The space around her was suddenly too tight, like the choker around her neck.
The game continued on, as did the whispers. Nin could no longer follow the pieces moving on the board. Her stomach twisted into knots as her disastrous performance last evening bore down on her.
Ofcourse,they remembered.
“If you’ll excuse me,” she announced, but did not wait for anyone to respond. Nin schooled her features despite the prick of humiliation stinging her eyes. The rustle of her skirts was her only defiance against the murmurs behind her.
But someone else followed.
Cedric easily kept up with her stride, the steady rhythm of his footsteps a grounding anchor to her erraticheartbeat. In his silence, hot needles stabbed under her skin, pinching at her throat.
How often would she be humiliated like this?
Nin had no destination in mind. Every nerve in her body flared to life, wishing to escape and distance herself as far as she could from any living soul.
Yet Cedric continued to walk beside her, following the paths she chose at random. Beyond the hedges and gardens, and beyond any place she had tread before, the trees clustered closer together, offering shelter from the ever-present judgment of the court.
The path came to a dead end, with a single iron bench under the cover of the treetops. There, she resigned herself to sitting, not wishing to look at her guard, let alone know what he was thinking.
A pair of yellow birds with red faces twirled in the air and darted into the bushes. The air around her was alive with cheerful chirps and twittering, each song belonging to a different bird hopping among the branches. Lavender sprang through the grass, their calming fragrance filling her senses, the breeze on her face a welcome respite against the lingering humiliation searing her skin.
Peace sank into her deep breaths. If only she could stay here forever.
“Your mother taught you well,” Cedric said, breaking the silence.
Nin shook her head. “She tried. My mother was much better than me, though,” she said ruefully. The memories stirred around her heart, reminding her of quieter times.
Cedric lowered himself onto the bench next to her, his silence a permission to continue if she wished.
Nin regarded the branches above them, squinting when the harsh sunlight dappled her face. “Some evenings, after working all day as a laundress, she still taught me everything she knew—from reading, writing, cooking, and playing chess. Her hands were cracked, sometimes bleeding from the lye, but she still made time for me.”
A faint smile touched her lips. “She said the game was simpler than life—than people, really.”
Cedric braced his elbows on his knees, glancing at her. “What happened to her?”
The question hung in the air as she swallowed. Her sight remained on the trees, on all the knots in the bark, and the ants marching up the trunk. “She died when I was fourteen,” she said. “Frostlung. My dad followed soon after.”
The words were said matter-of-factly, but the memory pricked a wound she had buried eight years ago. Some old injuries, it seemed, were bound to ache when touched.
Cedric stiffened beside her. “I’m sorry,” he said.
To anyone else, it wasn’t much, but his words were more than anyone else had offered when they knew the truth. She steadied her exhale, attempting to steel herself from the emotions she had locked away for many years.
“It’s all right. I haven’t thought about it in forever—couldn’t really when I had my nine-year-old brother to feed. And let me tell you, little brothers are always hungry.”
She chuckled softly at her own joke. Cedric’s mouth twitched—an almost smilein her books.
“None of our neighbors helped us. And the only family we had was miles away. So, I worked whatever job I could get my hands on: laundry, kitchen work, chamber pots—” she shuddered at the unpleasant memory. “Anything I could find.”
Nin lifted her shoulders in a shrug.
“But they never lasted long. People don’t trust desperate orphans, it seems,” she continued. A pause stretched against the birdsong and shivering leaves above them. “So, I figured instead of making coin, I’d steal it. It paid better anyway.”
Her grin grew wistful. Finally looking at Cedric, she rubbed her neck sheepishly, her fingers disturbing the frilly choker around her neck.
“I suppose you know the rest.”
Cedric looked down at the ground, his brow creased in thought. A part of her wondered why she had revealed so much to him—why she would expose herself to him. But a part of her whispered that his presence steadied something inside her.
