How, by the Maker, did it manage to cross the thorny barrier around the henhouse? The sharp thorns glinted in the moonlight, visible even from our perch. But soon, I saw how. The animal nosed a large branch against the fence, pressing down the thorns to create a gap.
“Clever little beast,” Noctis laughed.
I was tempted to join him, but as the fox began digging into the soft earth, my fear for my chickens won out.
“It’s going to take another chicken,” I exclaimed. “Do something!”
Beside me, Noctis stiffened, his bow aimed at the fox. A deep intake of breath, and then an arrow flew toward the small predator—only to miss it by a few inches, scattering off into the dark. The fox cried out in alarm and scrambled through the fence, vanishing into the underbrush, its white-tipped tail swishing one last time as if to taunt us.
“You let it get away,” I said in disbelief. Noctis was a skilled archer; he hadn’t missed by accident.
“Do you really want to kill a living being just for being clever? For daring more than the others of its kind? For following its nature?” He had let himself fall on his back, the bow forgotten in the grass beside him, his gaze fixed on the night sky. His voice was hoarse, exposing all his vulnerability.
Despite everything, I could only respond in one way: “No.”
The word was soft, barely audible against the gentle night surrounding us, the chirping crickets, the whisper of the trees in the light breeze.
“No,” Noctis echoed, without satisfaction, as if he had anticipated my response.
I lay down beside him, eyes on the sky. “Nearly being shot may keep him away for a while.”
“Maybe. But I doubt the little beast will be dissuaded that easily.”
“So… are you going to help me reinforce the fence before we leave tomorrow?” I asked, sensing another shift between us.
Noctis chuckled. “Of course.”
After today’s events, with all the dangers around us, I should have been on edge. Yet somehow, I felt at peace with him by my side underthe star-filled sky. Maybe it was time to lower my guard; maybe I was only torturing myself if I tried to stay strong. I was so tired of being strong all the time.
“It’s funny, isn’t it? Despite the years that have passed since I created them, the stars remain ever the same,” I mused.
“Shining down upon us.” Noctis’s voice carried a wistful ache. “Untouched by it all.”
“Some days I can’t even remember how it felt to command so much power. How I felt. It could have been an entirely different existence.”
“As if our past is nothing but the ancient tales of long-forgotten deities?” Noctis murmured. “And we, two simple mortals, stare up at the heavens, wondering what fate has in store for us?”
His longing stirred up all the hidden wishes inside my own heart.
“How were you stripped of your powers, Baradaz?”
Noctis’s gentle tone did not fool me. There was a purpose behind his question, asked in the still darkness of the night, where sharing my secrets with him felt so temptingly easy.
His next words made me freeze. “It took all of the Ten, including you, to take my magic. I wonder how my brother managed the same with you. You are among the most powerful of us.”
He suspected something. He was clever, and there were far too many holes in my story.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, hoping to dissuade him.
“Didhedo it?” Noctis’s demeanor shifted dramatically, disbelief and horror evident in his voice. A soft rustle told me he was looking at me. “Did the Allfather punish you?”
“No,” I replied curtly, my gaze still fixed on the stars. Why did conversations with him always veer into uncomfortable topics, forcing me to confront truths I wanted to forget? “You’ve had moreinteractions with him than I have. After sending me to Aron-Lyr, he never spoke to me. The last time I sensed his presence was…”
“When you married Aramaz,” Noctis finished for me when I trailed off.
“Yes.” I breathed in deeply, unable to hide the old anguish. “I suppose he’s too disappointed in me to bless me with his presence.”
“That’s something we have in common, then,” Noctis said, his words oddly comforting. “Why did you come here?” he asked after a quiet moment, changing the topic as I had requested. His new question wasn’t any simpler to answer, though. “You had allies in Lyrheim. You could have led a more comfortable life there, or in any of the larger cities.”
