor your parents and the others that protect you. You give thanks for your blessings and remember all that is good is possible."
"What's good?"
"How would I know?" He grinned, almost devious. "You should pay attention. You're young, and one day you'll be duke."
How his nails got dirty she didn't know. "I do. Mother looked a little cloud-eyed."
She looked good like that. "She's older than I. If I'm bored of sermon, I can imagine she is."
Never a fussy boy, he let her clean his palms. "If I'm to be duke, so I have to pay attention, wouldn't Mother, as my duchess, have to?" Duchess?
"I don't think Cigyun would be your duchess."
"Why wouldn't Mummy be mine?" Mummy. Rarely so quick with that word.
"Isn't your duchess the woman you marry?" Hopefully, a woman he loved.
His hands tensed. "What do you know?" No point getting mad at him, or letting his temper bother her. It still did, just a little, but she'd forget about it come morning. The lord was a blooded noble, so if he wanted to be truly nasty, he could get away with it.
She wiped her hands dry on her dress. "Not a thing. It's why I ask," she softly said. Drying his face gave him a moment to sit quiet and contemplate being nice. Chin tilted up, they made eye contact. She knew for a fact he would not go for a nap, not by her insistence and certainly not with Cigyun out of sight. "But you will be duke, I suppose, so if you want your mother at your side, who could tell you no?"
He didn't bother to dignify her with a response. She helped him down. Picking an errant hair off his shoulder, "Lets go find your mother, milord."
*…*
Sunilda spent the evening alone. Well, alone, with her baby once more. There was no shopping to be done, nor could she anyway, so she counted her steps around the guest quarters. No lady to sigh, no lord to give her a dirty eye, so she freely paced. Normally, she could only feel them move when she was still, but now it was kick after kick. "Well, good morning to you too," she said.
Another kick, or maybe just a hit. "You're stretching, aren't you? It's a bit cramp, I suppose. Not that you can hear me, anyhow…" she laid her hand on the side of her stomach, and wether she had an audience or not, she was kicked again. "Alright, alright."
Would there be walks when they returned to Velthomer? Of course there would be, but she wasn't sure, yet, what they would be doing there. She didn't have a house of her own, either asleep in the servant's quarters or shuffled between houses, and who knew what would become of her (unwanted?) child. One day she'd ask, though days were slimming, the child harder to ignore. Why had she tried to?She'd apologize in full when the babe was in her arms.
Another kick. She wasn't hungry, appetite stamped out, and if the babe wanted a snack they weren't fussy about it. "I know you're here, dear. Do you want to sit? We can sit and talk." She didn't expect an answer, not at all, but she thought there was a gentler tap to her hand.
She sat down in the living room, never certain how to sit with her stomach. Rubbing the heel of her hand across the bottom of her stomach, she kept chatting to…nothing? Everything? "I'm not sure what we'd talk about, anyhow, but I talk to myself a bit, so you can listen. Or not. We can talk more when I can hold you."
*…*
Cigyun put the lord to bed that night; he needed to talk to her, glaring at Sunilda from behind her thigh, and Cigyun placated him with her hand atop his head. Was the lord going to get her relieved? She told the child no for once, after all. It'd be a very long walk, if he did.
But Cigyun emerged from his room, and took her (by the sleeve!) from the living space into her temporary room. She knew this part well, at least: offer her arm so Cigyun could take her shoes off, then get her out of her day-dress. She undid the cloth buttons, top to the bottom of her spine. "I thought the day would never end, Svan."
Her lady's balance was precarious some days, wobbling against her as she stepped out of her gown. "Do you want a nightgown?" she asked.
"No, no…my shift will be enough. You keep me warm." Right. They were still sharing a bed. She'd fold it back up in the morning, laying it out across a chair. "We are not very pious in Velthomer, apparently. It shows in my posture, and how my husband behaves. No matter. A few more days here, then we will start towards Chalphy. It's more time than I want to spend, but it is what it is. Plus, Arvis needs a day to be kind again."
"I didn't think I'd hurt his feelings, milady."
"I didn't think you could." Her lady left her fully, sitting down. "I don't think he thinks about girls in the marriage way. He'll be alright. We'll have the talk about girls one of these days."
"The girl talk," she echoed. The girl talk? He wasn't that old.
Cocking her head, "Did you not get one about boys? All the children in my home did." No, she hadn't. Who wanted to talk to an unwanted girl about an unwanted marriage?
A long, weary day of church and here Lady Cigyun was, thinking impure thoughts. What had Arvis called it? Cloud-eyed? Had she not grown up mindful of these things? "You're not suppose to think about men besides the one you marry," she said gently.
"Every woman strays." Something changed in her voice.
"I don't," Sunilda protested back. (Right?)
"Do you need the talk?"
"Cigyun."
She pulled the comforter back, best she could. Talking about the lord was preferable to this. "Does Lord Arvis need anything before we leave?"
One, two, three. She took her time answering her. Fine, really, fine. Tonight, she was wretched at conversation (wasn't she always)? Somehow, her lady wanted her despite it, not letting her wander away to stoke the fire, catching her hand. Bedtime, after all, and the baby liked the time so. "He'll forget his heartbreak soon."
Heartbreak. The poor thing. "Truly?"
"Truly." Cigyun squeezed her fingers. "I can watch the fire tonight. Get your sleep." No point in arguing with her. An easy lady to have, but she couldn't help but feel useless when she couldn't do the one thing she was meant to.