Takes place months before "An Ember Court to Remember."
It took Renathal an embarrassingly long time to discover the Maw Walker's deception, and in the end it was only by accident. He had resolved to keep a close eye on her during the Ember Court rehearsal, and was therefore paying more attention to her interactions than usual. After all, it was one thing to be a respectable court guest, quite another to excel as a host, and Renathal was not sure how the Maw Walker - with her inscrutable face and inexpressive nature - would fare at Venthyr diplomacy.
But his worries, on that score at least, were unfounded. The Maw Walker turned out to be as skilled in hospitality as in arcane magic. She strolled purposefully between the denizens of Sinfall who were acting as court guests, picking up threads of conversation with ease. She distributed drinks and tidied debris, never dropping her pleasant demeanor.
Except once.
The Maw Walker's lavender face flickered in brief, pained annoyance as the "Mad" Duke Theotar whisked away her cold, half-drunk tea and pressed a second, generously filled cup into her hands. The expression was there and gone so quickly, Renathal, sipping his own drink, almost didn't catch it. He replaced his cup in its saucer, and scrutinised the Nightborne closely. But her serene mask was fixed firmly back in place and she was thanking Theotar with a small, gracious smile.
She asked a question about the specifics of the blend and let the Duke warm to his beloved topic. He recited the ingredients, where they had been sourced, and how each contributed to the overall flavour, while the Maw Walker listened attentively, nodding or shaking her head where appropriate. As the Duke waxed on lovingly, her white-blue eyes sparkled and her carefully upturned lips softened, in a rare display of open affection of which Renathal refused to feel jealous.
As polite as she was with everyone, the Maw Walker was hardly ever sentimental, which made the way she doted on the Duke even more exceptional by comparison. She was a willing participant in all Theotar's anima experiments, and she afforded his tea parties the same priority as any of her assigned missions throughout Revendreth. Renathal preferred to assume this was because she too enjoyed a brew and used the Duke's private get-togethers as a way to relax.
But now, it was only at Theotar's insistence that the Maw Walker lifted the cup to her lips, and the moment his back was turned she lowered it. Renathal, watching closely, was certain she did not swallow.
Shortly thereafter, the Maw Walker excused herself from the shaded corner of Sinfall the Duke had claimed. Renathal studied her as she crossed the courtyard, Theotar sauntering over to stand beside him.
"Our Maw Walker has quite the refined palate, does she not?" Theotar mused. "But, I have not yet discovered her favourite blend. Has she mentioned a preference to you, my Prince?"
"I am afraid not," said Renathal, still following the Maw Walker's purple glow as it approached the refreshments area. She was quickly hailed by "Picky" Stefan and stopped to attend his many comments - or complaints - resting her still-full cup on the nearest table. "She seems to appreciate all things equally."
Theotar gave a small tsk of disagreement and turned back to his tray of assorted teas. Tubbins, underneath it, struggled to keep his balance as the Duke began shuffling jars.
"Oh, everyone has a favourite, your Highness. And I must discover it!"
Renathal watched the Maw Walker excuse herself from Stefan and wander away to greet another small cluster of mock-guests.
"If she mentions enjoying a particular brew, you will tell me, won't you?" asked Theotar.
Renathal eyed the Maw Walker's abandoned teacup with growing suspicion.
"I will make it my top priority," he replied.
It was not exactly a deception on the level of Denathrius, but the principle remained the same. If the Maw Walker could maintain this lie so easily, what else might she be hiding? The thought gnawed at Renathal as he attempted to settle back into the routine of court. His curiousity and his sense of virtue together forged a compulsion he could not deny. He had many unanswered questions about the Maw Walker, but this mystery he was determined to solve before the rehearsal was through.
There was ample opportunity. Theotar was using the occasion to experiment with new blends. He brewed pot after pot of strong, fragrant tea, pressing a steady stream of cups into the hands of the mock-guests. And of course, he insisted the would-be host try some of each.
The Maw Walker took evasive action. She flitted swiftly between stations of Sinfall at random, disappearing when she heard the Duke's approach and reappearing behind him before scampering away. But Theotar and his tea tray were harder to escape than the Maw. And whenever Renathal caught up with her, she was holding another steaming cup.
Of course, that in itself was not solid proof of anything, and as the end of the rehearsal approached, Renathal feared his mission would fail. Until he caught a flash of purple disappearing around a corner behind the farthest refreshment table. There was no court entertainment so close to the cliff's edge, no reason for the Maw Walker to be there. Renathal excused himself from his conversation with Temel and followed as quickly as propriety allowed.
Between his soundless glide and the splash of liquid against stone, the Maw Walker did not hear Renathal's approach, and he arrived in time to see her shaking the last dregs of tea out of her cup onto the ground. Renathal's own nearly empty cup felt suddenly heavy in his hand. Instead of vindication his theory had proved out, Renathal felt foreboding crawl across his skin like a spider. He had trusted the Maw Walker almost from the moment he met her. Never questioned whether his faith in her was unfounded. And now...
"Is that particular brew not to your liking?" he asked archly.
The sight of the Maw Walker's startled pirouette was highly entertaining, but Renathal's agitation kept him from fully enjoying it. His face remained icy as she fumbled with her cup and an explanation.
"Of course! I mean - of course not. Your Highness. It's just - I mean, I just..."
Her tongue tripped over every word, and Renathal restrained his smirk only with difficulty. He had never seen the Maw Walker so flustered. Possibly something of his dark amusement showed on his face because she stopped mid-stutter. She glanced around Renathal as if checking for witnesses, then dropped her attempt at pleasant denial all at once.
"Alright, I admit. I do not love tea. Any tea. It's nothing personal to the Duke, it's just...not my drink."
"What is your drink?" asked Renathal, curiousity speaking before his better sense could stop it.
The Maw Walker sighed, and Renathal's brain immediately set off on a mission to discover how he might import "aged arcwine" to Sinfall. He grimaced, then exerted a conscious effort to reign in the inapposite thoughts distracting him from the issue at hand.
"I assume you have a very good reason for keeping this information from Theotar?"
"Well, because, it would crush him." The Maw Walker spoke as though this were patently obvious. "And, really, I don't mind. I can usually endure one cup, it's just been ... rather much today."
She cast another long look over Renathal's shoulder, and this time he turned to see what had her attention. Theotar was perambulating through the refreshments area, Gubbins holding a black parasol over the Duke's head while Tubbins wobbled under the weight of his tray. They were passing around cups of yet another tea, and the Maw Walker, in spite of her confessed distaste for the beverage, was watching them with a fond smile. It was so much realer and warmer than her usual carefully crafted expression, and Renathal's jaw tightened watching her aim it at someone else.
"You... care for him, don't you?" he asked, managing to keep his question politely interested. It would not do to betray the envy churning his stomach. It was shameful for a harvester to feel anything so base in the first place.
Renathal knew there was no rational reason to be jealous of the Maw Walker's friendship with the Duke. She might make it a point to attend Theotar's tea parties as often as possible, but she was equally diligent in reporting to Renathal each evening. True, their meetings were more business than pleasure, but lately their conversations had begun to meander. The Maw Walker seemed genuinely to enjoy hearing stories of Revendreth, quite as much as Renathal enjoyed telling them, and she always appeared reluctant to take her leave of him.
But now ... now he knew she was not above feigning enjoyment to spare someone's feelings. He wondered restlessly how much their companionship really meant to her.
"He's very ... dear," the Maw Walker finally answered, and it took Renathal a moment to remember his question. "He reminds me of someone I used to know. Or...several someones."
Renathal waited, wondering if she would deign to explain. She occasionally made allusions to her life before the Shadowlands, but they were usually followed by an abrupt exit. To his great surprise, she continued:
"What's happened to Theotar is very similar to what happened to many of my... my friends. Those who were banished from Suramar City and lost access to the Nightwell. Without its power they grew...weaker... both in body and mind. We called it ... withering." The Maw Walker spoke with extreme caution, as if each word were a beast that might bite if not handled with care. "We were able to help some return to health, and sanity, but... nearly all were left with certain... eccentricities." She watched Theotar saunter between the refreshment tables, his wide, jovial smile so at odds with his tortured frame, and her face was full of that same tender affection. "But it makes them no less deserving of respect. Or dignity."
The Maw Walker shook back her hair, reassuming her usual blank visage and her earlier purposeful energy. Empty cup in hand, she strolled to the nearest table and began gathering up used dishes.
Renathal followed, his own half-forgotten cup hanging at his side. Her explanation made sense, and it put a familial label on her relationship with Theotar that comforted him. He could no longer pretend he did not know the reason why. But that was a problem for another time. For now, there was the matter of her deception to deal with.
"If you wish to treat the Duke with respect," Renathal said, his voice low to stop his words carrying to the table where Theotar stood. "Then you should do him the courtesy of telling him the truth."
"Why?" the Maw Walker asked as she stacked plates. "Who would that benefit? I've already said, it's no bother to me. And it would only hurt him, if he could bear to hear it at all."
"So, you would lie to him instead?"
The heart of Renathal's concern bled through his words like anima from an open wound; raw enough to make the Maw Walker fumble the dishes she was holding. She set them down carefully and met Renathal's burning amber gaze.
"I would spare him a painful, unimportant truth."
Silence stretched while each studied the other. There was nothing remotely like apology in the Maw Walker's words or aspect, and if Renathal was being rational about it he knew she had a point. Theotar bore the moniker of "Mad" Duke for a reason. If presented with the idea that his new, dear friend did not enjoy tea, most likely he would refuse to acknowledge the fact at all.
"I see," said Renathal. It was as close to a concession as he could manage. He set his cup down on the table and spent a moment adjusting his cuffs, listening to the clunk of heavy porcelain as the Maw Walker continued to clean, before asking, "And what painful truths would you spare me from?"
"Do you really want to know?"
Renathal looked up sharply. The Maw Walker was regarding him with intense, narrowed eyes, as if he were a riddle she was attempting to solve. He was not at all sure he really wanted to know whatever she was keeping from him, but he knew his curiousity would never rest until he did.
"Yes."
The Maw Walker took a deep breath, and lifted her hand.
"You have something in your teeth. Just there."
At least she had the grace to keep her laughter quiet as Renathal's hand flew to his mouth where her outstretched finger indicated. It was not a cruel or mocking laugh, but a softer version of the deep, warm sound he so enjoyed. It worked like a balm on his tensely wound nerves, shielding him from the greater part of his embarrassment.
"Next time, you might alert me before court is nearly over," Renathal said from behind his hand.
He ducked his head to hide the intricacies of his extraction and the Maw Walker covered her own mouth to stifle her continued laughter.
"I don't think it's been there long," she said between repressed giggles. "It wasn't there earlier, I'm sure."
Renathal righted himself with excessive dignity. He flashed his fangs at the Maw Walker for inspection, setting off another fit of laughter that did wonders for his ego. Whatever other close friendships she might have, Renathal knew no one who could make the implacable Maw Walker laugh like he did.
"Now?" he asked.
"You're perfect," she assured him, and something about the way she pronounced the word made Renathal shiver.
The Maw Walker returned to her self-appointed cleaning duty, the ghost of a smile still lingering on her face. Renathal watched her stack the dishes into a manageable pile. No one had asked her to; she had simply seen what needed to be done and took the task upon herself, in spite of the fact that she was the host and there were dredgers for this sort of chore. But the Maw Walker always considered herself more servant than leader, and Renathal felt a twinge of guilt for ever comparing her white lie to Theotar with Denathrius' betrayal of the realm.
"I apologise for accosting you," Renathal said, recapturing his earlier topic and tone. "I understand the reason for your ... little deception, but ... I do hope that you consider us good enough friends to always tell me such hard truths."
The Maw Walker, a neat tower of dishes in her hands, approached the head of the table where Renathal stood, knocking chairs back into place with her hip along the way.
"You are not Theotar, your Highness," she assured him. "I consider us a ... different sort of friends."
She deposited her fragile burden with a heavy thunk, and made to straighten the single chair at the table's end. But Renathal beat her to it. Pushing in the high-backed chair, he stepped into the place it had occupied, and suddenly nothing remained between them but a few inches of empty space.
Their bodies had been this close before - closer even - so Renathal could not say exactly why his anima was pounding so wildly in his chest. Perhaps the sound of the Maw Walker's breath catching, the way her gaze darted to the dishes as if considering ways to create more distance between them. Before she could grab them, Renathal reached for her chin and held it gently in his long fingers.
"Then I must insist you dispense with formalities," he said softly. "Unless you would prefer to be referred to as "The Maw Walker" all the time?"
She laughed again; a delicate, trembling sound that shook Renathal's hand on her face, though not enough to let her go. Patches of violet spread across the Maw Walker's cheeks, and he was sure she was purposefully avoiding his eyes.
Of course, that in itself was proof of nothing, but it was enough to make Renathal wonder ... wonder if the Maw Walker harboured any of his same half-repressed desire ... wonder if he might be able to solve another mystery today...
"My Prince! My dear friend! You must try this one!"
Theotar inserted himself seamlessly between the two figures, Gubbins and Tubbins trotting behind him. The Duke beamed at the Prince and the Maw Walker in turn, and if he sensed any of the electric tension, he had the good manners to ignore it. He turned and busied himself momentarily with Tubbins' ill-balanced tea tray, before thrusting cups into both their hands.
"The aroma of this brew is most distinctive. Spicy, just like our Maw Walker. I believe it is the clear winner for our first Ember Court, but, as always, I relish your opinion."
The Maw Walker fixed an appreciative smile on her face.
"It does smell delightful, your Grace. But ... still a bit hot. I think I'll just -"
"Nonsense!" Theotar interrupted, rebuffing her excuse with a dramatic wave of his hand. "It is the perfect temperature, you must drink it before it cools!"
To her credit, the Maw Walker's mask did not crack, but Renathal noted the brittle edges to her smile as she brought the cup slowly to her lips. Theotar bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet, nearly knocking into Tubbins hovering just behind, and Renathal was struck with inspiration.
A quick glance to be sure the tray contained none of Theotar's finest glassware, then he reached ostensibly for the sugar bowl and instead jostled Tubbins' arm. Not hard; just enough to upend the tray and send the heavy contents rolling with a series of alarming thunks.
"Careful!"
The Duke whipped around at the ominous sound and lunged to save the contents from meeting a rocky demise. In the same moment, Renathal plucked the Maw Walker's cup from her hand, drained its contents in two lung gulps, and replaced it smoothly. He met her stunned gaze with the smallest of winks, as Theotar straightened and rejoined them, patting his hair decorously. The dregs of annoyance left in his face cleared as he noticed the Maw Walker's empty cup.
"Ah ha, I knew it!" He punctuated his exclamation with a little clap. "An exquisitely soothing flavour, I was sure you would enjoy. It is the clear choice, is it not?"
"Oh, this is certainly my favourite so far." The glow from the Maw Walker's smile was almost blinding, but it was not the Duke at whom she aimed it. "Wouldn't you agree, Renathal?"
"Absolutely," Renathal said, and he meant every syllable.
The Ember Court would be infinitely more enjoyable for the way the taste of the tea reminded him of the Maw Walker's lips lingering over his name.