Corin frowned. Neil turned his back.
The portcullis was lifting as quickly as his men could raise it. He urged Anchor into a trot, and bent low to fit beneath its iron spikes. Niel could already hear the drawbridge rising again before he chanced a look back over his shoulder. Corin’s eyes met his own, his brother’s expression tense and thoughtful all at once. And then the drawbridge rose another foot as the portcullis sank fully into place, and Corin was lost to his view.
Waiting
As far as Ayla could learn from the men, the Queen’s army was constructing something that might pose a problem. Niel had returned from a parley with his brother, met her eyes for a moment across the yard as he removed his helmet, and then walked off with Kerr. He hadn’t been in his room after, nor the kitchen or the sentry-wall, and when one of the soldiers had finally asked her if he could be of some assistance, she’d blushed and pretended she was merely stretching her legs. The idea of the man telling Niel she’d been all over the castle looking for him like a lost duckling made her wish to climb into the smallest hole she could find.
She helped cook that night, working in companionable near-silence with a soldier who hummed softly to himself while chopping bowl after bowl of winter vegetables. When the smell of cooking brought groups of men into the warm kitchen, Niel followed on their heels.
The knight’s expression looked solemn as ever. His dark hair was pulled severely back, gathered low at the base of his neck. He scanned the room for a moment as Ayla made a point of looking busy at the fire. She wondered when she’d gotten so self-conscious around him, when every day of the last week had seen her more and more comfortable in his presence.
But she could not forget the way his mouth had felt on hers, and his arm around her waist, holding her close against him. She had thought, during her marriage to Ditmar, that she was no longer capable of feelings like longing or arousal. But it seemed Niel was perfectly able to make her feel all that and more. Her hand settled against the cooking pot for a moment as she bit her lip, remembering the way he’d pulled her so tightly against him. Then she jerked back with a quiet hiss and shook her hand cool.
The men began to get their food. She helped ladle bowls, passing out meals as the soldiers crushed into the kitchen. When Niel approached, she offered him a weak smile and his food, and he offered back a nod of thanks, his mouth grim. The sounds of chatter were soon replaced by chewing and scraping spoons. Ayla dished herself up, leaning against the counter beside the cooking fire and picking at her food.
“Before anyone leaves,” Niel said, as the other men abruptly quieted. She looked up to find the doorways were crowded with soldiers, who’d eaten standing instead of retreating to other rooms, all focused on Niel. “I know it’s an odd way to make an announcement, but you ought to hear it now. Kerr’s telling the men on the wall.”
Ayla gripped the spoon in her hand and watched the way he met each of the men’s eyes.
“We don’t know if they’re building a siege engine, but they could be. And if they aren’t, they’ll get the idea soon enough. And if they don’t, we only have as long as our supplies. You all knowmy father sent a messenger, but he… well, we can no longer count on help coming from Mount Eyron.”
The men couldn’t stay silent at that. The crowd shifted, whispering and looking at each other.
“They’re leaving us here?” one of the men nearest her asked.
“Did Eyron fall?” another asked, terror in his voice. “My wife and—”
“Eyron stands. But I gave the Queen’s army terms for a surrender today,” Niel said, raising a hand to quiet the men again. “They have until tomorrow morning to respond. If they say no, well, we’ll figure something out. Mayhap we can make our own tunnel out of the castle, or…” he trailed off.
“What terms?” a man called.
“That none of you would face execution or hard labor. That if you are made prisoner, it would not last past the end of the war. It may sound like a bitter deal, but it is the best I think we could get.”
“Rather go out fighting than rot in a cell,” one of the men said, across the room. She heard a chorus of ‘aye’ from some of the men, though others just looked uncomfortable.
“No, you wouldn’t,” Niel answered. “I have learned that no matter how grim or pointless life comes to seem, you never know what may happen after that. It is better to live than to die pointlessly.”
This was met with silence. Ayla’s throat was so tight it was all she could do to remind herself to breathe.
“And you?” one of the men called.
“We will see. But I…” Niel frowned more deeply for a moment, and Ayla watched him wet his lips. “It was by my leadership that we did not make it home to Eyron. For my part, I am sorry I failed you. But I would rather we reach a favorable surrender than see the walls stormed and you men slaughtered because I did not know when to admit defeat. Make your peace tonight,but do not be wasteful with the supplies. This may all end tomorrow, or we could be here months yet.”
He caught Ayla’s eye and nodded his head towards the hallway. She set her nearly-empty bowl down on the counter and hurried to make her way through the press of men in the kitchen. The temperature dropped as she left the crowd for the dark hallway, but Niel was there. He’d been waiting for her, but as soon as he saw her following he turned and walked again. Ayla trailed behind him until they were around the corner.
“Niel,” she said as he reached the stairwell.
It was dim in the hallway, the lanterns sparsely lit only so that someone without a light could make it from one area to the next. She could tell he had stopped, and was looking her way, but she couldn’t make out the expression on his face.
“You said months,” she told him. There was an ache in her chest. “Just last night. You said we could last months.”
“I know.” Niel’s voice sounded tired. “I wanted it to be true. But the odds that my brother is up to something are… I can’t put everyone here at risk simply because I don’t want this to end.”
“But I don’t want it to end either,” Ayla whispered, feeling foolish and selfish for saying such things.
It wasn’t just the uncertainty with Ditmar, and what it would mean to leave the castle, though somehow the place of her torment had instead become a place of safety and refuge. It was Niel, and her fear for him. She did not think the Queen would look at a traitor with any kindness, even if shewasNiel’s aunt.
His hand reached for her in the dark. She let her eyes fall closed as Niel’s fingers found her chin. His touch was light as he ran the pads of his fingers up the side of her face. Ayla shivered. Love was supposed to feel good, and beautiful. Not like somebody was ripping a hole in her chest.
