At Night the Moon Can Guide Me

Dusk collapsed heaving into place.

While the drunken brawling suggested the end of the evening’s festivities, there were more sales to follow, with another few lines of slaves assembled and waiting their turns. Mostly male, mostly young, if a bit weathered, but before the next line was called, Roland left the stage without comment, replaced by James, who took his place where Roland had been standing only moments before. “James- what do I- where do I go?” Aya asked, realizing that her entire knowledge of this process ended at the word “sold.” She scanned the crowd for the man in black- Seigneur Kai- but had lost him in the thrash and roil of the bodies.

“Oh, yes, you can go to the back where you were before. Moth- Sasha will help you with the rest.” At twenty-three, the last traces of boyishness had left his face but not his manner. “She can-” A bottle sailed past him- wide, but not wide enough for comfort. “Hey!” He shouted down to a guard lazily grappling with a stumbling drunk. “Where’s Por- Percival’s men? He should have a half dozen here!” He looked back at Aya, pleading. “Just- go ahead to the back of the stage. Sorry, I- well, you know.” His arm swept out toward the crowd where the guard attempted to drag the now-vomiting man away from the stage.

Sasha was again herding cats toward the back of the tent and caught Aya’s eye, waving her over excitedly, a babble of Elvish flooding her way through the woman’s grin. “{You did so well! You will have a fine year! Please, stay with me for a moment after.}” Before Aya could respond, Sasha turned away, back toward the sold slaves from her line who were staring at the pair curiously. “Everyone! Please head down the stairs to the workshop tent. Find your buyer there if you can and Roland will get through your paperwork and collaring as quickly as possible. Great job, all of you!” With an uncertain gait, they started to file down the stairs, occasionally looking back at Aya’s motionless stance.

“{Aren’t you happy? You did great!}” Sasha’s enthusiasm was more confusing than energizing.

“{Sasha, what- what happened out there? Who was that?}”

Sasha laughed. “{You didn’t hear Roland call it ten times? Seigneur Kai! He has been an old friend of ours for years. He is very kind, very noble. He is a brave knight! You get to be like a princess!}”

Aya stared slack-jawed at the elf, struggling to find the words for the situation. “{Sasha, did you know my price? How much Roland paid for me?}”

Sasha hesitated for a moment- brief, but present. “{Oh no, I don’t handle that side of things. That is up to Roland. Come, come, we’ll go-}”

“{Sasha! Do you expect me to believe that? That you don’t know anything?”} Aya glowered at her, the adrenaline of the sale leaching out of her and leaving contempt behind. “{Five hundred crowns? Did you see what happened out there? I have the girls to take care of!}” Her volume was increasing, and while the crew and other slaves and shoppers could not understand her, the tenor of the conversation was obvious. She was drawing eyes.

Sasha seized her gently by the wrist. “{It’s okay, it’s okay, we can talk to Roland, all right? Come. We can make things okay, jamin.}” She tugged Aya’s hand softly toward the stairs. “{Come, we will speak to Roland and meet your master. And you should be happy! He is a very good choice. Very kind, very sweet, very respectful, a man of great honor!”} Slowly, with seemingly mudstuck feet, Aya followed. {“He will take great care of you! He will know exactly what to do!”}

~

“Roland, I need to know what the fuck you got me into out there.”

“I didn’t get you into anything! You made a purchase! You considered the value proposition, accepted it, and are now in legal and soon physical possession of a lovely woman who will no doubt enrich your life considerably!”

“I sure hope so, because I’m certainly not feeling particularly enrichednow that you’ve nearly bankrupted me. Why the fuck did you tell me to keep going? Do you have some kind of plan for that?” Kai leaned low over the table where Roland sat looking unconcerned, studying his nails intently. The hum of commerce and its adjunct industries surrounded them: notaries checking legal documents, slaves shuffling in place, getting collared, changing clothes behind a screen in the corner, laborers moving supplies, preparing for the next rush. “You knew Samuel was going to be there.”

“Count Samuel regularly participates in our auctions, yes, but I would have no way of knowing that he was coming to this particular occasion. There is no RSVP required for our events, as you’ve seen for yourself. And I hardly consider your personal squabbles-”

“He is an underhanded, duplicitous little cunt-”

“Whatever your feelings may be,” Roland interrupted, loudly, “he is a customer with the same privileges you yourself enjoy. And your personal feelings about the man, again, have nothing to do with me.”

“He participated in order to ruin me. And off the back of information I gave you in confidence when I was- not-”

“When you were drunk, you mean? Yes, I remember the occasion. How have I violated your confidence? You told me a story, enthusiastically, I might add, that enumerated a series of details which I, as an inveterate businessman, took note of.” He leaned forward, meeting Kai’s gaze directly. “When an appropriate product arrived in my stock, I chose to advertise it to a buyer I thought might be suitable, which was, as it seems, the correct decision on my part. Where, precisely, does your complaint lie?” An assistant trotted over to the table, passing a small scroll to Roland without a word. “Oh, and here! Your failed grain tax bill. Indistinguishable from the original. Does this favor upset you equally?”

Kai opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a voice behind him. “Roland? I have Aya here for Seigneur Kai.”

Kai turned and saw her- closer than before, in finer detail. The ruby red hair glimmering in the lamplight, the emerald dress hugging her outrageous curves, the long slices of thighs the color of fresh cream revealed through the slits in her gown. The expanse of breasts given subtle motion by cold breath. The dancing green eyes and pouting lips and long, pointed ears. And her face in hues of seashell and rose, lips gently parted, frozen as he was in the shared gaze.

He thought, briefly, of chivalry. Of stooping to one knee and pressing a kiss to her hand and promising loyalty and honor. He thought a little longer of seduction, sweeping her into his arms, capturing her lips with his own, and promising her pleasure and devotion beyond imagination. And he also thought of sincerity- to walk to her and present himself plainly, to admit that he had no idea what he was doing but was compelled by sheer agonizing want, and as such would try to conduct himself in the manner she most deserved. He considered many ways to greet this strange, glorious woman who had arrived so unceremoniously in his life.

What came out was a tentative “H-hi,” accompanied by a limp, half-hearted wave. He wanted to die immediately.

Aya’s response was a similarly nervous “Hi.” He was more handsome up close. Young, but not too young, and shorter than her by a couple inches. Aya had not had much contact with imperial royalty, but he resembled no knight she could imagine; more like a militia captain drafted into a campaign. Roughly cut black hair, a few weeks of beard, and deeply set slate-grey eyes suggested a man more comfortable in the field than the court. The nose, too- a little crooked, previously broken, likely more than once. Dressed in all black, anonymous. Disrupting this ashen presentation was his expression: a kind of lust and almost boyish wonder mingled in such a way that she couldn’t help but be charmed. Sasha’s fairytale description was hardly bearing out, but this- this was something she could work with.

Kai closed the distance between them, gently taking her hand in his. “Hi,” he repeated, briefly closing his eyes and huffing out a breath, shaking his head before returning to her gaze. “Miss Aya, I would like to-”

“Seigneur Kai Umber and Aya Darisa! Our lovely couple finally meets,” Roland bellowed theatrically from his table.

“It’s just Aya,” Kai answered, not looking away. “She doesn’t have a last name.”

“Thank you! You understand!”

“Well whatever her name may be, could my lord and his new lady come to the table so we can handle paperwork, collar, payment-”

Kai saw the sudden flash of rage in the elf’s eyes as she stepped around him, marching toward the table in long strides, planting her hands on its surface. “Yes, Roland, let’s talk about payment. Five hundred fucking crowns? This is what you gave me? You told me I would be luckyto even make that back, that you were doing me a kindnessby offering that much, you fucking-”

“Hold on! Hold on!” Roland shrank back in his seat, hands up placatingly. Eyes were drawn- anonymous workers and slaves, but also Count Frederick with Helena, Percival Einsean, and other buyers and men and women of repute. He sweated.

Kai turned on Sasha. “Sasha, what’s she talking about? Five hundred? Really?” Sasha sputtered, waving her hands, “I don’t handle the payment terms, I strictly work with the stock-”

Aya’s head whipped around, back at Sasha. “{You are a liar! You watched your husband trick one of your jamin and you knew!}” She turned back to Roland, switching back to Imperial. “You are going to make this right. You are not going to cheat my sisters!”

Kai walked up, peeking over Aya’s shoulder. “Roland, how do you explain a twenty thousand percent return on investment? Are you honestly claiming that you looked at her-” he said, gesturing frantically to the woman in front of him- “And thought she was going to sell for anything less than ten on a cheap day? Do I look like an asshole to you?”

Roland retorted, eyes darting between the two like a cornered rabbit. “Every single element of our transaction was within legal-”

“Yes, the regulations you lobbied Count fucking Samuel for. The ones you drafted and handed to him to present to the legislature. You’re so civic-minded, Roland. And I’m sure you adhere to exactly those same regulations outside of Leil la Mar, right?” Kai looked around the room, patrons and slaves going about their business, straining to pretend not to notice the altercation at its center. He scooted around the side of the desk and leaned in, catching sight of Percival tucked away in a corner, signing a grip of documents. “Is Porky purchasing personal servants or factory labor right now?”

Roland blanched. “Personal servants, of course, he’s not here representing-”

“The firm? He’s not representing Einsean Munitions right now? He must have quite the fucking estate to be purchasing fifteen men. He must be very diligent about the condition of his home. He’s not fat enough to need that many cooks, Roland.” He seized Roland by the collar, leaning in closer, hissing in his ear. “I can run this through personally, Roland. It’s even better when it’s regulations youwere involved in. ‘Chattel Misappropriation’ is the term, I believe. You named it. And it so happens that I am entitled to investigate such matters at the service of the Imperial Court.”

“You won’t find anything! Everything is perfectly within-”

“I don’t need to find anything, Roland. I can shut every bit of this down as I conduct a thorough and diligent investigation on behalf of His Majesty. Things are a little different when you have a direct line to the fucking throne. No need to work through drunk counts and ailing dukes to be taken seriously. And your operation will be done until I’m finished.”

Roland screwed his eyes shut with a shuddering breath, opening them again to find Sasha clutching her hands to her chest. He waited a moment in consideration, then shook his head and acquiesced. “What do you need?”

Kai looked over his shoulder at Sasha. “What were the payment terms?”

“Five hundred flat or forty percent of-”

Aya flared, standing up from the table again. “Five hundred-”

“No. Stop.” Kai placed a hand gently on her shoulder. “We’re settling it.” He turned back to Roland. “Forty percent of thirteen seven, less five hundred.” He snatched a pen out of the jar on Roland’s desk and slapped it down in front of him. “Do the math.” He turned back to Sasha. “Where are her things?”

“We have them. Here.” Sasha sputtered anxiously, gesturing toward the back, where Aya’s single trunk of worldly possessions rested. “Do you want to change?” Kai asked. “You’re not dressed for the weather and the ride home won’t be short.”

Aya looked at him skeptically. “Ah, yes. ‘Home.’”

Kai rolled his eyes. “Come on. Work with me.”

She opened her mouth to respond, paused momentarily, and then relaxed.. “That would be good. Thank you. You have this…” she waved her hand around generally, like the whole world was indicated, “All under control?”

“You’re fine. Go change.”

As Aya walked away- the woman certainly can walk, Kai thought- Roland cleared his throat. “Five thousand. I’m rounding up for you. I’m always happy to demonstrate my generosity to those in service of His Majesty’s-” Kai’s hand fell open in front of his face. Roland placed the bills within it and Kai withdrew, stuffing them in his cloak. He then snatched Roland’s forged bill from the desk and stuffed it alongside them. “Thank you, Roland. Your generosity is greatly appreciated.” Roland glowered.

“Don’t give me that look,” Kai said. “You think you’re not far enough ahead on her? And besides, we both know you’re going to use this to renegotiate Helena’s next contract. Samuel did that to spurn her as much as me.”

“Phenomenal leverage… a year from now.” Roland grumbled. Aya returned, wearing a simple long-sleeved grey wool dress. Less alluring, certainly, but far warmer. With the volume of their conversation lowered, noise had returned to the tent. Percival’s legion of new under-the-table employees were getting fitted with collars- matching, naturally. A strange, very large tattooed man was talking animatedly with a tiny woman in a grey robe. The open flap of the tent was a chokepoint where an endless cavalcade of buyers and sold turned sideways to squeeze past one another.

“And what a great year it will be. Where’s my paperwork?”

Sasha appeared on his other side, placing it on the desk. “It’s standard boilerplate,” she explained. “One year contract, enumeration of ownership responsibilities, terms of sale, payment due-” Kai signed in the middle of her spiel, Sasha indicating a few other spots for initials, then slid the paper over to Aya for her to sign. She looked at the man next to her curiously for a moment, then affixed her signature next to his with a flourish.“And now what?” She asked. “Do I just… trot off with my new master?”

Kai rolled his eyes. “God, don’t call me that. Please.”

“Not just yet,” Sasha said. “It’s collar time!” She said with an entirely inappropriate sort of automatic enthusiasm that seemed to die as the words left her mouth. “I’ll… I’ll go get them.” She came back with a display case filled with various styles and patterns: rough-hewn iron, soft leather, ribbons and chokers for those seeking something less conspicuous, even some necklaces. A veritable boutique of restraint and identification.

Kai eyed them distastefully for a long moment. “Is this absolutely necessary?”

Roland barked out a laugh. “Seigneur Kai, I thought you were an expert in the regulations of my industry!” He looked darkly back at him. “Absolutely necessary. We legally must maintain knowledge of Aya’s location. She is technically under our stewardship as much as yours until the contract has elapsed- indemnity clauses, mostly.” He gestured to the box. “A certain number of collars enter, a certain number of collars leave, corresponding exactly to the number of individuals sold. Would you prefer to go back to before that particular regulation was put in place?”

Kai looked at the collars again. “No. I don’t.”

“Then, in that case, make your selection.”

Kai looked to Aya. “I think it should be her choice,” he said. “She’ll be the one wearing it.”

Aya looked quizzically at him, as though trying to puzzle out a confusing joke. She looked back at the box, finding a gossamer-thin silver chain with an emerald pendant. She held it up to the light, watching the stone twist back and forth in the lamplight.

“Not that one.”

Aya turned back to Kai questioningly. “I thought it was my choice.”

“Roland, once the collars are latched, they don’t come unlatched, correct? No matter how much force is applied?”

Roland shrugged. “Without the solvent? More force than any man could apply to it. Maybe a couple horses.”

“So when something slips under that thin, pretty chain and becomes tangled, what happens?”

She looked at the necklace again, thought for a moment, and placed it softly back in the box. “Have you seen that?”

He looked at her for a moment. “Roland?” His response was silence. “Get something skin tight,” Kai said. “Maybe a little uncomfortable at first. But much better. Safer.”

Her hands drifted over the selection again. No jewelry, and certainly not iron or leather if she had a choice. She found another piece- a simple emerald ribbon of silk, wrapping and closing with a decorative metal clasp. She raised it up for him to see. “This one?”

He nodded. “Yes. If you like it.”

Aya snorted. “Not the word I would use for it.”

Sasha began another routine. “As discussed, they are largely unbreakable and come with the standard suite of charms, including tracking and contraception-”

Aya turned to her, balking. “Contraception? {I do not have my own womb?}”

Sasha didn’t respond. Kai spoke softly. “That was not always a requirement.”

Roland nodded. “There were too many-” he halted, frowning. “It was for the best. For the girls.” For perhaps the first time since she had met him, he appeared sincere, with something faltering and painful in his gaze. She thought about it for a moment- not having the charm- and stopped herself quickly, shaking her head. “Okay.”

She turned to Kai, giving an exaggerated curtsy. “Seigneur. Shall we? You let me pick it. You do the honors.” She held the ribbon out to him. Kai admired that her tremble was only slight. “Now let us be joined,” she said with a wry smile.

As Kai stepped around her, she found herself unsure of what to do with her hands, clasping them behind her, then in front of her, then apart, at her sides. “Could you lift your hair for me?” Silently, she occupied her hands with the task.

“Thank you.”

The taut ribbon passed in front of her eyes, a momentary shimmering blindfold, and then pressed gently to her throat. His fingertips brushed her neck delicately- calloused but shy- as he brought it around her. He paused. “So I just latch it? And that’s that?” Aya blinked. That’s that.

“Yes, you just push it together and the charms activate. You’ll have to put a little force into it to crack the phial,” Sasha said.

He breathed and hesitated. Aya turned slightly, looking over her shoulder at him, her trepidation lightened slightly by the anxious look in his eyes. She spoke softly. “Go ahead.” She turned back forward. “I’m yours.”

He brought the metal ends of the ribbon together, seating the latch, and pushing until a faint, brief tinkling was heard along with a secure click. Aya felt a chill come over her as a droplet of something ice-cold and thin slid down the back of her neck, and she looked questioningly at Sasha.

“It’s okay. Just a little runoff. It won’t hurt you.”

She expected something more- some kind of ceremony, a sensation. But apart from what might have been a slight stiffening in the ribbon- quite possibly imagined- there was nothing. She scoffed lightly to herself and looked around at other slaves and buyers. No light show or heavenly or hellish choirs for them, either. Kai’s hands fell momentarily to her shoulders, then dropped.

“Well, then,” she said. “That’s that.”

~

Aya had never ridden in a carriage before, and the experience was proving much less luxurious than anticipated. The discomfort had alleviated somewhat as they traded city cobblestones for rural dirt, but every uneven patch in the grading presented itself clearly. This was after their detour, which started with Kai breaking away from his gloom with a cry of “Shit!” Then it was on to the court of Marika, housed in a blocky granite structure, alien among the long eaves of the old buildings. Neither Aya nor Kai could say what remains it had been built upon; no memorial had been erected. When they arrived at the court, Kai muttered something about taxes as he exited. Aya was momentarily worried; while she was not entirely sure how wealthy he was, it seemed he had already paid enough. Humans had taxes for everything.

When he returned and they continued, an uneasy silence descended within the cabin, both parties studiously avoiding the other with their respective gazes. Kai found the floor an object of fascination; Aya peered through the small window in the side of the carriage at the slowly trundling landscape, rolling fields verdant in summertime now dismal under the dense grey sky, piles of snow congealed into stiffer, icier material slowly thawing in irregular clumps across the plains. A thin break in the seal of the door let the cold trickle in unpleasantly. Moonlight rendered all details as sketches in blue-grey contour.

Kai finally raised his head. “Here. For you.” He withdrew the bills from his cloak pocket, handing them to Aya, who attempted to stuff them in a nonexistent pocket before, rolling her eyes, stacking them neatly on the seat. “Thank you,” she said. “You could… have some back, if that would help? Would that help?”

“No,” he said, thumb and forefinger moving to his closed eyes. “That was… my own decision. This is yours. You did all… thisfor a reason, didn’t you?” He glanced out the window. Still far. “How many sisters?”

“Two.” She looked again at the stack of bills, riffling through them with her thumb. “This is more than enough. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. It’s your money. We’ll send it tomorrow. I’ll need to sort out my payment to Roland anyway.”

Aya felt almost bashful about her winning bid, then chastised herself a little for the notion. “So, the price- how bad was that for you?”

He looked at her. “Bad.”

She stifled a giggle and smiled despite herself, long canines pressing into the edge of her lip. “I’m sorry I was so expensive. If it helps, I’m very flattered.”

He cracked a faint smile of his own. “It doesn’t. But thank you anyway.”

She frowned in consideration. “If Roland didn’t give you the money… what then? What would you have done? How does that work?”

“It doesn’t. I don’t have that authority. At least not without waiting probably three months for a response from the upper courts. But Roland knows civilian royalty better than the Imperial knights. The threat of power is just as good as the real thing most of the time.”

She gave an unladylike snort. “And if he had called your bluff? You would have no…” She paused, trying to remember the Imperial word. “Credibility? Is that it?”

He nodded. “That’s it. It wouldn’t matter. I have very little credibility to begin with.” He smiled- surprisingly warm, despite the subject. “I regret to inform you, Aya, that you’ve been purchased by the absolute lowest level of noble imaginable. No sword-swinging, no grand ballrooms- just paperwork and bullshit politics.”

She cackled and it was obnoxious and charming. “You’ll have to teach me. I don’t know anything about these things. Politics.” She furrowed her brow. “I’m not sure I really know what it means. It’s not a word we have.”

“Politics is when a group of men try to make things slightly better and make them terrible instead.”

“That seems like a bad system.”

“It is.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“What we had before was worse.”

She looked back out the window. The hills had grown more animated and craggier- some large stones, some patches of shale here and there, curious and lonely. Arcs of hills terminated at random in short but sheer drops to another crest rising beneath them like waves overlapping on the beach. She had not been that far east- never to the coast, in fact- but her mother, better travelled than herself, had often told her stories of it. She had always had difficulty picturing the endless, blank horizon described. She was quite certain that she could find something out there. Perhaps others simply hadn’t looked hard enough.

“So why this?”

Aya turned back to him, broken from her reverie. “Hmm?”

“Why sell yourself? Of anything that could have been done for your sisters.”

She looked darkly at him. “I left home for Marika to find work and there was no work to find. It was this or whoring, and I figured that one cock was better than a thousand.”

He looked up thoughtfully before shrugging. “I suppose the math makes sense.”

She leaned in, eyes narrowed. “Isn’t that why you bought me? Don’t play stupid. Tell me you weren’t planning to taste your new purchase tonight.”

“I’m not planning much of anything. That much should be obvious.”

“Ah, of course. You’re too good for that. The noble Seigneur,” she huffed. “No commands, no titles, no grabbing me in private. Such a saint.” She sneered, leaning back into her seat, arms folded under her breasts. “You think it would be so difficult for me? That I’ve never had moguz korozbefore?”

His cheek rested against his palm. “{No. I’m sure you’ve had many.}”

Aya looked at him curiously. It was not so much his understanding that surprised her as his accent and dialect. Guttural and strange, long, harsh vowels snapping shut with sharp plosives and fricatives. The wording, too- not incorrect, per se, but strangely antiquated, the sort of grammar she would hear sometimes speaking to her great-grandmother. Northern. Much farther north than she had ever gone. And something else- something actually incorrect, not merely unusual. She was puzzled for a moment, unable to put her finger on it, before she arrived at it with a loud laugh.

“{You talk like a girl!}”

He barked his own laugh in response. “I never really learned the difference! It all sounded the same to me up there. Down here, yes, I can hear the tones. But by the time I came back south I had learned too much to change it.”

She smiled teasingly. “You were taught by women.”

He returned it. “A few.”

“Hard women up there. Not a very pretty sounding Elvish.”

“Very hard women. And it’s not so bad when it’s whispered in your ear.”

One of her own long ears twitched. “You were on campaign there?”

“Eight years.”

She paused at that. “A long time. Is that how you got the title?”

“Which?”

“The wolf of Sumyr. Was that up north?”

His fingers drummed slowly on the seat next to him. “It was.”

“A battle?”

He took a moment to respond. “We’ll call it that.”

She looked out the window again. The moon had fully draped itself in clouds now, leaving the landscape as a faint series of shadows through the glass.

“On the plus side, it’s the reason for my luxurious estate.”

She turned back to him with a smile. “Just how luxurious?”

“Oh, I’m sure it will exceed your wildest expectations.”

~

Kai had not named Direwind Keep. He stressed that repeatedly. He emphasized it especially when Aya forced him to admit that, yes, technically, he could be referred to as the Lord of Direwind Keep, which brought an embarrassed blush to his face. He reddened further when pressed to reveal that he frequently had to sign documents with that title appended to his signature. “Why does my house matter? Why does a house need a name? Does it have a name when a farmer lives there? And does the name have to be so fucking ridiculous?” He ranted as he pulled her trunk from the carriage, manhandling its bulk, slightly wider than was comfortable to carry. “This is without even getting into how this stretches the definition of ‘keep.’”

She shrugged, a little amused as he wrestled with her belongings. “Looks like a keep to me. Having never seen a keep before.”

Direwind Keep, as it was called- whether Kai liked it or not- was a squat, boxy two-story lump on a low hill- large, but undeniably ugly, like it carried its own bulk with a deep resentment. The faint light of a fire emitting from the windows was the only glimmer of invitation; beyond that, the mossy walls stood impassive in the moonlight. The landscape around it- what little she could see in the dim light, anyway- was similarly unkind. Strange, angular stones, as tall or taller than Aya dotted the surrounding fields, further geometry introduced to the sharp, unusual drops along the surface of the hills. She touched the surface of the weathered stone near the door.

“How old is this place?”

“The bones? About two hundred years. An old fortification from the Night Wars. Not much more than a watchtower, really. A watch-something. Certainly not a tower.” He set the trunk down with a grunt next to her. “The interior- who knows how many times it’s been gutted. I’m certainly not the first resident here. I will say it’s much more comfortable inside than out.”

“A watchtower? Watching what?”

“Not much, I imagine. Humans trying to fight a human war, not an elven one. This was too far east to see any real battle anyway. All the important fighting was in Besch Foret. I’m guessing that’s where you’re from?”

She nodded. “Not too far from the border.” She looked up at his home, smiling at the absurd crenellations on such a dowdy little fortress. “I don’t know much about it. Just stories. Great-grandmother would say that turning south was a mistake.” She smiled roguishly at him. “She would also say that you only won through moguztricks and lies.”

“She was probably right.” Kai pushed the door open, dragging the trunk inside and dropping it unceremoniously before shrugging off his cloak, the high-collared shirt underneath sticking to his skin from the exertion of handling her luggage. Aya followed behind. 

Aya wasn’t aware of just how cold she was on the brief walk to his door until she collided with the warm air inside, a retroactive shiver stirring her bones. The low light of the fireplace’s embers and a few oil lamps Kai quickly lit provided just enough illumination to take it in. A lot of room- too much for one man. Around the fire, low, dark furniture crowded around like hunters trading stories after nightfall. Expensive, but quiet. A large writing desk was nearby, crowded with scrolls and books, with more arranged on a number of bookcases scattered around the room. Further in, to the right, a staircase, recessed in its own corner, and straight back, the kitchen etched in grey in the dark. Kai collapsed on the couch.

“I’ll drag your trunk upstairs in a minute.” He dragged his palms up his cheeks and through his hair, shaking his head like a wet dog for a moment, grabbing a bottle of brandy off a side table, uncorking it, pointing it at Aya in invitation. She nodded and he poured two glasses and sat down with them, handing one off to her as she joined him. He leaned back into the upholstery with a groan, raising it to take a sip before diverting his glass toward her. She clinked her own against it. In silence, they drank.

“This is…” She allowed herself to relax into the cushions, bones warmed by fire and drink. “This is good. Your home is very nice. You’ve done well.”

“Thank you. Though I don’t know how much I have to do with it. It was given to me, not chosen. I’ve tried to make it mine, though.”

“Are we alone here?” She asked.

“For the moment. Cynthia and Sarah are in the servant’s quarters, next to the staircase. Roger has his own little shack out back by the workshop. If you’re asking if they’ll disturb us, no.”

“Oh.” She spoke softly, as though the low light of the room had softened the edge of her voice as well. She sipped her brandy: viscous, auburn, from somewhere northwest in Brume d’Collane, the only thing that could keep a body warm in those mountains. She turned toward him, letting her arm dangle over the back of the couch, more casual than she felt. “So. Are we…” She had felt more confident at the beginning of the sentence, swallowing firmly.

He looked back at her, nonplussed. “Are we what?”

She opened her mouth to respond but stopped, suddenly unsure, taking another long sip of her brandy instead, a line of heat scorching her throat, then belly. “Are we… what are we doing?” She spread her arms, feeling oddly helpless under his blank gaze.

He frowned. “Well, I’m going to finish my drink, drag your trunk to your bedroom, and then I’m going to pass out face down on my bed. I don’t know what your plan is, but that’s mine.”

“My bedroom?” She studied the last thin line of brandy at the bottom of her glass. “Not… yours?”

He studied her for a moment, thumb circling the rim of his own glass before draining the dregs and setting it on the table and standing up. “Come on. Let me drag this fucking thing up the stairs before I decide I’ve done enough today.”

~

It took some cajoling on Aya’s part for Kai to allow her to take one side of the trunk, the man stubbornly insisting that he could handle it, complying only when Aya said she’d prefer her few remaining belongings stay intact. It was much easier work with two. The second floor was barrackslike in its design, a single long hallway with flanking rooms, Kai’s own at the very end. They were originally all four-man rooms for the garrison, Kai explained, but over the course of the years and various occupants, they’d become heavily modified- one converted into an opulent bathroom dominated by a brass tub, another a study filled with another riot of books and scrolls, others simply storage of one kind or another. Aya’s room was one which had retained its original function- a guest bedroom with an enormous east-facing window.

“What if you have guests?” Aya asked.

“I won’t.”

The room was thin on furniture but fine where it mattered. A comfortable four-poster bed, an end table with an oil lamp, a dresser, a desk with a chair. The open curtains at the window captured the moon, enormous and pale, secured between the curves of the drapery, its light cast flat and glowing across the floor, an expanse of bright grey in which they dropped her trunk. “This is… very kind of you,” she said, feeling somehow patronizing despite her sincerity. “I like it very much.” The sensation intensified and she stopped.

“Bathroom is straight across the hall. I’m at the end if you need me.” Despite the conclusive tone, he made no move to exit. He looked at her for a long moment, and then stepped to the window, just in front of the bench seat underneath it. The wind was quiet tonight, thankfully, leaving the still-present snowdrifts outside motionless. Isolated and gnarled trees dotted the fields much like the strange, sharp stones. The view was altogether more comfortable in true winter, where the seemingly endless, slow snowfall provided life through motion. Without it, the stillness was nearly suffocating. Aya joined him silently at the window.

“Quiet here,” she said. “A lot quieter than the auction housing.” He didn’t respond, still staring intently out the window, eyes flickering, searching for something, though he gave no indication as to what. “Thank you. For…” And she wasn’t sure how to conclude a sentence with so many potential endings. But he still didn’t speak.  Idly, she touched the ribbon at her neck.

“You don’t know what to do with me, do you?”

“No.”

She paused and looked at him and he did not look at her, his eyes still trained on rocks and roots and the vast empty nothing beyond the walls, nearly frightening in its indistinct quality, as though where they stood was nowhere at all. “That’s okay,” she said, and she took his hand in hers and intertwined their fingers and he did not pull away.