Inferno Hearts

Strangers in Passing

Manik's POV

Each time my horse's hoof strikes the pavement, I witness the townspeople around me flinch quite visibly. The sight makes me sick to my stomach. Although I am their leader, I am their servant as well. After all, they are the people of my lands, and since before I could even speak, my allegiance was pledged to them, and protecting their families, and homes.

The townspeople have paved a path for us just like how the Red Sea parted for Moses. They are all standing on either side of the gravel path, huddled together almost as if I am a blizzard that has blown across their town, and they wish to seek shelter from me. None of them are so much as daring to raise their heads, and meet my eyes, for fear of punishment.

The deathly silence is disturbed by something that clatters onto the gravel in front of me.

"My horse!" A child's voice cries out, just as a little body jumps out of line and breaks the otherwise seamless formation of people. Startled by the unexpected interruption, I tug at the reins of my horse with a force that jerks his head back, lifting his nose in the air. At the same time, where my animal's hooves would have made contact with the gravel, the child drops down onto his knees to crouch over something on the ground, in a desperate attempt to protect it.

"Hey!" A guard yells from behind me. A wave of rage surges through my blood at the rough tone of his voice.

"If you have the slightest value for your life, I would highly suggest that you do not speak to my people in that tone again."

"I was out of line, Your Highness. Please forgive me." This time the man's voice is subdued, with a visible undercurrent of fear streaking through it.

"Apologise to the child," I command, my voice leaving no room for any arguments.

"I beg your apology, little one." The guard says, his words tumbling on top of each other in his haste to get them out. Instead of acknowledging the man's words, the child continues to remain in his fetal position on the ground, clutching whatever he risked his life to protect tightly against his chest.

As my rage subsides, I'm suddenly quite curious to see what is so important to the little boy that he would put his life in danger to save it from the very hooves of moving animals, and armed men. Before I can think my actions through, I find myself dismounting my horse and walking towards the little boy.

"Good day," I say, my legs lowering me towards the ground on their own volition. Leaning my weight on my heels, I bend my head towards the child. "What have you got there?" Instead of an immediate answer, all I'm met with is utter silence which is quite an odd occurrence for me. Usually people are bending forwards and backwards to please me, but this child does not seem to be the least bit bothered by my presence.

"What I meant to say is, whatever you are clutching must be quite valuable for a brave little man, such as yourself, to leap into the midst of danger for it."

"I'd do anything for my horse," a small voice chirps up from the curled ball on the ground.

"And why is that?" I ask, a sliver of pride flickering to life inside me at the thought that I accomplished the feat of making the child talk. "What is so special about him?"

"He's mine," the boy explains, "And he's one of the few toys I have." A frown mars my features as I cast my gaze at the surrounding crowd. Perhaps in an attempt to locate the child's parents. However, no matter how hard I strain my eyes, I cannot locate a couple, or even a singular parental figure who may come across as even slightly underprivileged. After all, to my knowledge, the people in this town are fairly well off. 

"What happened to the rest of your toys?" This time my words are rewarded by the slightest of shift in the child's position, for he peeks up at me over his shoulder, his black hair falling across his eyes like a veil spun from silk.

"I don't ask mama for any because she cannot buy them," he replies. "My friends say it is because we are poor." For some odd reason, my heart constricts and squeezes in on itself at the plight of this little boy. I understand that not having a plethora of toys is not the end of the world. However, it is unfortunate that this child has to think of the harsh reality that surrounds us all at an age so young.

"You may not have many, but you do have the one you're holding." I say, nodding towards the veiled figure. "And any toy that brings out your bravery must surely be special, so I may see it?"

"Will you first promise that you won't take it and run?" The innocence in this question elicits a bark of laughter from me and I can swear to the heavens above that the hooves of my men's horses visibly shift in discomfort at the unexpected sound.

"I swear it upon my honour," I assure him. The foolishness that I feel at having this childish conversation, and making such a useless promise, is completely washed away the second the little boy's head lifts towards me to reveal a smile that has the power to bring the most battle-hardened of men down to their knees. I know that smile. The familiarity of it is discomfiting. 

"This is my horse." The boy introduces the wooden toy, his face beaming with pride at the figure in his hand. "Mama says if I wish hard enough, I can one day have a horse like yours." The boy's eyes travel to the animal that is patiently awaiting my return behind me.

"Can you keep a secret?" I ask the child, leaning towards him. His eyes widen momentarily before he nods his head with great vigour. "I like your horse more than mine," I whisper. And although I feel like an inane idiot this time as well, the smile that the boy offers me is reward enough yet again.

"Where is your mother?" Turning my head away from the child, I allow my eyes to wander across the gathered crowd for any sign of his parent. I doubt this boy has a father, given that he has not once mentioned the man in the entirety of our conversation.

The boy mumbles something before he lifts himself off the ground and runs towards a woman who is standing amongst the crowd. Unlike the child that has so confidently interrupted me and my men, the woman - supposedly his mother - whom he is now standing beside looks terrified; a complete contrast to the boy.

In an attempt to appease me, the woman drops into a deep bow, her eyes raising ever so slightly to meet mine. I nod at her once before turning around and heading back towards my horse.

However, for reasons that I cannot explain, my feet feel heavy. I do not want to say goodbye to the little boy so soon; it feels wrong to do so. Perhaps it is because his smile is so similar to hers. 

"Oh, and little one, what is your name?" The words are out of my mouth before I allow my mind even a moment's notice to think them through.

"Veer," the boy replies, without looking away from the horse in his hand.