Greeves watched, and his eyes widened as he saw her. He knew she was angry – she'd been shouting as much as him. He knew just how much responsibility she put on herself, just how much she wanted to protect the girls that she'd worked with. She'd taken on the mother figure amongst them all by her lonesome – no one had asked her to.
It frightened Greeves at times, to see her like that. There were moments when the light in her eyes grew distant, and rationality eclipsed. Moments even when he was sure that she might strike him. He liked that about her, as much as he feared that about her. He could sense something as twisted in her as was in him, though the Gods knew she hid it better, and behind a far prettier face.
His eyes widened as he realized what she was about to do. She'd given up on words. The moment Greeves had started shouting, she was already moving. The emotion had vanished from her face. She was like those girls that the Elder had kept around – all beauty, but with no warmth.
The soldier must have seen Greeves' eyes widen, for he cut himself off mid-sentence, just as he was about to fire a retort.
"THAT'S RIGHT, DAMN IT—" But then there was steel at his throat.
"Loriel, don't..." Greeves said quietly, desperately. He'd been about to do the very same thing himself, but now seeing Loriel with knife in hand, a thoroughly different person to the one he knew, it was fear that took over, rather than anger, as they entered straight into the unknown.
The man gulped. She glanced at Greeves, unmoved, and then dragged the cold steel edge of her dagger across the soldier's throat. She took a life with the same delicateness that she comforted the girls with. They were motherly motions.
He spluttered, as blood ran out of his throat, all over Loriel's pale hands. She let the body fall in front of her. He fell with a clatter, his chainmail making a sharp noise, and his helmet falling from his head.
It was only then that Greeves seemed to realize. "It was you, then..."
"Don't compare yourself to the boy," Greeves told her, his tone exasperated. Even in the most extreme moments, he hardly had the patience for it. "Damn it, of all the people to compare yourself to, don't compare yourself to him. Even he's battered by the death of Charlotte, and he hardly knew her. That ain't right. We're just ordinary people, Loriel.
If we try and stretch our hands as far as him, we'll only end up flat on our faces."
Loriel nodded, as her lip quivered, and she looked at the corpse. The tears came unbidden to her eyes. In the moment, it had been there, there had been no hesitation, but now it was only regret, as she felt the blood cool on her hands. Regret came like a plunge into a waterfall, weighing down cold on her shoulders. This was water that dirtied her, rather than cleaning her.
She looked at the girls that she had moved to protect, and they were looking to her uncertainly.
She knew how she looked then. It was only Greeves that was looking at her levelly. He was used to death, he understood the darkness in people better than most. He understood it better too, because he was the worst of people, who had done the worst of things, and yet even in that sinking quicksand of greed and evil, he'd managed to pause for a moment, and at least consider the good.
He held a hand out to her. "C'mon. You lot as well. We have no place here."
"What about Beam?" Loriel asked weakly. She already knew she could do nought to help, but she couldn't just up and leave like that. Her body could hardly allow it.
"He's fighting to protect you, ya dolt. Don't go making that more difficult. Get yourself out of here," Greeves said. "You know where I keep the key to my vault, aye? Even if those Yarmdon bastards burn the whole place to the ground, that vault will stay safe. And with how well hidden it is, I doubt they'll even know what they're missing.
Go there, and keep the girls safe."