Iylaine is a stricken doe

Ordinarily Mother Curran would not have thought it civilized to answer a knock at the door with a knife in one’s hand, but she now regretted having come unarmed.

Sir Malcolm had gone away only the day before, leaving his Baby and his Little Turtle in her care. Already they were in danger, and Mother Curran had nothing but her wits and her bare hands wherewith to defend them.

“Sir!” she huffed. “Sir Malcolm isn’t to home.”

“I know, but – ” The elf caught the edge of the door with his hand before she could pull it shut. “Where is Iylaine?”

“She’s not here neither!”

Nor did Mother Curran ordinarily approve of lying, but if a man could kill in defense of his loved ones and not be a murderer, then she thought a little old lady ought to be able to lie in defense of her wee lambs and not be a liar.

“Iylaine!” the elf called over her head.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” she cried and yanked at the door. He held it firmly, so in desperation she kicked his shin with her little foot. “You let go of this door!”

The elf noticed her not at all. “Iylaine!” His call rang out like the bellow of a stag after his doe, but then his voice grew tiny, his face pinched, and he whimpered, “Please! You must let me see her!”

“Her ladyship don’t feel so good this morning,” Mother Curran pouted, “and she’s taking a lie-​​down, so you just let her be, Sir Elf.”

“I know she isn’t well, and neither am I. Please, please!”

“Vash?” her little lady called from inside the house.

“No, you don’t!” Mother Curran tried to put her own body in the way of the elf, but he slipped past her and through the door. Mother Curran could only follow.

Lady Iylaine had come out of the bedroom, but she had not even closed the door behind her, and Mother Curran was terrified for the precious turtle who was playing with his precious toes inside.

She did not know what to do first. She suspected that even if she hung the weight of her body from the elf’s neck, he would scarcely be burdened, and she did not think she would be swift enough to successfully attack him with a kitchen knife. Finally she decided to slip quietly around them and close the bedroom door. She then planted herself before it and swore that he would have to do her violence if he meant to get into that room.

But Lady Iylaine and the elf seemed to have forgotten everything besides each other.

The elf had not moved since his first rush into the room, and Iylaine had only come gradually to him, her whimpering distress growing as she neared him.

“Sir Elf!” Mother Curran barked. “I don’t think you should be here!” She was beginning to understand who this strange elf must be.

“Vash?” Iylaine whispered.

“Where’s Malcolm?” he asked her.

“Malcolm?”

“Where’s Malcolm? Where is he?”

In the light of the windows, Mother Curran could see that his face was flushed, his eyes feverish, and the hair that hung over his face was damp with sweat as if he had run – or as if he were very ill.

“He went to his father’s house,” Iylaine whimpered. “Oh, Vash…”

“He can’t go!”

“He has to go. His twin brother is getting married.”

“He can’t go.” Vash fell on his knees before her and pleaded, “You must send for him. He must come home. I shall die.”

“You can’t die, Vash…” Iylaine squeaked. Her gathering tears finally spilled over, and she wiped her hands over her cheeks.

“I shall if you don’t send for him. Please.”

Iylaine moved still closer to him, bent over him, laid a hand on his shoulder.

“My lady!” Mother Curran wailed and stomped her foot. “Come back to me!”

“Why would you die?” Iylaine asked.

“Because I saved his life once, Iylaine. With mine.”

“Get up, Vash, please!” She hooked her hands in his leather vest and pulled him to his feet. “Please don’t get on the ground,” she quavered.

“Iylaine…”

“Come away, my lady, my lamb,” Mother Curran coaxed, but neither paid her any mind. She did not dare move far enough away from the door to snatch at Lady Iylaine’s sleeve.

“What happened to him?” Iylaine asked. “When did you save him?”

“It was in the autumn. I told him not to tell you. It doesn’t matter… But he must come home now. He can’t go away.”

“But you tried to kill him once.” Iylaine shook her head dazedly. “Why did you save him?”

“For you, cousin.”

Mother Curran could not see what was on Iylaine’s face, but if it was any reflection of what she could see on the elf’s, then it was something of which she could not approve.

“Oh, no!” she groaned. “My lady! Come away with me at once! And you, just you go away, sir! And leave this poor girl alone! This isn’t right!”

Finally Iylaine noticed her. She spun around and cried, “And you, just you go tell His Grace that someone needs to go after Malcolm and bring him home! Right now!”

Mother Curran was, as always, intimidated by the fury of her little lady – who was not so very little, when one thought about it – but she had a duty to her master, too. “Oh, no, I won’t! Not while he’s here!”

Iylaine took a deep breath in preparation for shrieking at her, but Vash laid a hand on her elbow, and she let it out in a sob instead.

“I shan’t stay,” he said. “I shall leave at once.”

Iylaine turned back to him. “Vash, no!”

He caught her hand, but rather than kissing it as Mother Curran had expected, he only brought it up and held her fingers against his cheek for a moment.

“Don’t you touch her!” Mother Curran cried.

“Goodbye, Iylaine,” he said.

Iylaine tried to embrace him – or possibly only to capture him in her arms – but he slipped away from her and backed to the door, still wearing on his feverish face the look that Mother Curran did not like.

Iylaine was petrified as long as he looked at her. Only once the door had closed before his face did she stomp her foot and howl like a stricken animal.

“Now, my lady,” Mother Curran shuffled up to her, clucking softly. “Let’s just lie you down again – ”

“No!” Iylaine cried and stomped her foot again. “No! You go away! Now! And tell His Grace to send men after Malcolm!”

“But – ”

“Go away!” she sobbed. “I hate you!”