Then, as midnight shifted toward the wee morning hours, Edward’s hand closed around Nightfall’s, finally returning the fellowship his companions had shared so freely through the hours. A hint of life entered his eyes, though they remained focused on the stars. "I can’t believe Leyne is dead." His voice sounded weak and graveled from crying.
Nightfall squeezed Edward’s hand, suddenly wishing the prince had decided to open up on Kelryn’s shift. She would know what to say far better than he. For now, he echoed Edward. “I can’t believe it either, Master."
"I keep waiting for something to come and erase everything. In a moment, I’ll awaken from a nightmare. Or, Leyne will ride up and tell me it was a prank. Or the Healer will tell me he made a mistake."
Nightfall sighed, the distress in Edward’s tone driving the tears back to his own aching eyes. "No," he said.
“No," Edward repeated softly, the word bringing back fierce memories of his desperate pleas in the arena to any god who might listen.
"I remember…" Edward began, the floodgates opening upon a vast array of tales and memories about Leyne, good and bad. Unfamiliar with the elder prince, Nightfall could contribute little but consolation and quiet presence to the discourse, but that seemed enough.
Edward Walked about his brother until he finally lapsed into exhaustion at daybreak. And Nightfall succumbed with him.
Nightfall felt certain he had only slept a moment before strange presences in the camp awakened him. He sat up instantly, attention immediately riveted on the sound. The Shisenian official stood before him, his clothes impeccable and his curtain of hair brushed to a sheen. Two guards flanked him. The sun had fully risen, beams jutting through gaps in the overcast sky as if cutting light-holes in the clouds. "May we speak with your master, please?" the official asked.
Nightfall turned to Edward. The blond hair lay in tangles, clinging to cheeks still sticky with tears. He seemed at peace for the first time since the accident. "No, sir." Nightfall returned his gaze to the Shisenian. "Not now. It would be wrong to wake him."
"I understand," the Shisenian said, though his stance suggested he did not. "We’ve gathered His Majesty’s things and prepared a guarded escort to leave at midday.”
"Today?"
"Today." The Shisenian confirmed.
“You can’t postpone it?"
"The weather is warm. It would be wrong to return the crown prince in any shape but the best we can manage.” The Shisenian official prodded. "We can put off the match for the duchy for a couple days, but I’m afraid too many people have traveled too far not to finish the competition before affairs of court call them back. You understand."
Nightfall doubted it mattered if he did or not. A few things he knew for certain. Edward would prove incapable of fighting, let alone winning, a tourney this day. And his conversation the previous night made it clear he could not function, intellectually or emotionally, until his brother’s body found its proper place in its grave beside that of his mother. He would insist on leaving with the funeral procession. Again, Nightfall studied Edward, the lines of anguish that still etched his youthful features, even in sleep, the fetal position he had crunched his huge bulk into in order to find a modicum of rest. Even if Nightfall managed to goad Edward into battle, even should he find the means to make the prince win, it would prove a costly success. He wanted Edward worldly, not broken by reality. The truth came hard. The continent needed a heroic leader whole far more than a vicious demon alive. The duchy would benefit little from a prince battered by circumstance into a lifeless shell unfit to rule.
Nightfall made the hardest decision of his life. "We’ll accompany the escort back to Alyndar. Princes Edward will forfeit the match."
Chapter 19
The Evil One, the demon blight
Who hides in day and stalks the night.
He steals the stars and drags them low Darkness comes where Nightfall goes.
– "The Legend of Nightfall"
The funeral procession consisted of a dozen armed guards on horseback riding fore and aft of two covered carts, the first containing the jewel- and gold-inlaid box that carried Leyne and the second his belongings. Two emissaries of Shisen drove the former carriage and two guardsmen the latter. The palomino trailed, tethered to the second coach. Prince Edward, Nightfall, and Kelryn rode alongside the caravan, their conversation sparse even toward the end of the month of travel between Tylantis and Alyndar. Edward floated from states of unbearable depression, to giddy story-telling, to sentiment seemingly without pattern or stimulus. Nightfall preferred the times when he told bittersweet tales about his brother and his past. These seemed most normal.
The procession stopped frequently to ice the body, for supplies, and to rest. Everywhere, the town or village folk met them with honor and pity, free with trite phrases that quickly became more tedious than consoling. The trip bored Nightfall, leaving him with far too much time to consider his decision. He still had a month and a half in which to complete Prince Edward’s landing, but he had run out of possibilities. He had no way to guess- what effect, if any, Leyne’s death might have on his magically enforced task. Clearly, Rikard could have given his youngest son property at any time; according to Leyne, the winning process and the display of responsibility mattered more to the king. Yet, given the circumstances, King Rikard might want to keep his only remaining son safe at home and groom him for the ruling position he might someday take. Surely, the hammer-handed king could not risk sending the only prince away with a vicious murderer now that he had no other heirs. Or did he? Nightfall squinted, knowing little about the passage of titles among royalty.
The question haunted Nightfall all the way to the borders of Alyndar. As Edward’s lucid moments increased to become the more common norm, Nightfall finally managed to broach the topic without sounding as if he saw Leyne’s death as an opportunity rather than a calamity. The day had dawned fair, the sun strong and clouds rare, a welcome change from the rains that had followed them from Tylantis. Riding between Edward and Kelryn, Nightfall went directly to the heart of the matter. “Master, are you now Alyndar’s crown prince?"
Edward remained silent for some time, clearly considering. Surely, the thought had to have entered his mind sometime before in the month since Leyne’s death, yet he had no ready answer. "I don’t know. By strict laws of ascension, if my father died without a specified heir, I would become king. But the decision lies with my father. He has the right to choose any noble. I have seven cousins, several of whom are far more worthy than me-"
Nightfall could not help but interrupt. "No one is more worthy, Master."
Edward shrugged, taking his squire’s familiar devotion in stride, but Nightfall could see the beginnings of a smile at the corner of the prince’s mouth. "Even after all this time, your loyalty is touching, Sudian." He turned his head to meet the blue-black eyes. "I wish I could tell you how much your company means to me. Aside from my mother, you’re the only person who ever cared about and supported me for what I am, not from duty to my father or personal gain. Without your boldness and sincere faith in me, I’d still be off chasing shadows, accomplishing nothing more than clownishly shaming my family and myself."