Wicked Hunt

Chapter Six, Part III

"She likes to ride," Rafe said stiffly. He hauled himself to his feet.

"Like you, Poppa," Saydee exclaimed gleefully. She reached out and grabbed his hands. She swung them back and forth.

"Like me," Rafe agreed.

"Yes," Mira interjected, coming fully into the conversation. "She remembered you and your... your mare at Crestfall."

"Lightly," Rafe replied pointedly. He knew Mira remembered the horse's name. Her eyes danced between him and Saydee. Then, she waved her hand.

"So, naturally, Collin had to go straight to the market the next day and find Saydee her own pony," Mira chirped.

"How... nice," Rafe said through gritted teeth. His fake smile wavered. "I could have supplied the funds-" he began.

"Oh please," another waved of her slender fingers, "Collin is more than capable of providing for us." Her words were sharp as knives. They stung him like a swift slap on the face. Rafe licked his lips and remained silent.

"Con," Saydee said, nodding. She still held Rafe's hands, and he frowned.

"Con?"

"Oh, that's what she calls Collin," Mira replied flippantly. "Double l's still trouble her," she confided lowly behind the back of her hand. "No matter though, Mr. Lawrence-that's Saydee's tutor-says she's progressing quite exceptionally for her age. Collin brought the man all the way from Valwater City! He insisted on only the best for our-my Saydee." She clasped her hands in front of her.

Rafe tried to smile, tried to seem grateful. Mira had already been married to Collin when their affair had begun. She was not the same gangly, spirited girl she had been then. Spitting insults about her new, wiry husband, complaining of his greasy hair, clumsy cold feet, and the way he constantly followed her about wanting to discuss mundane things such as books. She had come from the western cities, a land of mist and mountains. A land as wild and untamed as Mira was herself. She had fled that way of life and the wickedness preached by her mother and sister. Yet, once she was married and settled into the comely life she claimed to crave, she became despondent and sullen.

She had found excitement, she often told Rafe, with the roaming Commander. A real man who could give her what she wanted. He was thrilling. He was adventurous. And he was nothing like Collin.

And for a while, despite Mira's infidelity and Rafe's shame, that had been enough. He told himself that it was wrong yet had no control over his own inhibitions. He had found something in Mira that had filled him, perhaps even started to make him whole. Yet, as these things often do when confronted with time, the plan shifted.

Mira had become with-child, and her husband knew it was not his own. Mira tried to hide it, but Rafe couldn't. He spoke to Collin of the affair, and he was thrown from Collin's house. Mira fled too, unable to fathom losing her exciting clandestine life. She followed Rafe deep into the land, trailing behind him on his patrols. She begged him to make a life with her, forsake his vows, and perhaps become a farmer, but he could not do it. He, just as she, was not built for a world of crops and domestic life. He had joined the Watch because he was restless, and even his infatuation with Mira could not sway him to abandon, not only the life of freedom he sought, but also his duty. He had sworn an oath and was as bound to the land as he was his king. He would not forsake the words.

Eventually, growing heavy with her baby and weary of life on the road, Mira slowly made her way back to Crestfall. Saydee was born several weeks later. He didn't find out until nearly six months had passed. She had written to him, saying men had been hired to find him and bring him to see his daughter. He thought about refusing, but the pull of his little girl could not be ignored.

An uneasy truce between Rafe, Collin, and Mira had somehow been forged after that initial meeting, and Collin agreed to raise Saydee as if she were his own, especially since it was implied Mira would probably never conceive again. The birth had been especially hard on her brittle body. The years since had been as awkward as one could imagine, but Rafe weathered it as best he could; playing both when he needed to. Neither man, father nor Commander, could ever exist in the same vicinity. The worlds never smudged or bled into each other.

"You're quiet tonight, Poppa," Saydee observed when her parents continued to stare at each other in silence. Mira blinked, sighing. She rubbed the back of her neck. Rafe coughed into his shoulder.

"No more so than usual," Mira remarked dryly. She had deflated. All eagerness to show Saydee off to her absent father had drained her. The show was in its last stages. The curtain would be falling soon.

"Take me to see Lightly?" Saydee asked, tugging on Rafe's hand. She looked up at Mira expectantly. Her little pink dress wavered on top of her thin her frame. He saw red scratches around the neckline where it had itched her.

"No, my pet." Mira stepped closer and snatched her tiny hand from Rafe's. Instantly tears swelled in Saydee's dark eyes. "Your father is a very busy man. He doesn't have time to take you to the stables." Her voice was pinched.

"Actually," Rafe began, shrugging his shoulders, but Mira shot him a pointed look, daring him to argue. He closed his mouth.

"Come along," Mira urged, stepping around Rafe and down the first step of the staircase. "We'll see the Commander later."

"Bye, Poppa," Saydee said around her jutted chin and pursed lips. She waved to him. Then, they were gone, leaving him at the top. Just like that, it was over. If he wanted to see them again, he would have to be the one to initiate it. Furthermore, if he found them downstairs at the ceremony, he'd have to endure Collin. He ran a hand down his face at the prospect.

Or, I can stay up here. Alone except for the dancing shadows. Their somber air mirrored his mood more so than the fake jovialness that would greet him downstairs between the bitter, judging men and the few frightened, morose women. That would be unseemly though, his mind countered. The great Commander, right hand man to the king, fearful as a baby lamb, hiding upstairs.

He cleared his head, shoving the thoughts into the depths of his mind. He did not think of Saydee or Mira or Collin. He did not think of the vague stares that awaited him downstairs; the crude jokes from Perry Gritt or the ominous tone of Donal Boron. He erased all thoughts of the princess. The only thing he allowed to remain was Dorius's ugly face, smirking after using his fists to solve a problem with the guard earlier.

Rafe envied the man and his ability to throw caution to the wind and punch something. He wanted to do that right now. His eyes homed in on the stone wall beside him. All it would take would be one steady jab, maybe two: one for each hand. Lay into the cool stone with all the hurt and anger that had built up. He laid his palm on the rough surface, closed his eyes, and counted to ten. When he opened them, he was a calmer version of himself.

At least to the outside.