In Which Vera Falls Frozen

May 5, 1177

So it was true.

As far as anyone knew, Vera was in bed--and up until about ten minutes prior, she had been. But she'd found sleep stubborn and thought a cup of warm milk might coax it, so she'd hurried down to the kitchens, only to cross paths with a couple of servants whispering about some silent blind boy in Jadin's old room. Some silent blind boy. Who knew, maybe there was more than one of them around... but warm milk or not, Vera doubted she could sleep without knowing for sure.

Well, now she did.

"You'll be staying in this room for now," Nora was telling him. "My stepson's valet will be down soon to get you ready for bed, and one of us will come for you in the morning so we can get everything sorted out. I hope that's not objectionable?"

The boy shook his head. At the foot of the bed, Xeta shifted uncomfortably. Vera felt a bit bad for her--being practical did sometimes cast one as the villain in this household--but after what Remiel had done to her sister and her father and nearly she herself... well, the important thing was that the boy was out of that bastard's clutches. Practicality could wait.

"Do you have any family?" her father asked.

Another shake, but not without a moment's hesitation. There was a story there and they'd probably never know it. Chances were he wouldn't tell it if he could. Her father exchanged a quick glance with Nora and nodded. "Very well."

The boy's head fell to the wall and turned, milky eyes now in her view, almost like he knew she was there. Maybe he'd heard her open the door while her parents and sister-in-law had missed it. She'd heard it said that blind people often had above-average hearing, after all.

But without his sight, he couldn't confirm her presence on his own. Nor did he need to, after Xeta happened to crane her neck just the right way. "Vera?"

Nora turned around, Vera's father following suit. Vera grinned apologetically; at her age, she was too old for an established "bed time" and they knew it, but spies and eavesdroppers were never well-received. "Sorry, just... he's my friend."

The boy twitched. Vera swallowed. Had she been presumptuous? She'd thought he liked her... or maybe he was sore over her not visiting him in months? "Something like that, anyway."

Her father's lips twitched. She couldn't tell if he was amused or annoyed. "Yes, I seem to recall Isidro saying you knew each other."

"Yes, he was there when--" She stopped herself just in time. Her father knew damn well where she'd been going and he didn't want to hear about that again. She didn't care to tell it again either. "Anyway. Could I maybe talk to him? If you're done, of course."

Her father sighed. "I think we're finished for now. Nora, Xeta, do either of you have anything you'd like to add?"

"No," Nora dismissed as Xeta shook her head and hurried out into the corridor. Shooting the younger woman a disapproving glare, Nora gave the boy a kiss on the forehead before following. "Sleep well."

The door still ajar, Vera's father stepped past her and reached for the handle on the outer side. "Good night, kiddo. I trust you'll find my daughter's voice far more soothing than mine."

The boy didn't laugh, so Vera indulged her father with a chuckle. He shot her a quick smile, then shut the door behind him.

Now alone with the boy, Vera stepped around the bed and settled herself on its empty side. He must have heard the rustling, even felt it through the mattress, but he did nothing to acknowledge her. Maybe he was sore. Poor boy. "I'm sorry. I meant to visit you again, but after what Remiel did to my sister, my father banned us from going. Forgive me?"

He nodded. It was probably more complicated than that, but there was only so much a person could say with a vocabulary of head movements. "I can visit you every day now, though--er, if you'd like me too, that is."

Another nod. Still, his face remained stubbornly forward, refusing to follow his ears as it had the times before. She wanted to reach for his hand but didn't. She thought it might sting if he pulled away. "I missed you."

The boy stiffened. She wasn't sure what to make of that. Was he flattered? Surprised? Or maybe he felt guilty for not missing her back. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

Before he could offer a response, she'd slipped off the side of the mattress and was well on her way toward the door. Out of habit she masked her discomfort with a grimace; it remained even after she remembered it was pointless.

"Well, good night. I'll see you at breakfast, I suppose."

She hurried past the night-table and reached for the doorhandle. The iron was cold and hard as any metal thing, but she hadn't noticed when she'd entered. "Sweet dreams."

"Vera--"

The handle dropped back against the door with a dull thud!. It was hot as flame when she was frozen solid.

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