"So how did you and Sudian come together?" Kelryn started the conversation, turning it back toward the topic that most bothered Nightfall. The tactic surprised him. He had expected her to snuggle up to Edward first, winning him over with sex before turning him against his squire. Yet, Nightfall could also see the strategy in defining his relationship with Edward before attempting whatever evil she planned. Perhaps she was still in the fishing stage, gathering information, checking Edward for a natal talent or for wealth, and seeking the best means to sell out Nightfall and his gift/curse once again.
Prince Edward studied Kelryn, obviously liking what he saw. "He came to the palace and pledged himself into my services with a vibrant loyalty to me and my causes that I appreciate every day we’re together." He looked away into the distance, a transparent attempt to balance his staring. "Does he do that often? Pledge himself, soul and mind, to people and their principles?"
Kelryn shook her head. "Never before that I know of. You must be as special as you seem." She pulled her legs to her chest and stared at the stars. "In fact, Sudian tends not to trust anyone."
"I’ve noticed that." Prince Edward glanced back to Kelryn, excited by his observation. "Why is that?" His words disappeared into an uncomfortably long hush. The song of night insects seemed to grow impossibly loud.
"I don’t know that he would want anyone to know this…"
Nightfall crouched deeper into the darkness, attentive, locked into one strategy. If he retaliated for Kelryn’s revelations, he would add credence to them. The only sensible response would be to remain in place, listening for the details so he could consider ways to counter her lies and truths.
Kelryn continued. "I told you our families were close, but I didn’t say why. Sudian never knew his father, and his mother had no interest in or experience with raising children. She was an only child, too, I think."
Nightfall listened intently. He had avoided talking about his childhood, even with Kelryn, and had told her only that he had no father and his relationship with his mother was less than ideal. His love for Kelryn had made him want to discuss happier details and confess the deepest, darkest secrets about himself; but he had avoided the sore specifics.
The insect chorus rose and fell in cycles. Prince Edward stretched into a more comfortable position, attention fully focused on Kelryn. "He had a bad mother? That makes him not trust?" Edward struggled for the connection.
Kelryn tried to supply it. "Many times, he’d come to our cottage limping or too bruised to play or sit. Once, I remember, he couldn’t use an arm for months. Lots of nights, he’d sleep with us or out in the streets or in a field somewhere. He never said so, but I’m sure his mother would send him away or beat him when she got upset. And we were all poor, even with a Papa to earn money, so there was lots to get upset about."
The story disturbed Nightfall, hitting too close to the truth. Kelryn’s intentions still eluded him. It made little sense for her to talk about him rather than flirt with her victim, and she had so far managed only to evoke pity. Perhaps she did not realize that Edward’s drive to help the downtrodden would only make him more sympathetic to the plight she had described.
"Oh, poor Sudian." Edward lowered his head, clearly sorry. "I didn’t know.”
"And that’s probably for the best." Kelryn shifted, but Nightfall could not quite tell if she had touched the prince’s hand or only made a soothing gesture. "I don’t usually like lying, but I wouldn’t tell him that you know. I think compassion and understanding make him uncomfortable, for the same reason as trust." She returned to the original question. "Whenever I saw her with him, his mother was always loving and merciful. It seemed like she was constantly apologizing for something, and she probably was. So, anyway, I think Sudian associates comforting with hitting. And caring with betrayal. So he doesn’t trust anyone." She added quickly, "Except you, apparently. You must be really special."
Nightfall let the words wash over him, wondering how she had come so close. Not since Dyfrin had taken young Nightfall under his tutelage had anyone managed to guess so many details about his past. He could not help considering her explanation for his behavior, though he discarded it. He hated pity because it did not suit the strong and private person he had become, and he associated caring with betrayal because the two went hand in hand. It seemed eerie to hear the words in the voice of one who had reinforced the truth of the concept, she who had pretended to love then turned him over to a sorcerer instead. It only proved that she had known and fully understood the cruelties she inflicted upon him, and she had no shame or conscience.
Kelryn’s explanation seemed to lose Edward, like a poorly crafted story with roots so outlandish even a child could not believe. "I couldn’t imagine hitting anyone. How could a mother batter her own son?"
Kelryn shrugged. "Don’t expect me to defend her. But I know from others that, when you’re trying to feed and fend for self and family with no means to raise money except to sell yourself to strangers in front of children you hope will fare better than yourself but probably won’t, a woman can get terribly mad and frustrated. Hit a stranger, and he hits back. Hit your own child, and he still has to love and depend on you."
"This happens often?"
"I doubt it. But I don’t think Sudian is completely alone in this either."
Nightfall could imagine the light shining in Edward’s innocent, blue eyes at the thought of a new cause to champion. To one who saw evil in slavery and striking of servants by masters, the thought of adults beating children had to burn like a brand. He waited for the prince’s rallying call, the endless stream of committed words he could never translate into action. For the first time since he had seen Kelryn again, he smiled. Though hardly the worst he could wish on her, he appreciated that she would suffer through one of Edward’s long, rambling tirades.
But the prince did not speak. Instead, he sat in a pensive silence, apparently considering all aspects of the problem for the first time. Despite the darkness, position and attitude told Nightfall that consideration, not shock, kept the prince uncharacteristically quiet. The disruption of the relationship between mother and child put the slave and servant beatings into a new perspective. Surely, Nightfall’s story about slaves shunning freedom only added to the frenzy of thought taking form in Edward’s head. No easy resolution here, at least not to a prince dedicated to goodness, right, and fairness to all.
To Nightfall, however, the solution came in a rush. In the past, he had tried to deal with, deny, or forget the ugliness that was a theory to Edward but an existence to him. Never before had he pressed forward to find an answer for other children in a similar quandary. Now it seemed obvious. The moment she chose to hit him, his mother had lost the privilege of raising a child. He should have run; or, better yet, some adult should have spirited him away to a farm where the hardship of more mouths to feed became balanced by more hands to tend the chores. He would have missed his mother’s love, but he would have traded it for that of another who did not temper her affection with pain. As a bonus, he would have had a father and siblings and responsibilities that gained him praise as well as punishment. To consider the needs or feelings of the battering mother made no sense to him. Her intermittent love for him was no justification for the thing she had made him into, for the innocent lives he had taken with little remorse.
Nightfall pushed his own ideas aside, wondering how much had come from his speculation about Edward’s thoughts. He could no longer blame his spree of murder on his mother; his own hand had wielded every weapon.