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The light comes again and he blinks for long seconds before his eyes can focus and he does not need to shy away from the light. He expects to see the guards back, every shift that changed they would come and look at the man who had supposedly killed Jasiel. Some would spit at him, curse at him, others would stare at him silently and Logan hated them most of all. Their eerie silence; that intense hatred that filled the quiet was unsettling. The last two had not been too long ago but maybe some of their friends had come down and wanted to sneer at him.
It made it very difficult for him to sleep. Even if he managed to sleep through the light they would shove it close to the bars and jeer loudly at him. It was near impossible to ignore that.
The footsteps are soft that bring the light. It could only be one other person. The girl with the blonde hair appears holding the fiery torch. She kneels down by the bars and shoves a plate under. "I am afraid it is just bread, but at least it is fresh." Logan stands and takes the plate, taking note of how she shrinks away from the bars when he gets closer. He steps back and sits, once again, against the wall. "Has anyone asked you if you actually killed him?" Her words are soft and unsure.
Logan replies, matching her volume, "Aileen did but she heard only the reply she wanted."
"Did you"?
"No."
"Do you know about different poisons, Logan?"
He lifts his head and stares at her. She shifts beneath his gaze. "I am at disadvantage, you know my name but I do not know yours." He pauses and she considers giving him a name, a false name. But he continues, "I feel like this may put me in a worse position, I am a healer and I know many poisons and antidotes." He watches as she cringes slightly. "Was there poison on the weapon that killed him?" Her eyes flick up and he sees the most peaceful blue he has ever encountered.
"Is there anyone you wish for me to send a letter?"
"You would do that for me? Why?"
"I believe you are innocent and I think you should have the choice to defend your life."
"Send a letter to my brother Wolfe of Usani, tell him Jasiel is dead and I am the accused murderer. Will you write to let the Iceni's know of his death?"
"The Ricell family are not on good terms with the Iceni's. Why would they let them know of his death?"
"Jasiel became friends with the youngest, Sparrow. She would want to know. She would want to attend his funeral."
Her eyes drop again and she nods slowly, "I will write a letter to both but hers will not arrive in time for her to be at his funeral."
"Thank you." She nods and rises. She walks away, taking the light with her. Logan presses his eyes closed and sleeps.
○ ○ ○
"Zara." The name slips from her mouth in surprise when she sees her. Today Zara has gotten dressed beautiful and her face is clear from sadness. Zara flicks her gaze her way before turning it back to the visitor. Dawn studies the tall and slim back covered in a white tailored shirt and sighs slightly. Zara shoots her a look when the sigh reaches her ears and he abruptly stops speaking. He turns and looks down on Dawn. With some annoyance he bows his head to her.
"Miss Dawn." He speaks as he returns to standing with his head held high. His dark brown eyes flit every now and again back to Zara, studying her features for some sign of her thoughts. Dawn is surprised that Zara has agreed to see him but perhaps she was ambushed and unable to break away.
"Lord Egan." Dawn unwillingly sinks into a small curtsey, not deep enough in his eyes to show respect. Dawn looks to Zara, "My Lady, are you ready?" Egan raises an eyebrow and chuckles deeply, a rich enjoyable sound.
"Zara, tell me you have not arranged something else as well as something with me."
Zara looks between the two and shakes her head, "Dawn is mistaken; we have no plans for today. I am all yours." Egan offers his arm and Zara slips her hand into the crook made by his elbow. They stride away towards the doors and Dawn frowns to herself.
"Zara," she calls out. Zara looks back with a curious expression. "Have you written to Logan's family?" Zara pulls away from Egan and scurries back. She clutches onto Dawn's hand and pulls her after her into a sitting room.
"Do not say that name again around me. I owe him no such privileges and I will write no letter. I wish nothing to do with the Usani name from this point on. You are a dear friend to me but this is far behind your comprehension. Leave it be." Zara pleads with her, looking straight into her eyes. Dawn nods slowly and her hands are released. Zara brushes down her skirts and checks that her hair is still caught up by the many pins. Satisfied she smiles at Dawn, "I will see you later; Egan has invited me out for a walk so that I do not mourn forever in this house."
Zara waltzes out and Dawn follows her enough to see her rest her palm on Egan's arm and for them to leave the manor together. She shakes her head and mutters to herself, "What does she think she is doing?"
"She is doing what is right." Dawn jumps and her blue eyes land on the intruder on her thoughts. She curtseys and he shakes his head and crosses the hall to her. "We grew up together; you never need to do that with me."
"Gethin." She touches his arm, her eyes showing all the sympathy she feels. "I am sorry for your loss."
Sombrely he nods and takes a step away. An emotion she does not understand passes across his face. "Life must go on. Jasiel would not want us to cry the days away. It will not bring him back."
"Well of course not but you are allowed to grieve."
"We were not that close." He strides away but she calls out. This is becoming a habit with her and the Ricell siblings.
"What did you mean by she is doing the right thing?" Gethin turns and raises his eyebrows.
"She should never have run away in the first place. Egan is a good man and he will make a good husband. The events that have taken place are awful but they have made her realise what she should have done a long time ago. She would never have had a future with that Usani, but she can still have one with Egan. Some good may come out of Jasiel's death." He provides a short nod and is gone out of the manor. Dawn's mouth drops open and she frowns deeply. Something just is not adding up. Gavriel showed no signs of grief. Gethin although showing a sadness in his face and his posture, his words were altogether different. Even Zara who loved her brother the most has moved on quicker than Dawn thought possible. She shakes her head to rid the thoughts from her mind. She had grown up with all of them. They all dealt with their emotions very different. Perhaps this was how they needed to act in order to survive.
She leaves the manor and sets out to her small cottage, a twenty minute walk from the manor. Inside is very basic; a small table with two wooden chairs, a stove is all that occupies the downstairs area. Upstairs contains a bed and a chest of drawers. Stepping inside she is greeted by a very excited mixed breed dog. He leaps up, his paws landing on her shoulders and he pants hotly on her face. She laughs and pushes him down. On all four paws he still reaches her waist. She pats him on the head as she crosses the room and lights the stove, moving the broth from the day before back onto the flames. She heads upstairs, the dog by her heel, and roots around in the drawer until she finds some paper and her quill. He sniffs all of it before he backs up to sneeze loudly.
"Tommy." She exclaims, a laugh in her voice. He wags his tail, tilting his head. Again she pats him on the head. She almost trips down the stairs but steadies herself just in time. She sets up ink and the paper and sits down to write.
To Wolfe of Usani, I write to you with great trepidation. I do so on behalf of your brother, Logan. Jasiel, the youngest male of the Ricell family has been murdered and your brother is the sole suspect. I cannot guarantee that by the time you receive this he will not already be tried and executed for such a crime. If he has been, you will receive another letter from me to tell you as such.
I cannot sign my name as this may be considered treason.
She dips her quill in the ink again and again as she tries to think of the right words to say. Telling someone that their brother is about to be executed is not an easy task.
To Sparrow of Iceni, I write to you with much sadness and sympathy. Jasiel of Ricell has been murdered and his funeral will have already taken place by the time you receive this letter. I would not suggest you travelling to pay your respects as I do not believe you will be received kindly. The accused murderer is a Usani and with your recent relationship in their lands you may be treated alike.
Again I am sorry for any sadness this will have caused you.
She places the quill down and exhales loudly. She rolls them up and ties them with string. She will drop them off with a messenger after she has eaten. The pot is bubbling on the stove and she removes it and pours herself a bowl. She sits down to eat and her stomach rumbles in appreciation for finally being fed.
When she is finished she pours a warm bowl for Tommy the dog and he laps it up in mere moments. She heads to the door and holds it wide open. He slips past her and trots across the grass, tongue hanging out the side of his smiling mouth. She follows him as he is already heading the way she intended to go.
They arrive at another cottage where two sturdy horses graze outside. They raise their heads to see who is there but then discard them and go back to munching. Tommy plonks himself down beneath a tree and lays his large head on his paws. Dawn knocks on the door and hears an object fall to the ground with a bang inside, shortly followed by quiet cursing. The door eventually swings open with a young man carrying a large book under his arm. He frowns at Dawn before feeling around for something by the door. She waits patiently. He finds it and places his glasses on his head.
"I thought it was you." He mutters before turning around and walking through one room into the next, disappearing through the doorway. At least he left the door open, Dawn thinks as she steps in. She carefully makes her way across the room, her eyes on the floor so that she does not step on any paper strewn about or half eaten meals.