The Cialin on the walls have mostly stopped singing by the time it burns low, though the solemn mood persists. Only one voice can be heard quietly continuing to sing, belonging to a young man leaning back against the wall of the gatehouse. She may not remember him, but he feels a lot like Jaim in a blood-related way, and is paying enough attention to her to suggest he might be waiting. 

He also feels a great deal like Stormsinger - younger, less settled, less controlled in his anger, and less lonely, but nonetheless alike.

She scoops a handful of the ash up, holding it in the air for a moment to cool it before wrapping it in the sheet of scratch paper she brought out for that purpose. That done, she heads in, nodding acknowledgement to the mystery prince when she gets close.

He nods back. 

"Jaim was waiting until I convinced him to get some rest," he comments, showing off the runestone between his fingers to explain her ability to understand him. 

"Do you need anything?" He asks, as he was told to do before his brother would let himself be herded to bed by Istaim. 

This gets him a bit of an odd face, considering and a little amused. No, I don't think so.

"Great." He says. That means he can go to sleep. 

But first, reluctantly curious, he asks, "Why did you only burn that body?" 

I don't know the traditions of the rest of them; they're not closely enough related to that one for me to guess that it'd be the same. I knew hers because her Artefact told me.

"Huh." He supposes that makes sense.

"You can talk to Artefacts?" He assumes she hadn't managed to reach a full mana bond with one over the course of one night, so it must be her mysterious other powers.

She nods. I can read most minds, with some effort, and Artefacts can hear me in return; humans can't.

She can read minds, can she. He resists the urge to think something weird at her and ask for proof. He doesn't see why someone would lie about that - though he's not very good at noticing when people lie. 

That's... pretty amazing, though, he thinks with some longing. Just think what they could learn if they could just talk to Artefacts, and didn't have to go through years of effort to maybe get a strong enough bond to do so. The things they must have seen and experienced through their wielders' senses. 

He definitely intends to bond an Artefact someday, when he gets the chance. The idea of a companion who will always be with him appeals, beyond the simple curiosity about their experiences. 

He says none of this out loud. He just hums in acknowledgement, nodding. 

I'm not reading yours. But the strategic possibilities are incredible, yes.

He squints at her, then shrugs, accepting her words, and nods. "There aren't that many Complex Artefacts," he comments, "But a lot of commanders and other leaders have them. Even if they don't have very close bonds to them." So it could go either way strategically. 

You're underestimating them as individuals, a bit. Or maybe the Blade is just a very impressive example.

"The Blade?" He asks. He thinks back, "Oh, right, the one from the ambush." He pauses, debating whether his curiosity outweighs his desire for sleep, and then, "What are they like?" 

Not so different from humans, in type and I think in variety. Very old, though, and understandably lonely.

I expect the Blade will want to talk to you, if you'd like to ask him.

Lonely, huh. That makes sense, now that she mentions it. 

"Why would he want to meet me?" He asks, brow furrowing with confusion. 

You're - very similar, let's say. If I'd noticed you a day ago, I expect you'd have a bond proposal.

He... has no idea how to feel about that. Jaim would have told him not to take a bond, at least not yet. He may be second in line, but the king would still have been just as furious at him as he was with Jaim. And Ilek doesn't have the defeat of a powerful enemy general under his belt to stop him from being exiled. 

Which wouldn't be so bad - Ilek hates being Rael's son so much more than he likes being a prince (not much) - except that they're kind of in the middle of a war. 

It sounds like the option's been taken away, though, so it's a moot point. 

"...You bonded with him, then? I thought your magic was some other kind." 

She nods. I don't have mana, so it's not quite the same. He's staying with me, though.

I can't promise anything, but if we come across an Artefact that seems like a good match for you, I can ask them to wait until after the war for you. She ducks her head, grinning: neither of you likes being kept from things.

Well that's a little unsettling. Still, she's not wrong, and it's kind of nice that she seems to almost know him, already. He smiles a bit, "...That would be good," he agrees, looking away. 

It's a shame that she's already claimed the Blade, but if he's anything like Ilek is, then no amount of convincing is going to change his mind once he's decided to stay with her. 

It wouldn't be very interesting to be bonded to someone too much like him, anyway, he decides.

She reaches out, impulsively, for his hand.

He looks down at their hands, surprised. He turns slightly to look at her more fully, opening his mouth to ask what she's doing, and then closing it again. He looks away again, uncertain, but his hand twists under hers to clasp their fingers together.

His cheeks burn a bit - he has no idea what's happening right now, and figures he's probably doing something wrong.

It's... nice, though. Like the everpresent burn inside him is subsiding, a bit. He looks back at her carefully from the corner of his eye.

I don't know either, she signs after a pause. But the Blade and I are keeping each other because we like each other; I'm sure I'd like you, too.

His head dips a bit, his gaze darting away. That's... different. Most people don't like him very much. Too short with people, too sharp, too angry. His brothers, but they basically have to - and honestly all three of them like most people, even if Jaim doesn't show it. 

He looks back at her.

"I..."

He falters.

He tries again, "...how do you find out?" 

That you like someone? Listening, mostly. Talking. Being open with them is important, but there's an art to it.

Oh. 

He looks at her for a long moment, and then darts his eyes away again. 

"People... don't really talk to me," he admits, staring up at the moon to their right. "I don't know how good I am at... being open." 

He glances back, "I can try, though," he says, careful, uncertain.