The tea was warm in my belly, and the tent was quiet, but sleep wouldn't come, his actions were repeated in my mind, widening the grin on my face.
The air was thick with unsaid thoughts. Below me, on the hard-packed earth, I heard the rustle of furs as Lord Kaldric shifted restlessly. Seemingly he was unable to sleep as well.
"Ardelle." His voice was a low mumbled in the dark.
"Hmm?"
"Are you in pain now?" My smile grew, staring at the man right in front of me, hiding my smile behind the fur.
"No, My Lord," I whispered, closing my eyes, "I am only tired now."
There was a long pause, Lord Kaldric was deep in pondering, I could feel he had endless questions about my condition.
"How long... will it last? The bleeding." He started with sheer curiosity, glancing back at me.
"Five to seven days, usually."
I heard a sharp intake of breath. The fur rug rustled violently as he sat bolt upright in the dark, "You will bleed like this for a week?!"
I chuckled faintly, "Yes, My Lord."
"And you say this happens every month? Every single moon?"
"Every month," I confirmed, fighting the urge to giggle again at the sheer horror in his tone, "Since I was a young girl."
"Gods," he muttered, his voice sounding genuinely shaken, consuming his time to process the information he was collecting.
"If a soldier bled for a week, he would be in his grave."
He was silent for a moment, but I could practically feel the next question burning in his throat. He cleared it loudly.
"And... the source. Where exactly is the blood coming from? Is there an internal rupture? A hidden laceration?"
I felt the heat rush to my cheeks, my eyes widening for a moment, "My Lord, it is… um… it comes from my womb. Between my legs."
The silence that followed was absolute. A moment of horror crossed the stoic knight, for a moment, praying he heard wrong but to no avail.
"You..." His voice was strangled, barely a thread of sound, "You bleed from there?"
"Yes."
I looked over the edge of the cot. In the dim moonlight filtering through the tent, I saw Lord Kaldric looking down at his own lap with dread he couldn't conceal.
He stared at his private parts with a look of profound, wide-eyed distress, his shoulders actually shivering as he imagined the sheer logistics of such a thing happening to him.
Without another word, he lay back down very quietly, pulling the furs up to his chin as if to protect himself from the mere thought.
He was deeply traumatized by the reality of womanhood. Placing my hand over my mouth, I could barely control the laughter bubbling in me.
"Does it... does it happen to the Queen too?" he asked after a while, his voice fading with apprehension..
"Yes. And Lady Olivine. And every woman you have ever passed in the street unless she is with child or barren." I explained as simply as I could.
"I see." He sounded like a man who had just discovered a new terrain, genuine concern in his voice, "And the tea... it really helps?"
"It helps. Thank you for brewing it, My Lord Kaldric."
He didn't answer, but his breathing finally began to level out. He asked a few more muffled questions, mostly about whether the blood attracted wolves or if I needed more iron in my diet to replace what was lost, his tactical mind trying to categorize a biological process as a logistical hurdle.
Eventually, the questions ceased.
I leaned over, watching him sleep with nothing but mesmerization. Any humane action by him had compelled me to be a prisoner of his world.
In the pale light, the Obsidian Pillar looked vulnerable. His jaw was finally relaxed, his brow smooth.
He had spent the last hour terrified of a cycle he couldn't fight with a sword, and in that fear, he had finally stopped seeing me as a threat.
He was a man who knew everything about death, yet nothing about the bodies that gave life. I reached out, my fingers hovering just above his dark hair, not quite touching, but close enough to feel the warmth of him.
"Sleep well, my empty-headed knight." I whispered wholeheartedly, poking his lips before shifting back.
I watched the steady rise and fall of his chest until my own eyes grew heavy, finally falling into a dreamless sleep, guarded by the man who was learning that some mysteries couldn't be conquered, only cared for.
But as beautiful that night was, it passed.
The morning march was brutal. The terrain grew uneven as we moved toward the mountain town of Hast, and Lord Kaldric, ever the soldier, pushed his stallion to a grueling pace.
Every jolt of the horse sent a fresh spike of agony through my lower back. I gripped the pommel, gritting my teeth to subdue the ache, my breath hitching as the cramps returned with a vengeance.
"My Lord..." I managed to gasp, my voice trembling, glancing at him but the fear of being a burden silenced me sharply.
Lord Kaldric slowed his horse just enough to look back, his silver eyes sharp and cold again.
"What is it? Is there anything in sight?"
I looked at his stern profile, the man who valued strength above all things, and the words died in my throat.
'What if he calls me weak? What if he regrets bringing a burden who bleeds and slows the march?'
"Nothing," I whispered, forcing a tight smile, resting my weight against him to find comfort at least, "It is nothing."
Lord Kaldric didn't respond, nor did he acknowledge the wince of pain I emitted either.
But, he observed the way I swayed in the saddle, the way my face had drained of color, clinging onto him with all my strength.
Without a word, he pulled his reins, trotting forward to the King's carriage.
"Your Majesty," I heard him. "The Lady is struggling with the terrain. Permission to fall back and take the lower pass at a slower pace. We will meet the vanguard at the Hast gates by nightfall." He requested quietly and my heart skipped a beat.
Lord Kaldric, doing something for me during a royal march, it induced a strange sense of relief I forgot about.
King Alaric looked out from his window, a knowing, amused glint in his eyes.
"I see. Granted, Commander. Do not keep us waiting too long."
Lord Kaldric didn't wait for the King to change his mind. He steered his horse, lowering the pace so I could finally relax.
"Commander?" Sir Aldwin called out with concern.
"Lady is unwell, Ornstein. You focus ahead."
"Y-Yes."
He was leading us toward a small, shaded grove by a mountain spring and for the first time, he helped me down, his hands steady on my waist.
My body shivered at his firm grip on me, turning me oblivious of the pain or anything else in this world. All on my mind was the man before me, helping me sit under a shaded tree.
"Stay here. I will be back." He brought me a canteen of fresh water too before sitting beside me.
We sat in a rare, comfortable silence. The only sound was the wind through the pines and the serenity of his presence. My eyes latched to him. For a moment, his world felt kind, it felt beautiful.
I eventually leaned my head against his armored shoulder, the cold metal surprisingly grounding, I was gathered in his shadows.
And the best part? He didn't pull away.
I had forgotten such tranquillity after my mother's demise. At that moment, for myself, I was a wife with her husband.
"Does it hurt too much?" He sparked a conversation.
"It does. But,"
"But?"
My eyes lifted to greet his intrigued ones, "But as long as I am this close to you, I forget it exists, My Lord."
He flinched at me words, knocking some undesirable realization which he tends to cover by engrossing himself in something else.
Lord Kaldric reached into his breastplate and pulled out a weathered parchment, the edges curled and yellowed. The seal had already been broken, but the way he held it suggested he hadn't yet found the courage to read it.
"A letter?" I asked softly, watching the elegant, sharp script on the page, leaning to catch a glimpse.
"From my mother," he hummed, his thumb tracing the ink.
"The messenger delivered it at Sernic, but I... I have lacked the time."
He glanced at me when I was hovering, blinking continuously at the script, "Can you make out the heading?"
I looked at the beautiful, swirling letters, they looked like birds in flight, "I cannot read, My Lord." I smiled.
Lord Kaldric paused, his hand stilling. "You cannot read?"
"My Lord, have you ever seen a beggar who can read?" I offered a small, self-deprecating smile.
"But I would love to learn. I always wanted to know what the books in the temple said... to know what the world looks like in ink."
He nodded in agreement, "Hmm. That won't do. You have to learn how to read. I will teach you–"
He hummed, a low, thoughtful sound, shaking his head. He opened the parchment, his eyes scanning the first line that left him mid-sentence.
I watched his face, expecting a softening of his features at the words of his mother. Instead, I witnessed his entire body converting to stone, they hardened in a way he looked at me with… hatred.
The warmth that had been building between us evaporated like it never existed before.
His jaw locked, and the hand holding the letter began to shake, not with sadness, but with a visceral, sickening shock.
"What is it?" I asked, reaching out to touch his arm, squinting my eyes to understand but failed, "Lord Kaldric? What does it say?" I asked with extreme fascination.
He jerked the letter away, folding it so violently the parchment nearly tore. He shoved it back into his breastplate, his silver eyes turning back into the frozen mirrors I feared most.
"Nothing," he enunciated, his voice regaining the dominance, "It is nothing. Are you better?"
"I... yes, but you look as though–"
"Good," he interrupted, standing up abruptly,causing me to almost fall on the ground as I looked at him, baffled by his sudden change.
The empty-headed knight who had brewed me tea was gone, he disappeared in the passing night. In his place stood the Commander of the Obsidian Pillar, cold and unreachable.
"Then let us proceed. We have wasted enough time on womanly ailments and idle rest. Mount your horse, Ardelle." He ordered.
He didn't help me up this time. He was already in his saddle, staring toward Hast with a gaze that seemed to see a world I wasn't part of. Clutching my dress, I stared at him for a few seconds before following his order.
Whatever was in that letter, it hadn't just ended the silence, it had reminded him why he hated the heart he almost dared to show.