Mickey Reichert - The legend of Nightfall

That night, Nightfall sneaked Willafrida another flower.

Datlinst left for Tylantis the following day, without any reluctance to indicate he knew about Willafrida’s mysterious suitor. That satisfied Nightfall. If the duchess-heir chose not to discuss such events with Datlinst, it either meant her tie to him had not become serious or she had trivialized the gifts. No matter the reason, secretiveness would only enhance the romance of the anonymous flowers.

That evening, as dinner drew to a close, Nightfall dragged Prince Edward outside on a pretext. He chose that moment for two reasons. First, they had left Kelryn in a crowd, presumably safe, so Edward could concentrate on other matters. Second, Nightfall suspected Willafrida would already lie in wait to see whether Datlinst or some other suitor was leaving the presents. This time, he wanted to confront her directly. For that purpose, he carried a grapple and rope ladder hidden beneath his cloak.

Prince Edward and Nightfall stepped from the tavern into a hovering evening grayness that fled before their lantern and seemed to thicken as they watched. Though they walked side by side, Nightfall passively chose the direction, trying to make it seem as if Edward had done so. Most of the citizens had gone home to cook or eat and rest, but a few still wandered the streets, mostly young couples or prostitutes.

"What’s wrong?" Edward asked, naturally assuming Nightfall wished to talk for personal reasons. "Nothing’s wrong," Nightfall admitted. “I just wanted some time with you away from Kelryn to make sure your needs are being taken care of. I know having her around probably sometimes makes- it hard for you to talk as prince to servant, and you’ve been so quiet."

Prince Edward smiled, shaking his head with obvious admiration. "Always worrying about me, aren’t you, Sudian? I’m fine. I’m just not certain where to go from here. I think our next action might have to be a meeting with King Idinbal or King Jolund. We can find out what dire troubles or enemies they might have and use our skills to aid the kings.”

Nightfall suppressed a grin, realizing he had not wholly squashed the innocent kindness and naivete. "Master, from what I’ve heard, right now King Jolund’s biggest problem is a duchy that needs a duke."

Prince Edward looked away with a noncommittal noise.

Nightfall would not let him escape that easily. "Are relations between Alyndar and Shisen so strained that King Jolund would not invite a prince of Alyndar to his games?"

"I was invited," Edward admitted.

Nightfall raised his brows awaiting further explanation.

It came, though it seemed inadequate. "I’ve chosen not to go."

Nightfall stopped walking and stared, incredulous.

Two paces later, Edward also came to a halt, though he did not turn.

"Master, am I still barred from questioning you?"

"It’s still rude." Edward remained in place. "But that’s not stopped you before." Finally, he faced Nightfall. "You know I won’t hit you."

Though eager to get on with the conversation, Nightfall maintained the necessary politeness, clinging to his role. Edward seemed uncharacteristically irritable, and Nightfall suspected the reason was intimately tied to his insistence on missing the Tylantian contests. "I’m not worried about hitting. I’m worried about offending.”

For a moment, Prince Edward lost his regal confidence, wincing at the impact of his words. In the light of the new information Kelryn had given him about Nightfall’s past, his sarcastic comment about hitting might have seemed cruel. Though the statement had not bothered Nightfall at all, he relished the discomfort that would make Edward feel more obligated to explain. "Ask your question. I won’t let it, nor the mere act of asking, offend."

Nightfall started walking again with a slow, thoughtful stride. "You need to become landed. King Jolund wants to give away a landed title. Master, it seems perfect. Why would you choose not to go?"

Soon, Edward’s long strides brought him even with Nightfall, and the smaller man increased his speed to keep pace with his long-legged master. "I’ve chosen not to go. You may question my actions for clarification, but don’t challenge my motivations.”

Nightfall hesitated, thrown by so many difficult words at once. "I still don’t understand.”

"I don’t wish to go."

"Why not?”

“I don’t wish to go." Rising anger tainted Edward’s tone. “That is all."

"But why not?" Nightfall continued to press, not the least put off by Edward’s annoyance. Like alcohol, strong emotions, such as rage, fear, and love, tended to goad people to say things propriety would otherwise gag. At best, he might discover some truer incentive beneath Edward’s loyalty to himself and to the downtrodden. At worst, he would listen to another tedious discussion of manners.

“It’s pointless to go," Edward’s strong voice verged on a shout. "Why waste time on a contest I can’t win.” The prince’s words seemed so uncharacteristic, Nightfall halted in his tracks before he realized he had stopped, and it took Edward several strides to notice. "I can’t believe you just said that."

Edward turned, brow wrinkled, seemingly perplexed by his own comment. Nevertheless, he stood by his words. "It would waste my time to go."

"Master…" Nightfall paused, finding a response as difficult as he wanted it to appear. “Are you the same man I pledged my services to? The one who set out to end generations of slavery and poverty single-handedly?"

"I am," Edward said, the anger fading into thoughtful consideration. "And I still plan to do it."

"So, as I understand it," Nightfall put the situation fully into perspective, "you’re willing to fight or lecture every person in the world involved with bondage or injustice. But you’re not good enough to win a joust?" He began walking again, wanting to get closer to the duke’s citadel.

Again, Edward caught up swiftly. "It’s not that. It’s just, well, I know some of the people who’ll be there, men who’ve fought wars. Men who consistently bested me in practice."

"Master, you’re a great warrior."

The prince smiled, but his attitude seemed more tolerant than agreeable. "Your faith in me is touching, really it is. But I’m not experienced, and I know my limits."

Nightfall did not believe he had ever heard a more false statement in his life. Knows his limits, indeed. This from a man who frees slaves without warning and expects no complaints from their owners. This realization cued Nightfall to something deeper. Whatever kept Prince Edward from the Tylantian contest had only partially to do with the belief that he would lose. "But, Master, don’t you want to know for sure? Were I highborn, I would at least wonder where I stood among the others."

"I have no need for that knowledge.”

"But what could it hurt to try‘?" Nightfall knew he had passed the boundary of pressing too hard, but to drop the subject now might leave him no chance to raise it again without Edward immediately ending the discussion. Fresh wounds made men talkative; old anger spurred avoidance.

He tensed for the tongue-lashing sure to follow his insistence.

But Edward did not yell. He spent several seconds in deep contemplation before replying. "It’s my brother, you know. He’s so much more skilled, it makes no sense for me to go. He’s always beaten me." His voice went so soft, Nightfall had to strain to hear. "He’s always made me look like a fool."

Nightfall spoke nearly as softly. "All the more reason you should go. So you can show your brother what you can do. So you can show him you’ve become a man, not the toddler he remembers."

"And if I wind up looking more foolish?"

"You won’t."