The Return of Nightfall (28 page)

Sleeping forms cluttered the floor, huddled beneath threadbare blankets on mounds of straw. Scarred furniture, mostly trunks and old dressers lay flush with every wall. Nightfall cautiously tiptoed around the servants, the minuscule sounds made by his clothing and bare feet masked by heavy breathing and gentle snores. Now on familiar territory, he breathed a silent sigh and set to work.

 

Kelryn sat on her room’s only chair at a simple table that held her cold and untouched dinner: a small roasted hen, a buttered round of white bread, a mound of mashed tubers, and a mug of mulled cider. Her face felt like putty, and her hands had gone numb from supporting it. A dried flood of tears glued her elbows to the table. Pulled on hastily, her flimsy nightgown fell loosely around strong, sinewy shoulders; she could not muster the wherewithal to bother with stays and ties.

It all seemed impossible and insufferably ironic. For twenty years, Nightfall had plagued the four kingdoms of the world and every place between them. For twenty years, the demon of legend had roamed free, apparently unstoppable. Then, just as she and, inadvertently, Edward, had taught him to tap the goodness Dyfrin had sworn lived deep within him, the gentle compassion she had perceived from the day she had met him, he would face execution for a crime he had not even committed.

Trapped in a terrible limbo of grief, Kelryn found herself incapable of eating, incapable of sleeping, incapable it seemed, even of moving. She had maintained her position for more hours than she knew, tears gliding from swollen eyes that could no longer form or shed them. She had suffered so much for love. Discovering the true identity of her darling Marak had proved a shock from which she had never expected to recover. Yet, coming from him, a secret he had never shared with anyone, it had seemed almost exciting. She had adored him all the more for sharing that deadly confidence, for doing so had proved the depth of his love for her as well. He had dared to open himself to her, to trust her, as he had no one before her.

Now, he was going to die. Not for being Nightfall. His slayers would never even know his true identity, if indeed he could be said to have a real one at all. He would die for all the things he had once rejected as foolish and dangerous: friendship, morality, caring. Even if he evaded his sentence, he would always know the reason he suffered. She wondered if he might, once again, disdain those things she and Dyfrin had fought to draw out of him, those ideals they had teased and loved and dragged from the depths of his being. Decades of painstaking work destroyed in seconds by the decree of a power-mad Council.

A tap on Kelryn’s door, though delicate, startled her. She jerked her head from her hands, and her face peeled painfully from her palms. Her room, though unlit, seemed uncomfortably bright compared with the closed-eye view of the last several hours. “Who is it?” Her voice emerged as a deep croak.

The soft, lispy voice of a child barely wafted to her. “Maid, milady.”

“Maid?” Kelryn wondered aloud. “At this time of night?”

The other seemed put off, pausing several beats before admitting, “We thought you could use some company, Lady Kelryn.”

Kelryn managed a smile despite her sorrow.
How sweet.
She rose too quickly, assailed by a sudden light headedness that rendered her blind and dumb. It seemed to take forever to pass in a wave of specks and spirals before she regained her equilibrium. Crossing the room, she tripped the latch and ushered a young chambermaid into her quarters.

The newcomer looked unfamiliar, long hair tucked beneath a head scarf, except for a few wispy black strands that escaped onto a young-looking face. The eyes dodged Kelryn’s. The cheekbones sat high, the lips bow-shaped and darkly pink. The standard gray uniform fit well, defining the early stirrings of breasts and hip curves on an otherwise waifish body. The chambermaid glanced around the room, looking nervous and uncertain.

Though she felt dead inside, Kelryn tried to reassure her. “It’s all right. I’m glad you came. I could use someone to talk to.”

For a moment, the eyes stopped moving to focus on Kelryn. They were large and dark, with a hint of blue that might show fully in better light. “You look terrible.”

Though words of concern, not insult, they took Kelryn aback. “I love him,” she said as explanation. “I can barely imagine my life without him. I—”

Fists slammed a frenzied pattern against the door.

Kelryn gasped in a shocked lungful of breath, and the chambermaid scurried to look busy. “Who is it?”

A harsh male voice came next, muffled by the door. “Guardsmen, my lady. We need to talk to you.”

Kelryn hurried to the door and opened it to reveal two large men in working leathers covered by purple-and-silver tunics.

“Lady, you—” the first started, as the second’s eyes widened to comical proportions. He cleared his throat, averting his eyes.

Only then, Kelryn realized she had not bothered to fasten the lacy gown she had hastily thrown on in the hope she might sleep. Modesty meant little to showgirls who regularly doubled as whores. Nightfall had rescued her from that life, but he had no more turned her into a lady than becoming chancellor had made him a gentleman.

The second guard continued to stare, too pleased or surprised to remember his manners. The first shaded his eyes with a hand. “Lady, you . . . your . . .”

Kelryn drew the gown around her but still did not bother to fasten it. It seemed like too much work; and, at the moment, she did not feel kindly disposed toward Alyndar’s guardsmen. “Did you come for a reason?”

The speaker dragged callused fingers through his hair, his helmet clenched between his arm and other hand. “We just wanted to inform you Sudian has escaped.”

Kelryn’s heart leaped, but she hid her excitement behind a mask of uncertainty. “He has?”

“Out a window and into the night,” the man continued. “We think he’s in the city by now, perhaps headed for a ship, but he might come for you. If you see him, you must report to one of us at once.” He glanced at his companion, who was still gawking, giving him a hard nudge that snapped him free of his trance.

“Of course.” Kelryn said, the only thing she could think of. Any other answer would make them stay longer. She wanted to be alone with the chambermaid, who might have overheard the details of Nightfall’s flight. After all, the palace elite spoke as freely in front of servants as animals.

The guard swallowed hard, as if hating his own next words. “Hiding him would make you an accomplice.” He lowered his head to emphasize the significance of his words, “And vulnerable to serious punishment.”

“I have nothing to hide.” Kelryn flung her door wide, losing her hold on the gown in the process. “You’re welcome to come in and search.”

The chambermaid used a rag to swat dust from a bed-post.

“Not necessary,” the first guard said, cheeks reddening, gaze sweeping the room. “Just see that you tell us.” His tone softened, and his gaze flitted everywhere except to her half naked body. “We know you planned to marry him, but he committed a crime against the kingdom, against the very king himself. He’s desperate, dangerous, and in very real peril. If he doesn’t surrender, we have orders to kill him where he stands.”

If she had had any tears left to cry, Kelryn would have. Instead, she gathered her gown and lowered her head. “I understand.”

The second guard finally found his tongue. “Begging your pardon, Lady, but you’d do us all a favor, including him. He’s hurt bad enough he can’t get far. We could collect him peacefully. He’d have longer to live, and you wouldn’t have to watch him get . . .” He paused, apparently seeking a proper euphemism. Then, he must have realized the real word would have a stronger effect. “. . . killed.”

Kelryn nodded silently but, she hoped, with convincing force.

Both men returned gestures of respect, then retreated from the room.

Kelryn closed the door. Unable to move, she stood behind it, eyes closed, cheek pressed to the cold wood.

A hand gripped Kelryn’s shoulder. Startled, she gasped before remembering the chambermaid. She allowed herself to be gathered into arms that enwrapped her with surprising confidence and security. She fell against her benefactor, imagining it was Nightfall who held her, his body warm, thin yet powerful against hers, his lips pressed against her scalp. She could almost hear his voice tickling her ear.

“It’s all right, Kelryn. Everything will be all right.”

It sounded too real. Startled, Kelryn pulled away, staring into the chambermaid’s face. The youthful feminine features looked distinctly unfamiliar, but the dark blue eyes held a soulful depth of concern, accompanied by a glimmer of pain.

“It’s me, Kelryn.” Nightfall’s intonation issued from the chambermaid, an eerie combination that sent her stumbling backward against the door.

“M-Marak?” Kelryn studied the person in front of her, scarcely daring to believe. Again, she scanned the eyes, the detail that had given him away the day he had stepped into her room as Sudian. As blue-black as tempered steel, they met her gaze, and she knew them. “Marak.” She hurled herself into his arms, and he loosed a grunt of pain.

Kelryn grimaced, guilty she had hurt him just to ease her own discomfort. Slipping free from his embrace, she seized his hands and guided him deeper into the room. “You’re not safe here.”

Nightfall slid one of their entwined hands beneath her gown. “Neither are you.”

“Stop it!” As much as she had missed him, Kelryn could not fathom thinking about sex at a time like this, especially when he held the appearance of a woman. “They’re searching for you. They’re going to kill you on sight.”

“I heard.” Nightfall reminded her he had been in the room when the guards had made their pronouncement. He glided around her to the table, tore a leg from the chicken and bit off a chunk of meat. He waved the bone at her. “They’re out combing the city and the docks. They’ll expect me to run as fast and far as possible.”

It made sense to Kelryn. “As well you should. You’re not safe here. What are you doing . . . ?”

“Right now?” Nightfall scooped up a handful of tubers and sat on the bed, stuffing them in his mouth. “Eating.” He swallowed, clearly too ravenously hungry to savor the food, then addressed her real question. “I know what I’m doing.”

Kelryn went silent. Despite her desperate worry, despite her every instinct, she managed a smile. If anyone knew how to perform a proper escape, he did. She had no right to second-guess him. “I suppose you must.” The grin disappeared almost immediately. “They said . . .” Tears tried to rise to her swollen, stinging eyes. “They said you were shot. In the . . . in the heart.”

Nightfall smiled around the food. “Which proves what so many have claimed.” He took another bite of chicken. “I don’t have a heart.”

Kelryn did not know whether to hit him or hug him. “Whether anyone believes it, including you, you have a wonderful heart.” She wanted to tear his clothes off, to see the wound the servants had called fatal, the guards had said would slow him, and clearly had caused him pain when she had hugged him. But she worried more about ruining his disguise. “Don’t lie to me. How bad is it?”

“It hurts,” Nightfall admitted, to Kelryn’s surprise. “But it’ll heal.” Taking her wrist in a greasy hand, he pulled her down beside him. “I’m going after Ned. I’ll get word back to you when I can, and you need to keep your ears alert for me.” His expression turned earnest, even for a girlish chambermaid. “Trust no one, Kelryn. No one. Except Volkmier.”

Few names could have surprised Kelryn more. “Volkmier? The chief of the prison guards?”

Nightfall nodded. He rose, tossing the empty bone to the plate and seizing the other drumstick. He sucked down the entire mug of cider.

Kelryn stared, wanting more but knowing she was unlikely to get it.

Nightfall put aside the mug and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Just don’t put him in a position of having to choose between us and Alyndar. We will lose.”

“All right,” Kelryn said, hoping that, as situations arose, she would figure out how to handle them. Though not to the extent of her partner, she, too, had often needed to survive by her wits. “I’ll do my best. For you, for Ned, for all of us.”

The room went silent, except for Nightfall’s hasty chewing. Kelryn had seen him eat with the proper decorum of a noble and realized how famished he had become to bolt down food like a dog. “Remember the code?”

Kelryn nodded. She could not read or write, but she and Nightfall had worked out a picture language so they could understand one another from a distance or in touchy situations. Nightfall had last used it when he and Edward had escaped Duke Varsah’s imprisonment. The then-prince had wanted to let her know where and why they had left without her, but Nightfall had used it to show his contempt for her. At the time, he had believed her to be his betrayer. “Of course.”

“I’ll get word to you as I can when I can.” Using the mincing steps of a nervous young chambermaid, Nightfall dropped the half eaten second chicken leg and headed toward the door.

Kelryn suppressed the urge to run after him, to beg him to stay. The hours it gained them together would surely be his last. “Remember, I love you. Whatever else you do, come back safely.”

“I’ll try.” Nightfall took up the bread slice.

Thinking quickly, Kelryn wrenched open the desk drawer and removed a pouch of silver, which she offered to Nightfall. “Here, have this.”

Nightfall took huge bites from the bread, glancing at the offering without reaching toward it. “You keep it. You might need it.”

Kelryn shoved the balled-up purse into his hand. “I don’t need anything. You do. Take it.”

With clear reluctance, Nightfall accepted the purse and stuffed it into the bodice of his shift. “Thank you.”

Kelryn grabbed his arm.“Bring back Ned, and also . . . Sudian.”

Nightfall hesitated.