Elyriel dropped onto her bunk heavily, her body aching with exhaustion. What a day! Three battles with Ventryn’s undead mixed with helping to unload the last carts from Stark. The midnight watch had changed nearly three hours ago, and she was just now getting to bed. Lord Sterling hadn’t dismissed her until she was nodding in her saddle, standing watch with him after the last attack had been repelled. And he expected her to report for training at dawn…. She kicked off her boots and crawled under the blankets. Closing her eyes, she sternly reminded herself that she had chosen this life. Her hand drifted to the badge declaring her Sterling’s personal squire. A tiny smile touched her lips as she went to sleep. A hard path to choose, but she’d find a way to walk it.
It had been seven months since Wraith disappeared. In that time, the attacks from the undead had grown steadily worse. Some days went by peacefully, but others were spent on the brink of exhaustion as battles waged at all hours. And then the kingdom had finally made its move from Stark to the new holdings in the township. Everyone was pushed to their limits and beyond, trying to protect the civilians while covering the miles between the keep and the city.
Elyriel found herself with little time to think of her missing knight, although the first weeks after his disappearance had worn on her soul heavily. Indecision had plagued her. She just couldn’t decide if he’d gotten into trouble or if her own failings had driven him away. A dark shadow began to follow her – a tiny voice in the back of her mind blaming her for being a poor squire. She should have gone after him. Or she should have done something – anything – differently so he wouldn’t have left to start.
Torn with self-doubt, only two people saved her from quitting her training in shame as the months drew on.
One was Lord Sterling. By making her his own squire, she knew she had a champion for her cause as a female in the knighthood. He renewed her hope that she would be accepted politically if she could prove herself worthy. The Count carried a lot of weight in the royal court.
And the other was Daca Ratavykos. The vampire lord who befriended her and showed faith in her when she didn’t have faith in herself. How many times had he stood beside her in battle? And how often did his cheerful banter or calm words help her find sense in a chaotic world?
So for a while, Elyriel’s life became very routine again – train with Lord Sterling, fight the attackers, and find free time to share with Daca. Although she was exhausted and pained by the constant killing, she also had reason to be happy. Unfortunately, the growing friendship between squire and vampire didn’t go unnoticed. And the rumors spread like wildfire.
***********
“St John! Heavens, Ely, look its St John!”
Elly stood stunned as Sabrina called to her. She had recognized him the second he came into sight, standing near the Sterling house. He seemed older… and very, very isolated amongst those who should be his friends. But the stance, so confident and sure, was unmistakable. It wasn’t until his eyes met hers that she realized something was very wrong. Their blue gaze had always held the weight of sternness, but now they were very distant. Almost cold. The look he gave her now carried little more than recognition.
He seemed to be departing. “I should leave.” He pulled his gloves on a little tighter.
Elly swallowed hard. Even though it had been a year since he’d left – and her life had changed immensely in the meantime – the sight of him still stung, dredging up old pain and anger. The palpable chill around him only confused her more. What had happened to the man?
“Wait….” She couldn’t let him leave yet. “… Sir?” She desperately tried to quell the tangle of emotions that gripped her.
He flinched at the title. Through gritted teeth, he stated, “Wraith.” Then after a pause, “Just Wraith, please.”
Elly stared, completely at a loss. His old title caused him pain? Shaking herself again, she looked to Sabrina. “Sister, would you be so kind as to wait inside.” She turned her gaze back to the former knight. She barely heard Sabrina’s agreement or saw her step indoors.
When they were alone, she quietly breathed, “By the gods…. Tis really you, Si… Wraith?”
His eyes flickered to hers very briefly. For a mere second, they revealed a tiny hint of emotion – longing? Then it was gone. “I suppose it depends on your perspective.” The flat tone was startling. He’d never spoken to her like that before.
She struggled with what to say. He acted as though she was nothing – meant nothing. How could he treat her like this? All her memories of him spilled through her mind, most keenly the pain of him walking away from her. In a flash, the old anger ignited. She drew herself up and turned a hard gaze on him. “Permission to speak freely, si.…” Both of them cringed a little. Elly shook her head slightly. “I suppose I need not ask anymore.”
His tone hadn’t changed. “Ye had something to say?” It was as close to a sneer as she’d ever heard from him.
Her anger blazing, she stepped closer, fists clenched at her sides. Faster than either of them could register the movement, she slapped him sharply across the face. She didn’t hold back, and his head turned slightly with the blow. “Where the hell have you been?” she demanded. “And why didn’t you take me with you?” His gaze snapped to her with a dark glare. She glared right back. “I was scared to death for you.”
“If ye were meant to know, I would have told ye.”
She shook with rage. “You could have said something… anything! For all I knew, you were dead!”
The cold in his eyes changed slightly, a hint of anger flashing through. “And what if I was? Perhaps ye might not have delayed so long before bedding your suitor?” Another sneer. “I do hope your crush on me was not much of a hindrance…”
Elly simply stared. How dare he! Had she truly meant so little to him? At that moment, all her anger flared into outright hatred. It wasn’t until much later that she wondered how he’d known about her relationship with Daca at all. “Is that what you call it?” She gritted her teeth. “You have no idea what losing you did to me, do you?” It was less a question than an outraged statement.
“We all lose,” he stated flatly again.
She stepped away from him. This… man… wasn’t Sir Wraith. He couldn’t be. All the things she’d once admired in him were gone. “Aye, I suppose we do.” She gathered herself and asked coldly, “So why did you come back?”
He shrugged. “Didn’t think about it much.”
“And you won’t tell me where you went?” She received a very slight shake of his head in reply. “Why you left…?”
Those cold eyes went back to complete indifference. She could only stare after him in fury and disbelief as he turned and walked away without another word.
After he disappeared into the city, Elly stalked back to the barracks, her eyes down and ignoring anyone who hailed her. She felt ill and wanted nothing more than to erase the entire scene from her mind. Storming into her room, she slammed the door and flopped stomach down onto the cot.
He’s dead, she told herself, eyes tightly closed. Sir Wraith is dead. That man is not him. She repeated those words to herself again and again.
But they did little to stave off the anger and pain.
******
She didn’t see him much after that. He seemed to flit in and out of the city, never staying long, but making his presence known to old friends and comrades. Elyriel did her best to stay busy – not that it took much effort. Once the last battle against Ventryn was won, the army began to train again, having the time to teach its soldiers outside of the battlefield. With the arduous training and her own lessons as a squire, Elly found it easy to forget about Wraith most days.
But there were occasions when she bumped into him. Her guard duties often left her posted at the royal keep, and she saw all manner of people going about their business. Several times she’d ride up to the fortress and see him speaking with the commoners or other soldiers. Clenching her jaw and biting down the cold rage, she’d simply brush by, acknowledging him with little more than a nod and a courteous but brusque greeting – and only if he took note of her or the person he spoke with hailed her. She sternly reminded herself that she may not like him, but he was still a guest on Winterfell soil. Her duty demanded that she treat him courteously. But no one said she had to be friendly.
Then his visits seemed to cease – or he kept himself out of her sight. Barely giving it a second thought, Elly set aside her anger and concentrated on the rest of her life. The gods knew she had enough to worry about with the turmoil that was slowly stirring within the Kingdom.