Chapter 30

I lead the eleven of us with Markus taking up the rear of the caravan. We traverse through the rest of the vast grassy plain, then through a small bog that stinks of decay before finally ending up in a pine forest. With the horses spent already due to the heat, Nik takes them to a nearby pond and waters them after we dismount and collecting the necessities. Markus and Bastian begin pitching the tents while Claire and the other women sit patiently on a fallen tree. "What shall we do?" one of the women named Noel asks. Her brown doe eyes look up at me waiting for instruction.

"Why don't you ladies just relax?" I suggest, glancing at Claire. Her gaze meets mine and she quickly looks away. "If you'd rather keep yourself busy, we can use some firewood but please don't stray too far. This area is prone to bobcats." Noel's eyes widen in fear and the women stay put.

I take Uriah hunting and we spend the next two hours tracking down a deer. When we finally catch up to him, I see that he's small, not much older than a yearling. I give a nod to Uriah to take the shot and in one swift motion he pulls back his bow, releasing his arrow. It finds its target, sinking into the animals. It takes off with a squeal and collapses about a hundred yards away.

"Nice shot," I say to him as we walk up to the deer. He squirms on the forest floor gasping for air. Red tinted foam forms around the shaft of the arrow with each haggard breath. Its neck bears claw marks that haven't quite healed.

"You weren't kidding about the bobcats," Uriah says in a deep, clear voice. Pulling out my dagger, I stroke the deer's head hoping to allow it some comfort before expertly stabbing it in his liver, delivering the lethal blow.

"If you come across a soldier named Fletcher, ask him about his scar," I say lightly standing up. "He got it when I was a boy taking down one. He loves showing it off. The story has changed over the years of course, with the thing getting bigger by the decade." Uriah chuckles. As I go to bed down to pick up the deer and carry it back to camp, he stops me.

"Let me," he says. I cock a questioning brow.

When his light colored eyes look at my injured hand, I roll my eyes. "I'm missing two fingers, not an invalid," I retort, but allow him to hoist the animal over his broad shoulder. We make an agreement to let me help him when he gets tired, seeing as that we have a long walk back to camp. When we finally arrive, the two of us are drenched in sweat just as the sun begins to make its slow descent. A small fire crackles in the center of our camp that is surrounded by the women, Markus, and Bastian.

When we are noticed the two men stand to their feet with Markus dashing to his horse for some rope. When he returns we tie the deer's ankles and toss the other end over a branch, hoisting the animal up to clean it. Reaching into my pocket, Uriah clears his voice and holds out his hand for the blade.

"I don't think it's a good idea to get your injury tainted with this thing's blood," he says. Although it is a good point, I glare at him.

"What are you, my mother?" I pan, earning a laugh from Markus and Bastian. Uriah's face shifts to worry as he must remember that I am his soon-to-be-king. I then grin, taking a liking to the young man. "Relax, I'm not going to put your head on a pike for looking out for me. What I will do, is remind you that I've done this since I was a boy. I'll be careful and if I'm not, you can scold me then."Uriah's body relaxes slightly and he nods, hiding a grin. Nik gives him a playful slap on te back.

As I skin the deer, we chat and I begin to know my comrades better. Bastian hails from a noble family in our high district who didn't exactly approve of joining our military, wishing that he took up his father's trading company instead. I've heard of it as it is one of the more popular ones of Paevia. He's got a fiancé back home and plans to marry her in the next coming months who is one one of the palace's cook's daughter. Uriah is the fifth son out of six, and with no fortune promised, he decided to find coin in serving our army and has found a brotherhood far stronger than with his own by blood.

They know of my family, of my sister-n-law Cora, and of my niece and nephew but they don't know details deeper than superficial so I decide to let them know more of and share their personalities and fond memories. With each strip of meat harvested, Markus brings it to the fire and skewers them on sticks before roasting them above the flames, sprinkling salt and pepper he brought from one of the caravans. I steal glances at Claire as I finish cleaning and grow more concerned as the evening slowly passes. She sits cross legged by the fire, staring at the embers with a glazed look in her eye. When the other women try to rope her into conversation, she only mutters a few words in response. With air disheveled and dust sticking to her neck, she looks a mess.

Finished with the deer, I ask Uriah to drag off the skin and carcass so we wouldn't attract animals and make a short walk to my horse to retrieve a fresh set of clothes and soap. Taking one last look at Claire, I decide to see if I can help her any. As I approach, her stare from the embers break and fix on me, her light colored eyebrows raise.

Giving a smile, I squat down on my haunches next to her and act as natural as I can, holding out the bar of soap. "Would you like to bathe tonight? I'm about to do so myself, I'll stand guard if you'd like?"

Her full lips twitch as a ghost of a smile threatens to appear. "Are you trying to say that I stink?"

I chuckle. "Well I figured it would be rude to just flat out tell you, but yes," I lie. Her azure eyes tighten and laughter escapes from me. It feels somewhat strange to be so casual with her after the past few days, but I welcome the normalcy it brings me. "I'm kidding. I just figured it would be nice--relaxing even after. Besides, tomorrow we're going to cut through the town of Lagras and stay the night and I figured you would appreciate not showing up looking like we've spent many days on the road."

"Lagras?" she repeats. "Strange name."

I raise a shoulder. "It stems from another language that I've no idea how to speak," I admit. "Anyways, would you like to bathe while we still have some light? I'm sure the water is warm."

She presses her lips and thinks it over before nodding, holding out her small hand for me to help her up. I wait for her to retrieve a fresh set of clothes and together we make the walk to the small pond. When we reach it I test the water, satisfied at its temperature. "The one good thing about this heat," I say to myself.

"Would you like to go first?" she asks me, stealing a glance at my pile of clothes in my arm. "I don't mind."

I nod and toss my clothes onto the bank, slipping my shirt off in one swift motion. As I begin to fiddle with the string on my trousers, I glance up at Claire who watches me with wide curious eyes. Covering myself as if trying to hide my dignity, I scoff. "Claire!" I chastise.

Her face flushes as it heats up and she turns around. "It-I-it wasn't like that," she stammers and I can't help but to laugh.

"I'm teasing you, love," I say before flinching. "Sorry."

She says nothing in return so I strip naked and wade out into the water waist deep and quickly scrub myself with the bar of soap before dunking my head and washing my hair. When I'm done, I walk back to the bank and begin to dry off.

"I'm sorry for how I've treated you these last few days," she apologizes. I look over at her and see her fiddling with her hands behind her back nervously. "I'm angry, confused, saddened...and other emotions I don't know the name of. Regardless, I should never act ill towards you for laying out what's on your heart."

Drying off, I tilt my head even though she cannot see me. "It's okay, I understand of course. You can keep your distance for as long as you need if it helps you process things." I dress and let her know I'm done. She turns around and I and her the soap, not taking my eyes off hers.

"There's nothing in the water that will get me?" she asks, turning around to look at the still pond.

I raise my brows and shrug. "Beats me. I think it's fine though, if something did call the pond it's home I'm sure it would've gone after me or the horses by now."

Claire shakes her head bemused and mutters a quick prayer for safety before letting down her hair. She then gives me a look that says I better turn around and smirk, obeying. I watch the forest around us and listen to the water as it ripples around her body. A voice in my head, one that is male and weak, tells me to steal a look. To see how close Claire is to what I have imagined. I refrain and immediately feel guilty.

"Are you excited to be back home?" she asks from behind me.

Inhaling slowly, I think her question over before giving my head a shake. "It'll be nice to sleep in my own bed again, to have proper meals and baths but in truth--no, not really. I'm not ready to visit my father's grave, or for the coronation, or the formalities of court and hearing old men bicker for hours back and forth." I leave out the part of the ball and selecting a bride. "I just want to relax when I get back but I don't think that's possible." I hear her exit the water and walk onto the embankment.

"You know I've been thinking," I say, changing the subject. "I wish I would have spent time with you training you how to defend yourself. All of you. That way when you return to your abbey you'll be able to at least stand a chance if something were to happen." Memories flash in my mind finding their ransacked church, of Beth Ann jamming a pin through the keyhole at my eye, and the sight of a dozen frightened women huddled together in fear with Claire's small arms wrapped around them. They escaped with their lives but still had to endure atrocities no one should ever have to. "You might not have such a handsome knight in shining armor like myself to step in," I add with a smirk in hopes to lighten my own mood. She gives out a bemused snort.

"You can turn around now," she says, and I do. I find her standing with hair dripping wet that now looks chestnut brown, soaking the rose colored tunic she now wears.

Running a hair through my own damp hair, I continue. "I feel responsible for you all. I made an oath to protect you and keep you safe."

She gives a half grin as she bends down to collect her soiled clothes. "And you've done that and more, Thomas. As soon as we get to Riverton I'll personally release you from your oath," she says, "Then you can be free to save the next damsel in distress." This rubs me the wrong way even though I know she means nothing by it. I can't help but feel as if it's a stab at me, as if I always rescue women and try to romance them--as if she is nothing but a statistic to me, someone I can spin a tale and indulge in my heroism in hopes to bring them to my bed.

I'll admit there have been times in my youth where I've stepped in a tavern argument between a bar maid and a patron if it gave me greater odds with her at the end of the night, or any watchful woman for that matter. But that was years ago.

Her head tilts to the side and she gives a slow exhale."I didn't mean it like that," she says reading my expression. "I know you're not like that. I only meant that you won't be responsible for us much longer in the best way possible. Think of it as one of the first steps to you...relaxing," she says, repeating my choice of words.

"I'll always feel responsible for you, for your wellbeing," I think. "I'll always care how you are fairing." I only give her a nod. "Right," I reply. I motion my head back to camp and together we walk back in silence. I want to say more, but given our conversation it's left me with a sour taste in my mouth. Regardless, I still think I'll pay for someone local to stop by her convent every week and teach them some basics until they think they have it down--after all, it doesn't have to be me that teaches her.

When we reach camp, Uriah has already dished out meat on skewers saving a considerable amount for the two of us. I take one and sit between Nik and Bastain, biting into the tender meat. Juices run down my chin as I chew and I wipe it away with the back of my hand, listening in on the conversation. The women speak of making clothing and their preferred fabrics while the men chat of returning home. I chime in when required and try my best to keep my eyes from trailing onto Claire. She's made it clear that even though she claims to love me, it's not enough to want to be with me.

I eat three more servings of meat and try not to think of how vast my life will change once I go home. The coronation is more for the citizens of Paevia than myself, as the entire kingdom will prepare decorations and food. Music will be played, work will cease for a day and everyone will enjoy themselves as their new king will be sworn in. The courtyard will be packed with bystanders and listen as I'll repeat the vows every Paevian king has uttered. After that, the real festivities will begin.

Growing up and being the eldest of three sons I've always known I'd have this responsibility, but being here now with it looming so close...it's hard to even begin adjusting. Will they expect me to be someone entirely different, more like my father? Will they expect me to take over his old quarters in the palace? I've always preferred my room to any others, and enjoyed the scenery that overlooks the city. Will those in court that always had an aversion to me given my past try to sabotage my decisions? Poison me if I make a ruling they do not agree to? I have to tell myself to relax at this last thought. What if I never have an heir? Rory would make a terrible king, Crispin too.

The thoughts of an heir brings me to my wife and how our life will be and I sigh, giving my head a shake. "That's enough for one night," I mutter, pushing myself up from the ground. I dust myself off look to Markus. "I'm off to bed. You take first watch," I order. He gives a bow of his head and I retreat to the small tent I use to travel. Ducking inside, I light a lantern and remove my boots before laying down in my bedroll doing my best to drown out the laughter and voices from those by the fair, but one in particular stands out from the others.

Grunting, I roll over and shut my eyes, pushing all thoughts of Claire from my head. Sleep only finds me when the others head to bed as well.

The following morning I'm awoken by the sound of a strange bird cawing above. Struggling to open my eyes, I peer out through the small sliver of my tent flaps and see it's early dawn. Yawning, I sit up and take my time getting myself together. I lace up my boots, comb my hair and slick it back with a bit of pomade allowing my curls to still move freely. Chewing on a handful of mint leaves I duck out and begin breaking down camp, pleased to see Bastian is awake as well.

As we wait for the others he heads off to bathe and I begin strapping my belongings to my horse. The rest of the camp slowly awakens and I see Markus head off to the pond as well. Uriah stays behind to help where he can. As I pull the last leather strap through its buckle, I hear Claire clear her throat from behind me. "Would you mind doing our's when you're done? We're afraid we won't do it correctly," she says as I turn around to face her. Her eyes appear as if she has been crying, being red and slightly puffy.

I offer a small smile. "Of course," I say and secure the final strap. Following her back to her tent. We quickly take down her tent and pause to eat the last of the meat from the deer. Once done, it takes us about an hour to finish up and get back on the winding dirt road.

Nik takes point in leading us as I take the rear. As the morning passes the air grows humid and by noon I'm drenched in sweat. "One thing I won't miss is this damned heat," I call out to Bastain, who rides in front of me. As if understanding my words, my horse gives a nicker.

The pine forest stretches on for miles and it's only when we reach the other side that we come across a small–almost dried up–stream. Taking time to water ourselves and our horses, I take in our surroundings noting the steep rolling hills in the distance. Just beyond in a hollar lies Lagras. Up ahead heavy clouds form that stretch on for miles and I know soon the skies will open. If we are quick, me might be able to beat the rain.

With a glance over my shoulder, I look at Claire who stands alone facing her horse. Her pale fingers untangle a knot in it's mane. Sighing, I turn away and try not to let my thoughts linger on her.

Once we're all ready, we mount up–this time I allow Nik to assist Claire–and we ride for the hills. An hour passes before we reach the base and begin the winding journey through boulders and birch trees to the peak. It's well past three before we reach the peak and get our first glance at the small city below. Smoke rises from chimneys, people bustle about in the streets. The stucco roofs very in color and from above it Lagras looks like q quaint, inviting city but those who have visited before know to believe otherwise.

"It's...not what I expected," the woman named Noel says out loud. The other nun's nod their heads in agreement.

Nik gives a brisk laugh. "Don't let the pretty pastel colors fool you. Nothing but low-lifes and beggars call Lagras home."

"Then why are we stopping here?" the smallest of the women ask, whose name I believe is Torva. She's particularly quiet, and I've only ever spoken to her once or twice before. Her long raven hair is piled upon her head in a tight bun while her hollow cheeks are flushed red with the heat.

Nik glances at her sideways, then at me as if waiting for me to respond. I nod, allowing him to continue. "Because I doubt you ladies wish to camp ontop of these hills in the pouring rain." As if on que, thunder rolls overhead.

"Besides, I think we can all use a nice hot meal and a proper bed tonight," I add lightly.

"Yeah, a meal from a tavern," Torva mutters.

Claire frowns at her response and then looks to me. "Are there no restaurants in Lagras?" Bastain gives a low laugh knowing what I'm about to have to say next.

"Well...yes, but," I pause, trying to find the best way to word this. "Only ones that are included in brothels. You're more than welcome to stop at the bakery for bread though," I say, cracking a grin. All six women's faces turn red at the thought. And with that, we head down the path for Lagras. It takes us longer than expected to reach the old wooden sign with "Lagras" carved in the weathered wood and rain droplets now fall lazily from the sky. Up ahead I see the only bed and breakfast the city has and I lead our caravan over to it. As I do, many lingering looks are sent our way as townsfolk try to decipher who we are and what our business is. In turn, I focus on the dilapidated statues placed around the square, naked men and women formed by stone long ago. The center fountain no longer runs and has since been covered in vines as grafiti and grime covers the statues.

Reaching the tall crooked three story building known as "The Sleeping Elkie" and dismount, my boots earning an audible thud as I land on the old cobblestone road and hitch my horse to a post. Nik, Markus, Bastain, and Uriah follow suit and assist the women down and we all usher inside the building to avoid the rain.

Lamps are dimly lit with candles casting a soft glow on the wooden walls. An old crone of a woman mans the counter, waiting expectantly for us inside as her boney fingers are laced before her, resting on the worn oak counter. I get the feeling she had been watching us for a while, no doubt wanting to collect coin from a band of visitors. It smells of lemon and dust, signaling she had recently attempted to clean up the place.

"Evenin' how can I help ya?" she asks in an accent that is common in these parts. She brushes a strand of wiry gray hair behind her ear.

I flash her a grin and lean against her counter lazily. I recognize her from years prior but decide it's best not to jog her memory. It's plausible she'd charge me ten times as much if she did "Good evening doll face. I was wondering if you have enough rooms for us? We can share if not," I ask.

Her thin lips turn into a frown, causing more wrinkles to form on her face. "Drop the flattery boy, you couldn't handle me if you tried." Markus, Nik, Bastain, and Uriah burst into laughter and I glance at Claire who seems to be stifling a grin.

Turning my gaze back to the old woman, I allow a chuckle. "And I believe it," I reply, earning a gummy grin from the crone. "So?"

She gives a nod and holds out a small hand and studies me closely. "I've got six rooms available, four coppers a night." Given that there is eleven of us, all but one will have to share.

My eyes furrow. "Four, huh?" She recognizes me.

"Hard times," she retorts, a smirk plastered on he face. "I could make it six since I know you've got it." Giving a grunt, I put a total of thirty coppers in her hand.

"Consider it a tip," I say.

She counts it quickly and scoops it up into her apron. "Breakfast is served at eight, not a minute sooner. I clear the dining table at nine. You come any later and it's tough luck. You know where the baths are. I'll send Rudy to fetch your bags and horses."

I give her a nod and allow her helper grab our belongings who hauls it inside. He's a short young man with russet colored hair and wide-set eyes. As he does this, we discuss rooms and Markus bunks with me. I explain the baths and how they are communal, so if the women want to go first I suggest they do it now. Nik volunteers to stand guard of the door, not wanting any unwanted guests to enter. I tip Rudy a few coins when he's done, thanking him for his help. The old woman lets us know where our rooms are, instructs us to put our dirty clothes in the baskets so she can launder them, and we climb the rickety stairs to the third floor. As the women bathe, we deliver their belongings to their room and I note that Claire's is two doors down from mine.

Sitting her bag that holds what little she owns I follow Markus to room 306. There's only one bed big enough for two people and we share an amused look.

"You aren't going to try anything funny tonight, are you?" Markus asks with a shit eating grin. I smirk and pop him on the back of his head and the two of us share a laugh.

"You wish," I retort. As we rummage through our clothes for something clean, a small relief settles through me seeing Markus slowly turning back to his old self as the death of his twin, Channing, undoubtedly hit hard. "You drinking tonight?" I ask, sniffing a shirt and pleased that it's clean.

He sits on the bed, removing his boots. "Does a frog bump his ass every time he hops?" he asks, looking up at me with his dark playful eyes. "Yes, I plan on drinking tonight. And finding a girl to bed. A good rutting is long overdue."

A chuckle and grab a pair of trousers, tossing my clean clothes over a shoulder. "You know, if you catch the clap I have to make sure you're cured before I let you through Paevian gates," I tease. Remembering our first few conversations and how careful he was with his words on our way to retrieve Rory, I'm thankful he has grown comfortable enough to talk to me like the others. Not some scared schoolgirl.

He smiles and stands up, grabbing his clothes as well, and we walk into the hall to wait our turn to bath.

By the time we're done, the drizzle outside has turned into a downpour. Given the bakery is on the other side of town the women that were going to grab something from there have no choice but to eat at the tavern--called the Crooked Cock--across the street like the rest of us. Once we're all ready, the eleven of us quickly dash across the street and and enter the generously sized building. It's two stories, the first for customers and the second acting as a brothel. As I hold the door open for everyone to file in, I take in the establishment. Most tables are filled with an array of men and women. Some drink alone, others chat lively, and some even gamble. In the corner by the hearth are two men--one picking a fiddle while the other bellows out a shanty, holding a hat out for tips. In the back is the bar, where two women do their best to help the many patrons.

Thankfully, not many pay us any attention. Nik spots a table to the far right and we sit down. I take my seat on the end of the bench and without so much as a glance, Claire takes the empty seat to my right. A ratty menu sits on the worn table and we take our turns eying what the tavern has to offer. A picture of a rooster as etched into the paper as well as...other...renditions of a male's genitalia. All in sport of the tavern's name, I suppose.

The women wrinkle their nose at the images and Torva claims she's lost her appetite. But when one of the busty barmaids come over and ask us what we're having, Torva mutters she'd take a bowl of potato soup. When the woman looks at the five of us men, she makes sure to learn across the table and prop her chin in her hands. Her ample breasts practically spill from her dress. Markus gives her a devilish grin and asks what she'd recommend and orders what she says: chicken and dumplings.

Her gray eyes find mine and she squats down next to me. "And for you, dear?"

I smile politely and tilt my head at Claire. "I'll have the same as her." The woman shares a look with Claire and scribbles down tomato soup and sliced pork. Once all is ordered she leaves and returns with a tray full of ale, passing them out to Bastain, Markus, Nik, Uriah, and myself.

"You sure you don't want any, little love?" she asks Claire and then glances expectantly at the other women.

Claire sits up and brushes a lock of strawberry hair over a shoulder. "We're sure. Thank you for checking," she replies in a soft voice. The women scoffs as if Claire offended her and sashays away. "Did I say something wrong?" she asks and I turn my attention back to her.

Giving my head a shake, I tell her no. "I think she's just upset she's losing coin on ale," I explain. "I wouldn't worry about it." The two men on stage start a new bawdy song and begin singing about the curves of a woman and other things that make all the women at our table blush.

"This place is..." she trails, looking around the crowded room, "dirty."

Nik--who sits across from us--and myself laugh at her choice of words. "Aye," he agrees and tosses back his ale before letting out a belch.

As the others on the end of the table chat, I press the conversation with Claire. "What makes you say that?"

She gives her slender shoulders a shrug. "Well the other tavern we you first found us smelled better at the very least. And the music wasn't about-" she pauses. As if on cue, patrons begin to join in and sing about using their tongues for a particular hobby. "About that. Plus the floors here are sticky."

I give another laugh. "Now you see why we said not to let the pretty colors of the roofs fool you. Don't get me wrong, this place once was gorgeous and had better residents than this lot, but over time the more affluent moved to larger cities and left it to ruffians."

Claire purses her full lips. "I saw those statues. It would have been nice to see something so beautiful back in it glory. It's a shame someone would deface something so elegant." I want to tell her that Paevia has hundreds of statues if she wishes to see them, and even more paintings, but I refrain. As the lyrics grow more obscene her mouth tugs down in a frown.

"Would you like to step outside?" I offer, sensing her discomfort.

She gives me a looks and shakes her head. "Not with the rain," she replies almost sounding annoyed at the thought.

Oh. Right.

Torva grabs Claire's hand and pulls her to stand up to accompany her to the restroom. I am about to offer to take them but Torva cuts me off. "We can find our way thanks. She then drags Claire behind her weaving through the tavern towards the back.

Grunting I take a long drag of my ale and sigh. "Before you couldn't get the girl to speak. Now suddenly she can't go an hour without having something to not-so-kindly say. Is it me or what?"

He gives a grin and lets his long dark hair down before putting it back up into a topknot. "You can't blame the lass for being protective of her friends. Besides, I think she's on her cycles. Bri gets that way when she is," he answers, referring to his wife back at home. He then raises his tankard and we toast. "To home," he says.

"To home," I repeat, and we chug down our ale. Moments later our food arrives and we scarf it down. The tomato soup is steaming and scolds my tongue as I indulge myself but I don't care and order another serving when the barmaid brings over a pitcher to refill our drinks. I sop up the remnants with a slice of bread. I'm halfway through the sliced pork when I glance at Claire's untouched plate. "You think they're okay?" I ask, motioning to her and Torva's empty seats.

Nik licks his fingers clean and starts in on a baked potato. "I think that you worry too much about Claire." I narrow my eyes at him and he chuckles. "They couldn't have gone far is what I meant. Besides, women take longer to go to the bathroom than men. I'm sure they're fine."

Exhaling I watch the steam rise from Claire's tomato soup next to me and continue eating the juicy sliced pork. When I'm finished and she still hasn't returned, I scan the room to find her to no avail. "I'm going to bathroom too," I mutter and stand up, wiping my hands off on my trousers. Nik smriks but says nothing.

As I make my way through the tavern I notice that I may be slightly drunk. I head back towards the bar and ask a patron where the bathroom is. He holds up a finger and points towards the back with glassy eyes before letting out a fart. My nose wrinkles and he gives a crazed giggle. Shaking my head, I continue towards the back and find a makeshift sign on the wall that says "toilet" with an arrow pointing down the hallway. As I enter the rickety hall my pace quickens.

"I said unhand me," I hear her voice say.

Walking down the hall I take a left and see two men standing in the hall, blocking Claire and Torva's way. One is large and balding with a pot belly sporting clothing too small for his size. The other is tall and lean with blond hair tied back in a ponytail. His large hand grasps Claire by the wrist and he stands too close to her. She catches sight of me around him and her eyes widen.

Clenching my jaw, I walk forward and place my hand on his shoulder before pulling him back and pressing him against the opposite wall. He's about a half a foot taller than me and he looks down with wide-set eyes before grinning. "She said to let go of her," I snarl. Looking down, I watch as his grip only tightens on Claire.

"The dark haired one said no one claims them. Not sure why it's any concern of yours, pretty boy," he says, his foul breath to slamming into my face.

I turn to look at Torva who appears frightened and only gives me a shrug. "He asked who did we belong to. I told him no one," she answers shakily and then adds, "Because we don't."

Looking back at the man, I narrow my eyes. "They're with us and under our protection. So unless you want me to spill your guts all over this nice wooden floor, I suggest you look somewhere else to stick your cock," I threaten before giving a grin. "Perhaps with each other?" A small dagger is tucked in my belt loop, begging to be used.

His brown eyes tighten and his chapped lips curl into a snarl. "You have no idea who in the hells I am, do you?" he asks.

I give a snort. "A brute who needs to take a bath and go on a diet? I could care less who you are. Let. Her. Go," I demand for the last time. As the man opens his mouth to spew whatever foul words he is about to say, the heavier one behinds me speaks up.

"Wait Falsta, I recognize him! He's Santiago's brother-in-law!" the man exclaims.

Falsta looks at his comrade then back at me, sizing me up. "The hell he is," he says, jutting out his chin while peering down at me. He gives a grumble and releases his grasp on Claire who jerks her hand back and rubs her wrist.

My brows furrow as I piece two and two together. "Santiago? As in you, you lot are Roriks?" Their large stature's make sense, as well as their behavior. "Slavers?" I ask, as memories of Crispin, Cora, Amiri, and Laria's tales swell in my mind. Gritting my teeth, I give my head a shake. "I ought to kill you here and now."

Falsta gives a mocking grin. "I could say the same of you, but it appears we'd have a war on our hands and given yours just ended with Bulgia, something tells me you can't afford that to happen," he says smugly. He's right of course, with the amount of troops we lost and how exhausted our remaining ones are, we can't get ourselves mixed into another war for a while. "I'll send my regards to your sister," he adds, sidestepping to the left.

I frown and take a step back, still shaking my head in disgust. Disgust because of my sisters choice to stand with these heathens and their leader and disgust at the situation at hand. If I wouldn't have come when I did, they probably would've taken Claire and Torva into some alley, had their way with them, before dragging them back to Rorik and selling them to the highest bidder. "You two are no better than the shit under your own boots," I say, spitting at the floor.

"Come on," Claire says, grabbing me by the bicep. "I'm hungry." Shooting on last look at Falsta I turn and lead the two women back to our table. My face still must appear angry because Nik lifts a brow as I sit down. I only give a curt shake of my head in answer. I'd fill him in later.

As the night goes on, I remain relatively quiet and continue drinking, trying to push the anger down but thoughts of that brute with his hand on Claire still has me seething and it takes all that I have in me not to drag them into an alley and run them through with my blade. A giggling woman catches my attention and I glance down the table at Markus to find a plump blonde perched upon his lap as he nestles into her neck. Next to him, Bastian kisses her friend, a petite raven haired woman who looks about my age. Uriah called the night early and escorted all but Claire and another nun--Nettle--to the bed and breakfast.

"Nothing happened. You needn't be so angry," Claire says to me, pulling my attention away. It's the first time she's spoken to me since rejoining the table.

Rolling my eyes, I take a swig of the sweet ale in my tankard before turning to her. Her blue eyes look at me expectantly. "That doesn't make it okay, Claire," I say.

She gives a shrug. "No, it doesn't," she agrees, "But don't let any 'what-if's' ruin your night, Thomas. We're safe thanks to you, and I know better now. Can you please cheer up?"

Chewing the inside of my lip, I give my head a curt shake. "Do you know who they were? What they would've done if I had been ten minutes too late?" I ask. Nik glances between the two of us and tries his best to look preoccupied with his third service of potato soup. "You and Torva wouldn't been raped. They would have taken you all the way back to Rorik, where many many more men would have raped you before finally selling you off to the highest bidder to be raped again." Her faces falls and her blonde brows narrow. "Even though you're safe, it's still not okay. They'll still go to the next town and find two more to take your place. Men like that shouldn't be allowed to walk this earth and because who my sister chose to marry, those bastards still get to breath. So excuse me that 'what-if's have ruined my night," I say rather harshly.

Hurt shoots across her face and Nik purses his lips. "Thomas," he chastises.

Finishing my ale, I decide to get a refill at the bar rather than wait for the barmaid to come back. Without another word I stand up and head over to the bar, each step more unstable than the last. When I reach the bar I glance over to see Nikolas speaking to Claire, most likely trying to comfort her. Perhaps I was a little too harsh, it's not like it was her fault. Hell, she was dragged away by Torva.

"Shit," I mutter to myself, knowing I messed up. I don't know why I get so upset when it comes to Claire, then turn right around and take it out on her. "Because you love her," a voice in my head whispers.

"What's troubling you good looking?" the barmaid says, resting her elbows on the smooth wood. Her hair is a brass colored and she's middle-aged with crows feet surrounding her eyes.

I give an amused scoff. "What isn't?" I retort.

"Can I offer you an ale?" she asks, mopping up a spill on the counter with a towel. She then tosses it over her shoulder and places her hands on her wide hips. I'm drunk as is and a second one isn't going to do me any good, but I'd rather be drunk and sad than sad and sober. I give her a nod and she scurries off before bringing me a cold tankard. I take my time sipping it as I try to work through my thoughts. Periodically my eyes linger to our table whose numbers shrink by the night until I'm the last one remaining.

Calling it a night, I pay the barmaid our tab and step outside into the muggy night air, drunk as a skunk. The rain has ceased leaving large puddles forming on the cobblestone road. Sighing, I trudge back to the bed and breakfast noting the "closed" sign that stands on the front counter and clumsily make my way up the rickety stairs, pausing when I'm at Claire's door. "Apologize and get it over with," I mutter to myself. Exhaling, I knock on the door and wait. As I do, moaning from two seperate rooms sound in the hall followed by a pleasurable scream.

Smirking, I know it's Markus and Bastian's doing.

I'm about to turn away when footsteps pad over to the door an Claire unlocks it, peering up at me through the crack.

"Yes?" she whispers, glancing behind her to see if she awakened her bunkmate.

"Can I talk to you?" I ask softly. "It won't take long."

She glances behind her once again and opens the door wider before slipping into the dim hallway with me. She's in a simple white nightgown that leaves little to imagination and is barefoot. As if noticing me looking over her, she folds her arms across her chest and looks at me expectantly. Letting out a sigh, I rub the back of my neck, struggling where to begin.

"I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you tonight. I was angry and shouldn't have taken it out on you. It wasn't your fault," I say.

She raises her slender shoulders and tucks one of her red locks behind an ear. "I know. It's okay, Thomas."

Giving my head a shake, I exhale slowly. "No, it isn't. I should have never treated you that way. I care about you--both of you," I say, including Torva. Even though I don't know her all that well she's my charge and I'm responsible for her safety. "The thought of something happening to you sends me reeling, let alone the thought of you living a life of slavery..." I trail, "I'd rather you be dead than subjected to what they were going to do to you."

Her face grows hard at my words but she nods, understanding. "Thank you for caring so much about me. About all of us. I really do not know what our fate would have been if you all hadn't come that day," she says, offering a small smile. Another pleasurable scream comes from my bedroom door and the two of us share a glance with Claire looking embarrassed. "Where will you sleep tonight?" she asks, ignoring Markus's guttural grunts.

Smirking, I shove my hands into my pockets. "Don't really know. Might just sleep here in the hall. Wouldn't be the first time." Given that the the front desk is closed for the night and we took the last remaining six rooms, I don't really have any other options.

Claire cocks a brow. "I'm not letting you sleep in a hallway, much less one in a place like this."

As if on cue, a middle aged man appears atop of the stairs with only a towel draped around his waist. Tattoos adorn his chest and he rubs his eyes sleepily. "Oi, tell your friends to stick their pricks into someone quieter, people are trying to sleep around here." Another loud moan of release escapes from Bastain's room and the man narrows his eyes.

"Sounds like they just got done, apologies," I offer, a grin finding its way onto my face. He heads back down the stairs grumbling. Turning back to Claire, nod my head one. "Alright, point made."

Allowing herself to smile she turns and opens her door and I follow. There is a small lantern lit that sits atop a wooden dresser, casting a soft glow around the small room. I cannot tell who the small form belongs to in her bed but make sure to be extra quiet as I remove my boots. As I do, Claire sits her pillow on the ground beside the bed and points.

"I can't take your only pillow," I whisper. When the other women stirs in her sleep Claire shakes her head and points again at the floor, slipping under the covers. Pursing my lips I give her a nod of thanks and take the spot beside her. "Thank you," I whisper again and see the grin she offers me in the low light.

"You're welcome. Sweet dreams, Thomas," she replies and closes her eyes.

I'm not sure how long I lay there on the hard wooden floor, the room spinning due to the many tankards of ale. Eventually, sleep finds me and I drift off.