Chapter 8

"Ekon?" Sven questions as we break down the final remnants of camp.

"Aye," I say, dumping a pot of water onto the hot coals of the fire. It sizzles and a flume of smoke rises in the air. "We need supplies, more so unperishable food. Hunting will become scarcer the further south we travel—you know this Sven." We would be able to get by just as we did on our journey to Paevia, but with a dozen women in tow I'd rather not have to subject them to the conditions of having to suck on bone marrow as a meal or stealing eggs from a gator's nest and hoping the mother isn't close by.

Besides, the nuns have proven to require other necessities as well and I'm not going to be the one to tell them to grit their teeth and bare it, what kind of man would I be? A poor excuse of one at best.

"But Ekon? It's not exactly the friendliest of places," Sven continues, rolling up the canvas tarp of his tent. It collects the morning dew off of grass creating mud and he has to wipe his hands on his pants several times before fastening it with buckles.

Raising my brows, I nod agreeing with him. "No, but given the size of our party I highly doubt a few thugs will be much of a nuisance. Don't tell me you're scared of getting your feelings hurt but a few dirty looks from townsfolk?" I tease.

Sven frowns and slings the canvas roll over his toned shoulder. "Of course I'm not. I was only saying," he mutters before trudging to his horse.

My stomach grumbles and I look over to the women—and Father Anthony—who gobble down the remains of last night's dinner. They insisted that they share with the rest of my men, and being the gentleman we are, we declined though I'll admit there were a few that were about to accept their offer until I had to shoot them a silent glance. If we plan our day right and have no setbacks, we should arrive in Ekon before sunset, which means bellies full of mead and hot stew.

Gathering up the last few remaining items, we load the horses and begin to saddle them as we wait for the women to finish breakfast. As I tighten the straps of my stirrups on my mare Rory joins me. Placing his elbow on her rear and rests against her muscular thigh, causing her to shift her weight to balance him. She looks back and lets out a tuft of air in protest but he ignores her.

"She doesn't like that," I state and return my focus on my tack.

"Yeah well she's a horse, so," Rory counters, but he removes his elbow and instead stands with his arms crossed over his broad chest. Today it appears he has opted for a simple tunic over a pair of trousers and carries his sword loosely around his waist. "You were upset last night, yes?"

Pausing with what I am doing, I take a slow breath before turning towards him. "A bit," I admit, "So?"

Rory purses his lips and brushes his unclean chestnut hair from his face. "I have a gut feeling it had to do with me. Do you want to talk about it man to man or do you want to let it go like water under a bridge?" he asks, waving motioning his a hand through the air to imitate a stream.

This rubs me the wrong way and I frown, shooting him a look of annoyance. "I feel the end result will be the same either way so what's the point? You'll go on about your day thinking of who you can bed next, will drink one to many ales tonight and fall asleep without a second thought of what you said to me the night before."

His dark brows furrow together and he gives me a condescending smirk. "Tell me brother, do you have a stick up your arse or did you get your monthly cycle like the women too?"

Immediately I step forward to where our chests are only an inch or so apart. For the most part Rory and I get along quite well together, but every once in a while there are times where our personalities can clash.

"What did you just say to me?" I ask, daring him to repeat those words. Given that he is slightly taller than me, I have to look up a fraction into his eyes which squint in contempt. A small crowd begins to form around us as others have taken note of our exchanges.

"You heard what I said. Besides, that was my last clean shirt you cut to ribbons," he says, jutting out his chin. "You going to get me another?"

From the corner of my eye I see Warren make is way until he reaches us and places the flat of his palm on each of our chests, pushing back to create space. "Alright you two, knock it off. We need to get on the road yeah?" he asks, looking at me with a concerned glance.

Rory gives a snort and shakes his head. "Always having your lackeys to do your bidding aren't you Tommy? Can't stick up for yourself?" he asks, his almond eyes still locked on my own.

At this Warren turns and faces Rory, bowing up chest to chest as I had only a few moments before and now it is my turn to try to separate the two. "I'm not anyone's lackey—I'm the both of your friends and as your friend, I'm going to tell you right here and now that you're making an arse of yourself Rory. Now get on your horse and let's go."

Peering over the others, I see that the nuns have finished up their breakfast and have taken notice of us as well. They talk in hushed tones and I see that Beth Ann whispers something into Claire's ear who nods quickly, her gaze finding mine briefly.

My brother scowls and turns his focus onto Warren. "This is between me and my brother Warren, and I don't take orders from you."

Sensing that the situation might turn physical, I create a few more inches of space between the two. I'm about to tell Warren to let it go so we can leave but he shrugs me off. "You know, for someone who implies another man for acting like a woman, you sure bitch like one," he says in a low voice so that none of the nuns can hear.

Rory—who has never taken kindly to being insulted in public—scowls and in one swift motion, pulls back his arm and takes a swing. Warren, who knows my brother just about as well as I do, has predicted this and ducks out of the way just in time. Unfortunately, I'm not as quick, and Rory's fist connects with the left side of my face. Pain shoots through my jaw and I immediately reach for it, opening and closing my mouth to make sure nothing is broken.

There is a chorus of low "ooh's" from the men and somewhere a woman gasps, shocked at the events that have unfolded.

Rory seems a bit surprised that his target ended up being me, but a strange smirk as since formed on his face as if he anticipates a fight.

"You alright Tom?" Warren asks, putting a hand on my right shoulder. I give him a nod and look back at my brother who looks somewhat pleased with himself.

Behind me, someone shouts out "hit him back" and others join in.

"Come on Thomas, fight him!"

"Give him a taste of his own medicine!"

"Teach him a lesson!"

Rory lets out a low laugh and nods, "Yeah Tommy, teach me a lesson. If you win, I'll give you an apology and I'll buy a round tonight in Ekon. If I win, you buy me a new shirt and set up my tent until we reach the encampment," he offers.

Typically—when things have gotten physical in the past between my men—a fair fight takes place and a deal is set in place. But seeing that we are only wasting daylight, I debate whether or not if I should just be the bigger man or take the bait. But given that my jaw still throbs, the part of me that wants to get even seems to outweigh the latter.

"Have it your way," I say evenly, causing the men who have been thirsting for entertainment to cheer.

Rory gives a laugh and removes first his sword from his waist—handing it to Nikolas—before slipping off his shirt. "Wouldn't want to get your blood on it," he tells me, shooting a wink. I can tell by his tone that he no longer cares about our previous spat and is solely looking forward to the excitement of a fight. He's always viewed them as competitions and revels in the adrenaline that comes along with it.

We step forward and get into protective positions, raising our fists in front of our faces.

"You know the rules," Warren says loud enough for everyone to hear. We do—when you have a large group of men in the mix and throw in testosterone, a scrap isn't unheard of—but it's customary to go over them anyhow. "A clean fight, nothing dirty. First one to yield loses," he says.

We each give a nod to signal that we are ready and Rory steps forward, taking the first swing. I duck out of the way and try to counter but he blocks me with his arm and lands another hit, this time connecting with my nose.

My eyes water as an initial reaction and I let out a slew of curses, feeling blood begin to trickle. Ignoring the pain, I take two quick jabs with the first finding its target that splits his lip and the other blocked. Back and forth we go, testing each other's limits and calling the other's bluffs. An upper cut here, a right hook there. It doesn't take long before the two of us are bleeding from multiple places and I'll admit if I take a few more direct hits I might have to be the first to give in. my head is pounding and somewhere above my left eye seems to be cut, causing blood to cloud my vision that I have to wipe continuously away.

Luckily though, Rory has always been the biggest between the two of us, and where I lack his strength I make up with speed. He brings back his fist and steps forward, swinging at me as hard as he can hoping to deliver the blow that will take me out.

But it doesn't.

Instead, I dip my head to left just in time and direct a cross to his stomach, knocking out his breath before using the same arm and use my elbow to strike him in his head. He lets out a pained sound, stumbling backwards cradling his abdomen with one hand while his temple with the other.

My brow furrows in concern, thinking of the pain he must be in. I step forward cautiously to check on him when he holds up a hand. "I'm done, you win," he says, earning a few cheers. As I help steady him on his feet, I see those that bet against me slip a few coins into hands that thought I'd win which include Max, Gale, and Nikolas. Beth Ann comes forward, offering two wet rags that she must have dipped in the river and hands them to us, giving Rory a apprehensive look.

I nod my head in thanks and immediately place it on my nose, hoping to staunch the bleeding before wiping my brow with my bicep.

I'm tempted to get my owed apology from Rory right now but given my pounding headache I could care less at the moment. "You fit to ride?" I ask him.

He looks up at me and already I can see a bruising starting to form under his right eye. "Yeah, I'll be fine. You fought well, brother," he says, offering me his hand and I shake it.

"You as well. One more hit and I would've been on my arse," I say, earning a pained laugh from him.

When Beth Ann begins to offer him a waterskin, a flash of light red hair catches my eyes and I see Claire standing awkwardly in the crowd as the men begin to mount up. She forces a smile and I nod my head, greeting her.

"Ready?" I ask, pulling the rag away and examining it. It's stained crimson but it seems to have stopped bleeding, so I then place it on my brow which stings in protest. Wincing, I can't help but wonder if it needs a stitch or two.

"I think the better question is are you?" she asks, looking me over. When her eyes land on my hands, she reaches out and takes both in her own, examining the skin over my knuckles that have begun to bleed as well. I'll admit that I notice how soft they feel against my calloused skin and I look up to see if there is any reaction.

"Don't you think you should be tended to first?" she asks, not noticing my gaze.

Her concern for me causes a lopsided grin to form on my face as I take my hands out of hers. "Perhaps, but we don't have time for that. Most of it will scab over in a day or so and if not I guess we can deal with it in Ekon," I say in a light tone.

She looks up at me, worry etched onto her face but gives a shrug. "I suppose you know best. Let's just hope that you don't get into anything that can bring on an infection," she tells me.

Though she has a point, or journey to Ekon will be mildly easy, it's the swamps that we face tomorrow that brings the most risk but by then I should be okay.

"Come, we have time to make up for," I say, gesturing to my mount as I turn to let her pass me. Pursing her lips, she takes the lead and we walk over to where she grazes. Without a word, I go to help her up, placing both hands on her hips and lifting her small form onto my mare's back. As she gets comfortable, I notice that some of my blood from my knuckles has gotten onto her habit and I smile sheepishly.

"Er, sorry about that," I say, looking up at her blue eyes.

She examines the smear and gives a shrug. "It's alright. I think it's seen the last of its days anyways, given how this past week has gone," she says.

Looking back at thick dress, I notice its state and I agree. Tattered in some areas and completely torn in others. With previous stitching has come undone it's clear she's had the habit for a while. Giving a nod, I place my hand on my saddle horn and hoist myself up, tossing a leg onto the other side before my boot finds the stirrup. As I look down to retrieve the reins, I notice that my shirt is covered in drops of blood.

Sighing, I slip it off and use it to fasten the rag to my forehead, tying the sleeves behind my head as a makeshift bandage. It's uncomfortable as it slightly blocks my vision, but it's better than having to hold the fabric up with one hand all day. Besides, I doubt Claire would want to have to touch it as we ride.

After a few moments, we are all saddled up and we begin another's day ride.

As the morning hours slip by, my headache worsens and with each beat of my mares canter I wince. Thankfully as the afternoon rolls around, it seems to be subsiding and we stop for a break.

Slowly, I slide off my horse as my muscles in my arms seem to protest and I help Claire off, setting her gently onto the ground. We haven't got much food left, but I dig in my satchel for a few strips of dried venison and offer them to her, saving one for myself.

"Thank you," she says softly and sinks her teeth into the meat, having to jerk her head back in order to tear off a bite.

"You're very welcome," I reply, doing the same. It's tough and quite salty but it'll keep our bellies satisfied until tonight. Noticing her gaze is affixed to my makeshift bandage, I can only assume it has bled through. Shoving the last bit of meat into my mouth, I begin to untie the knot behind my head, my fingers undoing it with ease. With one hand, I hold the scrap of cloth and remove the shirt before carefully removing the soaked rag as well, internally wincing at the pain. I can feel a small stream of blood as it begins to trickle above my lid, catching in my lashes.

"That needs to be looked at," she tells me, tearing off another bite of venison. "I've cared for much worse in the past. Let me help you," she suggests, her tone a bit anxious.

I look around at the array of men and women—some refilling their waterskins, others heading off into the forest to relieve themselves and a few talking around in a circle and am surprised to see that Father Anthony is among them. Rory sits on a small boulder to where he is leveled with Beth Ann as she dabs at his split lip with the hem of her sleeve. He holds a freshly washed scrap of cloth to his jaw to offer reprieve and chats away, causing her to giggle.

Sighing, I give a nod. "I suppose we have some time," I say. Turning around, I walk over to Nik's saddle bag, noticing that he and Sven talk nonchalantly about the upcoming night.

When Nik see's me near, he gives a grin. "Thomas," he greets before his attention affixes to my face. "Rory got you good, ey?" he asks.

"So it would seem," I say indifferently. "You have superstars in your medical bag, yeah?" I ask, digging inside the leather satchel.

"Aye. Help yourself," he offers.

When my fingers find the smaller worn bag, I pull it out and give them each a nod, "Men."

Walking back to Claire, I hand her the bag and look around for something to sit on, spotting a fallen log covered in moss a few yards away. She follows me to it and I sit down, straddling it with one leg on each side assuming it would be the most convenient position. She stands there for a moment trying to figure out the best way for her before taking her seat and turning only her torso to face me.

Leaning in towards my face, she gives herself a nod as if confirming what she had already thought. "Your brother hit you hard enough to split your brow. It's going to need a few stitches. Everything else should heal on it's own in a few days."

"Yeah he can pack a punch that's for sure," I mutter, my thumb running over my jaw, sending an ache through the side of my face.

As she rummages through the bag, I take this time to study her, noticing how the sun's rays catch her auburn strands while her natural blond highlights shine brightly. Her full lips press together as she splashes a strip of fresh cloth with alcohol and gives no warning as she begins to dab at my brow.

"Ouch," I protest, jerking my head back.

Hiding a smile, she shakes her head, "Don't be a child, Thomas," she chastises before her face turning a shade of red. "Forgive me, I shouldn't speak to you in such a manner." She then pulls out a needle and a spool of thread, beginning to unwind the thick black twine.

Smirking, I wave her off. "Oh please, anyone who shares a tent with me has a right to tease me now and then. Besides, I'd like to think of us as friends."

"Friends," she repeats evenings, testing the word. She meets my gaze before placing the end of the thread between her lips and threading he needle with ease. Leaning forward, she places a hand on my forehead, pushing together the skin above my eye. "Try to sit still," she instructs.

I've had my fair share of sutures in my lifetimes, but getting poked like a pin cushion is never fun, so as the needle enters into my tender skin I wince but remain still. "You don't seem to keen on the idea of being friends with me," I say, hoping that conversation will distract me. Feeling the thread pull through my flesh brings a frown on my and I do my best to ignore it.

"I've never been friends with someone of your...notoriety. I'm afraid I don't know what that entails exactly," she says, beginning on the second stitch.

I give a simple shrug, "Oh you know, being loyal to me and my family no matter the cost, coming to our aid when needed, signing a contract in blood, pledging your first born child. That sort of thing," I jest.

It takes her a beat to realize I'm joking and when she does she tosses her head back and lets out a hearty laugh that brings a smile to my face. "You're funny," she tells me, tugging the thread through a second time.

As the third and final suture is made, I decide to press the matter. "Would it be such an awful thing, having me as your friend?" I say curiously.

Tying off the stitches, she leans forward and snaps the thread with her teeth before scooting back on the log so she can look at me. "A nun and a king...friends? I've never heard of such a thing."

I raise up an index finger. "King-to-be. I'm not king yet," I say before an image of my father sick in his bed comes to the forefront of my mind.

"Are you awaiting on your coronation?" she asks unknowingly.

"Um, something like that," I say, forcing all thoughts of him from my head. "There's nothing you can do for him right now," I think. Deciding it's best to move on, I stand up and offer her a hand, helping her from the log. "Thank you," I say, pointing to the sutures. "I can't imagine the time I would of had trying to do it myself in Ekon."

She gives me a smile and nods. "Of course. Make sure to keep it clean if you can," she instructs, following me back to my mare.

The men take notice and slowly make their way back to their mounts as well, noting that our short break has come to an end. Helping Claire up, I hoist myself into my saddle and am surprised when her small arms snake around my bare chest. Trying to not pay attention, I order the men to move out and we begin once again to the town of Ekon.

So sorry for the length of time it is taking to post a chapter. I got a new position at my job—more work and same pay, RIP—so I hardly have the time to write. When I do, I have mosey coworkers asking me what I'm doing lol

Safe to say, I'm doing my best! Anyways, I really hope you guys are enjoying the book so far!!

I have much fun and antics planned for the next chapter ;)