III

He climbed the back of Katarine's house, as usual, used the vines and pushed the usually unlocked window, frowned when the weight of the window did not budge. There was light in the room, why hadn't she opened it for him? This had never happened before. He pressed his ear against the window, heard a rustling of clothes, obviously it was her.

He softly knocked twice on the windowpane. A few seconds later, he heard her unlock, but she didn't give him way in like usual, instead, she opened only a crack so he could see a part of her Elvish face and her beautiful deep blue eyes. He distracted himself with her features until he realized that she kept her brow furrowed.

"Is everything okay, demoiselle13?" He loved to see her soften her face when she heard the term he had learned casually from a essences' merchant, he didn't know what language that was, but found the sound beautiful and soft, unlike his native language that was more rough and guttural.

"We can not see each other anymore." She stared at him through that crack.

"Someone found us out, demoiselle?"

He knew there was such a risk, she did too, it would make sense to forbid her from seeing him, even more so in her bedroom! It would be a disgrace to her family, so he had always taken the greatest care when he went to see her, the last thing he wanted was to hurt her.

"Ikke14, I am promised to a merchant lord, so it is better for both of us to stop seeing each other." There was excitement in her voice.

The gleam of those blue eyes alone would have excited him, however, he frowned at the statement as his heart stirred in his chest.

"Seems like he has many possessions, isn't this terrific? I will be the Dame of a master of possessions!" Katerine seemed genuinely excited by the news.

Suddenly Roon felt queasy and gripped tightly the window frame.

"Min15 demoiselle, you don't even know him! How old is he?" He tried to argue with reason since there was nothing else he could do.

His heart was twisting in suffocating pain, he had to stop himself from grabbing his own chest, trying to drown the pain.

Katarine gave him a cold look, she had never done so, the pain in his chest intensified, he knew what was about to happen, she had tolerated him because he told her things she liked to hear, now there was no use for him. He had always suspected but never wanted to admit to himself, this was the admission, the beautiful look of repudiation.

His chest tightened, Ronn took a slow breath, soothing the pain in his throat. Maybe it was not the worst case scenario.

"Katarine, I know I should be happy for you, but I've seen too many arranged weddings to know there's a chance your Sêlkior will treat you badly, he can make you unhappy for the rest of your life!"

Usually arranged marriages between merchant families were held to expand the selling area, he had seen this before, obviously, hidden in the shadows. The Greats Sêlkiors always travelled much, leaving their wives alone at home, that was how the bastards were born and sicknesses appeared in the Dames, who always suffered for the carelessness of their husbands.

She snorted and looked at him strangely as if analyzing him.

"Sêlkior Rurik has a good reputation in several cities to the north and west, my father informed himself, there is nothing to tarnish his name." She looked at him impatiently. "There is nothing you can say to persuade me otherwise, I've had dozens of suitors, my father denied them all, if he chose this one, then he must be the best."

His jaw locked, she was going to give herself to a man she didn't even know, just because he sells more than a few others? Suddenly, desperation struck him, he knew Katarine better than anyone else, he knew how she had been brought up, he had watched her from afar, of course, she would do something stupid like that.

"Let's run away together" His voice broke.

He hated to hear the hope and panic in his own voice, but knowing that she would be hurt by another man was inconceivable to him. Katarine's eyes widened for a long moment, and then she laughed, she laughed out loud, the same laughter he had loved for so many years, the one that made him feel light now made him drown completely in despair. She coughed after drying her throat with laughter and looked at him again.

"Have you gone mad? I would never exchange a dress for a bastard who has nothing but rags to call his own. You are a Ronn and I'm a Hansen, you will never have a woman or a house, your children will be Ronn and their children will also be Ronn. The best you could do for everyone is to go to the mountain in the winter, that would be the right thing to do. I will marry Sêlkior Rurik and go wherever he goes, you no longer have permission to address me. I didn't report you because I felt sorry for your miserable life and the stories of great men of fame have entertained me for a while." Katarine looked at him with a chin raised in a sign of superiority and locked the window.

Ronn remained silent, staring at the closed window, hearing her footsteps retreating in the room. He slowly descended the vines, left the city by north, like a black blur in the stinking, dirty alleys, toward the forest that circled the mountain.

He was sweating, despite the cold and gasping on account of all the running he did. Mud mingled with snow drenched his feet, freezing them painfully, however he didn't care at all. Cold and hunger were nothing compared to the chaotic way his heart thundered.

He was far enough away from the houses to be surrounded by darkness, the waning moon was only a tear in the sky. He was accustomed to the dark, felt safe in it several times, used it as shelter and hiding place, saw and learned through it, grew up with it, became stronger because of it.

Silence, however, did not envelop him, words echoing in his mind over and over again, in varying tones, with various glances, imagining them uttered each time they saw each other in the last few years. The words settled on his soul like a red-hot iron. Lastly, he allowed himself to grasp his chest, trying unsuccessfully to reach his heart.

She hadn't done him more harm than anyone else had ever done, but in fact, she was the first person to disappoint him. If he had known how much disappointment would crush, he wouldn't have devoted anyone but himself. Oh, foolish expectations.

I didn't take a genius to know someone in her position would take such attitudes, still, nothing he could think of to justify what she did could appease his anguish.

He rubbed his chest absently, even though the act could not lessen the pain. He sighed, watching the air in his mouth turn into mist before dissipating in the wind.

He had long been accustomed to being treated that way, was not envious of others who had a name, never felt distressed by the fact his father is a piece of shit and his mother a prostitute whom people says died at the hands of a drunk customer, never felt a need of possessing money.

There were only two things that mattered to him in his damn life, and one of them was Katarine, the first person who really wanted to hear what he had to say, no matter what.

The other one was her younger half-sister, Elsea. She was only a child and didn't know about the evils of the world yet, she always obeyed her parents, but always stole food and other things from the tavern for him, even if they could not see each other often.

She would always open a big smile that would sweeten his heart, her whole life she was the only one that really saw him, not Ronn the bastard but her older brother. He made a point of giving her presents whenever he had the opportunity.

Thinking of his sister dwindled the pain in his chest.

He looked up at the mountain, the one where he could have been abandoned when he could barely open his eyes.

Die?

At least one person in the world had heard him, there was at least one who could see him. I exist no matter what everyone thinks or say, Ronn mused.

Katarine disappointed him, she listened to him only for her own entertainment, only taking advantage of him. He had seen a side of her that, for too long, he had refused to believe she possessed: cruelty.

Was that the way she had always thought of him? That he should die once he ran out of stories to tell her?

The wind stirred the leaves around him, most of the trees had begun to dry and darken, the dry leaves crammed the ground. He frowned at the leaves. Would he die when he ran out of stories? Then, he needed more stories, as many as possible.

Or perhaps a single story that many would hear, that a bard would want to carry and exchange for an inexpensive drink, a single story that is carried in the wind. Yes, as long as there was a story, he would exist.

He smiled at the shadows that embraced him as a cloud covered the fragile glow of the moon.

He turned his back on the mountain, returning to the city.

"If all I need is a story, then I will become one."

Glossary:

13. Demoiselle: Translated to "young lady";

14. Ikke: Translated to "no";

15. Min: Translated to "mine"

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