I still laid, waiting for the first stars to creep in. However, the clouds have not dispatched, and the stars were too full of themselves to fight for their arrival.
"Sire." His voice had a grieving quality. He was still hurt by my question. At least he had a new phase of emotion.
"Yes?"
"It's getting cold."
"Agreed."
I realized I am a difficult man.
I rose, Turdley, stood with an umbrella, a long woolly coat and a devoted look on his face. What would happen if I start running? Turdley had a fine height, hair still intact and he was dressed to please, but could he run? He was quite as a cat with his pace. Then it should be fair, "give me the coat."
He opened the umbrella. Nice move. He lifted the coat to help me with the sleeves. I snatched it from his hands, and sprinted.
It was a good run. For me.
I reached the floor, and turned back. He was definitely running the umbrella opened on his head, swaying by the wind, his carefully arranged hair and coat in disarray. He reached me, maintaining the respectable distance, trying not to gasp for air.
"Turdley."
"Sire." He gasped.
"Why the umbrella?"
His patience stunned me, "It might have rained sire."
"Turdley."
"Sire."
"We are going for a run tomorrow in the morning."
"Yes Sire."
"Every day in the morning."
"Yes Sire."
"Turdley."
"Sire."
"Do not kill me at night."
I think I killed him again.
I woke; sweat sticking my clothes, hair damp. Embers of fire still receding from his vision. I looked around, no prying eyes. He felt watched. The room was dark. Its fine, its fine. The watch chimed 3 am. He would wake anyway in an hour, better rise up now.
He stood at the balcony, apart from the guards patrolling outside; this was only the time where the entire household slept. He wished to go outside, had he just returned yesterday. How can he possibly crave anything but solitude?
He has changed. Why?
He found himself back at the last step of the second landing- she stood there. Although in considerable darkness now. Still, her dress danced as if lit by some innate brightness.
He turned to go, when he heard the shuffling, his feet felt cold and a tingling in the back of neck. He looked back-, she still stood smiling. The noise, the source, he swept his gaze and looked in the direction of the sound. It had quietened again; he looked at his watch- 3:43 am. No, the house wakes at 5 am and nothing before, he pretends to wake at 7 am.
Maybe a mouse? Is that even a possibility? Remembering the shine of stairs. Nobody enters this landing. It is a possibility he reasoned. He took quick breathes and set one foot on the landing. Immediately withdrew it back as if stung. He looked at her again.
"It's a mouse." He said aloud to her.
She still looked the same but the smile looked sympathetic. It was disarraying how she changed the same smile to situations.
"I am not the one you should pity." He said and turned back.
It is a mouse, a mouse.
He was outside, breathing the cold air, looking up at the sky. The clouds were still persistent. He still could not see the gleam of stars, nor the shine of the breaking sun.
"Leo?"
His name. No honorifics.
He did not turn back. He could not.
"Leo?"
The sun was breaking through the thick canopy of clouds, fighting to reveal in the time he owed.
He knew what he would find. He always knew what he would find when he turned.
Nothing changed here. Ever.
"Leo?" the voice had become more distraught.
He did turn though.
Found nothing.
He knew that too.
"Your dexterity is good enough but you lack stamina."
Turdley gasped, trying to respond, "Yes, sire."
They were running, maybe.
Turdley insisted on a basket, in case, Sire needed something. He must be counting his well- wishers now, because I politely refused.
We stopped at the gazebo in between the mass of stretched land. Turdley looked as he might just drop in front of it than entering and sitting in mine presence.
"Just sit." I told him.
"I am fine, Sire. You are generous."
"I am just fine. Sit."
"Sire." He slumped as elegantly he can inside on the ivory gleaming benches.
I stood, looking at his flushed face, waiting for him to catch his breathe. He must have realised, because he sat straighter, his eyes focused on my shoes.
They were good shoes.
"Turdley."
"Sire."
"Is there some disturbances, in the third landing?"
Turdley paled, in contrast to his flushed skin. "Sire, did you visit her-"then realising who he was talking to bit his lips, so hard he could have drawn blood. I waited.
"Sire, I am not aware of any disturbance. The mornings are always calm and the nights-"he stopped abruptly.
I kept my gaze fixed- "the nights?"
"I slept Sire. But if you want, I can stay awake and-"
I held up my hand, "just tell me, if you found any unusual activity."
"No Sire."
"If there is some unusual activity."
He nodded. Did not respond.
What a shame.
I looked at him. His face was clear, eyes sharp with fear. Otherwise, he was placid as before. I nodded.
I felt the prickling again. Lies. Turdley was lying. My conscience pricked. I felt a weariness. I cannot trust him.
I kept my gaze flat; he looked at my shoes again. I suppose he did like them.