Sides of War

Chapter Twenty-Four: Someone to Drink With

It was afternoon when Jorlin's eyes forced themselves open the next day. She was in their usual room in the keep of Mauntell Castle. They'd arrived that morning just as the sun had begun to rise.

Her body was too weary to pick itself up, so she stayed where she was lying on her side, facing Draven, who was sleeping on the bed with his back to her. Heavy-lidded, she watched the thick blanket draped over his form steadily rise and fall.

Somehow the words that had been haunting her ever since the night before crept into her head despite her defenses. "I don't know who the girl in front of me is anymore." Tholan's words circulated in a never-ending loop through her brain. She stared blankly ahead, watching Draven's blanket rise and fall. If the world was limited to that, then perhaps the present was a burden she could shoulder.

Draven jolted himself awake, simultaneously unsheathing his dagger. Panting, he looked around the room wildly, muscles taut. Fear painted itself vividly on his face, his eyes wide and vulnerable, and a silent scream gripped his features. When he saw her, he immediately hardened his expression. Slowly, he sheathed the dagger then ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

Jorlin used to think he was heartless, but now she knew there was a difference between being heartless and being broken. As she watched him catch his breath, face buried in his hands, she knew deep down that he was the latter.

"What time is it?" he finally asked, looking up.

"Afternoon, I'm guessing," she muttered. Jorlin sat up reluctantly, already missing the sweet ignorance of sleep. She hated seeing him like this, and she didn't know why.

He groggily got to his feet and pulled on a jacket and cloak, followed by his boots. "I'm going to speak to the king," he said just loud enough for her to hear.

She nodded even though his back was to her as he walked out the door. The room felt no different without his presence; he was but a shadow.

After a while spent staring at the stones in the wall, Jorlin stood up and put an extra layer of clothing on, followed by her boots and cloak. She could tell it would be cold outside; the room was chilled even with the fire in the hearth. When she descended to the first floor and exited the keep, she discovered that she was right. A strong wind swept over the castle walls, and Jorlin pulled her cloak further up on her shoulders. As she felt the layer of snow on the ground crunch under her boots, she noted the increased activity in the inner and outer baileys. They were swarming with people, the workers and smiths preparing for the siege with maximum production.

Jorlin had scarcely stepped off the steps leading to the keep when Jamath's voice came from behind her, "Jorlin!" She turned to see him halt in front of her. "Draven told me you were awake. I didn't expect you to come out of the keep today. He said you traveled all night."

She simply nodded. Carrying on a conversation was the last thing she felt like doing.

"How are you?" he asked, falling in step with her when she started walking again.

"Fine," she muttered.

"Where are you headed?"

She shrugged.

She was about to tell Jamath to go away when a group of four young soldiers came up to her, telling her that what she's done for the Mauntells meant a lot to them. Jorlin faked caring well enough until they went away, but shortly afterwards a couple more soldiers approached and said essentially the same thing. Bombarded by people she didn't want to talk to, it took her much longer than she would have liked to reach the southern end of the castle.

"You still don't understand, do you?" Jamath asked, following her up the stairs that led to the top of the southern wall.

"Understand what?" she asked, leaning over the wall and looking out over the expansive Mauntell Manor, houses and buildings dotting the landscape patched with snowy fields.