The Kept

The Truth

Trygve approached Nerys slowly as she sat fuming with her back against the Haven's Heart.

"I know you're angry. Please, let me explain."

"What more do I need to hear? Go celebrate your job well done with Dadien. It was marvelous work, making me think you cared for me while preparing to give me to the next prince who wants to use me." Her words carried so much venom that they stung her own lips as she shot them at Trygve. "Will you pass me off to Haolaetia's prince next, or will it be Tiarmn's turn?"

"Nerys, I promise everything I am doing is for you. Trust me."

The tenderness in his voice reminded her how readily she had been taken in. He provided just what she needed whenever she needed it most. It had, apparently, served him well.

"Yes, that was quite evident while you were deciding when your master should have his way with me," she said with a derisive laugh. "Do you plan to hold me down for him, too?

Trygve's mouth fell open and he flushed a deep crimson.

"I would nev— "

"Oh? Is that where you draw the line in betraying me, then?"

Trygve threw his hands up in agitation.

"Just listen!" he shouted.

Nerys rose, lengthening her posture and pulling shoulders back in the manner that had, until she learned to stifle it, caused fellow apprentices to throw accusations at her of 'thinking she was better than them.'

"I am done with you."

Something akin to panic flashed in his eyes, and Trygve dropped to one knee before her; head down, arm bent before him like a shield.

"Princess, I am yours, alone," he said quietly. "If you wish it so, I can ensure that you never see me again, but I will not move from this spot until you agree to hear the truth first."

Nerys walked away.

She weighed the value of his friendship against her immediate hurt. As angry as she was, the thought of losing her last friend forever was unbearable. She was half way across the bridge when she looked back to see Trygve still kneeling in the position she had left him— he hadn't even raised his head to watch her go. She doubted anyone in the village would just show hand her a couple-hundred foot ladder and let her go on her merry way, and returning to Dadien was out of the question. It was either listen to what Trygve had to say, or take the quick way down.

He didn't so much as tilt his head to listen for her footsteps, but she could see his chest fall breathlessly still as she approached.

"I'm listening," she said.

Trygve let out a slow, wavering exhale before standing.

"It is best we speak in private," he said. "Would you like go home?"

She let him show her the way. They started heading back toward Dadien's hut, but veered to the right and crossed another suspended bridge heading toward the center of the village. Havenwood was remarkably well structured. Well water was pumped through a system of concealed pipes— indicated by pumping mechanisms that sprouted conspicuously from the certain trees, and each cottage had a rainbasin or two as well. They passed several planting houses throughout the village. There was a baker, blacksmith, a tailor, and a number of talented artisans and tradesmen who made life in the trees as convenient as in any village that was bound to the earth. Tiny glass lanterns were strung up on lines stretching throughout the village. They reflected the bright sunlight that broke through the canopy, but would not be lit until dark.