“I was sixteen at most.” He started again. “I was spending months at a time on Devan’s estate, usually as punishment for getting into fights.” Alira saw him clench the fist at his side and then relax, the scars across his skin shining. “Down the road from Devan’s estate is a winery. It’s one of the best on the coast, well known. And the vintner supplied all of the monastery’s wine. A deal Devan had brokered to help out the man and his small family after his wife had died giving birth to their daughter.

“That daughter came to work at Devan’s estate when she was old enough. She was small for her age, telling me she was fifteen, but she was smart. And,” he paused, swallowing. “Beautiful.” He glanced nervously over his shoulder again and then turned to look at his rapt audience.

“It was summer where she came to work at the estate, the vintner’s daughter. She was a housemaid, helping Mrs. Jones with her daily work. Another favour curated by Devan.

“She was there for a week before I worked up the courage to talk to her. She was just so incredibly alluring. Something…” He clenched his fist again and shook his head.

“Anyway, I showed her the places to waste time unnoticed, like my favourite rock by the duck pond. You couldn’t see it from the manse. It was surrounded by trees, very hidden.

“The first day, we just talked. She was so intelligent and witty.” He smiled at some remembered joke. “She told me all her sorrows, the sadness of losing her mother. Something we had in common, actually. It gave us common ground. I was…” he stopped again and shrugged. “I loved her.” His face was scarlet, a nervous sweat on his upper lip.

Alira watched him wipe the sweat from his face with his sleeve and noticed that his eyes were filled with tears. He blinked them back, pursing his lips together to bite back the emotion. He took a deep breath, shaking himself, and forged ahead.

“The following week, we took Noran with us to the pond. She sat and watched him draw, something they both had in common and her gentle patience with him was endearing. He had always been nervous and overly attached to me. I saw that day how it would be. I’d keep her safe from poverty or having to work. Noran would have a companion while I finished school. Devan would have a daughter to help run the estate.

“A few nights later, she snuck into my room and climbed into bed with me. Nothing happened,” he said quickly, cutting off both their surprised expressions. “I just held her as she cried. She was lonely, she said.

“The next day was a day off for her and she was meant to go home to her father but she stayed and we spent all day outdoors, talking, holding hands. Her hands were so small.” He looked down into his own hand, broad and wide.

“The more we talked, the more I knew I wanted nothing else in life but her hand in mine, forever. I had intended to ask Devan the next day to talk to her father about us marrying. I knew it would be some time before that was possible but…

“When the sun set, we didn’t go back to the manse. Instead, after our day of heady thoughts and longing, she towed me to the pond where she stripped and dove in, stark naked. I was…well, I was shocked, obviously. But I was a stupid boy in love and I dove in after her.” A haunted, vacant expression glazed his eyes now and he let his hand hang limply at his sides. His voice lost its tone but dropped in pitch. He stared ahead as he continued.

“I never touched her, we just swam together. There was no moon, nothing to see. I remember the way the cold water felt against me, how I desperately wanted to close that distance between us but I feared her rejection more than anything else. I let her get out first, dress and then I followed her back to the manse.

“At the servant’s door, the one that we always used, she stopped and turned to face me. I remember picking a pond weed out of her hair, but she caught my hand and kissed my palm.” He bought his hands together, his eyes still distant as he touched the palm of the hand she had kissed.

“And before I could stop myself I was kissing her. She didn’t resist but she didn’t really reciprocate and it was short and inexperienced and over quickly. She turned to go inside but I stopped her and told her I promised to save her. I would marry her and take her away from her loneliness.”

The tears could not be stopped and they fell down his face, still stony and expressionless. Hrulinar turned to look at Alira, his eyes wide. She nodded once, agreeing with his thought.

Mara.

“She told me not to tell Devan, that she needed to talk to her father first. Days went by, and she avoided me. I was in agony when she wasn’t there. It was weeks before I was alone with her again. And it was a stolen kiss and nothing more before she avoided me again. I was confused, hurt, and desperate to see her.

“But Devan came to me before she did, angry and brooding and dismissive of my love for her. He said that he had heard I had been seen with her, that he knew I was…”

He looked at Alira suddenly and she saw a little boy, afraid and confused.

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“I never, never touched her. But someone told Devan that they had caught us in the act.” He wanted her to believe him and she did, nodding and blinking back her own tears.

“I understand,” she whispered. “Go on.” Gratitude shone in his eyes and he turned back to the fire, visibly shaking.

“Devan sent me away, told me the promise was to be broken. A High Lord’s son couldn’t marry a servant. He sent me first to the boarding school to await a post available at the monastery. As it was the monastery for the paladins, therefore militant, I had to wait until they were taking a new wave of recruits.

“Shortly after I left, Noran fell ill and Devan let…her stay and nurse him. I was writing a lot of letters to him at this time, knowing he was the only one who would pass my notes and messages to her. But…”

He turned and faced them again and anger had replaced his boyish confusion.

“It was Noran who had told Devan about us. Had lied to Devan about us. And during their prolonged time together, they grew closer. I suppose it was always going to happen, it didn’t matter to her which High Lord’s son took her–”

“Therin,” Alira said sharply before he could finish his thought. “Wait. I don’t think…” but she felt awkward knowing what she did about Noran, realising that Therin had no knowledge of the secret adoration.

“I know I was used. I’ve known that for years,” the monk said, placating her, confused about her interruption. “And I know that even more now after what Orin told me.

“Years before this, Orin had been closing up the library late one night when Erin came in with a young girl. Orin recognized the vintner’s daughter. He said he couldn’t tell how old she was then but she was probably less than ten years old. He said she was…odd. He said that he had a bad feeling watching Erin and the girl together. And so he hid and watched.

“He watched as Erin took out a dagger from under her priestess’s robes. It was small, the length of her hand, he said. And it was black as night. She drew the blade across the small girl’s hand palm, held the pommel stone over a nearby candle and pressed the stone to the cut. She gave the girl the dagger and kissed her forehead.” He was shaking again, coming to the climax of his distress.

“Erin took the book, left the ring, which Orin retrieved, and left. The girl followed where Erin went. When they left he waited and then followed, meaning to tell Devan what he had seen. But just outside the library door, he found the body of one of the sentries.”

Therin was visibly agitated and he began pacing, his hands wringing together.

“Down the hall, he saw the girl climb off a second sentry, wiping her new dagger on his pants before looking up at Erin, who just smiled and then they both turned their heads and saw him.”

The words were pouring from him quickly now, his hands gesturing wildly.

“Galvyn caught him at the end of the hall as he ran and he told the paladin what he had seen. Galvyn reassured him, told him he’d get Devan himself, to just go back to his room and lock the door. He said not to tell anyone, he’d handle it.”

Alira saw him unravelling and got up, halting him as he paced. She stood in his path, her hands up, wary of his wildly flailing hands as he spoke. She put her hands on his chest and his words stopped. He blinked down at her and she could see the little boy again.

“It’s ok,” she whispered. “It’s alright.”

“I didn’t…I never…”

“I know,” she shushed him. He clasped her hands and his were clammy, icy sweat against her warmth.

“I never knew she was…” He stammered again and she shook her head.

“Of course not.”

“And then she lied, and I took the punishment–”

“Therin, it’s ok.”

“I wouldn’t have ever thought she was ten years older…”

“I know,” she agreed, gentling him.

“Devan never knew either. Orin thought he did but he didn’t. When Devan swore him to silence, he thought it was because he knew everything. When Devan took her as a servant, he didn’t question it because he thought he knew. He assumed it was to keep her close, to watch her…” He was staring so desperately into Alira’s eyes that she felt herself baulking at his intensity.

“Yes, of course.”

“And, Noran, he must know, doesn’t he? He had to have known this whole time. How could she keep that from him, as her lover…”

But here she shook her head, unable to agree with him.

“He didn’t know,” she whispered. “He only knew she was a witch, not about her connection to my mother, not what she did.”

“How would you know?” He asked, but his voice was pitched up, feverish. She let her eyes dance between his, searching for his sanity and stability before speaking.

“Shadesorrow saw into his mind, read his…everything. All his memories.” She was struggling for words, trying to keep Noran’s secret. It wasn’t hers to tell but how to reassure Therin…

“And I was inside her when she read his memories. He never…he didn’t mean for you to get hurt. He just wanted…” And here she could not continue, her mouth seized up and she shook her head. “Just know that he isn’t at fault here. You aren’t either. Mara is. Erin is.”

His expression faded from climatic fervor to a pained, worried frown. She squeezed his hands, an idea coming to her.

“Why don’t you get us something to drink? Bring me a snack.” His face brightened, soothed by a task to do, someone to care for.

“Yes,” he breathed and before she could stop him, he hugged her tightly. “Yes, a drink,” he said into her hair and then he put her at arm’s length and left the room in a hurry.

As the door closed behind him, Alira looked at Hrulinar. His eyebrows were raised, a half shrug at his shoulders.

“Well,” he said, breaking the silence. “That was a story.”

She nodded and chewed her cheek, looking at the door again. As she looked down at the ring in her hands, the only thing that kept coming back to her was his rambling, at the end. Most of it, she had followed, but one thing he said made her frown, thinking.

And then she lied, and I took the punishment.