we will travel this life well worn
no matter the cost, no matter how long
no matter the cost, no matter how long
Eulalie is restless this night, unable to fall asleep as she lays next to Somnus in their rooms. She looks at moonlight cutting across the ceiling, watches the way her love’s chest rises and falls in the dark, feels the warmth of his skin against hers. Normally these things would lull her to sleep easily; peace, love, comfort. But not tonight, tonight something is pressing down on her, a strange and unsettling feeling. She thinks it might be her concern for Regis and the ivory maiden rises more than once to check on her quietly sleeping son, making sure his temperature has not climbed, making sure his breathing is even and steady. Every time she peeks in on him, nothing changes. Eulalie can’t place the heaviness knotting up her chest, but it only makes her feel as if something is about to go horribly wrong.
She returns to Somnus’ side one more time, gently pressing her cheek to his. “I’m going to go for a quick walk, I can’t sleep” she whispers, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Then, “I love you,” and she presses a kiss to the same cheek before pulling away and turning toward the doors. Just before leaving, Tabbris stirs, but she shakes her head no. There’s no reason she should drag the gryphon out into the night with her. Then she is into the hallways, through the courtyard, out into the silent, midnight streets of Delumine. There is a chilly autumn breeze and it tugs at her loose golden hair, unbraided. She stands for a moment in the calm and looks up at the sky, watching stars twinkle in and out, in and out. It reminds her of the night that Somnus and she had stood in Eluetheria and he had told her stories about the stars. A smile touches her lips, and she breathes a little easier.
Still, tiredness does not come to her her. Eulalie turns away from the heavens above and begins to walk, the clip of her hooves against the cobblestone the only sound other than the breeze in her ears. She passes dark windows with sleeping bodies behind them, tucked safely into their beds for the night dreaming peacefully, she hopes. She thinks of their faces as she does, all ones familiar to her and she thinks of how different her life is now than even two years ago, just after she had come to the Dawn Court. Then, Eulalie had kept more to herself, had no friend other than Ulric who she had always been fond of since their chance meeting out on the edges of Delumine’s territory. Then she had been only a warrior searching for a new start.
In the end, it had found her.
Now she has Somnus, her children, Tabbris, still Ulric of course, and a court full of those she considers both friend and family. How quickly life could change, and Eulalie believes it all a gift. She is truly fortunate, and grateful, for all those she has in her life. Of course life in the citadel is glamorous, with servents willing to do whatever she needed of them, and a spectacular view of the court and the lands beyond, but those things did not matter to her. Wherever the ones she loves are, that is her home. They are her heart and her life, and she would give anything for them. She is still smiling when she turns back toward home, ready to settle down at last she thinks.
But a sound like whistling catches her ear and Eulalie pauses, waits, listens. She thinks it might be the sound of the wind rushing down an alley or catching on the corner of a roof, as she hears no other sounds to accompany it. After a few seconds it is gone and she begins to walk again, and still the wind picks up, causing a shiver to run down the length of her spine and she can’t wait to curl up next to Somnus and relish in his warmth. Then she hears it again, a whistling, faint and crooning, but this time it sounds as if it is accompanied by steps, clicking against the street. This time when she stops, Eulalie glances behind her, not truly expecting to see anything, but there at the end of the block of homes stands the shape of another, half hidden in shadow. Still it is unmistakably equine. They do not move, she does not move. For a moment they only stand there in silence, looking at each other.
Then the shape begins to run toward her.
Eulalie doesn’t wait to see who it is, she turns and races further down the street, her hooves almost slipping on the stone as she turns the corner. She glances behind her as she does so and breathes a sigh of relief when she no longer sees the mysterious stranger there. For a moment the ivory maiden thinks perhaps she really is tired and her mind is just playing tricks on her, but she thinks it too soon for when she looks up they are there again, at the end of the street, staring at her. Eulalie’s shock is plain to see on her face she is sure. How did they get in front of her so quickly? Again, they do not speak, but they begin to move. More slowly this time, walking even, casually as if they were simply strolling down the street.
She thinks quickly, her heart beating a staccato in her chest, fast as a hummingbird’s wings, and in her mind she pictures an alley just on the last street and disappears back around the corner, her legs carrying her as quickly as they can toward it. The steps behind her don’t speed up, and as she turns into the alley she backs as far into the shadows as she can, trying to slow her breathing and make as little sound as possible. After what feels like hours of waiting, the figure passes by the mouth of the alley. Eulalie waits still, with bated breath, not wanting to risk moving out into the street again. More time passes, there is no sound, nothing to indicate whether they are still out there or not. With hesitation Eulalie takes a few steps closer to the street, and that is when the figure arrives, blocking the entrance to the alley.
Their silhouette is tall, heavy, nondescript in the heavy darkness between them. “Who are you?” she says, lifting her head a little higher, standing her ground. “If you expect me to cower before you, you would be mistaken.” And though her voice is solid and strong, inside a part of her shivers, because she has no upper hand in this situation. Whoever they are, they have blocked her exit, and even at this distance appear much larger than she. Eulalie thinks again of Somnus, resting peacefully in their room, and then she knows: this is what her intuition had been telling her about, it had to be. She breathes in deeply, preparing herself for whatever may come.
