Kurt kicked Constantin's foot. The boy's eyes snapped open, clear and bright, and Kurt could tell he hadn't been sleeping.
He lay on his back at the side of the training yard, his skinny, clumsy cousin coiled in to his side. She'd clearly spent herself crying, and was now deeply unconscious.
Constantin moved, slowly – reverently – away from her and stood, gesturing Kurt away from the sleeping figure. Kurt glanced back, checking that she was shaded from the beating sun by the manicured boughs of the vines which had been trained up the walls. Satisfied she would be shrouded in the shadows, he turned to the prince's son.
"What's going on?"
"My father slapped her and called her a whore. She's upset."
Kurt fought with his features to keep the disbelief from his expression. It wasn't that he couldn't imagine the prince flying at someone in a fit of rage, but he struggled to reconcile that sort of reaction with the girl.
"Thought your father liked her?"
"He adores her, which is why he was so put out. But it's my fault."
This, Kurt could believe.
"You'd better tell it all from the start. And you can polish your sword and armour while you do."
Constantin groaned at the instruction, but Kurt tossed a slightly oily rag at him and he began at his work. "She was sneaking me out of the apartments last night. I'd made plants with the Lady Aulier's daughter. Mistress Aulier has been helping me with my studies in-" he caught Kurt's sceptical look and sighed, "Well, anyway. My sweet cousin had just closed the window after me when my father caught her. He saw me running across the lawn from the window and presumed that she'd been up to no good. So he slapped her, and called her a savage whore."
"And she didn't tell him it was you?"
"No… she said he'd have done far worse to me. She's got a black eye though and won't be able to attend a salon she was looking forward to."
Kurt glanced back at the sleeping figure, "You don't deserve her."
"I agree," Constantin followed Kurt's gaze, "I'm not a religious person, but I rather think that if there ever was a deity, they'd be like her."
Kurt felt his mouth contort involuntarily into a grimace, "I think you might be going a little far there."
"Oh probably, but don't you think the world would be better if she was in charge?"
Kurt shrugged. He didn't often think about much beyond his next meal and fat coin purse.
De Sardet stirred and Kurt smirked suddenly, "Well, if you're keen on repaying her discretion, you can clean her armour and blade too."
Kurt kicked Constantin's foot.
Dead.
Properly, unequivocally dead.
He lay on his back on the outcrop, his tall, angular cousin coiled in at his side. She'd clearly spent herself and was now deeply unconscious. Or worse.
Kurt held his breath. He crept forward, kneeling at her side.
He reached out to her, but stopped himself, hand trembling. If he touched her and she didn't respond, what would he do?
In many ways, this moment of not knowing was better. In this moment of not knowing, she might still be alive.
Kurt inhaled deeply, trying to gather courage from deep inside his bones. He tried to pretend that this was just another battlefield, that this was just another potential body.
But he couldn't.
He retracted his hand, staring at her.
He was unable to move.
He could hear people behind him, was dully aware of Sieglinde keeping the others back and giving him space. Petrus was arguing with her.
This is shock said a voice in the back of his head. His hands remembered the flask of malt at his hip and he down a long gulp of it, the fiery liquid burning down his gullet and scalding his heart back to life.
Slowly, he reached out again, gently moving her soft mess of hair from over her face. Almost like a magnet, her skin followed his fingers and she turned towards him. He made a noise which was almost a bark of relief, but he hardly noticed.
Her eyes flicked open and focussed on him slowly. Then she echoed his strange bark and scrambled up from where she'd lain, clinging to him as if she was drowning. He held her tight as the weight of what they'd done descended on them. Then they cried – relief for one another and grief for the fallen.
Sieglinde gave the order to move the bodies, and it was this which finally stirred De Sardet into action.
"He's my kin," she stated blandly to the soldiers who would move him, by way of explanation.
"Then he's mine too," Kurt replied.
Together, they carried Constantin down the mountain.
Together, they buried him in the woods.
Together, they set out into the world.
