The Darkest Night

by Emma V. Leech

  ***

  Laen watched as Corin glowered at the cup of herbal tea and the omelette that Anaïs had placed in front of him.

  “Don’t just look at it,” she said, a motherly, scolding tone to her voice that was hard to miss. “It won’t bite.”

  He frowned at her and then glared at his breakfast once more. “I’m not sure you speak to me with quite the tone of voice you ought to,” he muttered as Laen smothered a grin.

  She snorted and folded her arms, looking anything but impressed. “Prince or king, if you’re a patient of mine, you’ll do as I say or pay the consequences.” He looked up at her and raised one eyebrow and she leaned forward. “That would be the sharp side of my tongue,” she added.

  Both eyebrows rose as his eyes fell upon the view she was giving him of her generous cleavage. “Well, that doesn’t sound so bad,” he said, his voice mild and amused.

  “There speaks a man who has never been on the receiving end of it.” Laen turned to find Dannon glowering at Corin, a possessive light in his eyes which was only too obvious.

  “Good morning, Dannon, please do join me,” Corin said, sounding remarkably affable and gesturing for Dannon to sit down. “In fact,” he added, pushing the plate in his direction. “Help yourself.”

  “He already did!” Anaïs snapped and then flushed as the men’s eyebrows rose. “To breakfast I mean,” she muttered, sounding really quite cross now. “Oh!” She picked up the fork and put it forcibly in Corin’s hand, replacing the plate in front of him. “Mange!” She turned and walked away with a flick of blonde hair.

  “I’d do as she says if I were you,” Dannon observed, his tone mild, though he looked thoroughly entertained at Corin being spoken to in such a fashion. “It really isn’t worth it.” Dannon carried on and followed Anaïs to help finish packing her medical supplies, leaving Corin staring at his breakfast.

  “Just eat it,” Laen said, shaking his head. Corin glowered at him instead and then sighed, picking up the cup of tea instead. He gave it a dubious sniff before putting it down again. Fishing in his inside pocket, he withdrew a small silver flask and upended it into the cup. He picked the tea up again and took a cautious sip. “Better,” he muttered as Laen rolled his eyes. He left Corin to his breakfast, making a mental note to have all alcohol put under lock and key and out of the man’s sight until after this was done. At least he seemed more himself this morning, though he could not help but feel Corin was acting the part to reassure him. Corin had promised him that he would see Anaïs privately after breakfast to see if she could help him. He hoped he held to his promise.

  A little over an hour later and the tents were gone, everything packed up, all ranks ready with weapons gleaming and faces intent.

  “Are we done?”

  Laen looked up as Corin strode towards him, noting the dark shadows under his eyes, the pallor of his skin. He nodded, his worry increasing as Corin drew closer “We’ll be moving out shortly.” He frowned, stepping closer to Corin and lowering his voice. “You saw Anaïs?”

  “Yes, yes,” Corin said, clearly impatient with being fussed over and returning a reassuring smile. “She did wonders, I assure you. I’m a new man.”

  Laen’s frown deepened, utterly unconvinced by that smile. “You are truly well enough?” he pressed.

  There was a snort and Corin turned away, not meeting his eyes. “Well enough,” he agreed as Laen watched him go with misgiving.

  ***

  Corin hurried away before Laen could press him any further. He hated lying to him, especially when such a terrible lie burned between them already. Concentrate on today, he reminded himself. If he lived through one day at a time, maybe he could survive this. He had made a great effort to be seen by the men this morning, had spoken and joked with some of them, had done his utmost to appear his usual self … but now the effort was taking its toll. Anaïs, despite her best efforts, could do nothing for him. Not that he was surprised, he’d told Laen as much but at least he’d kept his promise. Laen fussing around him like he was in some way broken or damaged was unbearable, better that he believed the girl had helped him.

  He took a breath; he missed Claudette with a longing that made his chest tight and his heart hurt, and he wished she were here with him just as badly as he wished her a million miles away, safely out of the fray. He wanted to hold her again, to hear her tell him everything would be alright, to know that she believed in him. Not that he doubted it. He only wanted to hear her say it again. On top of that, now the damned tea Anaïs had forced on him was chasing away his hangover, which had been the only thing distracting him from the noise in his head. As the pain receded, so the clamouring returned, which was infinitely worse.

  Corin went on his way to where the horses were being made ready and sought out his own, dismissing the guard who was arranging his tack. He leaned against the beast as it whickered softly and wished he could just go and curl up somewhere in the dark. He remembered the little hidey-hole he had found in the palace as a boy with sudden longing. He’d hated the state occasions when he had been dragged up to the vast building at Vaennstad in the heart of Alfheim.

  At the back of his wardrobe, he’d found some loose boards where a small child could crawl into the void beneath the floor of the wardrobe and not be found. He’d taken a blanket and candles and his favourite books, and whenever things had become too much, he had hidden himself there and no one had ever found him. He suspected his mother had known where he was, but she had never let on, and for that alone he could forgive her much. More than anything, he wished he could crawl back into that space and stay there. Let someone else sort out this hellish mess ... But then, that’s what he had been doing for years past, running away and hiding - in drink, in danger and debauchery ... in mindless pleasure.

  Now, there was simply nowhere left to hide.

  He tried to concentrate on checking his horse over, ignoring the way his hands trembled and fumbled as he tried to tighten the fastenings, but the noise in his head grew ever louder. Cursing and breathing harder as panic grew in his chest, he reached to tighten the girth and sucked in a breath as the buckle scraped over the wound old Jacques had given him. It was still raw, unhealed despite Anaïs’ attentions, and the pain seared up his arm. For just a moment, all was blessed peace and he closed his eyes, savouring it - the lack of screaming and shrieking and demanding. It was short-lived, and the noise returned, though a fraction quieter as the wound throbbed, distracting his mind a little from the land’s pitiful cries.

  He touched a finger to the wound, opening it further and hissing in pain as it began to bleed ... but oh, the peace. He sighed and closed his eyes and then held his arm out, staring at it with a thoughtful expression before reaching down to the leather straps that held his weapons ... and drew out a knife.

  Chapter 10

  “What in the name of the gods are you doing?”

  Corin jumped out of his skin as Laen’s voice rang out and he dropped his hand out of sight, but too slowly. Laen snatched the knife from his grasp and threw it to the ground in disgust. He took his other arm and looked at the open wound.

  “It was an accident, I ...” Corin shook his head, shame burning so fiercely he couldn’t meet Laen’s eyes.

  “An accident?” Laen growled, pushing Corin’s sleeve further up his arm, his own pale skin blanching further as his jaw tightened. “Once, perhaps! You idiotic ...” He glared at Corin, apparently too angry to speak before turning and yelling to a passing solider. “You. Run to Anaïs and fetch me ointment for a cut, and bandages. Move!” The solider left at a run as Laen remained, glowering with fury. “Perhaps I should drag you to Anaïs so that she and Dannon can see your handiwork? Would that be an idea, perhaps we should show it to the men?”

  Corin swallowed, wishing Laen would understand how desperate he was. “Laen, please...” he said, but Laen just stood staring at him with cold eyes. Corin drew his sleeve back down and turned away, but could still feel the weight of Laen’s anger. He lea
ned against his horse, quite unable to look his friend in the eyes. The soldier returned moments later, breathless, and Laen snatched the bandages and pot of cream from his hands and dismissed him.

  “Give me your arm,” he demanded.

  Corin shook his head, just wanting to be left alone now. The look in Laen’s eyes was hard to bear. “I can do it myself,” he muttered, suspecting he sounded like a sulky child and feeling like one, too.

  “Give me your damned arm!” Laen yelled. “If you are going to behave like a bloody adolescent then you can expect me to treat you like one.”

  Utterly mortified, Corin held out his arm and stood in shamed silence while Laen gently applied the ointment to the cuts. He took care not to hurt, but the wound that Jacques had left was raw, still, and Laen’s hands calloused and battle worn. Corin jolted as he smoothed the ointment over the wound, and to his growing shame he found himself wishing Laen would take less care. Laen looked up, though, to see the look in his eyes wasn’t one of pain. Corin flushed and turned away, and Laen shook his head.

  “Don’t be an idiot,” he said, his tone milder now. Laen glanced up at him again as he unrolled the bandage. “But do this again and I’ll really give you something to bloody well think about,” he added, his dark eyes glinting in a way that told Corin he was far from forgiven.

  Corin frowned and looked away as Laen wrapped the wounds with such care that he only felt worse than ever. He had never been so humiliated, and the fact that Laen was angry and ever more distrustful made him feel sick. He couldn’t bear it on top of everything else. The silence stretched on between them until Corin could cope no longer.

  “Don’t be angry,” he said, but Laen stayed silent. His rigid stance and tense movements spoke clearly enough, though. “Please, Laen ...”

  “Shut up,” Laen muttered, securing the bandage.

  Corin wondered what would have happened if Laen hadn’t come, and thought he might actually throw up. He felt he was walking on a precipice and that he might stumble at any moment. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  Laen released his arm and gave him a hard shove, and Corin stumbled back. “You weren’t thinking at all, you stupid bastard!” he yelled, apparently unable to bury his terror and fury a moment longer. “What the hell do you think I am doing here?” he demanded, his expression full of concern, which only made things worse. “I’m here for you, to support you. Why would you not come to me if things are so bad?” He grasped Corin’s shoulders. “I looked you in the eyes just moments ago and asked if you were well, and you damn well lied to me, and now this!” He yanked at the damaged arm, making Corin gasp. “This is what I find! Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded, looking hurt and confused and making Corin feel like he wanted to crawl away back to that space in the wardrobe.

  “I couldn’t.” Corin tried to turn away from him but Laen stopped him, forcing him to meet his eyes.

  “Why?” he asked again, his tone even now, staring at Corin as though if he looked hard enough, he might be able to understand what Corin wasn’t saying. “Why not, after everything we have been through over the years? Why is this any different? Did you think I wouldn’t understand? Me, of all people?”

  “No.” Corin shook his head, wishing he’d just confessed everything the night before and let the fates take the future in their own hands. “It wasn’t that, but ...” He swallowed, struggling to find the words. “I’m afraid, Laen. No,” he amended as he shook his head, giving a desperate laugh. “Not afraid; terrified, and I didn’t want you to think ... to know how weak I am.”

  Laen looked at him, baffled and exasperated. “What are you on about, you damned fool? You are the strongest person I know, you always have been.”

  “An act,” he whispered, remembering how long he’d been running, and how hard. “A lie ... always a lie.”

  The horses stamped beside them, calling to their companions as the soldiers readied themselves to leave. The dawn was upon them, another grey and miserable day with a cold wind that snatched at their clothes and chilled them to the bone.

  Corin waited as Laen watched him, wondering if Laen could see what a fraud he was, what a damned liar. What would happen if he figured out the truth? Could he see the deception in his eyes? The curse that made the flickering words of Corin’s own feelings visible on his friend’s skin were illustration enough for Corin, guilt, guilt, guilt.

  Laen sighed and shook his head, reaching his own conclusions. “No one is that good a liar, Corin, not even you. You are sick. The call of the land, what happened with Jacques, the pressure of this war ... you’re exhausted, and certainly not in your right mind, I’ll give you that.” Laen ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and giving Corin a look of such anxiety that Corin’s heart sank despite the forgiveness in his words. “You’ll get through this. We will get through it. This …” He waved his hand at Corin’s arm with a frown. “This was an aberration, nothing more. We won’t let it happen again. Gods, man, what do you think Claudette would say if she knew?”

  “Don’t tell her!” Corin begged him, the idea too appalling to consider. “Please, Laen, I swear it won’t happen again.”

  “No, it won’t.” He looked at Corin, his expression implacable. “And I’ll tell you why, because you are not going to get a moment alone until this is over, if I have to babysit you every second of the damned day.”

  Corin looked at him in horror. “Laen, please, that isn’t necessary. I swear to you, on my honour, it won’t happen again. It was a moment of weakness and I’m sorry for it.”

  Laen looked back at him, weighing up his words as Corin held his breath. Did Laen still trust him? “No.” His face softened in the light of Corin’s shock but he remained stern and unyielding. “We both know you can persuade me black is white, but not this time. I know you mean what you say, but there is too much at stake and you have just proved to me how far you are from being well.”

  Corin swallowed any further argument, knowing it was hopeless. Frustration, anger and misery, and stark humiliation battled in his heart and he could no longer look Laen in the eyes.

  “Corin,” Laen said, his voice so full of understanding that Corin wanted to howl with rage at the unfairness of it all. “I know you are suffering, believe me. I understand, and if I could bear it for you, I would, but I can’t.” He sighed and shook his head. “I have watched you trying to self-destruct for years now, and no matter what I tried I could never help you. I thought ... I thought it was just Claudette you needed to find. That you simply needed her to make you whole, but it wasn’t just that, was it? It has always been this you’ve been running from, hasn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Corin swallowed, wishing Laen could figure out the rest of it for himself, so that he need not carry the burden of it any longer. The guilt of it was crushing him, making the weight of everything he must do so much heavier. But if one thing was clear, it was that he had no time to give Laen to change his mind or to come to terms with his anger. He had felt the force of Laen’s anger too many times before, for things that had not been his fault, and he had suffered the scalding heat of his fury, and the weeks and months of recriminations that followed. He had no time to spare for that now. If Laen did not accompany him and his men to Aos Si, they would not make it.

  He would not make it.

  He saw anger in Laen’s eyes and knew he was hurt that Corin had not confided in him before. They’d always told each other everything, but Corin had not told him this.

  “You do not leave my side from now on, is that clear?” Laen said, his voice harsh now as Corin nodded. There was nothing he could say, no way to explain without telling him everything, and so he readied himself to lead their armies to Aos Si, and another ocean of bloodshed.

  ***

  “Claudette, please will you sit down, you’re going to wear a hole in the carpet.”

  Claudette paused mid-pace and threw up her hands before burying them in her hair with frustration. “I can’t, I can’t do it! I c
an’t sit waiting, wondering ...” She flung herself into Corin’s chair by the fireplace and put her head in her hands. “Why hasn’t he sent for me?” she demanded, her voice muffled by her hands, which was just as well, as she was perilously close to crying.

  “You know why,” Océane said, her voice soothing as Claudette felt a rush of guilt. She must be just as frightened for Laen, but then she did not understand the burden of guilt that Corin carried, nor why. Claudette did and she knew how Corin suffered for it. “He’ll ask you to come as soon as it’s safe,” Océane added, a voice of reason fighting against the force of Claudette’s fears and a terrible sense of dread that she couldn’t shake. Something was dreadfully wrong, she knew it. She knew it.

  “No,” she said, sitting up and taking a breath, feeling suddenly sure of herself, despite the fact the idea made her tremble. “I won’t wait here and slowly lose my mind, Océane. There is something terribly wrong. I can feel it.” She looked up, feeling tears track down her face and knowing she was right. “I know it with every fibre of my being, he’s suffering, he needs me ... and I’m going to go to him.”

  Océane mouth dropped open in horror and she got to her feet, moving to sit on the arm of the chair beside her, putting her arms around Claudette and hugging her tight. “Claudette, no. You can’t, it’s too dangerous. He’ll send for you as soon as it’s safe. Surely you should at least wait a little longer?”

  “No.” She squeezed Océane’s hand, not understanding how she could be so certain, but trusting in the instinct that was tugging at her heart so hard it was painful. “I can’t explain it,” she said, looking up at Océane and willing her to understand. “But I have to go. Besides,” she added, wiping her eyes and trying not to cry any more. “If I stay here a moment longer, I’m going to go mad. Between worrying about Corin, and Bram and Jean-Pierre ...” She got to her feet and began pacing again. “Where is Bram?” she demanded, wondering how her poor heart could stand the fears that were battering it from all sides. “He should be back by now, why haven’t we heard from him?”