Mickey Reichert - The legend of Nightfall

"Within a year or two of your age, Lady." Nightfall deliberately did not mention those years would fall on the younger side.

The duchess-heir became less tense and more pensive. "Is he handsome?"

"In all the world, from the northernmost tip of the Yortenese Peninsula to the southernmost beach of the Xaxonese, from the Klaimer Ocean to the Plaxomer, if you found a man more becoming, he could, at best, be my Master’s twin."

Willafrida chuckled. "Loyal, aren’t you?"

"I only speak truth."

"Is he kind?”

"Lady, I was not born or debted into servitude," Nightfall stuck with the prevailing lie, though he hardly needed to embellish Edwards gentleness. ‘°l chose to serve my master because of his goodness and compassion, no other reason."

“Very loyal indeed? Though she obviously doubted his sincerity, Willafrida continued her questioning. "Is he witty?"

Nightfall suppressed a smile and answered with truth. “He makes me laugh."

“I’d like to judge for myself," Willafrida said. "Where is he?"

"Below." Nightfall cringed, still avoiding eye contact. "He’s a bit shy, and he doesn’t know I’m here. I’ll walk him by the window for you to see. If you don’t find him attractive, say nothing. I’ll lead him away. If you do, speak with him or not as you choose. In a few days, though, we’re leaving for the contests in Shisen." With that warning to encourage Willafrida to work swiftly, Nightfall scampered back out the window before she could think to stop him.

Once on the ground, Nightfall rushed back to the ball of lantern glow that indicated Prince Edward’s position. "I’m sorry l took so long, Master. I got to staring at the flower beds outside the duke’s citadel. Would you like to see them?" He reached for the lantern.

Prince Edward returned it, seeming taken aback by his squire’s sudden interest in decoration. "It’s getting late. Shouldn’t we head back to Kelryn? I’m supposed to protect her, after all."

Nightfall turned toward the citadel as he replied. "She’s safe in a crowded tavern. The Iceman’s not going to try to fight through dozens of men to get to her. We won’t take long." Nightfall tacked on the last as if in afterthought. Though it was the obvious thing to say, Nightfall found it more important to assure Edward of Kelryn’s safety than to worry about the passage of time. He did not want the traitorous dancer on Edward’s mind while he met the woman he was going, Nightfall hoped, to marry.

Pretending to admire the flowers, Nightfall steered Edward gradually and casually beneath Willafrida’s window, raising the lantern to give her a solid glimpse of features he felt certain would not disappoint her. In truth, it seemed nearly unbelievable to Nightfall that some woman had not already snatched Edwards hand and heart. Yet, he knew that royalty had stricter rules about such things. They became eligible at an older age, and the station of both parties played a large role in the matter. Edward, it seemed, had only just left his coddled nursery, whether it consisted of toys and nannies or books, practices, and stewards. Were it not such a cruel joke on Edward, Nightfall might have steered the prince toward a romance with Kelryn, if only to pay back Rikard for the oath-bond. A whore for a daughter-in-law might serve him right.

Nightfall’s current abstraction made him distinctly uncomfortable for reasons that had nothing to do with the oath-bond’s low-level hum, so he turned his thoughts elsewhere. They had tarried long enough. The next move belonged to Willafrida.

"Very nice," Edward said, the lack of expression suggesting politeness rather than interest. "I’m certain they’re beautiful when the blooms open. In the day. We’ll come back when it’s light with Kelryn."

"Good idea, Master.” Nightfall turned to head back in the direction from which they had come.

Before Edward could follow, a sultry voice wafted from above. "Hello, Ned."

The prince stiffened, obviously startled. His head whipped upward, and he squinted through the darkness. Willafrida’s face poked through the window, and Nightfall could make out the regular hatchwork of the rope ladder he had left grappled to her window.

"Hello, Ned." Willafrida repeated.

"Hello, fair Lady," Edward returned in his usual friendly manner.

Before honesty drove Edward to say anything about not knowing her, Nightfall whispered the information the prince needed. “Willafrida. The duke’s heir."

Edward nodded slightly to indicate he had received the message. "What can I do for you tonight, Lady?"

"Are you, in fact, a prince of Alyndar?"

“I am," Edward admitted.

"Come up and talk with me, Prince Ned."

Edward glanced at Nightfall, who bobbed his head encouragingly. "Go," Nightfall whispered. "I’m fine, and I’ll take care of Kelryn." The oath-bond flared slightly, though he reassured it and himself that he had no intention of straying far from Edward, his only obligation to Kelryn revenge.

"I’ll be there shortly," Edward called back to the duchess-heir. He headed away.

Surprised by the sudden change in direction, Nightfall caught up to Edward. “Where are you going, Master?"

Edward stopped, features crinkled, obviously confused by the question. "To call on her, of course, Sudian. What did you think?"

Nightfall kept his voice low. "Master, I think she wants to have a secret meeting. I think she wants you to go in through there." He made a subtle gesture with his head to indicate the window. He held the lantern so as to reveal the hemp resting among the ivy.

Prince Edward followed the direction of the gesture, finally noticing the ladder. "Oh," he said, then, more carefully, "Oh. All right, then." He hesitated. This obviously did not fit his image of propriety, though neither did refusing the request of a young, female noble. With a shrug, he strode to the base of the wall, caught the rope, and clambered to the window. Willafrida met him at the top and helped him inside.

Grinning like a slave served his master’s dinner, Nightfall put out the lantern, settled his back against the wall, and waited in the shadows.

Prince Edward flushed, feeling like a sneak thief breaking into Alyndar’s castle. The duchess-heir’s room seemed strange and feminine; veils, canopies, and the heavy scent of oils, spice, and flowers only adding to its exotic air. The furniture and smells reminded him of his mother’s private room, where she had gone to spend quiet time alone, away from his father as well as the hustle and responsibility of queendom. Flowers always perfumed the spring or summer breezes wafting through the window, and he had come to associate ginger and deprim with her. She had always welcomed him, even into her special chambers; and there she had taught him the gentleness and breeding behind the many rules his nannies made him memorize. She would have encouraged him to treat Willafrida with politeness and dignity.

Willafrida smiled at Edward, her silky gown hugging the ample curves. His mother had carried extra weight, too, though it had settled at the belly and breasts rather than the lower regions. He had never considered her anything but beautiful, and her happy carriage did not imply she believed herself otherwise. Nevertheless, she used mirrors without gawking and never lorded her looks over anyone. Now, Edward could see the inner quarters of Willafrida’s breasts and make out the nipples impressing the fabric. His eighteen-year-old body responded without input from his mind, and the lust without love embarrassed him. He imagined she could see his excitement through the fabric of breeks and tunic, and he self-consciously pulled his cloak closed.

"You’re as handsome as your servant promised," Willafrida said, admiring his face and body as he studied her.