The cheering had died, but Lady Kyla still shook her head while working her jaw up and down in an attempt to clear away the ringing.
It kept on.
She shoved a finger into one of her echoing canals, digging this way and that. Nothing changed. A grumble throbbed in her throat for an instant.
"I need a drink." Her nose guided her toward the fermented air of alcohol.
Winding through the milling crowd, cursing as she again tread on the hem of her gown, Kyla skidded to a halt in front of the refreshments. Cups brimming with amber liquor sat on tables the servants had erected and covered with green table clothes as soon as the hullabaloo had subsided. She drew a breath to settle herself, her mindeye clogged with swirling, shifting, chaotic lifelight. Too much to track individually. Like counting stars in the night sky, while searching for falling meteors, Kyla kept her attention broad, taking in the general currents of the room without drowning in the minutia of each individual.
The three black holes, the nightlings, furrowed her brow the most. They floated through the sea of lifelight, but without disturbing the individual bodies. Their fearful gravity made some flicker with hesitation for a moment. But only a moment. They would quickly stabilize, flash with recognition, even excitement, and then normal conversations would ensue. Mundane, typical, and boring conversations.
Kyla rubbed her temples, pushing back the pressure that had built up between them. She snatched up a glass from the table and took a large gulp. She gagged and spewed some of the liquid back into the cup.
How did I ever drink this horse piss? she wondered, scraping her tongue on the roof of her mouth, forcing the fermented burn down her throat.
The cup found its way back onto the table with a thunk and a plop. Simmering meat fat tickled her nostrils next. Before she could reach the correct tray, a voice from behind stopped her in her pursuit.
"I hope you're not offended, Lady Kyla," said Queen Brishwyn in a hushed tone. It barely came over the general hubbub of the crowd.
"Offended?" asked Kyla, facing her.
"For not declaring you properly. I know We discussed it with you previously, but I would hate for you to feel underappreciated."
"I don't," said Kyla, with no hint of a reciprocating smile. "Quite frankly, I agree. Best to keep this as uncomplicated as possible."
"Thank you for being so understanding," said Queen Brishwyn, retrieving Lady Kyla's discarded glass of mead. She sipped. "That's what I needed. Can I help you to some refreshment of your own? Wilo knows you deserve it after what you've accomplished."
"Thank you, but I rarely indulge," replied Kyla. Instead, she snatched up a rack of lamb and began to take large bites. Barely chewing, grunting with more annoyance than satisfaction at the cook's treatment of the meat, great hunks choked their way down Kyla's throat. Grease painted itself over her chin and lips, a savory gloss lubricating her ravenous mouth.
Queen Brishwyn, cup hesitating half-way to her lips, stood rooted in place, eyes goggling at the sight. She quivered before, gingerly placing her glass back on the table.
"You know... I'd almost forgotten, but there are a few individuals here that you simply have to meet." She scurried off before her last word had cleared her throat.
Kyla shrugged, hardly noting the queasy rise and fall of the queen's beige lifelight. The joys of courtly introductions. Oh, goody!
She went in for another bite but stopped short as a familiar voice drifted into her ear: Masis' baritone cadence—warm, unwavering, well-pronounced. Rack of lamb forgotten, tongue working at dislodging the bits stuck between her teeth, Kyla shifted her gaze toward her young protégé, swallowing the last remnants of meat.
He stood conversing with a nobleman, judging by the man's clothing. Back straight, weight resting on a single leg, Masis casually handled a glass of mead while his other hand was tucked behind him. Words passed easily between him and the man. A picture of noble discourse. Masis had been born to this. Raised for this. She had too once, a very long time ago.
Kyla licked her lips, discovering the grease as though for the first time. She felt out the extent of the fatty carnage with her free hand. It was expansive.
Her eyes flicked about. A wide ring had formed around where she stood. No one approached the portion of the table she occupied, and more than a few sets of eyes, belonging to both men and women, darted to her person and away again with greater haste.
Her heart jittered. Do I really care what these fops think?!
Stuttering for a moment, she tossed the unfinished rack of lamb out of sight under a table. Hand now free, Kyla nearly wiped it down her dress's front but decided better of it. Instead, she snatched up a napkin, scoring both her hands and lips thoroughly. None too gentle, her skin smarted by the end. Smoothing her hands over her gown's soft fabric, the lifelight of those closest to her, puttering and skipping nervously, stopped her antics. Straightening, face smoothed impassive, Kyla swept her eyes this way and that.
Those spying on her spoke in whispers but that did not hinder her from eavesdropping.
"Who do you think she is?" asked a woman behind her hand.
"Probably some lunatic relation," replied her male companion, his nose held aloft, "that some family is hesitant to claim."
"More a wild animal than a crazy person," said another woman, her eyes gentle with curiosity. "But she certainly seems tame enough. The queen, herself, talked with her. She must be of some importance."
The man with the women scoffed, looking down his nose at Kyla. "I'm sure the queen was just taking pity on the poor creature. She does have a soft spot for hopeless causes. Look what she did for the Shadows. Building them that colony. Nothing but a waste."
The rest of the group nodded their silent agreement, allowing the subject to shift to more mundane matters. They sipped their mead. Insipid smiles passed between them. Little giggles twittered out.
Kyla's skin, still vibrating from her harsh scrubbing, surged with hot blood, a scorching rush pouring heat out and off her body. Teeth clenched. Breath trembled. Vision narrowed. She took a single step toward the gossipers.
"There you are," said Masis, all at once occupying the whole of her view. In a single movement, he had looped her arm in his and strode away in the opposite direction. "The queen said she had a few people she wanted to introduce us to, so she sent me to fetch you." He leaned in and lowered his voice. "And none too soon I would say. Hmmm?"
She made no reply, but allowed herself to be led, weaving through the throng. With each step Kyla let the tension and visions of broken limbs flow from her body and mind.
"I wouldn't have killed them," said Kyla. "I was only going to scare them a bit."
"Your idea of 'scaring' probably would have killed them," replied Masis.
Smirking, Kyla glanced up at her pupil. He wore a warm smile, nodding to those he passed. Shoulders squared, he walked in this courtly world—his world—with an easy step. A fine specimen for both a duke and a Warden.
You once belonged to this world, thought Kyla at herself. She once stalked these grounds as confidently as this infant. There were just too many eyes now. And they could all see her. She had to let them see her.
Her thoughts cut off as they drew closer to a trio that she had kept tabs on with her mindeye since entering the room. A trio she had hoped to avoid if at all possible. Now, they headed directly toward them. Grunting with satisfaction as Masis' arm stiffened as hers did, she nodded to herself as it relaxed just as quickly.
Kyla cocked an eyebrow. Something I taught him actually got through.
Passing a particularly boisterous cluster of bodies, she caught a whiff of Queen Brishwyn's particular aroma—berry infused mead and a floral perfume.
They approached the queen from behind while she conversed with three rusty individuals. Upon a gesture from one of her pale companions, she spun, the broad grin on her face and slight wobble in her pivot betraying liquor's influence. She righted her dignity with a shake and hiccup.
"Duke, Lady Kyla," said Queen Brishwyn. "Allow me to introduce you to Lady Telias and her companions, Hailun and Erlulf."
She moved aside to reveal fully the three wights that had paraded into the throne room, two females and a single male, all pale of skin, all dark of eye, except their leader. The Lady Telias' eyes, hungry and dead, were as green as new sprouted grass, like the verdure atop a grave.
"My Lady. Your Grace." The lead she-wight nodded to each of them. "Allow me, on all of our behalf, to express how absolutely honored we are to meet you both."
At her last word, she extended her hand in Kyla and Masis' direction. Kyla flicked her eyes at it. They flew back to the she-wight's face. Masis made no move either.
"Lady Telias," said Masis, stiffly, "as you're assuredly familiar with my history with your kind, you'll forgive me if I do not accept your hand. I cannot, however, speak for my companion."
By now Kyla had released Masis' arm, her hands hung slack at her side and her eyes flitted between Lady Telias and her companion. Settling her eyes on the proffered hand once more, Kyla sniffed but made no move to accept it. Rust plugged her nose. Exhaling sharply, Kyla could not dislodge the stink.
Only if she's shaking my rotting, dead hand, thought Kyla.
Lady Telias closed her hand and drew it back to her side. Her smile faltered then rallied. The Queen's smile faltered as well but did not recover. It flattened into a thin depressed line.
"Of course," said Lady Telias, her head shaking. "Forgive me for my thoughtlessness. I take no offense." She turned to the queen. "Truly, Your Majesty, I do not. I forget that those most brutally scarred by my kind will have the most difficult time trusting us, let alone allying themselves with us."
No one spoke for a moment. Beside Kyla, Masis flexed his knees and shifted his mass over the balls of his feet. Queen Brishwyn stole a sip from her glass. Kyla's mindeye bored into the negative space that constituted the creatures before her. Black, empty, gaping. Three great mouths yawning open, craving sustenance, almost pulling what they craved toward them, avoiding imploding on themselves by unseen means.
Anyone fool enough to trust these things deserves what they'll do to them, thought Kyla, muscles tensing and relaxing throughout her legs. The rest of her remained perfectly still.
"Trust?" asked Kyla. "I don't trust anyone."
"Lady Kyla, I can only imagine the last few centuries have been anything but kind..."
The she-wight's words cut off as Kyla's stare intensified.
Kyla glanced at the queen. Who told you, wightie?!
"Yes, I know who you are," said Lady Telias, raising a hand. "Unlike others present, I can believe what they cannot. My very existence allows me to do so. But back to the point. In those many centuries, can you tell me you've learned everything there is to know about my kind. Is there some secret you've discovered that I've failed to share with the Sovereigns?"
She paused and tilted her head.
Kyla, stiff necked, shook her head. What about your dealings with Manu? I'm fairly certain you didn't mention that little tidbit.
Lady Telias' eyes widened with what appeared to be innocence. "We've not only shared our knowledge of how to eliminate our kind but have also participated in the very act. Does this not win us some trust?"
"I had to kill my own son because a wight bewitched him, but that was over four hundred years ago," said Kyla with not a hint of sarcasm. "Why don't we ask His Grace, the Duke of Asthurn, what it will take for us to trust you and your kind?"
Expressionless, eyes trained on the three wights, Masis cleared his throat. Lady Telias cut him off.
"Milord, please, accept our condolences for the death of your family. But I must point out that those were feral night wights, and I, and those with me, have separated ourselves from them because we have no desire to be at constant opposition with humanity."
Masis sucked in a breath. "And, please, by all means, explain to Lady Kyla and me what the difference is between you and feral wights."
Kyla could only imagine the state of his lifelight. Probably a scorching, incandescent mass of boiling wrath barely held in check.
Lady Telias opened her mouth to reply but Queen Brishwyn spoke before she could.
"As Lady Telias has explained to us, feral wights have no interest except to feed. She and those of her group cut all ties with them because they do not wish to dominate us as the feral wights do. They hope for a better future, one in which both our peoples can live in peace."
Has she been mesmerized? Lady Kyla asked herself, keeping her jaw from going slack with misbelief. Or just had too much mead?
The queen's words, recited as though by a pandering pupil, rebounded in the silence they left. Her lifelight, off-kilter, slightly staggering, popped with bright flashes of blues and pinks, but otherwise held no trace of mesmer's telltale filaments.
No one spoke for a moment. Glasses clinked around them. Voices gurgled. Laughter sounded out. None of these things drew their eyes away from each other. Lady Kyla kept her eyes roving over the wighties, trying to detect any twitch of movement. They made none. Statue-still they stood. Only the queen swayed slightly.
"You'll forgive me if I contradict you," said Masis, "but I've actually met the wight queen, that witch of the night, as you called her. On both occasions, she was just as articulate and civilized as these things are now. But then I watched her kill..." He swallowed. "My family. And more than half the Shadow colony. Some of whom had become my friends. She did it without a second thought. She did it calmly, almost gleefully. Not like a wild animal tearing apart its prey. So, there is very little these...wighties can do to convince me to trust them." He shrugged. "Except perhaps die."
At the cursing, the queen gasped. Her mouth constricted into a tight frown, her cheeks glowing with crimson stains.
Kyla suppressed a grin. Maybe I'm not the only one that's out of practice.
None of the three nightlings had moved. Each had reacted in their own way. The lead she-wight, Lady Telias, shook her head, face heavy with sadness. Feigned or genuine, Kyla could not say. The other she-wight glanced from Lady Telias and the he-wight, shuffling her feet. Only the he-wight, Erlulf, gave off any kind of anger. His eyes narrowed, focused, burning into Masis, his fingers clenched into fists, and his body tensed. These signs vanished as soon as they came. He relaxed, dropping his face toward the floor, eyes drooping.
"Lord Domrae," said Queen Brishwyn, her voice tight and controlled. "I would have hoped that someone of your breeding would show better judgement, but..."
"There you are, my love," said King Othrad. He joined the circle abruptly, disrupting the brooding atmosphere. He kissed his wife's cheek, taking her hand in his. Master Elwith stepped into the circle on the king's other side. "Master Elwith and I have been wondering where you all had gotten to and here you all are. What a happy coincidence. I hope everyone is getting along smashingly. No fights have broken out yet."
He laughed. No one joined him. His words kept coming, undeterred in their breakneck pace.
"I say, you all seem a tad gloomy for a celebration such as this." Traces of mead perfumed the king, though his words did not slur from the lubrication. "Master Elwith was just discussing with me an idea that I feel would allow all of us to get to know each other a bit better. An outing, you might say, to bring us all a little closer. Master Elwith, perhaps you would like to explain?"
All eyes, most still tight, moved to Master Elwith. He smiled with no teeth before coughing into his hand. "Well, it's quite simple really. Up until this point we have only been able to attack those feral wights that live relatively close to the capital, but if we were to take a warband to Monvé or Baer where Lady Telias has indicated larger groups of feral wights reside, for lack of a better word..."
"Perhaps, hunt, murder, or terrorize would be a good substitute," said Masis, cutting in.
Kyla shifted her weight from one leg back to the other and back again. Neither of her sights left the wights, though much like Masis they were frustratingly unreadable under the scrutiny of her mindeye.
A sharp look shot from the queen. Her husband shook away her loaded reproach with both his head and his hands. Lady Telias and her cronies let Masis' words pass without a flinch. If anything, they appeared bored, all their brief emotion having sunk away, concealed beneath a perfectly placid surface.
Master Elwith only frowned slightly, shuffling his feet. "Well, anyway, my thought was this with the addition of Lady Kyla and the Warden to the alliance I feel fairly confident that we could successfully exterminate one of those larger groups, maybe not with ease, but with a much greater chance of success."
No one spoke. Gurgling murmurs from the people and merrymaking seeped into the midst of their excluding ring.
They had walked into a waking mare. Kyla was convinced of it as her eyes read the serious, unjesting lines of Master Elwith's face, the rigidity of his frame, and the expectation, open, unafraid, like a spoiled child, glimmering in his eyes. Neither the queen or king seemed bothered by the proposal. Their relaxed postures and nodding heads indicated that they thought the plan was the most reasonable and even expected thing in the world that they, Lady Kyla and Masis Domrae, were to work alongside wighties to eliminate other wighties.
Working her jaw from side to side, the joint popping and grinding in a disturbing way, Kyla blinked repeatedly trying to clear away the hallucination she and Masis had eagerly run into.
This can't be real, she thought, stilling her antics as Masis' puckered gaze zeroed in on the wighties. Any moment now, Master Elwith would incinerate or decapitate the lot of them and everyone would have a hearty laugh about the go they had been having at their expense.
Neither grisly end came.
"That settles it then," said King Othrad. He clapped his hand together and rubbed them eagerly. "We'll travel by rail-ship. Lady Telias will organize her people. Master Elwith will do the same with the mages. I've already set General Biligrim to the task of organizing his men, and I feel confident that we can provide adequate accommodations and equipment for both Lady Kyla and the Duke, that is until the dispute of your title and house are settled," waving the issue away as though trivial, "but that's only a minor formality. If all goes well, we should be able to leave within the next week I should think."
"Your Majesty?" asked Master Elwith. "We?"
"Yes. We. I'll be joining you."
"Do you really think that's wise?" Master Elwith cast a look to an unruffled Queen Brishwyn.
"With so many powerful allies at my side, what do I possibly have to worry about?" King Othrad slapped the High Mage's shoulder, a grin lightening the gesture. "Besides, I may be a monarch, but I'm not nearly as fragile or helpless as you and General Biligrim must feel I am." He offered an arm to his wife. "Now, that is all taken care of, my wife and I will leave you to the festivities and bid you all a good night."
Weaving their way through the ever-shifting masses, the sovereigns departed, their chitchat about mundane logistics still crisp in Kyla's ears.
"I too must be going," Master Elwith added, more to Lady Telias than anyone else. "There is much to do as you can well imagine."
He bowed his head to the group before backing away a few steps only to turn on his heel, striding off with clicking purpose.
Kyla and Masis remained alone with the wights. No words. Only assessing stares accented by rusty canker and three gaping wounds in the space of Kyla's mindeye.
"Lady Kyla. Lord Domrae," said Lady Telias, breaking the silence, "I truly hope with time you both can learn to trust us as your sovereigns have. My Lord, I feel compelled to offer my apologies for any offense that has been given. I can only imagine how hard..."
Masis stepped forward, interrupting her words. "Lady Telias, your very presence here is an offense to me and the memory of my family. Had it not been for the sovereigns' presence you and your companions would be..."
"What my young friend means to say," said Lady Kyla, stepping in between Lady Telias and Masis, like standing between a tidal wave and a hurricane," we'll do our duty for Haimlant, and obey the monarchs' wishes... for now. However, give us even one insignificant reason to doubt you, and there is no one, not mage or sovereign, that will keep us from ending you."
Heart cantering, threatening to gallop, Kyla gave her back to the wights. All her instincts screamed at her not to. Roughly tugging Masis into her gait, she fled into the forest of bodies, knowing their limbs and trunks would not conceal her from those eyes that were surely on her back. She did not cover her lifelight, no matter how tempted. She refused to cloak her physical form. Sweat's salty stench crept into her nose. Not Masis' sweat, but hers. It beaded and slid down her back.
She gulped. How many times had she told Masis to kill every iota of fear?
Fear brings doubt. Doubt causes hesitation. Hesitation gets you killed.
She stabbed at the wriggling chrysalis of panic that had manifested in her chest intent on killing it before it could hatch.
It refused to die.
In that moment, she glimpsed what she had made Masis endure over those weeks she had observed him. She did not like being on the receiving end.
*DON'T FORGET TO VOTE*