Nights of Villjamur - Mark Charan Newton [39]
“We will make a public announcement shortly,” Urtica concluded. “Thank you both for your time.”
A rather abrupt dismissal, but at least they were out of there. As he followed Eir from the Atrium, Brynd had to stifle a laugh. No sooner had he returned to Villjamur than he had to leave it again.
Brynd was invited to take dinner with Eir, the temporary Stewardess of Villjamur. He had often eaten with the late Emperor, when their conversation would inevitably turn to his most recent mission, or battle tactic, but he had always felt uncomfortable when she was present, because he felt he should not be talking war at the dining table. Tonight, while she picked at the lobster, she was sitting bolt upright, still wearing that black gown which, in this light, made her pale skin glow as white as his own.
“How’re you feeling?” he asked eventually.
A distance in her eyes, a disconnection. “I’m fine,” she snapped. She looked down at her plate again.
The hides of various animals covered the walls and floors. As a fire spat loudly nearby, the poor lighting made the place look as if there were reanimated carcasses all around him.
“Are you looking forward to your sister’s return?”
“Yes, very much so.” Eir looked up, her eyes suddenly brighter. “It’s been so long since she … since she left us.”
“Do you think that she’ll ever forgive him?”
“I hope so. It’s possible. She’s become a rather different woman since she embraced Mániism.”
Brynd considered the point. “Perhaps the Empire will benefit from someone with such strong beliefs.
“Do you forgive him, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I hated him.” Eir pushed her plate away, slumping back in her chair. “You don’t have to stay here just on my behalf, commander.”
Brynd replied, “I know that. But you’re better company than most in this damn place.”
She said, “I hardly think I’m good company for anyone at the moment.” She was clearly struggling to control her emotions.
Brynd did nothing to fill the silence.
Eventually she spoke again. “Well, now that he’s gone … This sounds awful of me to say …”
“No, go on, say it.”
“It’s like a burden has been lifted from my shoulders.”
Brynd said, “Yes, I think I understand. Talk.”
“I had to keep an eye on him all the time. That means I’ve not had much of a life here.”
“Eir, you’ve had as good a childhood as you could expect in your position. Your mother would be proud if she could see you.”
She continued, “But now he’s gone, I don’t have to do that anymore. I don’t have to watch out when he starts drinking too much, or apologize to servants when he soils his bedsheets. I don’t have to stand the other side of a locked door when he’s ranting because of his paranoia. Yet every time I don’t have to do something, these free moments, it reminds me he’s dead.”
“Which means you’ve got a life of your own back now.”
“Really?” She smiled bitterly. “This isn’t much of a way to go about things. Because of my blood I get treated a little better than most women in Villjamur, certainly. But there’s a list of men waiting to marry me within the year, and I’ve never even met half of them. Think of how valuable their prize is now. I understand Imperial policies, commander. I understand my life will be little more to this government than supporting income flows.”
“Sometimes, in this world, we don’t have the option to find love,” Brynd muttered, and realized he was addressing both of them. “Matters of the heart are not always for us to decide. Situations don’t always allow it.”
“Love.” She almost sneered at the word.
Brynd motioned for the servant to take away their plates. As the boy left the room, he continued, “It’s okay to be upset, Eir. It’s natural to mourn.”
“I’m not upset.” Her tone had changed from before, and he could tell she was closing herself up, protecting her mind with walls.
Conversation had slowed, an awkward silence taking its place. Eir stared at nothing, occasionally closing her eyes completely as if to shut out the world.
After a moment he stood up.
“Are you going?” she asked, but she still wasn’t looking at