Chapter 171 - The Dark Of Dawn

AYLETH

After they discovered Etan's empty suite, Falek had forced Ayleth back to her chambers, under guard, until he could locate exactly where the Summitran royals were.

He returned almost an hour later—an hour Ayleth spent pacing her bedchamber, swearing and on the edge of tears—to inform her that the Summitran royal party had exited the castle grounds just minutes earlier… but Etan was not with them.

"I… I can only assume he rode ahead with the scouts or…" Falek trailed off, his eyes glinting like blades in the low light of the single lamp Ayleth had left lit in her room.

She'd mostly-expected the news that they were already gone. But to hear that Etan had hurried ahead—that he fled her? Willingly? 

"Was… was he alone?"

Falek stared at her, his face an unreadable mask.

Ayleth braced herself and spoke coldly. "Did the Lady Sarya Playn travel with them?"

Her Knight Defender took a deep breath, his eyes sympathetic and reluctant, but he spoke the word quietly. "Yes."

Ayleth whirled away from him, intending to storm away, but she came up short. Suddenly she couldn't breathe. She couldn't move, else she might shatter into a thousand pieces. 

"Ayleth," Falek began, but the tenderness in his voice, the empathy, was a blade to her heart. 

She shook her head violently. "Leave me. Send in my maid. I need to change and… and to sleep," she said tightly.

There was a silent beat where Falek stared at her, she knew, but she didn't move or turn her head. She couldn't bear to look at him and have him see the pain she knew was shining in her eyes. Couldn't bear his gentleness. 

"Ayleth—"

"I am not going anywhere, Falek," she hissed. "Please call in my maid. Set guards at my door, I do not care. I wish only to be in bed and alone."

There was a heavy sigh, but then his heels clicked together as he bowed and turned from the room. 

Still Ayleth didn't move.

She didn't move until the maid appeared to help her undress and put on her nightdress. Then her steps were stilted, her movements jerky. 

It was a relief when the maid peeled back the covers on her bed and waited for her to crawl into it. A relief when the woman curtseyed and left the room, blowing out the lamp on her way to the door. A relief when the door closed and the blackness of the earliest morning hours washed over her.

She ached to cry, her entire body clenching with the sobs that wanted to wrack her frame. But Ayleth bit them back.

She lay on her back in her thick, comfortable bed, large enough for four people, her hair spread across the pillow and her eyes fixed on the stonework of the ceiling. 

Shadows passed across the line of light around her door—the maid, Falek, probably a guard or two—but she ignored them, focused instead on bringing her body under control. On turning away the images in her mind of Etan cantering through the night with another woman… fleeing her. 

Ayleth's skin felt cold and hard, as if movement would snap her limbs from her body.

So she lay quietly, unmoving, eyes on the ceiling, mind in turmoil… and the ceiling of her chamber shifted slowly from black, to gray, to pink. And still she had not moved or spoken. She had barely blinked.

And she had not cried.

A small victory, but one that gave her grim satisfaction.

As the summer dawn turned orange, then warm yellow, Ayleth finally moved—carefully, testing her body to ensure it would not break. But despite aching eyes and a head that felt light with lack of sleep, she was able to get out of the bed and cross the room, open the door, and ask a shocked and tired Falek to send the maid again and ready whatever guards he wished for the trip through the castle for breakfast.

She was hungry, she lied. 

Half an hour later Ayleth stalked through the castle, her chin high, skin still brittle, but she managed a smile when they passed her mother's lady—looking slightly green around the gills after the celebrations of the night before.

Ayleth's smile fell away as soon as the woman passed. This early, none of the royals who'd celebrated the night before would be up. Except for those who were planning to travel early—a picture she did not allow herself to hold her in her mind. She expected to take the meal in relative solitude. 

She needed to. She was trembling and couldn't let anyone notice. 

As they turned into the morning dining room, large enough only to seat forty people or so, since so few would be up this early after the feast the night before, Falek peeled away to stand against the wall and watch her, his eyes piercing, darting. She was aware of him following her every move, his suspicion plain. But she gave him no reason to be concerned.

She was clothed in a beautiful day dress, her hair coiffed and even though she likely looked like death, she also looked like a woman who would do nothing harder than lounge on a chaise that day. Her clothing was delicate and unsuitable for riding or walking. 

She was the picture of a Princess of leisure. A woman with no plan other than to rest her eyes and body after an historic day.

Ignoring Falek's suspicious eyes, Ayleth sat at the table and slowly choked down a breakfast of sausage and fruit—sausage because her body needed something that would stick to her bones, and fruit because her stomach so reviled eating that she feared if she added anything more substantial, she might lose the lot.

She made small talk with a Lady from Andeluve who had marked her relationship with Trystan and hope to draw close to the powerful ruler that was clearly considering her Heir for a husband. 

Ayleth was gracious, but cool, and the woman quickly took the hint and left her to eat in solitude.

Half an hour later, Ayleth rose from the table and started for the door, Falek on her heels. But they hadn't even made it from the room before a messenger arrived, bowing to Ayleth—who'd been dragged to halt by Falek's hand on her elbow—then addressing Falek.

Ayleth didn't allow her heart to rise in hope. She couldn't afford to. Her Knight Defender would smell it on her like perfume. So instead, Ayleth stood meekly at his side, her face blank and unreadable, so any who saw her would see only an unhappy Princess, tired and ready for sleep.

That was all. Just sleep. 

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