While Gavin couldn't stop sweating, terrified he'd do something wrong that would either offend the King or displease his knight, he also couldn't stop smirking. The King made polite nods of his head to Calenhad, third son of a Bann out of Amaranthine, but he couldn't muster the ability to give one iota of a shit about the boy. In the end, they hadn't talked about much, the King mostly inquiring about Gavin's mother despite being up on current events out in the abbey.
Certain he was in the clear, Gavin dared let a small smile slip free when the King was about to leave. At that exact moment, he spun back and said, "Myra's a quick kid, but if you do anything to hurt her, well..."
That was it. He left it on an ellipsis, forcing Gavin to imagine all the horrifying things the King could do to him. While fairly certain his mother would intervene for his life, she may leave him on the line for a bit if the offense was too great. She cared for Myra, her once pupil, as well. Not that Gavin had any intentions upon anyone. He needed to remain focused upon the task at hand, which at the moment was hunting for dinner.
For the first stop, a lot of the servants all gathered as much as they could to build up a campsite. Gavin helped a few get tents set up. In the middle of assisting with the first fire, he spotted Myra jabbing poles through canvas with that elven friend of hers. She was as animated as ever, trying to slick back the braid while giving a long explanation on tent raising. When they stepped back from their work, the entire structure collapsed. He tried to point out it was the support pole, but the girls were having too much fun racing to get the thing back up again. Either they'd succeed or he could show them how later.
It was Ser Daryan who approached Gavin, her eyes staring over the pile of squires. Not as many knights came, leaving their errand boys under the watch of one. She inherited five hands, but Daryan put the squeeze on her proper squire. Afraid that there wouldn't be enough food to go around, because royalty was terrible at understanding need versus want, she ordered him into the bush.
While the rest of the caravan settled in with each other, telling tales and singing songs, Gavin slunk into the bush. He hated to say it, but he preferred it that way. So many people all at once, what was he to say? Did he only talk to a handful? What if he accidentally spoke to a proper blue blood out of turn? Or brought up a topic already covered, showing himself to be...a shit farmer and nothing more.
Tucked into the ferns that littered the forest floor barely able to grow due to the waning light, Gavin caught the careful hop of a rabbit. He was straddling the ground, his haunches straining as he lifted up the short bow to try and get a feel for the rabbit's movement. The bunny couldn't see him. If it did, it'd have already flitted away through the underbrush. But it knew something was off. Its normally surefooted hops slowed, the body attempting to freeze as it blended into the background.
Some of the old rangers who traveled the paths tried to teach him how to do that. They said his natural skin tone was a blessing in such matters, allowing Gavin to blend in with the shadows. But at only thirteen or fourteen, and prone to fits of youthful exuberance, it didn't work so well. With a calmer head and slightly steadier hand, he felt more at ease.
Slowly, he lifted up the bow. The rabbit didn't move. He sucked in a breath, holding it tight while slotting in an arrow. Winds rustled through the trees, the rabbit's ears twitching. Did it hear the pull of the string or how his leathers creaked? Lining his eye down the shaft, he tried to get the right aim, when the rabbit's entire body went rigid.
It was about to bolt!
Trusting in his gut, Gavin lifted the sight a bit higher and released. Cutting through the ferns at fast speed, the rabbit turned just as the arrow bit right into its flank. A single squeal broke from the animal before it died, its body flopping to the side. A quick kill.
As he rose out of his stretch, Gavin had to pause. Pain seized up and down his thighs. His leg muscles must have cramped from sitting in such a strange position for so long. "Andraste's tits," he cursed, the blood flow stinging as it finally resumed pumping to his toes.
"Hm," a smooth voice echoed from behind him. He spun fast to find the Princess standing in the brush. "I had no idea you swore."
"It, uh," Gavin dropped his head down so low it almost looked as if he planned to bull rush her. No doubt it couldn't hide the blush on his cheeks but it was all he had. "Forgive me, your majesty."
She smiled and stepped deeper into the forest. The princess wisely chose to wear riding gear for this trip. Her thick trousers moved easy through the brush while a skirt would spell trouble. "Don't worry about it. I dare say even I on occasion let one or two loose," her fingers landed upon his arm and she added, "But please don't tell anyone."
"I, I won't," Gavin nodded his head, feeling like his brain was floating away while his body dug itself into the mud.
"May I?" she gestured to the bow in his fingers.
"Of course," he handed it over to her. It was technically his knight's but surely she'd understand if the princess asked to handle it a moment. While Rosamund fiddled with the grip, Gavin hopped over to pick up his kill.
Digging into the rabbit with his knife, he cut the arrowhead free and yanked the carcass up by its leg. Blood dripped down, some of it slapping back against his thigh as he inched back towards the princess. Her eyes turned from the bow to land upon the meat in his hand. "Oh, you got one," she cried in excitement.
"Yes," he felt stuck dumb, uncertain what to say to her majesty beyond the blisteringly obvious. There is in fact a rabbit in my hand so I must have killed it, or else it's going to be a very angry rabbit.
"Do you do this often?" Rosamund asked, her head tipping to the side.
"Only when asked," he flinched, uncertain if she was about to ask him to hunt out the entire forest or stop because she adored cute bunnies.
Her red lips lifted in a quick smile, "Naturally. I was curious if out at the refuge you would have to hunt for your supper."
"No," Gavin shook his head, his cheeks lighting up in the dumbest of ways. It kept slipping his mind that she'd know of his life or care. "No, we had a farm. Not much of one. And the locals would often gift us food in exchange for medicinal help."
"Your mother." The princess' eyes blended in with the darkness of the forest, leaving her face hauntingly pale. It was disconcertingly beautiful, as if she belonged in here. Like a spirit of the trees.
"They'd like to send gifts to my father as well. The Commander of the Inquisition," Gavin snickered as he extended his hand to encompass that grand title. "It, it carries a lot of weight."
"I imagine so," Rosamund tipped her head to the side as if she was listening through the trees, "one that a person can easily buckle under." The way she stared at him melted Gavin's legs another foot. He feared if this lasted any longer he'd be as short as Snowy.
"Are you going to ask why I'm out here?" the princess suddenly switched topics. She picked up the bow and drew the string against her cheek as if in practice.
"Because you wished to be?" Gavin shrugged. He meant it seriously, but the woman laughed as if it was a joke.
"Go where you wish, do as you wish. Is that not what it means to be royal?"
He didn't have a lot of experience, and even less answers. The first time Gavin met the King, that he could remember, the man was confounding. All the kings in books were imposing figures who'd cut swathes through the land to achieve what they wished. Aside from the scornful father act, King Alistair appeared to be amenable to damn near anything put in front of him. And yet, he fought in the blight by his mother's side. He took the crown as his own and held it for decades. Something told Gavin that there was a lot more to being royal than doing what you wanted when you wanted.
"I don't know..." he began, when out of the corner of his eye he caught a flit of something moving through the underbrush. Sucking in a breath, he jabbed a finger towards the movement. The princess nodded and she let him grab onto her shoulders, and slowly they both lowered to their haunches.
It was hard
to see, the movement far away. But as both strained, whatever it was shifted closer. Perhaps it smelled the blood of its fallen kin, or it could sense the fire and wanted near the heat. Either way, the rabbit was shifting closer.
"Oh," the princess exclaimed in barely a breath, "it's all white!"
Sure enough, the bunny that finally stepped into a clearing free of ferns, or saplings about to be choked out of the light, was as white as snow. Odd to see here and rare. Perhaps it was an omen. People said that about weird animals a lot. Either way, another rabbit meant more food for hungry people.
Gavin glanced over at the woman clinging to the bow. He could pluck it off her and take aim but that would certainly rustle the bush. Weighing the thought a moment, instead he handed her the arrow. Her eyes narrowed in confusion before a far more heart warming smile than any he'd seen from the Princess before rose on her cheeks.
The urge to explain to her how to line up the sight and anticipate the rabbit's jump rose in Gavin's throat, but he smothered it down. Any noise on his part was certain to send the rabbit skittering away. She was on her own.
Twisting to the side a bit, the princess shifted her body into regulation arrow firing. Gavin was trained more or less by himself and a few other people who'd often fire out of trees or other crammed in spots. One man used his toes. It was odd to him to watch someone doing it by the book. She took in a breath, her chest rising as she lay the arrow next her cheek. The rabbit had to sense eyes on it, no doubt about to move.
Gavin moved to reach over to tell her to fire now, when the rabbit leapt to its legs and bounded towards the ferns. Too late now. He expected the princess to place the bow down, but when he turned, his arrow flew past. It whipped apart the green leaves before sticking deep into something hidden inside the bracken. He threw on a pity smile, when a small cry erupted from the downed animal. She hit the thing?
Standing up first, Gavin made a long stride out of their little blind before turning to offer a hand to the princess. She smiled and took it, both of them walking together to find their white rabbit dead in a pile of leaves. Rosamund watched as Gavin picked up her kill, her eyes bright from her reaching her target.
"Well, look at that," was all she said to compliment herself as if it was no big deal. "If you don't mind my asking, Squire?" Gavin turned away from the soft white fur speckled in crimson to look at her. "Why were you sent to collect rabbits out of the forest?"
"My knight, she said that..." he paused to amend his answer to something more approving of nobles, "that there was a fear the stores might run low."
"I see," the princess nodded her head softly and templed her fingers together. "Thank you for that information."
"Do you...?" he waved her kill towards her as if a high born lady would have any use for it.
She snickered at the thought, "No, please. You keep it. I'm certain all the squires and the like could use the meat. Good evening, squire Gavin."
As she turned on her heel and walked back to the fire, he called out, "To you as well, your Highness!"
To the pile of grey and brown conies he caught earlier, Gavin added the single white one. It had to be more than enough for his Knight, and certain to leave him skinning rabbits for the rest of the evening. Still... He let his fingers drift over the white fur and an idea of what to do with it struck him.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Fur
It wasn't a bad place. There were walls, which was good, and a roof, also a plus. It looked a ton better than the buildings in the alienage, that was for sure. Oddly, the Bann didn't look too happy when Myra said that. It was a compliment. Not as if she said, "Well, it's a quarter of the size of the palace and your unicorn statue in the middle of the room is clearly a bronto someone stuck a horn onto." She was being on her best behavior, which was proving incredibly hard as Bann Micah insisted on dragging them through every damn room in his estate. When they got to the larder, Myra couldn't take it anymore and groaned.
While Cailan chuckled at her waning enthusiasm to see that this man had a big house, and wouldn't even be kind enough to comment upon his clearly big house, the crowned highness snapped. That got an eye roll from both Myra and Cailan. Somewhere Rosie got it in her head she could clicker train her brother and half-sister, as if either were too stupid to know what she was up to. The first time Rosamund did it, they played along for an entire day both accumulating a great pile of toffees for their trouble. Now, it was just annoying.
"Here, my lady, is..."
Mercifully, Rosamund interrupted as the Bann tried to show off his middens for the fourth time. "Perhaps it is best if we attend to the meetings, Bann Micah."
"Uh," that threw him off. He'd been mighty confused when the famed beauty Rosamund knocked on his fancy door instead of their father. Even explaining it to him in teeny tiny words took a few restarts. By the time it got through his skull that no, Alistair wouldn't be showing up, he seemed to take it all in stride. Which apparently necessitated a walk through his home as if Rosie would have any intentions to buy it. How many hermits do you have living on your front lawn? Hm, only one? That's too bad, I hear the Tilden Estates have three.
"Surely, my lady must be exhausted from the road," the Bann extended a hand towards either a water closet, toilette, or gift wrapping room. Myra couldn't remember what was what and grew more certain she was going to die on this tour.
"I believe I know the limits of my stamina," Rosie drew out the frosty princess act from her scabbard. Maybe even she was getting tired of the peacock runaround. But it didn't last long. Smiling, she tipped her head, "Please, if you may lead us on to the room. I have a few important matters to weigh first. Then, you may finish your tour."
Oh blighted Maker, Myra managed to groan inside her head, while the Bann lit up at the idea. Micah nodded his head like it was caught on a cheap ass spring that sprunged a year back. "That would be delightful, your Highness," he extended his arm as if it was broken and Rosie took it. The first time he did it Myra wondered if he wasn't about to point at something or he wanted to be flipped. She would have offered to do the latter.
While the Bann and Princess took the lead, Cailan wandered back by Myra. It was just the three of them for this tour of rooms, the advisors wisely deciding to stay out of it. Now she knew they were like birds. Watch to see when they took wing to know if danger was near. Her brother had his hands behind his back, his head tipped down while he kept his eyes closed. He did that often, walking as if he could hear music only in his mind. But he never walked into a horse's behind or anything, so no one stopped him.
From beside her, she caught Cailan's ice blue eyes pop open. Both shot a glance at Micah then they orbited around the sprawling estate. At Myra's confused look, he lifted up his hand and then made a very tiny measurement between thumb and forefinger. Shaking her head, Myra mouthed, "Well, duh."
"Ah," Micah suddenly exclaimed loudly, causing both of the younger siblings to snap up straight. But he wasn't about to call them out. The Bann waved over a kid who was nothing but knees, and elbows, and a pointed head. Whoever talked him into growing all the hair around his oddly shaped head into the same length should be put in the stocks. It looked like a mushroom was scrabbling over to talk to them.
"This is my son, Glenn," the Bann smiled wide to Rosie who blinked a moment before extending her hand to the boy. He scooped it up as if her fingers were a pair of dice and gave them a hearty roll.
"A pleasure." Rosie didn't even blink at the awkwardness, which was why she was the real princess.
"You know," the Bann smiled wider, "he's not promised to anyone."
"Big surprise there," Myra rolled her eyes, when she heard a sharp intake a breath. The Bann was glaring at her along with the mushroom. Rosie's back snapped rigid but Cailan was trying to smother down a laugh. Shit. She didn't mean to say it aloud. Well, not aloud enough people heard it. Myra scrunched up tighter into her collar, her face turning hot, but she had a straight line over the back of Rosie's head right into the fum
ing Bann's face.
Did he honestly think her sister would pick his scrawny at best thirteen year old son to be the king? Wow, they were more delusional than she thought.
"It is an honor to meet you, Glenn," Rosamund spoke politely to cover over the air thickening with anger. "If you will excuse your father and I, we have business to discuss."
"Uh sure," Glenn tugged his fingers back and then obviously wiped them down his pants leg. And he was still in that hated girls stage of life. Yup, future king right there. You guessed well Bann.
Getting the hint, Micah finally guided Rosie towards the meeting room -- which they already got a grand tour of including the history of all the tapestries. Myra and Cailan both moved to follow, when Rosamund turned. Her cold eyes landed upon her half-sister and she said, "Why don't you head on out, Myra? I'm certain you will find this dull."
"Uh..." her stomach churned. So, maybe she wasn't the most charming at this pointless dance. It didn't seem polite to lie right to someone's face either.
Cailan sat up higher, "Then I should go with too."
"No," the princess lashed an arm out to grab onto her brother's hand, "I will require you to run some numbers."
"Great to know you only see me as a walking abacus," Cailan sighed shuffling under Rosie's power. The three of them entered into the mahogany meeting room which required over three hundred nails to build. Myra was left standing bereft, her fingers twisting through the air. Sure, she didn't want to sit in the meeting, but she didn't want to be disinvited either.
Eh, screw it. More than likely the Bann would spend the entire time talking up his estate or son as if he could trick Rosie into agreeing to marrying the kid on the spot. Rosie'd grow angrier and angrier about getting nothing done, while Cailan would slip away and have a roll with the first woman he found. Probably a maid, possibly the Bann's daughter. If it was his wife, Myra might be in the clear for mouthing off. Here's hoping.
My Love Page 289