Moons shadow, p.26
Moon's Shadow, page 26
Gerrick remembered his conversation with Nelcaro, and her accusation that Moranthus hadn’t done enough to stop his old lover’s death. “Is this because of what happened to your Patriarch?”
“What?”
“You were there when he died, but you couldn’t save him. Is this because you’re afraid you didn’t do enough then? And you’re afraid you won’t be able to do enough now?”
“What are you talking about?” Moranthus blinked at him, eyes wide. “How do you know any of this?”
“I talked with your apprentice today. She mistook me for Orthenn and tried to…‘warn’ me about you.”
“Warn you? About what? What does she think I—” Moranthus inhaled sharply through his teeth. “Never mind. I’m sure it’s exactly what everyone else has been saying for the past decade now. I corrupted the mind of our once-wise Patriarch, took advantage of his generosity, and didn’t lift a finger in his defense when it all led to his downfall. Did I miss anything?”
“Mora, I…” Gerrick started to reach out to him but pulled his hand back. Moranthus was too upset. What had Gerrick been thinking, reminding him of all this? “I didn’t believe it. I just wanted to be sure you don’t believe it either. I thought… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“I’d rather you bring it up now than let me find out later from someone else! Why didn’t you bring it up sooner? Was it just you she told, or does everyone in the castle know about the prince’s new elven guard with a sordid past?” Moranthus began pacing as he spoke, uncrossing his arms to run a hand through his hair. Before he made it fully across the room, he put a foot wrong, shifting his weight to his good leg with a pained yelp. Abandoning his pacing to get settled on a chair, he continued, “And what’s going to happen to Nelcaro if the king finds out she’s spreading rumors that could damage his son’s reputation? What was she thinking?”
“Why do you care what happens to her? She tried to put you out of a job, and she’s working with the people you think are plotting against Orthenn.”
“Because I trained her, and it’s my fault she’s here in the first place. I don’t regret my exile—I made the right choice—but I wouldn’t wish it on anyone else. You don’t know what it’s like, throwing away decades of work to start your whole life over in an unfamiliar place.”
Moranthus hadn’t meant that as a slight against Gerrick. He’d said he made the right choice and didn’t regret it. But the words felt like a slap in the face all the same.
Since they’d first arrived in Kingstone, Gerrick had worried Moranthus wouldn’t be happy here. He’d given up so much to bring Gerrick home, and Gerrick could never fully repay him for it. So, Gerrick had done his best to make Moranthus feel happy and comfortable and welcome here in spite of the constant setbacks they’d faced. He’d asked time and again if there was anything he could do to help, and time and again Moranthus had brushed him off. Now he’d proven Gerrick’s worries partly right, and Gerrick didn’t know why he’d been trying so hard if this was all he had to show for it.
“Maybe I would know what it’s like if you’d talk to me instead of keeping all your troubles to yourself!” Gerrick’s reply came out harsher than he wanted. This wasn’t helping. But he couldn’t stop. Tears prickling his eyes and voice ragged, he went on. “Maybe if you’d answer me when I ask if something’s bothering you instead of pretending everything’s fine, I could help. I’m sorry I don’t know. I’m sorry things here are so bad you wouldn’t wish them on anyone. I’m sorry you threw away your whole life for my sake. But unless you tell me what’s wrong, there’s nothing I can do about it, and it’s your own damn fault you’re suffering like this!”
Moranthus stared at Gerrick, an incredulous look on his face. “Gerrick, I… I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean? How else am I supposed to take it when I’m the reason you’re exiled, and you say it ruined your life?”
“That is not what I said.” Moranthus paused and took a deep breath, eyes shining and gaze fixed at the ceiling like he was also trying to hold back tears. “Have you ever considered that you don’t need to take responsibility for everything? Why does any of this have to be your fault? How am I supposed to talk to you the way you want if you blame yourself for everything that goes wrong in my life?”
“I don’t blame—”
“Yes, you do. You just did! You apologize for everything everyone else has done that’s given me the slightest inconvenience; you’re still tearing yourself apart over what happened with Daisy’s mother all these years later, and now this! Yes, I’ve been struggling, but it’s nothing I can’t handle, and I don’t know why you won’t let me solve my own problems instead of trying to coddle me like I’m your child instead of your lover.”
“I know you can take care of yourself. But you don’t need to anymore. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you ever since this delegation business started.” Gerrick buried his face in his hands and let out a long, shuddering sigh. This wasn’t going anywhere. They were talking in circles. If he could just find a way to make Moranthus understand… “Do you really think so little of yourself you can’t understand someone wanting to help you just because they care about you?”
Moranthus made a small, choked noise in the back of his throat. Shoulders hunched, he muttered, “If you didn’t ‘think so little of yourself,’ we wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place.”
“That’s not fair.”
“You’re not being fair either. Telling me to stop worrying and let you take all Orthenn’s risks for him one moment, then complaining I don’t care enough about my own well-being the next. Wanting me to rely on you so badly when neither of us knows how long that will even be possible.” Moranthus had a white-knuckled grip on the side of his chair with one hand and rested his forehead on the palm of the other. “You were right. This is partly about what happened to my Patriarch. I got too comfortable being with him, and it destroyed my life for the next ten years when he died. Is it really so surprising I’m reluctant to put myself in a situation like that again?”
“That’s not what I’m asking for! I just…” Gerrick let his voice trail off and wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. This had gone on too long. They were getting nowhere, there was nothing more they could say without hurting each other worse than they already had, and he still needed to pick up Daisy. “This is pointless. You’ve always known what my job is. I told you this could be a problem when we agreed to be together. You can either make peace with that or…do whatever you need to do instead. I’m going to bring Daisy home now. If there’s anything else you need to say, say it now, because I don’t want to argue in front of my daughter.”
Moranthus didn’t reply before he left. When Gerrick shut the door behind him, he thought he heard a muffled sob after the latch clicked into place. He almost opened the door again. He didn’t want to leave Moranthus like this, when they had so little time to reconcile before he left Kingstone.
But what else could he say? Every word Moranthus said had cut him like a knife—made him feel selfish, useless, inadequate… And Gerrick’s own words seemed to cut Moranthus just as deeply. Moranthus was his first lover; Gerrick didn’t know how to argue like this, or how to make things better after. He’d been following Moranthus’s lead in everything so far, and now that they’d found something neither of them was any good at…
Gerrick would just have to figure it out for himself. This wasn’t their first disagreement; just their first one as a couple. They’d move past it somehow. But they wouldn’t make any progress while they were both past their breaking point. Gerrick’s hands were trembling, and he felt as tired as he would’ve after a full day’s march. Moranthus couldn’t be much better off—he might even be worse. So, Gerrick left Moranthus to collect himself and hoped the ride to Aldous’s house would give him time to do the same.
Twenty-Four
At last, the sun had sunk below the horizon on the eve of the spring equinox and its accompanying festivities. All the preparations were in place, inspected, and approved, though Ilendra had scarcely glanced at the documents she’d signed and decorations she’d nodded at. Her ceremonial armor—the same set her grandfather had once worn—sat polished and waiting in the castle armory, ready for delivery to her chambers come morning. Avalanche’s armor, similarly ornamental and designed to match Ilendra’s in style and filigree, had undergone its own preparations in the war-bear pens. Her servants had no doubt already laid out the clothes she would wear beneath her armor, tailored and embroidered and festooned with endless ruffles and buttons anew each year in spite of all the previous sets still being in pristine condition. The menu was finalized and had likely already been partially prepared, each dish sampled and each recipe adjusted to her exact tastes, yet her meals would be rushed affairs wedged between appearances and obligations, consumed too fast to appreciate anything set before her.
Tomorrow morning, she would dress and depart the castle to walk among her people. She would smile and wave and make speeches welcoming the growing season and warming weather, gleaming in the sun with guards all around her, all while the pressures of her station and the crumbling remains of her personal life threatened to crush her beneath them.
She had already grown weary of the entire affair. She felt no readier to face her people and her court than on the night she’d last seen Corendin, and she had heard from neither him nor Thyrsana since. On a night traditionally spent gathered with family and friends, seated outdoors and exchanging hopes and dreams for the impending spring and summer, Ilendra walked alone. Her own choices had led her here. Given the opportunity, she would do nothing differently. Still, on nights like tonight, she felt leagues away from the woman she’d been ten years ago—ancient and world-weary where once she’d burned with ambition and pride.
This would pass. On the morrow, or the day after, or later still, her spark would return and all would be well once more. But the knowledge made the quiet darkness of the castle halls feel no warmer or more comforting tonight.
By design, the walk back to her chambers led her through the castle’s less frequented halls. A distinct change from her usual route, as evidenced by the startled glances and hasty bows of any guards she passed, but it spared her the forced pleasantries and salty sting of encountering any lingering social groups. The rooms she passed sat dark and unoccupied, their shadowed thresholds standing in stark relief against the torch-lit hallway. Save for guardspeople and the occasional servant, she encountered no signs of life until, walking past the castle library, the dim flicker of a candle and a flash of pale gray among the gloom caught her eye.
Already past the doorway, Ilendra stopped, intrigued. The hour grew late for study, and a single candle hardly offered sufficient light for reading in the growing darkness. Even the most dedicated scholar would have put their work on hold for the coming holiday by now. Ilendra had countless more important matters to command her attention, and little desire for company besides. Yet, nonetheless, she turned on her heel and passed the library once more, slowing her steps to peer at its occupant.
The blue-tinged dark of late sunset poured in through the wide windows set in the library’s outside wall, spilling across the marble floor to bathe its rows of bookshelves in shadow. In a corner by a fireplace, embers still glowing within from its recent extinguishment, a figure lay on a sofa, head pillowed on a padded armrest and silver-gray hair illuminated by a candle on a nearby side table. Had they fallen asleep while they still had light to read by, the fireplace would have remained lit for their convenience and comfort, so they must have arrived only recently. But why would a guest have sought out the library at this hour for the sole purpose of sleeping when they had lodgings elsewhere? Even at its most crowded, the castle had sufficient accommodation to ensure no one worthy of walking its halls would suffer the indignity of sleeping on a sofa in a public room. While technically permissible, the scene was sufficiently irregular to warrant further investigation.
Ilendra stood in the doorway, poised to hail the guards stationed at either end of the hall and task them with escorting the library’s weary occupant somewhere more appropriate, when the figure stirred. Propped up on an elbow, they lifted their head off the sofa’s arm, light gray eyes shining an eerie near-white in the gloom. With a sharp intake of breath, they sat bolt upright upon noticing Ilendra’s presence, likely as surprised to see her as she was to see them, particularly in a state such as this. Recognition only made their presence here more peculiar.
“Matriarch?” Vani scrambled to their feet and offered a clumsy bow. “I apologize if I’m intruding. It’s just that… I simply… I must have…”
Ilendra regarded them in silence. Now her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and Vani had risen from their slumber, their usually immaculate appearance had taken a decided turn for the unkempt. Several strands of hair had escaped their braid. Wrinkles—more than could be explained by a simple evening’s nap—covered their clothing. And scars matching those scattered across their shoulders dotted their face, revealing the absence of the cosmetics Vani must have used to cover them during their past meetings.
“You must have what?” Ilendra asked. “Do you find your lodgings so objectionable that sleeping in the library seems a better alternative?”
Vani winced. “Th-the lodgings are more than adequate, Matriarch—better than I could have dared ask for. Only, I… That is to say, my uncle… Well, he’s locked the doors, and I seem to have misplaced my key.”
“How long?”
“I…beg your pardon, Matriarch?”
“For how long has your uncle locked you out of your lodgings?”
“Nearly two days now.”
Ilendra raised an eyebrow. That was far too long for even the lowest nobility to go without access to fresh attire and bathing facilities. “And why have you not sought to regain access to your lodgings in the meantime?”
“H-he… He said he’d let me back in after the equinox festivities—but before our audience regarding the rightful ownership of our holdings.” Vani paused to take a deep breath, picking at a loose thread on their wrinkled gown. “With the mood he’s been in lately, I’d sooner not share a suite with him anyway, and I didn’t want to overburden the castle staff by requesting another room so near the celebration. I’ve imposed too much on your hospitality and goodwill already. With the audience so soon, I feared…” They let their words trail off with a helpless shrug.
Ilendra could fill in the gaps well enough. Vani had tried her patience on both their previous meetings—this much was true. And Ilendra had shown precious little tact at the start of this conversation. Ilendra had already given them special dispensation by granting the audience in itself; under the circumstances, she could well understand why Vani had feared any further requests would paint them as entitled and ungrateful. Of course, they were reluctant to sour her opinion of them so near the day she would either restore or deny them their birthright.
She should have foreseen this outcome when Corendin recounted their argument in the dining hall. She could hardly be expected to personally oversee the sleeping arrangements of her every guest. What did she keep her staff for if not to address any such conflicts before they publicly affected her court? But any failings on the part of her staff reflected on her. Squabbling nobles could not be housed in the same suite, nor could one of the nobility be left to wander the halls unwashed, unkempt, and unhoused for days on end.
“While I appreciate your concern, this cannot stand,” Ilendra replied. Snapping her fingers to summon the guards posted in the hall, she continued, “You will be escorted under guard to your assigned lodgings to collect your belongings. When that is done, you will be provided with new accommodations for the remainder of your stay. Is that agreeable?”
“Y-yes, Matriarch. Very agreeable! Thank you— I cannot express—”
“You may express your gratitude by sleeping in appropriate spaces from this night onward. I do hope this is the last I hear of your and your uncle’s dispute until the day of your audience.” Repeating her instructions to the guards she summoned, Ilendra took her leave. She had no further business here, and for the moment, she could think of nothing more appealing than the quiet solitude of her chambers.
“Sister!” Corendin’s voice echoed down the hall as he pushed himself off the wall he’d been leaning against and half ran down the hall to meet her.
The frostguard stationed at Ilendra’s door turned their head sharply to follow Corendin’s progress but made no move to follow or stop him. Ilendra nodded her approval, raising a hand to keep her guard in place and halt her brother. Both complied.
Ilendra kept her expression neutral as she regarded Corendin, but her thoughts roiled at his sudden reappearance and lack of decorum. At a glance, he looked the same as always, gown pristine and not a hair out of place. His posture, however, was that of an impatient child, fidgety, eyes darting around, and entirely unbecoming of even the disgraced son of a fallen Patriarch. Something troubled him.
“Brother.” Ilendra stood in place, still and stoic as she awaited his explanation.
“I have news,” Corendin said, taking her stance as a hint to correct his own. “Urgent, though perhaps not the sort to be discussed in the open.”
“Join me in my chambers, then, and I shall hear it.”
Ilendra motioned for the frostguard to open the door. The room’s warmth did nothing to ease the chill in her bones as she stepped into it alongside Corendin, the sound of the door clicking shut behind them ominous in place of the usual comfort it offered. Avalanche lounged before the fireplace, the flames crackling within filling the room with a welcoming light, but neither set her at ease. By itself, she would have welcomed Corendin’s visit—unannounced though it was—along with any information he’d gathered. Following her unexpected encounter with Vani, she wished it were none of her concern what had so deeply discomfited her brother. She had no time for this, yet she could not escape the crawling suspicion it would demand her full attention.
