Chapter 19

The warmth her lips provides consumes me and I inhale softly, picking up her scent of berry and pine. Not wanting to be overbearing, I pull back as swiftly as I initiated our kiss and examine her face, searching for a clue as to how she may have felt about it. Her eyes flutter open and fixate on mine before drifting down to my lips. She unconsciously likes her own and turns back towards the fire, the orange hue deepening her red cheeks.

Tilting my head to the side in a shrug, I lean back down on my elbow and return my focus to the flames myself. "I hope I didn't cross any lines," I offer, unsure of how she feels about my forwardness.

She gives her head a slight shake and I notice she attempts to hide a smile. "You didn't. It was nice," she answers gently before turning to me. "That was my first kiss, you know."

Grinning, I push myself up and sit up, scooting next to her to where our arms rest against the others. "What an honor," I tell her, "To be the first kiss of the most beautiful woman that has ever walked this earth? They need to carve that somewhere on my tombstone."

She giggles and rolls her eyes, "Lying is a sin Thomas. I thought we covered that on day one of our journey." Biting her lower lip, she steals a glance at me and shakes her head.

Claire is unmistakingly a beautiful girl—inside and out—and that fact that she cannot see that makes her more attractive—at least to me. "I'm not lying," I state. "Back home in Paevia, you'd have men parading around your door step every hour of the day begging for your hand I'd bet. I'd be one of them," I add with a wink.

She gives her head another shake. "You know, there is more to life than just women or shining your armor," she chastises.

Deciding to take her bait, I lean forward and brush off some mud from my boot. "There is? Like what?" I ask, flicking the clump away into the night.

Scoffing, she playfully gives me a nudge and changes the subject. "Do you have a church in Paevia? I've never heard you talk about one."

Shaking my head, I rest my elbows on my knees and with my right hand I grip my left wrist in an attempt to get comfortable. "No actually. A few decades ago there was a small group that worshiped the weather and spoke of gods living in the clouds but it died out when their members did. My grandfather lent them a small building to practice but it fell into disrepair. I think it's serves as a home to various beggars now."

"Hm," she hums. "Do you think that there could be one day?" She glances at me sideways out of curiosity, awaiting my answer.

Shrugging, I lean forward and pull up some grass before tearing the blades apart mindlessly. "I don't see why there couldn't be. If I—" I begin before correcting myself. "When I become king I'll be sure to remind Paevia of their freedom to practice what they please and to come forward if they'd like a formal place to worship—including a church."

She offers me a soft smile and returns her attention to the fire. "So there are Christians in Paevia then," she asks though it sounds more like a statement.

Collecting more blades of grass, I nod. "I'm aware of a few. They live in the outskirts of Paevia so I don't know much about them but who knows, maybe soon we'll have more," I say with a smirk.

"Meaning?" she asks, lowering her voice an octane. If I didn't know any better I'd say she is trying to flirt with me.

"Well," I begin and toss the ripped shreds of grass to my left. "There's no telling what new citizens we may acquire. The world is slowly changing, people are becoming more nomadic. Then there's the whole situation with my brother and Beth Ann to contend with," I answer. "Who is to say that a few won't follow her footsteps?"

She remains silent for a few moments as she slowly sways back and forth while sitting down before pausing. "I saw something earlier that was...unusual. Unusual to me anyways," she mentions.

Cocking an eyebrow, I wait for her to continue.

"While I was waiting for dinner, Darla and I saw..." she trails. "Two men sharing an intimate moment. I've never seen anything like that before. I have always been taught that that sort of behavior is immoral—one of the most grievous sins— but being here and seeing it for myself has me questioning the teachings of the church. I know a sin is a sin and they carry the same weight, but that type if wickedness is forbidden," she states, giving her head a shake. "I can't seem to grasp why now that I'm here. The two men seemed happy. Is that common in Paevia."

Clicking my teeth, I give a shoulder a shrug. "Paevia is a free city but only to an extent. I guess it really depends on where you're at I suppose. In the lower districts like Fogbottom people could give a rats ass who you choose bed. But the further you head towards the castle the more people tend to judge. There's been a few times a man has been found in the river with his prick cut off or has been tossed over a bridge because of it."

In the low light I see her face transform into a horrified expression. "That's terrible," she says softly.

Shrugging again, I give my head a nod. "Aye. So here, if a man prefers the company of another nothing is said about it. Some even go home to their wives as if nothing has happened, and that's his business. There's sort of a comradery amongst us that one would be hard pressed to break. Putting your life on the line for each other earns a bond that's probably hard to understand if you've never fought alongside someone. Having such a bond comes the promise of secrecy from us all."

"I see. I admire that about you all," she states. "You have your brotherhood, and I my sisterhood," she says though it sounds as if she is speaking to herself out loud.

I want to make a highly inappropriate joke but I hold my tongue.

Pressing her lips together she steals a glance at me before looking up into the night sky. I lean back, folding my hand sunder my head and take a moment to study her—the slight curve of her nose, the way her lips move slightly as she thinks to herself, and the freckles randomly scattered over her pale skin. The ale beckons for me to close my eyes so I do and enjoy the feeling it brings throughout my body. We sit in silence for a while, enjoying the other's company. Music plays in the distance as men take turns on their instruments and displaying the jigs they know on top of the dinner tables. Laughter fills the air from another side of camp that mingles with the clang of metal from the black smith as his hammer connects with steel—a constant reminder of the true reason we are gathered tonight.

At some point I must drift off because I'm roused awake by Claire's small hands shaking my arm. "Thomas," she whispers.

"Mhm?" I mumble.

"The hour is very late. I think we should get to bed," she whispers again.'

Slowly opening my eyes I sit up and look around to see that very few remain awake. Yawning, I stand up and offer her my hand and help her to her feet.

"Sorry for falling asleep. I'll walk you to your tent," I offer while stretching with a wince. The ale has—per usual—left me with a dull headache.

"Don't be. I enjoyed myself tonight, even saw a traveling star," she says folding her arms across her chest.

"Are you cold?" I ask, peering over to her, "I can have an extra blanket delivered to you if you'd like." I then frown at the reminder that for the first time we will be sleeping separately from this moment on—there is no longer any excuses for her to join me each night.

She gives a brief shake of her head. "That won't be necessary," she answers softly.

The walk to her tent is quick and stop a few feet from its entrance before turning to her. "Well," I say, rubbing the back of my neck. I want our night together to continue but it's late. "If you need anything you know where to find me."

She smirks, "Actually I don't."

Sheepishly, I smile in return. "Oh, right. My tent is down that path," I say, pointing to the small narrow walkway that has formed amongst the other tents. "It's the large tan one with gold trimmings and a torch."

She gives a slow nod as she gazes up at me, her blue eyes appearing to be empty black holes in the darkness. She stands awkwardly as if there is more she wants to say, or perhaps she is waiting to see if I will speak. Stepping forward, I look down at her and tuck a strand of hair behind one ear. It's soft to the touch, silky even. She exhales, casting her sweet breath against my face. Not wanting to push any more boundaries that I might have already have, I place a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Sweet dreams Claire," I say.

Stifling a smile, she glances up at me one more. "Goodnight Thomas, see you in the morning." She then ducks inside her tent, disappearing inside.

Turning on my heel, I whistle a tune as I make my way to my tent when a low chuckle catches me off guard. "You dog," I hear Rory say. Jerking my head to where I know his own tent lays, I see him standing outside in the low light in only his skivvy's. As I draw nearer, I pick up the scent of his perspiration and hear the soft snores of Beth Ann from inside.

Smirking, I fold my arms across my chest. "Says the man who still hasn't wiped off," I state.

He gives me a shrug and takes a long draw from his ale. "I like it. Serves as a reminder the next day," he replies simply. "You know this of me."

Rolling my eyes I ignore my brother and continue on my way, the dancing torch light serving as a beacon only a few feet away. Pushing through the heavy flaps of canvas that serves as doors I enter with ease and am pleased that even in my absence they kept up with my tent while I was gone. Candles flicker illuminating the decent amount of space I'm allotted—a perk of being a prince that I never take for granted.

To the right sits my wooden bed that has traveled with me for each war. A table sits in the left far corner with the drawing I was working on before I left—the charcoal pencils still in disarray. Walking over to it, I examine the sketched raven as I strip of the days clothing. It's not often that I get time to draw, as I've worked on this same bird for the past year quickly sketching a wing here an eye there. I suppose when I'm king I might as well toss the hobby out the window, because even when you're taking a piss there's always someone knocking on your door for something trivial.

Sighing, I walk over to the small mirror that rests against the trunk of clothing and examine myself naked. My fingers trace over the pale scars over my body and prod at the still healing injuries I've inquired on my recent journey from Paevia. Grime serves as a reminder that I haven't had a proper bath in days and I make a mental note to head to the river first thing in the morning to wash up. Yawning, I crawl into my bed and inhale the familiar smell of my bedding. As I drift off to sleep, my thoughts are of only Claire and her welcoming lips.

When I awake the next morning, I wash up and am surprised to see her and the other women serving breakfast to the men. Wet hair still dripping onto my shoulders, I stand in line and wait my turn patiently. Claire has yet to notice me and I enjoy watching her kindly chat with my men—pleased when she even makes one of them laugh.

"Good mo—" she begins as she mindlessly hands me a bowl of hot porridge before recognizing my face. "Good morning Thomas," she greets, her cheeks immediately flushing. Darla, who stands next to her and grinds up sticks of cinnamon notices and hides a smile.

I take the bowl from Claire and grin. "Good morning ladies, looking beautiful as ever," I say first to Darla before letting my gaze linger on Claire. I want to speak with her more, but there is a line of men behind me with empty stomachs. Allowing Darla to sprinkle some cinnamon onto the thick steaming porridge, I find a seat with some I haven't see in a long time and scarf down breakfast. When I'm done I drop my bowl off with Beth Ann and James who is thankful to have help this morning.

With breakfast and bathing out of the way, I spend the next few hours training with my men and help with upkeep on our weapons. A few hunters come back with three large boar and James quickly begins on preparing them for dinner and asks the woman to start working on lunch. It's served around noontime and once again, I only have a few moments to speak with Claire as she hands me a bowl of potato soup. After I eat, I make my way to the large tent where we make plans for war. I spend hours with Morgan, Rory, Warren, Isaiah, and a few others trying to come up with the perfect plan of both offense and defense as we are still unsure as to what angle we want to play. Morgan insists that wars are won when action is taken first, yet Warren and a solider named Marco insist that we have the advantage if we let them come to us.

By supper time my mind is exhausted and I want nothing more than to be alone in my quarters but idle hands can result in a loss of victory. The bowl I am handed by Claire is a stew that consists of boar, potatoes, and seasoning. We can only exchange a few words before I sit with Rory and listen in to him gush over Beth Ann. I'm surprised he doesn't go into details of the night they shared together—anytime he beds a woman he tends to—perhaps he truly does have feelings for Beth Ann. Sven and Nikolas join and I lean over, examining Sven's arm. It's still angry looking where the barb stuck him in the swamp and swollen around the puncture but it does look like it is getting better.

"Still hurts, might need to request a few days off to heal up," Sven jokes, shoveling a large bite into his mouth.

Nik giggles and nods, joining in. "Aye, me too. I still get headaches," he adds, rubbing the spot where the limp fell on top of him during the storm.

Rolling my eyes, I smirk and dive into the stew, enjoying how the flavors mix together. "I don't know if it's because he has help, but this might be James' best stew yet," I say, sipping on the hot juices.

"It's us," a voice sounds from behind me. Turning, I see Beth Ann—her blond hair pulled back into a bun—is trailed by Claire and Darla. Beth Ann plops down beside Rory who just finished his meal.

"May I?" Claire asks me politely, motioning to the empty seat adjacent to me.

"I'd be upset if you didn't" I reply, scooting over.

She sits down and prays over her meal and as I finish up supper, she relays the day's events. Mostly she helped prepare the meals for the day, but when she tells me she ventured into the woods to collect herbs I shoot her a look.

"I don't feel comfortable with you doing that," I say. There's too many dangers in these woods, not to mention the constant threat of scouts or even bandits for that matter. "I can't make sure you're safe if you aren't at camp."

Claire offers a smile. "I understand, but one of your men was kind enough to watch over us as we foraged."

Frowning, I return my focus to the last of my stew. "Well, I still don't like it. One man can't protect a group of women while fighting off ten men at the same time," I mutter to myself. I then tilt the bowl back and drink up the last of my meal before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Why did you pray for your food? It's already here at the table," Sven asks Claire as his conversation ends with Nikolas.

She shrugs. "I'm thankful for it, and I want to thank God for providing it for me."

Sven smirks. "God didn't provide it for you. The hunters did."

Claire's face flashes a shade of red and she shares a look with Beth Ann and Darla.

"God provides us everything, from the energy and stealth that was needed by the hunters to supplying the boars which gave their lives for us to eat. We should always be thankful, even when we have nothing," Darla interjects. "You'd know that if you ever listened to anything we say," she adds in a playful tone. The two then begin to banter back and forth about religion that provides entertainment for the others at the table.

I look at Claire who looks relieved that Darla explained to Sven as to why they always pray before eating and give her a reassuring nod.

Collecting my bowl, I stand up and give a stretch. "I think I'm going to go to bed," I say to the others. "You lot should do the same."

Sven frowns but nods his head. "Aye. Fun's officially over now that we're back." And it's true. Our time of traveling and late nights drinking ale ended last night as we celebrated our return, but wars do not wait for a convenient time to begin.

Turning to Claire, I nod my head to her and collect her empty bowl as well. "Goodnight beautiful," I say before turning on my heel and depositing our dishes into the wash tub. As I begin to head towards my tent, I hear small footsteps struggle to catch up. Turning, I see Claire jogging behind me, her strawberry mane now in a tousled mess.

Cocking an eyebrow, I wait for her to reach me. "Miss me already huh?" I joke.

Pressing her full lips together, she grabs a lock of hair and nervously plays with it. "I um, I think I wanted to tell you that it was strange not having you around today."

A deep chuckle escapes my throat and I nod. "You think that you wanted to tell me that, hm?" I ask rhetorically. As busy as my day was, I really had no time to allow thoughts of Claire enter my mind, but when I did I found myself missing her as well. "You're funny," I add. "You came all this way just to tell me that?"

Looking up, she releases the lock of hair and shrugs. "I guess so. That and I wanted to look at the stars with you again but I understand that you need to rest."

Gazing up into the night sky, I sigh. "Claire, I want nothing more than to grab a blanket and lay under the sky with you and talk until morning but I need to be an example to my men. If I bark orders that they need to be in bed while I lay next to a woman all night by a fire what kind of leader would I be?"

She frowns and slowly nods her head, clearly disappointed. "You're right. It was silly of me to even ask."

"No," I interject, stepping close to her. "It was very sweet." Placing my index finger under her chin, I lift her face up to mine to kiss her and pause, allowing her time to not give consent. But she never does so I lean forward and brush my lips against hers kissing her tenderly before pulling away and planting another on the top of her head. "Sweet dreams, Claire."

I then turn on my heel and head to my quarters, pushing through the heavy flap of canvas when I do. Stripping off, I climb into bed. For the next two weeks I fall into this same pattern: wake up, bath, train and tend to weapons, hunt here and there, eat, attend meetings, and steal small moments with Claire when I can. The fact that they are few and far between makes each one sweeter than the last.

Stay tuned! Next chapter is going to shift our story!:) hope you have a enjoyed so far <3