For the remainder of the day, La’tiera stayed indoors. She quietly lamented the loss of her drawings but wouldn’t take the risk of finding out whether he’d left them at the wall or not.
She was still feeling out-of-sorts when she met her uncle that night for dinner.
“My dear, you’ll have to make sure to enjoy this evening’s entertainments to their fullest.”
Just the thought of seeing them from above the stage and hidden in darkness made her shiver inside.
“Why is that?”
“The troupe has informed me this will be their last performance.” He gave her a half-smile. “It seems we’ve already drained their repertoire.”
“Oh.” Despite her resolve never to meet Aya or Dal again, hearing that they would be gone hit her with a round of unexpected sadness.
As she watched them perform later on, tears rose to her eyes several times. She wondered if this heavy weight over her heart was close to what her parents must have felt when they’d let her go for her protection. She’d never felt anything so painful before.
She slept poorly that night and didn’t feel much better in the morning as she forced herself to stay indoors, though it would be her last possible chance to see either of them. She knew no good would come of such a meeting, and she was sure it would only help to make her feel sadder still.
“You seem sad tonight, La’tiera. That’s unlike you.”
She and the viscount were still in the dining room. The supper dishes had been cleared, and she had moved to a closer seat so the two of them could reach the chessboard now between them. Tih’ouren slid one of his rooks forward placing her bishop in jeopardy.
“I’m sorry.” She tried hard to smile. “I didn’t sleep well last night and it’s made me feel out-of-sorts all day.”
He frowned slightly. “You’ve been wearing your necklace to bed, haven’t you?”
“Yes, of course.” She’d been tempted to remove it the night before, but between her guilt over her lies and lapse in duty where Dal and Aya were concerned she’d left it on, though it had chafed her more than usual.
Not paying much attention, she moved a knight forward rather than attempting to defend her bishop and in so doing exposed her king.
“Your heart doesn’t seem to be in the game,” he admonished lightly. “Could it be you prefer the entertainers to my company?”
A snort echoed from the place in the back where Mela was knitting.
La’tiera sat up guiltily. “No, of course not.”
Tih’ouren chuckled softly, gingerly rising to his feet. “Perhaps you should turn in early this evening to recover your smile.” He leaned heavily on his cane. “We can match wits on the board again tomorrow.”
She stood up quickly, more guilt piling inside her, knowing she didn’t have that many more opportunities to spend with him before her time was done. “I’m truly sorry. I promise to be better tomorrow.”
He patted her hand. “Do not worry yourself on my account. You have much on your mind. Just remember all will soon be well.”
She watched him make his slow way down the hallway and felt loneliness falling once more about her shoulders like a cloak.
“Come, milady. It is not healthy to linger in these drafty halls.”