Four moons.
Four moons since she'd seen him for more than a few stiff moments in passing, or from a window, or exiting a room she had just entered.
Four moons since she'd abandoned the last remnants of her pride and begged for his help.
Four moons since he'd uttered his assured notion that Galyn had been her tormentor.
Why had the Gods shown him such a false truth? Did it mean that Galyn's unlived death too had been false? Had the High Visier deceived her? For what cause? Nothing on this strange, foreign, realm had ever made sense to her.
But one question overrode all others: Why had she not told him the truth? Why had she let him believe it was so?
There was dishonour in it. To allow this tainting of Galyn's memory. To allow another male of honour to apportion some crime to him that he had not committed.
Yet she also knew Galyn would not care much for what Theodan of Teredia believed him to be.
She did, however, care what Theodan of Teredia believed her to be.
And it was this which had stopped her offering Theodan the truth. For if one truth tumbled free from her tongue, where would it end? Could she bare each of her sins to him in turn and still hold her head with pride after it?
No. She did not think she could.
She would keep Valdr's sins locked deep inside her where they would not be free to spread their poison.
She'd spent her days thinking of Panos. Wondering if he was frightened, if she might see him again, what terms he would bring before Leoth's council and what they would mean for her and Theodan. His capture had been a surprise. For Elyon's words had brought her to the conclusion that Theodan had been about to utter some declaration to her. Some avowal of feeling toward her she knew she should not welcome... and yet.
Gods how foolish such a thing seemed to her now - now when he could barely even find it in him to look at her. Four moons of silent thought and solitary contemplation had brought her to the notion that Elyon of Lethane had involved her in some childish game for his own amusement. For certainly, he seemed the type to find humour in such a thing.
Yet, there was a quaking inside her when she thought of it. Of Theodan making such an declaration to her. It stole her breath and dried her tongue and often she thought she might faint from the power of such a thing. It frightened and confused and toyed with her, and she knew not what to do with it. She knew only Theodan could make it cease.
As it was he remained decidedly removed from her; an inference more than a presence in this place. He left Teredia before she awoke and returned only when she had long retreated to her chamber. And each night as she lay restive and fitful in her bed she was certain she could sense him lingering outside her door, his hand poised to knock upon it.
Perhaps he'd tell her again that he was sorry; that he had been this day preparing his men for the war he could not stop. Perhaps he would tell her that Panos had been executed before the council and that she was to suffer the same fate. In some imaginings he told her nothing at all; he only pulled her into his arms and promised her she was the only light his soul had ever known.
No knock upon her door came.
Each night she waited, trembling before at last drifting off into thin, reluctant sleep. Cold dark dreams of Panos; stubborn and angry in his mountain prison. Colder, darker dreams of Valdr, walking with endless fury through the rooms of Prissia, his mind hot and twisted with vengeance.
***
On the third day, she learned that Iaria was to be sent from Teredia.
She'd been about to enter the kitchen when she heard his voice within. Mor's too, tight with chastisement. Not wanting to interrupt, and keenly aware that he would have no wish to see her, she hovered just outside the doorway and listened. The sound of his voice welcome and oddly comforting even in its distance.
'But you cannot mean to keep them both here, surely?' Mor asked. 'The gossip would reach Lagraport, Theodan, I cannot have it!'
'It will not be you they are gossiping about, Mor,' said Theodan, unconcerned.
'It makes no difference Theo! You know it does not! For 'tis Teredia's name they will slander.'
'Teredia's name has long been slandered, Mor, as well you are aware.'
'Well, then, perhaps you should do what your father did not, and show some respect to this house and to the females you bring unto it?'
Fara swallowed the small gasp of shock that rose her throat. She had never heard Mor speak to him so, and she could not imagine how he might respond. A terrible silence followed where she could only imagine the look in his eyes. She almost feared for Mor.
'What I should do that my father did not, Mor, is reign in the audacity of my household when it comes to matters which do not concern them? Perhaps then I will be recognised as lord and master of this house?'
Fara thought his response surprisingly measured.
'The lord and master of any house would not have a Princess of the blood - entrusted to his honourable charge - and his Asallan female residing under the same roof, Theodan.' She tutted, unperturbed.
She thought she heard him sigh again. 'She is not my Asallan female.'
'Then she should return to her house! Or, if you cannot bear part with her, then the princess should be given a more appropriate wardship - tis only right.'
'Fara shall remain under this roof, Mor,' he growled impatiently.
'Then, you know what must be done.'
And it had been done.
Shortly after dawn on the fourth day, a land rider had taken Iaria from Teredia back to her beloved Asalla. Iaria, who had for all of Ethis, looked like a newly preened rose: the barbarous Zybar marks on her body gone, her a hair a thick curtain of bright gold, her movements graceful and fluid as she swept across Fara's chamber to hug her goodbye. It was a miraculous recovery. Especially as Jhaan had still not awoken fully enough to converse at all.
Though she looked an image of beauty and unmistakable health, it did not prevent some sadness from creeping into Iaria's eyes as she bid Fara farewell. Neither did it make it easier to for Fara to hold her gaze. She felt guilty about the departure, for surely if it were not for her then Theodan would have asked Iaria to remain with him? Something Iaria had herself hoped for.
The day Iaria was sent back to House Asalla, Theodan spoke his first words to her in four moons. He had left Teredia shortly after Iaria, and she had not expected him to return until long past moonrise.
As it was she was seated on a low stool in the small herb garden bracketed off from Teredia's eastern side. A well-kept and lush grove with a rich vantage point over the Ash sea toward Azura. Sheltered by the mountain on one side and a dense spread of forest on the other, it served as a peaceful sun basin where Mor tended a richly vibrant garden.
Grassy, foreign scents lifted up pungent from the earth, and she lost herself in the sound of birdsong and the task Mor had given her: cleaning the hard savoury fruit she'd called Ovash - which would be peeled, boiled and softened with cream. Sudden and without warning he was before her, the light from the cloudless sky obstructed by his large form.
'Your skill as a serving maid has progressed much,' he said.
With a start she lifted her head up, finding his expression contained but soft, his eyes watching her carefully. The shock sight of him caused her heart to leap upward and her mouth to dry like sun rock.
'Then you are not looking too closely it seems,' she said. She hated how her voice sounded then, fragile and muddled. Glancing down at the basin of floating Ovash she saw then that they were not as well-scrubbed as Mor had shown her they should be; small seedlings still sprouted from pockets of skin on some, soil ingrained hard into the surface of others. She would require to re-do them.
'I am ever looking at you closely, Fara.'
She looked up at him, halfway breathless. His gaze was steady and calm like a stretch of ocean without wind. He wore the green riding tunic she thought lit his eyes well, and which caused the ends of his hair to curl up around the nape of his neck. Some longing rose inside her, heating the base of her throat and the hollow between her legs.
She had the notion then, of never seeing him again; that strange light of his eyes, the graceful arch of his mouth, the fine cut of his cheekbones. Of never again hearing again the sharp cadence of his voice, of never again seeing him ride his varveh high up into the sky. She thought of him simply existing here on Leoth long after she had left it and a shock of emptiness cut through her, cleaving out a void in her chest. It stole her breath and clouded her vision. She blinked and looked quickly down at her hands once more. Her fingers were scraped pink from work.
'Iaria is gone,' she said, pointlessly. He understood it as a question though it was not.
'Yes, ' he replied. Then, after a moment: 'Does it please you?'
She found - to her confusion and surprise - that it did. She did not want to tell him this was so, she simply wanted him to know. Some moments of silence passed before he spoke again.
'The council will hear your brother's terms at next moonrise,' he said.
Her breath caught, and as she stared at them her fingers began to lightly tremble. She wanted to ask what it meant, what he knew or suspected might happen, but she was afraid she would not be able to bear it. She was afraid that she would beg him again; that she would weaken and soften before him again.
'And what of me?' She asked him.
'They have commanded I bring you.'
'You will not let me face them alone?' Weak. Soft.
'I will not,' he promised.
She nodded with gratitude and his face flickered with something unnamed, dark yet light at the same time. Then:
'I wondered...' he paused, turned his gaze out to the sea, scraped his sharp teeth across his lip as though... nervous perhaps. 'If it would please you to ride with me. There is a place, someway north of Teredia that I should like to show you.'
Ride with him? Alone? She swallowed.
'What kind of place?'
A pause. 'It is best to show you. I hope you will find it... pleasing. That is, I think that it would be a comfort to you to see it.' She saw how difficult it was for him to say these words to her; soft, careful words.
'Then it would please me to go with you,' she told him.
He relaxed, nodded, before allowing a small hint of a smile to lift his elegant mouth. 'As the sun rises I shall come for you.'
'I shall be ready.'
He hesitated a moment and then reached out suddenly - as though not in control of himself - toward her cheek. Her breath turned fast and wild.
'Ahhhh! Theo! There you are!!' Mor cried, appearing suddenly from behind them. 'Jhaan is awake, Jhaan is finally awake. He asks for you. Come, come!'
He dropped his hand but held her eyes a long moment. Then let out a soft sigh and turned to follow Mor inside.
The quaking almost thunderous inside her, Fara took several deep breaths and set about finishing the task Mor had given her. Afterward, she carried the weighty basin of ovash back to the kitchen where Mor was busy before the stove, humming softly to herself.
'Ahhh lumiya, you finished!' She came to inspect the basin, lifting some of the ovash to inspect them.
'I am not quite so skilled as you,' Fara apologised.
'Practice, makya, tis but practice. These will do very well.' She said and set the basin down beside the stove.
Fara watched her fill a wide bowl with a sweet-smelling milky soup, on top of which she then heaped some freshly chopped green herbs. 'Khedhe for Jhaan,' she told her.
'May I take it up to him?'
'Ahhh yes, indeed I think he would be cheered by the sight of your pretty face, childe.' She slid the tray toward Fara. 'Now ensure he eats it all, even though he will scrunch up his nose and say he cannot fit in another mouthful. I have known him before he was a pick and he will always always avoid that which is best for him, and always always run toward that which is not.' She raised her eyebrows demonstrably, yet the motherly affection in her tone was overt. Clearly, she loved Jhaan as much as she loved Theodan.
Fara smiled. 'I promise I shall make sure he eats it all, Mor.'
Nodding, Mor moved to place a small wooden cup on the tray which was neither wine nor water, something which stung Fara's nose when she bent to sniff it. It was sharp and bitter, and sour and sweet all at once.
'Riverplume,' Mor supplied when she saw Fara's reaction to the draught. 'His favourite. Which you will only let him have once he has emptied the bowl.' Her face was stern.
'Yes, Mor.'
***
Upstairs she set the tray down outside the chamber and knocked softly. Theodan sat on a stool by the bed but rose to help her when he saw her enter. While she closed the door he took the tray from her and set it down by Jhaan's bedside.
'You look much recovered, Jhaan,' she smiled. 'I am gladdened by it.'
Jhaan struggled to sit up, groaning as he did so. 'Ahhhh, your grace... Princess... I am... yes.. much recovered,' he stammered nervously. She flicked her gaze to Theodan, whose eyes widened almost playfully.
'I will leave you and the princess Fara to confer, Jhaan,' Theodan said in the human tongue. 'It seems she is to fill with you with Khedhe, and I could not bear to witness such torture this close to evenmeal.' His mouth turned down in distaste. 'I shall visit with you later under the moon.'
'Yes, master.'
'Your grace...' Theodan said, dipping his head coyly as he passed her.
Fara took the stool Theodan had vacated and reached across to lift the much-maligned bowl of Khedhe. As predicted, Jhaan's nose turned up at the sight of it.
'Mor would have me return to death's footpath, it seems,' he baulked, though took it from her.
'She has sent Riverplume too, which you are to have when you finish it.' She hoped this would act as some encouragement. His eyes widened but his expression remained sour. Suddenly his gaze cleared and he focussed it on her, direct.
'It does not seem so strange to me,' he said quietly.
'What does not?'
'That you are of the blood. A princess.'
She smiled. 'Then I did not fool you.'
'You did,' Jhaan grinned. 'But still, I am not so surprised by it.'
In comfortable silence she watched him drink the Khedhe with a mix of disgust and self-pity. When he had reached his limit he handed it back to her. As Mor predicted, a small measure of it still floated in the base.
'I cannot manage another mouthful, princess Fara, you must not make me finish it,' he complained.
'It is for your recovery, Jhaan... Please. You know that even I cannot take it back to Mor unfinished...'
With a sigh, he took it back from her, held his nose, and consumed the last of it. Then he groaned loudly and shook his head in disgust. 'Now the riverplume, please, your grace!'
Fara handed it to him gladly, smiling wide as he drank it. Afterward, he let out a deep sigh of satisfaction.
'If I should have gone to the immortal realm, this is what I would have missed most of all..' He licked his lips, tasting the last of the draught with relish.
'It is really so?' Fara inspected the empty cup with curiosity.
'It is so,' he sighed, settling back into the pillow, content.
'And you feel well? You are not in much pain?' She asked. Jhaan shook his head. ' I heard tell that you were most brave.'
He shrugged, embarrassed. 'I was foolish. Theodan is angry with me,' he glanced down at his injured leg. 'I have caused him shame and much trouble.'
'Gods no, I do not think it is so. He was worried for you, as was Mor - as was I. He is not angry with you.'
'I should not have met the Calatian soldier alone and untrained,' said Jhaan, sheepish. ' If not for the twins of Aphelion I would be gone to the Gods.'
'My brother,' she said cautiously. 'The Calatian soldier you met on the battlefield was my brother, Panos.'
His eyes widened. 'Then I battled a prince of the blood?' He sounded proud now, the memory of it turning his gaze distant. 'He was fearless. I think I did not injure him?' He was somewhat apologetic as he looked at her.
She shook her head. 'He was not injured.'
'I was no match for him. But now Theodan will train me in Valka - he has promised. I will never be a great warrior as he, but I will try. I will fight. I must, for we are at war.' His voice was resolute.
She stiffened. He'd told Jhaan Leoth was at war? Did it mean then that he would not try to prevent it? Or only that he doubted he could?
'You are afraid,' he said, cutting through her thoughts. 'But you must not be - he will let no harm come to you.'
'Jhaan, I am not... he cannot....' she stopped, shook her head. 'My fate shall be decided on the morrow when I face your council.' She may not even live to see this war, let alone prevent it.
***
That night her dreams were not cold or dark. They were hot and liquid, like fire licking at her skin from beneath. She dreamt of Theodan: the planes of his chest. The curve of his throat. The flicker of light in his eyes. The sound of his pleasure. In the rain, she picked herbs from the forest near Mor's garden when he came to her. He said nothing before pulling her into a fierce kiss, consuming her, drawing blood from her eager mouth. He dropped to his knees and raised her skirts to take her with his tongue. Weak and soft from pleasure, he pulled her to the forest floor and spread her out before him on the grass and took her again. Slow powerful thrusts of his body into hers, his teeth nipping softly at her neck, his claws gouging hollows into the earth. The scent of rain and dirt rose around them and when she awoke in the hours before dawn panting and aching she could smell it still.
In her half-awake state, she thought of going to him. Of stealing into his chamber and into his bed. Of finding his body soft with sleep but hard with desire.
She felt shame but pushed it aside. For had shame not always lived side by side with her desires? Had she ever known desire without the hiss and burn of shame? Her desires had been borne from and moulded by sin; each new shameful act or thought simply a stitch in a much larger tapestry. One which would be laid out for all to see and judge when she passed over into the immortal realm.
She could not return to sleep and so she rose and washed quickly from the small scented water basin, before dressing in the warmest dress she'd been given. She chose the long-sleeved floral gown and tied her hair back with the length of ribbon Mor had also given her. His knock came as the first rays of sunlight shot into the chamber.
He looked almost surprised to see her, his eyes flickering brightly in the dimly lit corridor. She felt her mouth dry once more, her heart, as always, faster than it was when he was not before her.
'You slept well?' He asked.
She took comfort from the fact that his all sight did not stretch to her sleeping mind.
'I did.'
It was then she noticed that he held in his hand a heavy fur-lined cloak. Blood red and richly made, it was lined with a soft brown fur the colour of dry sand. He moved to pull it around her and settled it gently upon her shoulders, bringing the cord to tie it loose against her throat. His fingers brushed soft against her skin as he did so and she felt the warmth from both him and the cloak.
'Was this also your mothers?' She asked.
'No.'
Unlike the grey cloak she had worn before, which hung too large and trailed clumsily behind her, this one sat perfect in both length and size; as though it had been made for her. He pulled the hood up and settled it gently atop her head before stepping back to observe it. She could not tell his thoughts from his expression; it remained dark and distant as always, a dim light flickering in the deepest depths of his eyes.
'Come,' he commanded, and to her surprise took hold of her hand and pulled her with him toward the stairs.
Outside the trees rattled and the ocean hissed, the sparse birdsong of the forest dawning the rise of the day. His Varveh was saddled and ready, packed on one side with supplies and on the other with his Greatsword. She shot a glance at him but he was fixed instead on the straps of the saddle, pulling and testing each to ensure they were exactly as he desired. Satisfied, he turned and gripped her by the waist and lifted her up onto the saddle. Then in a single movement swung up into it behind her. He pulled the riding belts so that she was at once pulled back into his chest, and then fastened them tight into place.
'Hold here,' he instructed, placing her hands on the raised grip rail which rose up from the front of the saddle. Grabbing the thick leather rein he kicked his heels gently to spur the varveh toward the stable entrance.
Outside he uttered a single word to the beast — 'Ealkus' — which caused her to pick up pace at once. First, a slow canter across the flat boundary of Teredia's bank before they began to race quickly toward the cliff edge. Theodan did not speak any further command, the varveh simply knew what she must do: fast and faster and then faster still.
As the edge of the mountain neared, the familiar spread of fear rose up inside her, and so she gripped tighter still to the rail. Her breath was difficult and too fast and she tried to calm it. He would protect her. He would not let her tumble to her death. He would protect her. She took a deep breath and then another and then another. She felt Theodan's mouth close to her ear then, his arms tightening around her.
'Ny ikth, er lys'aia. Ny ikth,' he said.
It sounded like a command, and if they had not been about to fall from a great and terrible height she would have asked him for the words in her own tongue. She would force him this time to utter his words to her as he intended them, unburdened by another. As it was, Nux leapt over the rock verge and dropped them into the upswell of wind, clearing her mind momentarily of all else. As they rose above the bank of the forest, the warmth of the sun spilled up over the trees and engulfed them in its dazzling embrace. Theodan pulled hard on one side of the rein and lifted himself up from the saddle into a crouch, the turning of his body serving as a welcome shield from the gust of wind which lifted them up and up and up.