Minutes passed like hours, and still Edmund didn’t move from the bed. He felt like a trespasser pretending another’s blankets were his own. It grew cold around him without Oliver, like his blood had stopped moving, turned viscous, reptilian. Edmund gradually slipped from bed and walked to Oliver’s luggage.
Everything was so pristine. He ran his hand along Oliver’s shirt from last night, trying to remember what it felt like with skin beneath it. He couldn't. Edmund shucked his own shirt off, letting it crumple to the floor as he pulled Oliver’s on. It was an ill fit, tight across the shoulders and long in the sleeves. It wasn’t enough, but it was all he had.
Edmund lay back on the bed, the necklace sliding into the notch of his collar bone. What was he doing? He didn’t know. He never had faith in anything. Not in his country, family, or any deity. So to put any in Oliver felt against instinct, but that also discredited him. Time and again Oliver had risked, granted, and sacrificed for Edmund. And Edmund only asked for more as proof.
He sighed, reaching to touch the pendant. He wasn’t afraid of pain, but that final plunge into trust… There was no coming back from that.
* * *
After righting Oliver’s room and luggage, Edmund returned to his own to dress, then left to mill about the gardens. He chose to eschew breakfast. Between his hangover and displeasing Oliver, he didn’t have much of an appetite.
Edmund had rolled a cigarette and burned through half of it admiring the flowerbeds before being interrupted.
It was a woman. She appeared shorter than him, her physique square and tight from martial disciplines. Her uniform resembled that of a guard of some sort, and bore a crest from a house Edmund wasn’t familiar with. Likely not one from back home he wagered.
“I take it you’re King Oliver’s servant.” She began in greeting. “I’ve been looking for you, my apologies for not knowing your name in advance, sir.”
“It’s Edmund.” He crushed his cigarette underfoot. “Attaway.”
“I don’t recognize that surname. What business is your family in?”
“None. I’m not from a house.”
“Oh, I- … my apologies.” She seemed genuinely ashamed for her faux pas, palliating with a platitude before introducing herself. “Greatness from humble beginnings. I’m Theodora Fairdale, of the Fairdale logging company. We were carpenters before things took off and I eventually became a bodyguard.”
“I don’t believe I asked,
Ted.” And he didn’t care, already tired of the conversation. Being reminded that most noble personnel were the rejected younger progeny of the middle class only soured things further.
“I go by Theo.” She corrected, brows knitting with contempt.
“And you can just go in general.”
Theo stared him down, seeming to size him up before evincing, “You know, to find you, I was informed to look for a sordid man who appeared out of place among us. They really couldn’t have described you better.”
“And I’ll wager they call you a quidnunc and a harridan, a bitch who puts her nose in others’ business because her lead is too short.”
That struck a nerve, she retorted in turn. “And you’re a hagfish on the king’s cock, slimy and spineless. They rumor you’re no better than an arriviste merchant, whoring to the top. It must be easy to stoop so low when you’re already on your knees.”
“I trust you’re referencing a personal experience.” She paused, unable to come up with a quick and adequate quip, much to Edmund’s delight. He grinned, but her words would cut him deeper yet.
“That King Oliver would choose you as his servant, to represent him. He must be vile-“
“Oliver is
nothing like me!” Edmund immediately interjected, voice rising above civil levels. “By compare, he is everything good. He’s magnanimous, benevolent, clement. That I am
here and not hanging is proof of that. Spit your maledictions and imprecations at me all you like, but I will not tolerate any slander of him.”
“If you believe as much then you do your master a great disservice.”
“As though a toothless bitch such as yourself is a paragon of bodyguards.” Edmund sneered. “You’re not even beside your charge to protect them.”
“I'm only
toothless out of respect. It’s at Lady Geneva’s order that you are unscathed. Under any other circumstance, I’d put a cur like you down.”
That name. “You’re Geneva’s?”
“That’s
Lady Geneva.” Theo corrected.
“What are you doing here?!” Edmund exclaimed, nearly hysterical. “You should be beside her, preventing her from slutting around this estate.”
“Excuse me.” Theo bit out acerbically. “Lady Geneva is a pure-“
“She’s just like any other whore, looking for a rich dick to ri-“
The crackle of cartilage was deafening through his hangover. A sound like stalks snapping and chicken gristle crunched between teeth. Theo had impulsively punched Edmund, breaking his nose. He stoically took the blow, recoiling marginally. He stepped back. The moment of silence that followed was palpable, waiting in incredulity. Maybe it hadn’t happened. Then there was a trickle.
“Oh fuck.” Theo gasped.
And suddenly blood began pouring out his nose.
Theo was immediately at his side, trying to convince him it was nothing, he could walk it off. Like a sibling begging, ‘
please don’t tell mom’. And he had his hands cupped around his nose, muffling his squawks that such
wasn’t something to be walked off.
They had made a scene and other staffers were looking on. Theo had broken her oath to eschew violence in protecting Geneva’s honor. Edmund had likely made Oliver’s morning worse by getting injured. Things had really gone to hell.The only mercy was that Theo had torn part of her uniform free for Edmund to staunch his nose.
Certainly, they had made a lasting first impression on each other.
