Jade Mouse

Chapter 4

I spent a lot of time staring at Talia's door before knocking.

Upon first arriving, I'd been shocked to learn that there were still traces of sobbing coming from her room, though it had been over an hour since our unfortunate encounter. I'd felt a painful constricting in my chest, deciding it would be prudent to give her additional time before announcing myself. I walked down to the other end of the hallway and paced there for a good fifteen minutes or so, stewing in anxious nervousness.

When I'd come back there were no sobs to be heard, though I could still make out the occasional sniff. It was then that I'd spent most of the time actually inspecting the door, tracing the grain of the wood with my finger, my stomach acting in a manner that made me appreciate the fact that I'd skipped breakfast that morning.

Eventually I did knock. The tentative rap of my knuckles against wood sounded much louder to my ears than it should have.

“Who is it?” I heard a miserably tearful voice ask.

“Talia? It's Lord Tucat.”

“Oh!” she said, suddenly sniffing louder than perhaps she'd meant to. I could make out the sound of sandaled feet hitting the floor. “I'm not . . . I-”

“May I please come in?” I quietly asked through the door.

“Uh,” she began, the panicked rustling of fabric just about as loud as her words, “just one . . . second, please. Milord.”

The second she required turned into about thirty before I heard her voice again.

“It . . . y-you can come in, Milord.”

I opened the door, slowly, surprised by the rather extraordinary creaking noise the hinges produced as I did so. On any other day it might have had a humorous effect.

Talia stood between her perfectly made bed and a clothes dresser (which I was quite surprised to see had several books piled atop it), hands behind her back with her chin up, a pose I'd seen often when she was presiding over the front room and the doors that led into the keep, greeting visitors or welcoming guests to a banquet. At those times, she hadn't been looking quite so serious, or unhappy. Her eyebrows were slightly upturned, and the redness around her nose and eyes were the unmistakable signs of someone who had been crying a great deal.

“Talia,” I said, nodding to her, chest feeling like my vest was some sort of tree snake trying to squeeze the breath out of me.

“Milord,” she nodded back, giving a small sniff as she tilted her head back, closing her eyes. “I wish to apologize for my-”

“No, absolutely not. Talia . . . there is nothing to forgive. It is I who must apologize to you,” I said, gently closing the door behind me and fully entering the room.

“Milord, you need not-” she sniffed.

“I do, Talia. I was both careless and thoughtless. I'd only meant to get your help in ridding myself of Freyla, and it wasn't until afterwards that . . .” I paused, words fluttering around uncertainly in my head as I tried to find the ones that seemed most tactful. “Well, someone explained to me a few things I hadn't been aware of before. I'm very sorry, Talia. I didn't know.”

“I did not wish to put you in an awkward position, Milord,” she said unhappily. “Still, my behavior earlier was inexcusable, and unprofessional, and what's more it might have caused-”

“Talia, please. Your Lord is attempting to apologize to you. I can't very well do that if you're the one apologizing to me, can I?”

“No, Milord,” she managed a weak smile through her sniffles.