It wasn’t long before the door knob jiggled softly and then a gentle knock followed.

“It’s me, Alira,” whispered Therin, unnecessarily. She opened the door and he slipped inside, shut the door behind himself and nodded to her, his eyes bright.

“I’ve convinced Devan to let me go with you.” His smile was tight and didn’t reach his eyes.

“You did?” she asked, surprised.

“Yes, he’s going to write me a letter, excusing me from my post while I’m on a mission. We can leave from here as early as later this evening.”

“And he knows I’m here?”

“Well,” Therin walked past her, sat at the desk, turning in the chair to face her, and shook his head. “No, actually. He thinks I’m going to catch up to you, to help you find the book.” The lies slipped from his lips with ease and Alira cocked her head, looking at him.

“But he knows you will be with a witch, looking for paraphernalia of the Morinn?”

“The book, yes. I told him I can help you find it.”

“And he was alright with all of that?”

“Yes,” Therin said impatiently. “Obviously, if he’s excusing me.”

He’s worse than me, sneaky little–

“Therin,” Alira said patiently as she sat cross legged on the floor before him. “I know that I’m a difficult person to trust, being that I’m refusing to tell you any of my own secrets.” She reached up and laid a hand on his knee. “But I can’t let you come with me if you’re not being honest with me. I need to know that I can rely on you in tough situations.”

“Alira,” Therin replied in the same, patient voice. “You can trust me. I’m coming with you.” He laid his hand over hers and gave her a smile.

“I know you’d like to come with me, but if you aren’t honest with me,” she repeated. “Then you won’t be welcome.” He flinched away from her and frowned.

“I am being honest,” he said, confused.

“Does Devan know that you’re going to be working with a witch, or does he think you’re going to go after one to get the book back?”

“I don’t really see a difference,” Therin shrugged. “It amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it?”

“You know what your issue is, Therin? You want everyone to like you, to trust you, to find you appealing in some way,” Alira said softly. “And it’s very hard when you’re always telling half-truths and outright lies.”

He clenched his jaw and sucked on his teeth, his eyes on her.

“Fine,” he said, perhaps a little rougher than he’d intended. “Fine,” he said, softening his tone. “I had to fib, just a little, to get him to understand. If you knew how unbending, how irascible he is by nature…” He shook his head slowly.

“No more lies, Therin.” Her voice was hard edged and she squeezed his leg once before releasing it. “I was lied to a lot growing up, I’m learning, and I hate how powerless it makes me feel. How…stupid…I feel now.”

“It might help me feel a little better if you opened up to me a little…?” His words were a question, left open for her to either accept or reject and she tilted her head, thinking.

“Yes, alright.” With her hands in her lap, Alira looked up at his blue eyes, grey in the gloom of the room, and nodded. “You can ask me a question, and I will answer it.”

Therin eyed her, suspicious.

“Any question?”

“Mostly, yes. But there are things that are too personal, too…painful. And I won’t answer those.” He sighed and his eyes left her as he thought of a question.

“How did you become a witch?”

Alira weighed the question, knowing that if she told half-truths it would make her just as bad as him and nodded slowly.

“I was tricked into cutting my hand on an unclaimed blade and it bound to me.” She held out her palm and ran her finger over the fresh scar. “I was never branded by a witch, never given a Black Baptism.”

“Then you’re not a Morinn,” he stated. “Only the Morinn brand their initiates.” She looked at him, unaware of this new information. She thought it was a universal practice, Erin had always led her to believe it was all witches.

“Which means you’re likely part of one of the rogue covens, the ones that refused to join the Morinn.”

She shrugged. “I don’t have a coven.”

“As a witch, you must. All witches have a coven. So you’re not branded, that means you’re not Morinn, but you still have a coven you report to.”

“No, Therin. I just cut my hand and felt the power awaken.” She paused. That had been a lie, hadn’t it? She didn’t feel any such thing. In fact, it had taken Henry trying to kill her before she believed him. Even then, it didn’t feel real.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

He must have seen her guilt slip into her eyes and fade because he smirked at her.

“Now who’s fibbing?”

“Ok, I didn’t feel power but I was told I’m a witch and I believe it.”

“Who told you? What’s your familiar? Are you bound to a spirit?”

“That’s more questions than I offered to answer,” she snapped and she stood to quit the conversation. Therein chuckled softly at her annoyance and sighed.

“Well, in any case, you can rest here and I’ll bring you some food. When Devan has given me the letter, we can leave.” He stood and strode to her, taking her cold hand in his warm one.

“Thank you,” she said and tried to free her hand. He held onto it, not letting her go.

“I’m a good man, Alira. I am. I know I’ve not given you the best impression of myself,” he grimaced, perhaps remembering being drunk. “But I promise, my intentions are honourable.”

“They are inherently selfish, though, Therin.” She pulled her hand from his. “Be honest with yourself: you’re helping me because you want the book.”

His face fell a little and she gave him a quick, soft smile.

“That doesn’t mean our goals don’t coincide and it doesn’t mean we can’t work together toward the same things. But be honest with yourself, first.” She tapped his chest, over his heart and gave him an earnest expression. He nodded, his eyes wide with surprise and put his hand over his heart, where she had touched him.

“I am a selfish person, I know. My reasons are not entirely humanitarian. I want my hammer, and I want to earn it for myself. But knowing I can help you along the way, that you might take some comfort from not being alone on your dark quest, does make my own burden seem much lighter.”

She raised her eyebrows at him and smiled.

“Thank you,” she said simply and she sat at the desk, her cloak pulled tightly around her shoulders.

He left the room and was gone for over an hour. He came back looking cheerful and brought food for her, a tray laden with stew, bread, and boiled eggs. He ate a crisp apple, explaining he had eaten with Devan, while she devoured the meal.

“You’re a good eater.”

“Happens when you’re starved for a long time,” she said between bites. He lifted his eyebrows in curiosity but didn’t ask any questions.

When she had finished, he took the tray and left, leaving her alone yet again. As there was no fire to warm her, she had taken a fur lined cloak from Noran’s wardrobe and wrapped it around herself, shrugging into the warmth. The cosy heat made her skin prickle and she laid her head down on the desk, waiting for him to come back and collect her.

While she rested, her mind wandered, drifting into the hazy fluid dreams of partial sleep. Henry’s sly face mingled with Therin’s open one. Henry’s red hair glinted off the light coming from Therin, turning his flowing hair into fire as he threw his head back and roared with laughter. Then the two were arm in arm, Therin unsteady as Henry guided him down the hall of the dungeon of the monastery. She heard the strike of a match and felt something hot press against her face and she cringed away. She sat up in alarm, waking herself with the flinch away from the heated claws.

The sun had nearly set and she guessed she had dozed for a little over an hour. Therin hadn’t come back yet and she was alone. Or, as alone as she could be with Henry in the back of her mind, running a muttered commentary on her dreams.

“What do you do while I sleep, Henry?” She asked aloud.

I watch you dream.

“Can you see everything I dream about?”

Yes.

While she pondered this, she opened the bottom drawer again and took out the sketch book she had looked at earlier. The book that was filled with Mara’s work and her secret love letter of a portrait to Therin.

She turned to the last page and flipped the rest of the book behind it, leaving just the single image in front of her. As she did, she noticed that it wasn’t actually a page of the book, just tucked into the back. It fluttered loose as she moved it and she turned it over. She noticed now that it was on a much thinner sheet of paper and that it had the High Lord’s watermark on the back.

She looked at the other drawings in the book, all of which were all signed in the corner with a stylized M.S. The portrait was not signed. She stared at the picture, perfectly capturing Therin’s open grin.

“I wonder if she didn’t sign this one because she had not intended for anyone else to see it,” Alira said to Henry, knowing he was looking at the image with her.

It does seem an incredibly private depiction.

“I can feel the love in it,” she whispered. As she did, she wondered about their relationship. Did they grow up together out here in the country, spending the summers getting to know each other? Devan had said she was a farmer’s daughter. It must be a relatively close farm if she spent a lot of time at the High Lord’s private residence.

Unless she was a maid, a servant, brought in from somewhere else.

“I hadn’t thought about that.”

I imagine that our High Lord would not be pleased that his promising young son had pledged himself to a lowly servant.

“I suppose not.” She folded the image in half and tucked it into a side pocket of her bag, unsure why she did so.

For your own private musings?

“Is anything I do private anymore?”

Very little, pet. He purred in reply and she felt his laughter inside her.

She thought about that and wondered again how much of her mind he was privy to.

Most of it.

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Who are you talking to?” Therin’s voice sounded from across the room. She had not heard him coming in. She jumped and spun guiltily.

“Myself,” she said quickly. He merely smirked at her, seeming to make a point with his grin.

“We can leave now. Devan’s given me the letter and the use of a horse. I’ll steal you another one before we leave.”

“If you want him to trust you, you shouldn’t steal from him.”

“Who says he doesn’t trust me?” He frowned in annoyance. “Of course he trusts me.” He paused and then added. “Mostly.”

She dropped the subject and stood to stretch. She had slept a lot in the past day and it felt good to move around a little. As she was taking off the fur lined cloak to replace it, Therin stopped her.

“Might as well take it,” he said, shrugging. “And any other clothes you want from his armoire.”

She agreed, taking a second pair of stockings, another black silk shirt, and a pair of black leather pants. She carefully put them in her pack, hiding the letters she had put in her bag earlier. Once done, her bag was overfull and heavy. She shrugged it on and nodded to him.

He nodded back and grinned.

“To glory,” he whispered as he shut the door to his brother’s room.