“What do you mean? Where did she go?” The young boy with the jade green eyes demanded of maidservant in front of him.
The young woman was practically shaking with fear, staring down at her feet, fists twisted into her skirts. He felt so angry, not realizing in his self-righteous seven year old rage that he was glaring at her with all the imperious authority of his noble blood. For the past several months, Kovan Vyrwel had bothered everyone he could, trying to discover what had happened to his and his brother’s beloved nursemaid.
His new governess, the servants, his parents, no one would tell him why she had been so abruptly dismissed, though the whispering had made it clear to him that others knew something. His father had simply told him that he and his brother were no longer such small children that they required a nursemaid, and it was time for them to leave such childish things behind.
He knew what his father thought, that he was just a child who would forget if left alone long enough, but he would show his father. He had been searching for her as best he could, and he had made up his mind to make it to the nearest village to search for her, even if no one was planning to help him.
That was when this young woman had stumbled upon him, attempting to pack a bag. “My lord, what are you doing? Do the master and mistress intend to go somewhere?” She had asked him innocently. He’d cried out in alarm, and begged her not to tell anyone.
“I’m searching for Miss Levin. I know something must have happened to her.” He said, desperately. “If she had truly been honestly dismissed, why does no one speak of her? Why may she not at least visit us?”
“My lord! Miss Levin could never return to Darkdell, not after the master cast her out without a penny to her name.” The maid had gasped.
The boy had grabbed her sleeve then, realizing she knew what had happened. “What do you mean? Where did she go?”
“M-my Lord. I- I can’t- It is not my place to-“
“Tell me!” He said, trying not to stamp his foot like the child his father thought he was.
The maid shrank away from him, clearly conflicted, but at length, she spoke. “Well… when it was discovered that she was with child, and Lord Vyrwel’s child at that, she was dismissed immediately, and what house would accept a servant who would seduce the Lord of the house?”
Kovan shook, so that the two of them were both trembling, one from fear, one from shock. “My father’s… child?” He asked, breathlessly. “Miss Levin. She carries another brother of mine?” A startle of joy ran through him. “Well, where is she?! Bastard or no, any child of my father’s is family.” Miss Levin had always been like a mother to them, anyways.
The maid shook her head and looked away. “She- well, Miss Levin returned to her hometown, I believe. A village a day’s ride from here, but you could not possibly find her. Your father has chosen not to claim the child, and should Lord and Lady Vyrwel discover I’ve told you, I will be dismissed as well.” She was near tears as she spoke.
He set his jaw in determination and finished preparing his pack. “I have to find her.”
“My lord, please!” She called after him, but he hefted the little bag over his shoulder and stomped out of his chambers.
“Maester Jacob.” The young lord called, reaching his tutor’s chambers.
“You have been slow to come to me, my lord.” The man said, opening his door, looking bored.
In truth, Kovan was not fond of Maester Jacob. The man was bald, with a long black beard. His scarred face was distressing to look at, but it was his nature that frightened Kovan more, not that he would admit that to anyone. He seemed disdainful of anyone besides himself, and yet also seemed to know precisely what one would want to hide. He had the most disturbing oily smile, and seemed to like Kovan a great deal.
“Did you know Miss Levin was with child?” He demanded directly, regretting his decision not to go the Maester directly, after all.
“Of course. I was the one who discovered it, after all.” The Maester said, coldly. “And if my Lord Kovan desires, I may guide you to her, even accompany you. It is dangerous for a boy to be on the roads alone, at your tender age. I would be remiss for allowing the heir of House Vyrwel to thus put himself at risk.”
Kovan didn’t ask why Maester Jacob wanted to help. The older man had been with their family since he was born. He did not even think to ask. “At once.” He said, for once not turning away the Maester’s help.
He did not know how the Maester managed it, but as if the bald man had read the future, he escorted Kovan immediately through back passages out of the castle. Even walls that should have been guarded were empty of people, and they saw not a servant as they rode to the village, clothed in black cloaks.
At one point during their journey, Kovan found his eyelids closing against his will, drooping in the Maester’s arms. When he awoke, they were riding into a town as the sun rose over the horizon of distant fields. Maester Jacob asked no one for any direction, seeming to know exactly where he intended to go, and by the time the young Vyrwel was fully awake, he was being lifted from the horse in front of a very small shack at the edge of the town.
The young boy couldn’t believe what he saw. The shack was dark and looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned for some time. When he tentatively pushed open the simple door, he saw his old nurse lying on a cot of straw, looking pale, exhausted, and thin. She had been so beautiful when he’d known her, with her bright blue eyes and long black hair. She’d been a few years younger than his mother, and had the gentlest smile.
The woman in front of him was almost unrecognizable, gaunt and haggard, breathing light, shallow breaths from between chapped lips. “Miss Levin!” Kovan cried, going to her immediately and clasping her hand.
She squinted at him and at the light coming in through the open door. “My lord?” She asked, confused. “How can you be here?” She peered past him, and then shook her head with a weak smile. “Maester Jacob, you should not have.”
“I am my lord’s humble servant, after all.” The man said from behind him, giving a slight bow. She chuckled in reply, but Kovan ignored him.
“Miss Levin, are you alright? Are you ill?” He tried to figure out what was wrong with her, but could find nothing certain. “They- they told me you were with child. How could father be so cruel as to simply cast you out like this when you might be carrying a new brother of mine?” He asked, rubbing little tears from his eyes.
She laughed again, still sounding weak and sick. “A sister.” Her frail body started shaking, and her already drawn face contorted in grief, but she gestured to a bundle at her left.
Hardly able to breathe, Kovan reached over her to pick up the bundle. It was a baby, well-wrapped in a filthy cloth. He remembered a little of Vikkin when he’d been an infant, and he held the child gently, pressing a hand against its face, before drawing it back quickly. The child was still, and ice cold.
“She’s-!”
“Her name was Miriam, my lord.” Miss Levin interrupted, closing her eyes and letting the tears trail down the sides of her face. “I’m sorry… I could not protect her… for you.”
Lowering his head, so filled with emotions he did not understand, the dark-haired boy cradled the dead baby against his chest and clasped the woman’s hand with his free one. He knelt there like that for he knew not how long, and it took some time before he noticed the change. Mis Levin’s ragged breathing had quieted, her hand was limp in his, and when he opened his eyes again, he realized he had lost her as well.
Maester Jacob allowed him to grieve as long as he needed, and then took the boy up in his arms and placed him back on the horse. “Come, my lord. We should stay here no longer, nor speak of this again. The living must limit how they dwell on the dead.” The boy pressed one tear-stained cheek against the horse’s neck and said not a word, but he knew he could not listen to his Maester. He would never be able to forget Miss Levin, and the sister Vikkin would never know they’d had. The name Miriam Flowers would stay with him, he suspected, until the day he died, along with an anger he had not known he was capable of.