[Firefoot]

Scyld

Scyld was puzzled by Rowenna's response. It was as if she had expected him to say yes. Or maybe not expected, but hoped? Why? Why would she think that? Why would she want to trust him, or think she could trust him? She knew nothing about him! He had thought she was like him, knowing what the world truly held: pain and heartache and cruelty.

So why did she seem so disappointed? Or was it embarrassment, that had her staring down at her feet? Where had this conversation gone wrong? Scyld was beginning to realize that, for once, he was far out of his league. He was so used to manipulating and using people, to baiting and charming them with a haphazard mix of truth and lies. That was easy, a game he could play in his sleep.

But it was just that. A game. Maybe it was time to let the game go.

But what would be left of him? Would he remain Nydfara forever? Plain, boring, normal Nydfara. Even that was a farce. Just part of the game.

Games were supposed to have winners and losers. Scyld had always thought of himself as the winner and everyone else, losers. But maybe this game didn't have anyone but losers.

The song was drawing to a close. Scyld hadn't heard a single note of it, but he clapped along with the rest of the hall. Rowenna was still determinedly not looking at him, but he spoke to her anyway. “And you, Rowenna?” She turned her head. “Do you think that I could trust you?”

~*~*~*~

Léof

Léof laughed. “I reckon that's pretty smart,” he said. “She's bold as any man, and she's got some pretty strong, well, womanly wiles on top of that.” He didn't remember where he'd heard the term before, but it certainly seemed to fit. “Once, she got Lord Eodwine to loan her his horse for a race that I could've sworn he planned to ride in himself. She wouldn't settle for one of the hall horses – she had to have the best one in the stable. I still don't know how she did it.”