Late at night, while her fiancé slept soundly, Nihka busied herself around the estate. Sehki, old enough now to toddle along without being carried and young enough to be direly curious about the chores her mother was doing, was her joyful shadow. She smiled warmly at the sight, Sehki padding around on bare feet in a little green dress and dragging along her Ahriman plush. The plushie was named Ahman; an accident but the name stuck even after Sehki could say the word Ahriman clearly.
Cleaning was almost meditative. As her hands brushed a soft cloth against ornate wooden surfaces, knocking dust into the air and leaving the wood gleaming, Nihka’s mind sifted through recent events. Five forestborn and one miqo’te who had taken up with them. They fancied themselves revolutionaries, the rich children of influential families who sought change in society.
That she thought of them as children gave Nihka pause. She was hardly older than they were, she was still a child herself in the eyes of Menphina. Fingers slid along the tops of books by rote as her thoughts drifted to her childhood, traveling with her family. At fourteen summers old, she was almost ready to take her trial and become an adult. She was just waiting for their next visit to the clan, but that visit never came. The ixal attacked, her family fought and lost, and the only reason Nihka survived was her older sister holding them off long enough for her to run. She’d never taken her trial, never become an adult. Who was she to call anyone else a child?
The miqo’te, Garri, was the most interesting of the bunch. She’d had a vision of the merchant, Pelderain Dornier, being murdered by a masked miqo’te. The same day that Nihka had been arrested by Weylan, hidden away in a secret prison.
She didn’t want to think about that part…
Nihka pushed those thoughts away as she hoisted a bucket of water up the stairs, what mattered now was the masked miqo’te. Garri described him, or her, dressed in greys and browns, with bright white fur with blue tips. Nihka was no stranger to unusual visions, so she accepted that what the girl had seen was true, but that was no less worrying. White hair with blue tips, though an unusual combination and unlikely to occur naturally, was Anstarra’s true hair color.
One moon ago a guest had come to the Redezvous. Vael’a had hosted him, and later went to security to describe the experience as deeply unsettling. He seemed less interested in food and conversation and more in conquest. X’zarann Nuhn had come to scout the location, searching for An. But he found Nihka. As he was leaving he caught sight of her, and his gaze made her want to run and hide. He had white hair with blue tips, like his sister.
Nihka’s nostrils flared unconsciously as she scrubbed the wooden floor. Lightly floral soap filled her senses, subtle to most races but quite strong to her huntress/alchemy-trained nose. She’d spent that afternoon, before hosting, cuddling her fiancé. The scent of Anstarra might have been hanging on her. Could he have smelled it? Did he know? What would he do with that knowledge? An was terrified of him, and that meant Nihka was as well.
This wouldn’t be the first time Nihka could be used as a means to hurting someone else. She’d been kidnapped before, back when she was still with the Shroudwolves. Assassins seeking out Khloe had grabbed Nihka and bound her to use her as leverage. If she wasn’t careful, someone would use her to hurt An.
She couldn’t let that happen.
But how would she go about that? Never leaving the house? Never taking another leveplate? Give up her work and hide in the estate forever? She couldn’t do that. As a registered adventurer and loving mother, it was her duty to make the world a safer place for everyone, for her daughter. Nihka ran her hand over her belly, ears flicking. That would be plural, some day. Daughters. Children. How could she raise a family with this threat hanging over their heads?
Nihka understood, now, why her mother fought. Kemi fought to the bitter end to save as many of her children as she could, and though she died she had succeeded. Nihka was alive; would she be willing to die to save Sehki?
Physically exhausted, Nihka collapsed back into the warmth of Anstarra’s bed while Sehki played in the other room. She tangled herself up as best she could, to enjoy the cuddles until dawn came and the rest of the world woke.
Cleaning was almost meditative. As her hands brushed a soft cloth against ornate wooden surfaces, knocking dust into the air and leaving the wood gleaming, Nihka’s mind sifted through recent events. Five forestborn and one miqo’te who had taken up with them. They fancied themselves revolutionaries, the rich children of influential families who sought change in society.
That she thought of them as children gave Nihka pause. She was hardly older than they were, she was still a child herself in the eyes of Menphina. Fingers slid along the tops of books by rote as her thoughts drifted to her childhood, traveling with her family. At fourteen summers old, she was almost ready to take her trial and become an adult. She was just waiting for their next visit to the clan, but that visit never came. The ixal attacked, her family fought and lost, and the only reason Nihka survived was her older sister holding them off long enough for her to run. She’d never taken her trial, never become an adult. Who was she to call anyone else a child?
The miqo’te, Garri, was the most interesting of the bunch. She’d had a vision of the merchant, Pelderain Dornier, being murdered by a masked miqo’te. The same day that Nihka had been arrested by Weylan, hidden away in a secret prison.
She didn’t want to think about that part…
Nihka pushed those thoughts away as she hoisted a bucket of water up the stairs, what mattered now was the masked miqo’te. Garri described him, or her, dressed in greys and browns, with bright white fur with blue tips. Nihka was no stranger to unusual visions, so she accepted that what the girl had seen was true, but that was no less worrying. White hair with blue tips, though an unusual combination and unlikely to occur naturally, was Anstarra’s true hair color.
One moon ago a guest had come to the Redezvous. Vael’a had hosted him, and later went to security to describe the experience as deeply unsettling. He seemed less interested in food and conversation and more in conquest. X’zarann Nuhn had come to scout the location, searching for An. But he found Nihka. As he was leaving he caught sight of her, and his gaze made her want to run and hide. He had white hair with blue tips, like his sister.
Nihka’s nostrils flared unconsciously as she scrubbed the wooden floor. Lightly floral soap filled her senses, subtle to most races but quite strong to her huntress/alchemy-trained nose. She’d spent that afternoon, before hosting, cuddling her fiancé. The scent of Anstarra might have been hanging on her. Could he have smelled it? Did he know? What would he do with that knowledge? An was terrified of him, and that meant Nihka was as well.
This wouldn’t be the first time Nihka could be used as a means to hurting someone else. She’d been kidnapped before, back when she was still with the Shroudwolves. Assassins seeking out Khloe had grabbed Nihka and bound her to use her as leverage. If she wasn’t careful, someone would use her to hurt An.
She couldn’t let that happen.
But how would she go about that? Never leaving the house? Never taking another leveplate? Give up her work and hide in the estate forever? She couldn’t do that. As a registered adventurer and loving mother, it was her duty to make the world a safer place for everyone, for her daughter. Nihka ran her hand over her belly, ears flicking. That would be plural, some day. Daughters. Children. How could she raise a family with this threat hanging over their heads?
Nihka understood, now, why her mother fought. Kemi fought to the bitter end to save as many of her children as she could, and though she died she had succeeded. Nihka was alive; would she be willing to die to save Sehki?
Physically exhausted, Nihka collapsed back into the warmth of Anstarra’s bed while Sehki played in the other room. She tangled herself up as best she could, to enjoy the cuddles until dawn came and the rest of the world woke.
