At first it sounded like a rabbit. Then he realized it was another person. Doubtless the king was still conversing with his daughter. That only left a handful of suspects, and given the fearful look his blade had received, Eragos doubted it was the owners of the home. His suspicion was confirmed when he found himself eye-to-eye with the Lady Vera. She had seemed to be considering the heavy thoughts of kings and nobles all evening. If he'd never been a noble man, it was only because the heavy thoughts belonged to another. For his part Eragos never wanted anything so much as he wanted to be free of politics. The positions of a blade were easier to judge and easier to counter. The positions of an official, of a so-called lord or lady, were never as easy to judge. It was not suspicion that colored his attitude toward her but respect. Any lord or lady that he'd ever met would have abandoned their charges to save themselves.
The code of a knight was not required to have money, apparently.
Like him she belonged to an order. And if the knights of the southland were different he'd seen enough of her to know that she was one. A knight even if her clothing was odd, and even if her body did not have the toned and over-muscular look of a woman used to wearing armor. Eragos had no idea what had become of his armor. He only knew that it was gone. Probably disassembled and then buried as though he'd lost his life dishonorably. The thought stung. Plates of dwarven steel meant to mimic the appears of a dragon's scales, lacquered in green, and easier to move in than the heavy plate armor that his father had chosen.
He was getting distracted. No wonder his blade was singing. It should have been silent.
"Lady Vera," and he offered her a bow over his sword, before driving the flambard into the frozen earth. "After today I felt as though I needed a bit more activity to wind down."
Careful hands had stitched his wound, but he still remembered the woman who had cleaned it to begin with. Her eyes now were clouded by the mist of his breath, by the weight of the thoughts that consumed her, and the chill that made his own vision bleary. Who could have told what she was thinking or why? Not him.
He wasn't clever enough for that.
"You should take your rest. First light comes in a handful of hours, Lady."