Chapter 14

Locating my tent, I dig into my duffle and pull out a somewhat clean pair of trousers and a bar of soap. Not having much to wet it with, I dampen a cloth with some water from my water skin and do my best to get clean before changing into the dark green pants. I decide to go barefoot for the evening, needing to let my boots dry out if they can and abandon the idea of a shirt all together given the humidity. Ducking outside, I prop my boots upside down with men's and see that they have shared my thoughts given the lack of shirts and shoes.

My eyes scan over every one and I see that Beth Ann still sits atop my brother's lap, a tanned arm draped behind his neck as she closely listens in to one of Max's stories. Claire sits a few feet away, her legs tucked beneath her as she too gives her attention to young Max. I hear him say the words "goat" and "coin" and watch him how animated he becomes when describing an old farmer and I give my head a shake having heard the tale numerous of times. It's one of his favorites—about how one day in Paevia the old goat farmer caught him and his oldest daughter messing around in his barn. The farmer walloped Max over the head with a herding staff and threatened to hang him by his toes for ruining his daughter's virtue. Little did he know that half of Fogbottom had their share of the lass, my brothers included. Max being Max, he pulled up his pants and dug in his pocket for a coin before flipping it at the old man, being sure to thank him for making such a lovely creature before jumping out of the barn's only window. He ended up passing out on his way home in an ally and woke up with a nasty headache and a significant goose egg.

Gale, Nikolas, and Warren still idly stand by and chat as they prepare the rabbits and stew so I decide to head over to them. Over the next hour, I help with dinner while sipping ale and even with the thoughts of Rory in the back of my mind I find myself enjoying the time with my friends. We four have been through a lot together over the years—schooling, growing up and becoming men, watching Nikolas become a father as new life is brought into the world, and burying fallen friends as other lives are taken due to war. I care for all of my men here with me tonight as each as earned my trust in their own significant way, but these three before me I care for deeply.

"What's on your mind?" Warren asks me, handing me back my waterskin.

I take it and give it a good shake, noting its emptiness. "I handed this to you half full," I pout before unscrewing the cap and tossing back the remains of drink. The bitter sweet ale slides down my throat and I belch before giving him a shrug.

"You told us to get piss drunk tonight, how am I to do that if you don't share?" he retorts, pulling out his own waterskin from his satchel that lays carelessly in the grass by his feet.

"I was reminiscing, is all," I say, answering his question. "Reflecting or whatever," I say, waving my hand.

"On?" Warren asks, taking a long swig.

I give a smirk. "On the time your sister got drunk and showed everyone her tits at the tavern," I say slyly, earning a round of laughter from Gale and Nikolas.

Warren glares at me and takes another drink, this time a smaller one. "She'd never had corn liquor before—give her a break."

Gale wags his eyebrows, relieving Warren of his ale and taking a sip himself. "You ought to be proud, she's got a nice pair. Perhaps one of the best sets in all of Paevia. Wouldn't you agree, Nik?" he says, elbowing Nikolas who grins as he stirs the stew.

"Aye—aside from my wife's of course. Very perky," he adds. We guffaw and even Warren can't hide his grin.

"Honestly, I was thinking back on life in general and how we've all come along over the years. We had some good times," I say.

"Good times indeed," Warren agrees, clapping my on the shoulder. "And still more to come."

"How much longer till the food's ready? My tum tum is hungry," I ask Nik, giving my bare stomach a pat. Though alcohol has given me a warmth throughout my body—which in the humidity now seems torture—it hasn't staunched my hunger.

Nikolas tucks a dark strand of hair that's fallen from his bun behind his ear and leans forward, smelling the meal. "Should be done any moment—I just want to let the thyme you and Claire picked to settle in the meat."

Giving a nod, I cross my arms and look over to her. She still sits by the fire and softly chats with Alma. The orange glow of the flames warms her face and transforms her the hue of her hair into a deep honey color. Beth Ann has since gotten off of Rory's lap and has now taken her place beside him on the ground. He leans backwards placing his weight on both hands and sits with his ankles crossed, looking quite relax. Beth Ann mirrors his exact position, sitting so close that her thighs touch his.

Rory catches me watching him and don't tear my gaze away at first. He tilts his head to the side ever so slightly as if silently asking me what is wrong. Grunting, I look away and hold my hand out to Warren who hands me his ale. I drink deeply and make a mental note to refill my own waterskin after we eat. "I'm going to take a piss," I say to no one in particular.

"Food should be ready by the time you're back," Nikolas says, giving the bubbling brown soup a few final stirs.

Turning on my heel, I start my way towards the woods and make it a point to walk by Rory. I'm not sure why I do this—a mixture of pettiness and drunkenness I'd assume—and as he looks up to at me I refuse to acknowledge him. Reaching the tree line, I walk about thirty yards in to try my best to remain a gentleman for the women. Taking a piss around them seems a bit vulgar.

As I fiddle with my trousers I hear heavy foot steps behind me and already know who they belong to.

"You never were one for stealth," I say without turning around.

"And you were never one for subtleness," Rory counters. "You're upset," he states as he pauses a few feet away to my left and begins to relieve himself as well.

"Am I?" I ask rhetorically, "Hm." I'm being a bit childish I know, but I still can't help but blame him some for debasing Beth Ann. If he blatantly disobeys my orders how does that look to my men? They all know how Rory can be—sometimes he just can't help himself—but I've grown tired of his disobedience.

"She came to me first. I'm sure one of the others have already told you," he states. When I give no response, he continues. "That was our deal, remember? That she makes the first move. We haven't done anything other than her sit on my lap if your curious."

I scoff before finishing up and fixing myself then turn to face him. In the darkness of the night it's hard to make out any of his features. The fire glows behind him in the distance, casting his body into a shadowy silhouette. "Is that supposed to make me feel better about the situation somehow? Knowing that you two haven't ploughed yet?"

Rory's broad shoulders shrug and he adjusts his trousers and leans against the base of an adjacent tree. Now the orange flames illuminate his face partially and I see that his face is serious. "Yes actually, I do. And we won't go any further until she asks—again, that was our deal. You can't be mad at me for another's actions."

Placing my hands on my hips, I glance into the distance at the fire and see that Beth Ann's eyes keep flickering in our direction. It's too dark to see us of course, but it's evident that she already wants Rory to return to her. "I can actually. You have the ability to say no to her, you know. As a matter of fact it was one of your first words."

Rory gives a deep chuckle. "Have you ever known me to turn down a willing woman? Besides, I actually like her I think. More than any of the other ones. That should speak volumes."

Rolling my eyes, I give my head a shake. "Stop thinking with the wrong head and try to use your brain. Say if you take Beth Ann into your bed—have you thought about any consequences she might face once she's back at the nunnery? Do you think all these women here will keep quiet about that? Or about her being drunk off ale? If she's kicked out then what? Would she have a place to live? How will she support herself?" I ask expectantly. "And if she doesn't get kicked out of the church, what type of punishments do you think they might impose?" I ask. "And you only like her because she hasn't lifted up her skirts for you yet and that's something new to you—the moment she does you'll be onto the next and we both know it."

Rory is quiet for a moment and I'm about to give up on any hope of him replying to me, but he does. "You'd be surprised how quickly you can get to know someone when they ride on horseback with you every day, and how easy it is to entertain the idea of becoming more than what you already are. Or perhaps you already do?" he says, glancing back over to the encampment. "Her hair looks lovely tonight, doesn't it? Never seen such a color."

My eyes follow his gaze and something tells me he is referring to Claire who sits with her back to the campfire. The hue of the flames makes her hair normal strawberry blonde shade look like one of the many brilliant sunsets we've enjoyed these past few nights.

There's a quick pang of jealousy at his words and I turn my head back to him. "Leave Claire out of this," I retort.

Rory gives me a sly grin and rests his unruly head of hair against the tree. He ran out of his pomade yesterday and hasn't been able to keep it styled the way he usually likes. "That right there," he begins, swiveling his index finger at me, "What you just felt? Those are called feelings. You care about Claire just as I do for Beth Ann except you're not man enough to admit it all because you don't want your pride hurt about breaking your own orders."

I toss my head back and belt out a quick fake laugh. "Rory, what do you know about having feelings or caring about anyone other than yourself?"

Rory pushes himself off the tree and frowns. "I care about my family and friends—does it make me less of a person because I've never given my heart to a woman? That's horse shit and you know it," he says with a hint of anger in his tone.

Sighing, I run my hand through my hair. "You're right, I apologize. I just...these past few months have been tough—for you, me, father, the men, everyone. I'll admit I've been an ass as of late. And then seeing— " I begin, cutting myself off. Do I really want to get into this right now? No.

Rory steps forward and gives me a clap on the shoulder. "Tommy I already know, you don't have to say anything."

I look up at him and raise a brow. There's no way he knows what I was contemplating bringing up—for years even.

"You care for Claire but you're trying to not get as close to her as you'd like because when the war is over she's to go back to the nunnery and start anew. Meanwhile, we return to Paevia where we go back to our duties as princes—perhaps you a king—and pressure is on you to find a noble wife. Thing is, all the noble women aren't worth a eunuch's left testicle and the ones that are are already married off. Knowing you, you plan to have another ball and pick whichever woman you can stomach the most that evening and live not so happily ever after. Did I leave anything out?"

I feel my mouth drop open slightly, taken aback as to how spot on he is. "Um, no I uh, I think that pretty much covered it...?" I say. "How did y-" I begin, but he cuts me off.

"I'm your brother, Thomas. And even though we don't see eye to eye at times you're still one of my best friends. And hell, I'd feel the same way if I were in your shoes. Thankfully, I'm a second son and I don't have to face what you do or follow some traditions. But you know what say about traditions?"

I give my head a small shake.

He leans in closely to me as if he's about to share a secret and lowers and even goes as far as lowing his voice an octave. "Traditions are meant for old men who can't get it up in the morning and want everyone else to be as miserable as they are. Fuck traditions."

I can't help but to crack a smile before giving me head another small shake. "As much as I'd like to agree with you Rory, our laws and customs are what makes not only Paevia but every other kingdom mean something. Our father instilled them, and his father before him and so on and so on. We are nothing without some form of—" I say, but once again I'm interrupted for the third time.

"Listen to yourself. You proved my point by listing older generations who are for the most part nothing but dust and bones," he says.

Smirking, I fold my arms across my bare chest and notice it partially damp from the humid night air. "Do you honestly think our people or other kingdoms will have any respect for us if we begin changing things? If I father children with anyone who isn't at least a duchess?"

Rory gives a shrug. "Crispin did and people still seem to like him."

Exhaling, I gave up into the night sky through the tree tops and take note of the stars. "Have you forgotten the fact that not only the Isles of Rhoe but Westmeister has cut trade with us because of Rose and Crispin's decisions? What do you think will happen if a king follows suit?"

Rory waves me off and places his hands on his hips. "That was because of Rose and we both know it. The whole thing with Crispin and Rose happened around the same time sure, but everyone knows it's because our sister mated with that Rorik. The Isle and Westmeister are pompous snots whose noses are so high in the air that if it rains they'd drown. And honestly, who cares about losing trade with them—they never offered much except coal and cattle which we now receive from Crosse anyways. You're just making excuses," he says.

Giving my head a shake, I fix my gaze back to his silhouette. "It's easy for you to say that now here in the woods, but would you be so brave to say it in a court full of advisors? What if I do as you suggest and we lose trade with other kingdoms that we can't afford? Thousands will starve and their deaths would be on me."

Rory lets out a slow breath of air and glances over to Beth Ann. "You're right, I never thought of it like that. I'll leave you with one final thought, then we can return to camp and get drunk, how's that?"

I shrug a shoulder. "I'm already drunk, but sure, let's hear it."

"There will be those that do not agree with every single decision you make as king, that is certain. But I believe that you are a good man, and if you were to step outside of the ordinary—at least traditionally speaking—you'd gain respect from many people all over. No one wants the same old person generation after generation ruling over them with ancient views, they want someone new with new ideas who can provide change that benefits all. So when the time comes and I bow my knee at your coronation, don't be afraid to take a different path than what those before us choose," he says seriously. "If you don't I'll have to run you through and become king myself."

Smirking, I give my head a shake.  "Speaking of kings, how do you think he's is doing?" I ask, referring to our father. After spending countless of sleepless nights at his bedside and watching his health waiver and decline, I fear that perhaps he won't be here much longer. Sure, there had been days that were promising—where he'd have enough strength to get out of bed and sit on the terrace overlooking the courtyard—but how long had it been since? When I left him his voice hardly carried above a whisper.

Rory's playful attitude darkens a bit and he gives a shrug. "I don't know..." he replies softly. His illness has affected Rory the most and it's only then that I remember his state before we left Paevia, how I had to put on a brave face and order him to wipe his tears before our departure.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I step forward and give his brawny arm a pat. "Hey," I say, "I'm sure he's on the mend. Crispin and Cora said they would take turns watching him and we've the best healers in all of Paevia. He'll pull through, promise." I can't say that I believe my own words, but now isn't the time to linger on such a sad topic.

"Have any ale left?" I ask in a brighter tone. "I only have a bit left in my tent to last us the rest of the way."

In the darkness I see Rory flashes his teeth at me. "I'm running low as well, and with Beth Ann stealing a few swings here and there I'll probably be out by morning."

I bob my head and glance over to the others who all seem to be in good spirits. Nik has begun to pass out the food and by the looks on everyone's faces it must be tasty.

"Come," Rory tells me, looping his arm over my shoulders. "Life is short and we are only in the company of these women for a small amount of time, perhaps some of the men too if the war doesn't go in our favor. Woo Claire if you want or not at all—makes no difference to me. But let's enjoy each day and night as they come, yeah?"

It's true that none of us our guaranteed with our lives by the time the war ends—myself included—and it's a fact that I often forget. In a few days' time we'll be at our main encampment and there will be no time for moments like these.

Draping my own arm around his back as well, together we walk back towards the others. With Rory's words in mind, I take a plate from Nik and find my way over to Claire, plopping down right beside her. Alma flanks her and she offers me a small wave.

"Ladies," I greet, taking a chunk of the tender meat and pop it into my mouth. The hot juices are welcomed and with the thyme we picked earlier I'd have to say that this is one of the best meals Nik has ever prepared on our journey.

"Hello Thomas," Claire says lightly as she looks over to my. She seems to notice my lack of attire and absentmindedly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I see your clothes must still be wet," she mentions with a tone of bemusement.

"Yeah you could say that," I nod. "I can cover up if it's too much of a distraction."

Alma and Claire both crack grins and she gives her head a shake. My eyes drop to her smile and I notice that she has a small bit of grease smudged on the corner of her mouth. Smirking, I lean over and with my thumb I wipe it away, lightly running it over half of her full lips. Her eyes widen and in the dim light I see the redness form on her cheeks.

"You had a little something there," I explain nonchalantly while pointing with my index finger holding back a grin. Alma giggles.

"Oh, thank you," she replies, turning her focus back to Alma who only gives her a shrug.

"I didn't notice," she whispers.

"You two enjoying your evening?" I ask, taking another bite of my dinner. As I chew, I lean forward and prop the elbow that holds my bowl onto my knee and wipe my free hand off on my trousers.

Claire sips at her broth as Alma nods. "We are, actually. Max is filled with many stories—I haven't laughed this hard in ages."

A genuine smiles finds its way onto my face. "I'm pleased to hear that. I'd rather you find humor in his tales than horror. There can sometimes be a fine line between the two in them."

Alma waves me off with a hand. "He's harmless," she tells me. "Charming at times too, it's no wonder he's such a womanizer in Paevia. That you all are, really."

I cock a dark eyebrow at her as Claire's head jerks in her direction. "Alma!" she chastises. "It's unfair to assume such things!" she says, casting a quick glance at me as if she is unsure of her own words.

Doing my best to put on my most serious face, I shake my head and look away from Alma as if I'm offended. "It's not something that many know about, but I feel as if I can trust you with this information," I say before looking over my shoulders to see if anyone is around within earshot. Leaning forward, I motion for the two to lean towards me which they do. "Most of us are virgins," I lie.

Alma and Claire share a look before bursting out into a fit of laughter. Chuckling to myself, I watch Claire as she laughs with her friend and notice the adorable way her nose wrinkles up.

She looks over at my and with the back of her hand, smacks me left bicep. "Come now Thomas, didn't you know it's unbecoming to lie in front of spiritual women such as ourselves?"

My face slowly falls as I begin to fear that I have offended them, but when the two fall into another stitch, I relax.

"So," Alma says once they settle down. "When do you think we will be at your encampment?"

I finish up the last of my broth and wipe my mouth off with my hand. "If things go according to plan I'd say within three days' time. Why do you ask?" I inquire, leaning back and putting my weight on my elbows. Claire steals a glance at my abdomen as it flexes with the shift of my body. As if wondering if I had noticed, she looks up at my and quickly shifts her focus back to the fire.

"Well to be honest, I'm kind of getting tired of this life on the road. I miss sleeping in a proper bed and taking regular baths," Alma answers.

Letting out an amused snort, I shake my head. "Well, sorry to burst your bubble but you won't find much of a difference at camp. Everyone still sleeps in their bedrolls just as we do now, and the only place to bathe is a spring fed lake, so the water stays pretty cold. There's also about two thousand men who aren't as easy to get along with as we are."

Alma's dark features fall but she gives a shrug. "Oh, well I guess I should still be thankful none the less. At least we won't be stuck in a swamp such as this," she says, motioning to the tree's surrounding us. A mosquito then buzzes around her ear and she swats it away.

I look around and give a nod. "Aye. You girls are lucky too, seven large supply wagons left a week before we did so you won't need for much. You won't have to live off stale bread and leek soup."

"That doesn't sound very appetizing," Claire agrees. "Doesn't seem like enough to keep all those men in shape for fighting either."

Alma opens her mouth to add to the conversation, but another nun by the name of Ivette calls her over. Alma holds up a finger signaling that she'll be right over before standing up and looking back and forth between Claire and I. "You two enjoy your evening," she says, smirking at Claire. She then turns on her heel and trots over to Ivette, leaving the two of us alone.

"I saw your brother follow you into the woods. Is everything okay?" she asks after a pause. "I know it's not my business but I'm curious as to how that conversation went."

Raising my brows, I look at her and admire her inquisitive expression for a moment before turning away.

"If I'm being honest, pretty well. He gave me a new outlook on things—even if momentarily," I answer.

Claire purses her lips and steals a look at me. "What kind of things?"

I give a half smile and watch the orange flames dance in the stagnant air. "Oh you know..." I trail playfully. "The war, our father, you, the future of Paevia." I had strategically placed the information that we had talked about her in the middle and glance at her for her reaction.

Her eyes widen slightly and she looks down at her hands as if examining the state of her nails. I can tell she is wondering exactly what was said about her, but she doesn't ask which is one of the things I enjoy most about her—she's both humble and meek. But there are times when another part of her emerges and she goes against the teachings of the church. It's quite interesting when that side of Claire comes to light.

We sit in a comfortable silence for a few moments until Warren pulls out his jawharp and begins to pluck a tune that is a popular song in Paevia. Others join in by slapping their powerful thighs with their palms or taking their bows and fashioning small drums while a few begin to sing the catchy words. Rory is the first to stand up and he takes Beth Ann by the hand before swinging her around in a dance. Laughter fills the air and some of the women join hands as well, trying their best to stay on beat.

Glancing at Claire, I tilt my head towards the others. "What do you think?"

A small smile forms on her lips. "What do you mean?" she asks innocently.

Clicking my teeth, I gain my feet and give her an exaggerated bow. "Would you, Claire, do me the highest honor of dancing with me on this fine evening?" I ask, holding out my hand.

She pretends to think it over—placing her chin in-between her thumb and index finger—before giving me a nod and places her hand in mine. It's small and warm and I pull her up with ease.

"Show me how you Paevian boys know how to dance, then," she says, grinning. With her hand still in mine, she leads me to where the others are and it's then that I decide what my intentions with Claire will be.

Hope you enjoyed! Sorry it took a bit to upload, hope it was somewhat worth the wait