A strange laugh tumbled up the knotted muscles along his back before Gavin turned to her and sighed, "Something of that nature."
"Maker's hairy balls," Myra cursed, finally getting a good look at his eye. "Oh shit, I'm not supposed to curse in front of the nob...Bann."
Gavin leaned closer to whisper, "I promise, I won't say a word."
"Ah, huh..." her tongue dried to dust in her mouth, before she shook her head like mad and forced herself to focus. "That has to hurt and, what happened to your arm?"
He finally released the grip on his bicep to reveal a tear in his shirt and stains of dried blood crinkling off it. "It's not so bad, a quick slice."
"You should get it bandaged and cleaned," Myra circled her hands around the wound, pinning the shirt in place while trying to inspect it. Unfortunately the tatters weren't helping and rolling it up, the damn sleeve kept getting caught on his forearm. She tipped her head to him, "You'll have to take it off."
Gavin blinked a moment in shock. "My...? You want me to...?"
Myra already turned away to the holy water fountain blessed by blah blah, she really wasn't paying attention. The Bann had them festooned around the place. It wasn't cool water, but it was clean. Dabbing a kerchief into it, she turned back with the drenched cloth. Gavin had no choice but to disrobe, only partially. Half, that upper part that was apparently fine for boys to show off in public. Sort of public. Oh Maker, stop staring. This is a medical emergency, kind of. You're helping.
Backing towards him without looking at him, Myra dabbed the cloth against his wound. He hissed at the first contact, fingers gripping into her shoulder no doubt in response to the pain, but as he eased into it, they too calmed. "Failed to parry when you should have thrusted?" Myra asked, trying to wipe away the awkwardness. Her eyes darted over a moment from the wound to spot his stomach and the waistband of his pants clinging to naked skin. So not helpful.
Too late. Her imagination was happy to try and supply whatever might be below said trousers, as if it had a good grasp on such things.
Sweat beaded up her forehead, but if Gavin noticed he made no mention of it. His eyes watched her holding the water tight to him, "I foolishly went into a fight barely armed. Can't imagine the scolding I'd receive if my father found out."
"Yeah, it'd be all 'Did you remember to sharpen your war axe?'"
"Don't forget to swap out the last load of arrowheads, the old ones were looking chipped from use," Gavin tried to mimic his father's voice but he seemed weary at the very idea.
"How'd you find an assassin of all things?" Myra meant it as a way to distract from her touching his naked body, but Gavin snapped rigid. He clearly didn't want to talk about something.
"Accident. Completely," was all he spat out, all those muscles of his taut like a lute string about to snap and take out someone's eye.
"Uh huh," Myra kept dabbing at the wound that was no doubt as clean as it could get. Not like she had any bandages on her to close it up, but she didn't know what else to do. A snicker lifted her lips. She leaned closer, able to get right into his ear to ask, "Snuck out, didn't you?"
"Um..." burning highlighted his cheeks, bringing into view the bruise already straining down his face.
"Don't worry, I won't tell," she promised. "Where was Ms. Stabs anyway?"
"At the front of the estate, lurking through that patch of long grass like a cougar waiting for its prey."
That would have put him at town, coming back from a night of...drinking? If he was tipping pints back with the other squires Gavin must have one hell of an iron stomach for it. Though, it may explain why he failed to dodge the woman's attacks.
"Myra?" Maker's sake, having him whisper her name caused goosepimples to march up her arms. No, stupid. Weren't you mad at him for something? Probably. She was always mad at people for dumb things.
Trying to shake it off, she turned to him with hope in her eyes. "Do you think you could use your magic to...?" he jerked his head towards the wound and Myra's stomach plummeted. He wanted her to heal him up, like him mom would. As if Myra had a tenth of her skill.
"N...n-no," her tongue tasted of ash, the girl forced to admit her failures to Gavin and while he was half naked. Could the world grow any crueler? "It, uh, it might draw questions about a mage being around here, and um..."
He stopped her babble by rolling his fingers around her wrist. "I understand," Gavin smiled sadly as he lifted the kerchief covered in his wet blood off of him. "I suppose I shall have to stop by the quartermaster to get a bandage."
Those breathtaking amber eyes stared at his arm, but his face seemed to be drooping in sorrow. Was he thinking of home? Missing how easily his mom could fix him up without a thought? Or whatever his dad did? Maybe he'd sing a stupid song the same way hers did whenever she'd fall or scrape a knee. Though it was hard to picture the famous Commander doing anything but growling. Myra ran her fingers over the missing pinkie tip thinking of her dad singing the same song from her childhood while she moped over the loss.
"I could," Myra's lips began to flap before her brain caught up with her. "Uh..." An idea slotted in place and she tugged open a sliver of the veil. Fade energy warped through the hole and she used it to form a sheet of ice around her palm. Cupping against Gavin's cheek, she pressed the cooling sensation against his black eye. "That might help."
His lips lifted a moment in a sigh of relief and he pressed his palm against the back of her hand, pushing her tighter to his skin. "It does. Thank you," Gavin smiled wider.
Lost in the rush of her fingers bringing comfort to a half naked man that could make girls squeal just by nodding at them, Myra forgot that there was still an entire castle of nobs around. They didn't say anything to them, but a few would peer over and attempt to make a clucking noise. Too bad she wasn't a princess. There was no governess there to keep Myra pure, no advisors to decree who was safe to orbit in her path and not. She was completely free, too bad that often involved colossal fuck ups that everyone else shrugged and said 'shoulda seen that coming.'
Gavin's eyes lifted and he asked, "Does this mean you forgive me for whatever offense I caused?"
"That, well..." Myra instinctively moved to shift back, that feeling of being a total moron burning through her brain hotter than dragon's breath. "I was an idiot. I do it a lot. Ask my mom, she's got files -- thick ones -- of all the times I completely messed up. Sorry. It wasn't supposed to be, well..."
Rosie barely batted an eye when Myra dropped the fur off. She was in the middle of some gibberish with the Bann and a few of the grey haired advisors who were all too stuffy to rough it in tents. Just a 'Thank you, Myra.' If it meant anything at all beyond oh look a trifle for me to blow my nose into, her sister gave no hint. Whatever Myra thought she kept seeing between them she must have been imagining, big surprise.
"I'm glad," Gavin spoke, his eyes focused only upon hers. "I wouldn't want to do anything to offend you, on accident or otherwise."
"Because my dad's the king?" Myra shrugged. She was used to it. The nobs would push it, knowing they had their own fancy daddies to protect them but the others, especially the elves, were all real careful around her.
Gavin shifted closer. It couldn't have been more than a subconscious twitch to keep his knees from locking up, but Myra moved to match. Maker, all it would take would be a small tip of his face and he'd be able to place his lips upon hers. Just a teeny, tiny movement.
"Because," his voice danced lower, shimmying down the octaves into a range that drew up more goosepimples, "I like you...r friendship." He tipped back from her, not far, but enough for Myra to snap out of her stupid haze. Gavin swallowed a few times, his eyes darting around the room as he gasped out, "I wouldn't want to do anything to jeopardize that."
"Yeah," Myra nodded, her free hand pinching into her thigh to keep herself focused. She was tired of imagining things, especially good things happening to her. "Right, friendship, that's real important and what not."
"Squire Gavin!" a voice as
hard as flint struck through the rampaging awkwardness.
Gavin turned away, his face breaking from Myra's cold touch on his bruise, as he eyed up whoever marched into the room, "Ser Daryan."
Ah, it was his Knight. Made sense someone would go and get her. Myra closed up the veil, watching to see if anyone else caught on to what she did. At least no one here was one of those dreaded mage hunters of old.
Daryan eyed up Myra a moment before honing in on her errand boy. "What in the Maker's holy seat is going on?"
"That..."
"Assassins in the caravan? And you..." her cold eyes drifted over the shirtless boy to notice a red gash across his brown skin, "We should get that looked at. Then I expect a full explanation."
"Yes, Ser!" he locked in tight, his body pulling into a full salute.
Realizing she had nothing more to add, Myra began to move out, "I guess I'll be off to bed then. Hopefully no evil secret assassins will be lurking around. Or they'll at least wait until morning to attack. Whatever happened to civilized murderers?"
Gavin nodded at her, his lips lifting in a half smile, but it was Ser Daryan who cut back with a curt, "Truly, I doubt you need to worry my lady. They would all be skewered upon your razor wit."
Shoring up her steps, Myra didn't let on that she even heard the Knight's words. She was too busy pretending she had all the flippancy of her brother and the grace of her sister. The act was the only way Myra ever made it through the palace gates sometimes.
* * *
"That is your final explanation?"
Ser Daryan peered over at Gavin, her blue eyes like staring into frozen ponds while he attempted to knot on the bandage. A kindly old woman supplied him with more than he would ever need but said she was against getting anywhere near blood. That left him with the need to dress the wound himself, thank the Maker for the years at the abbey. Blood was far from one of Gavin's fears.
"Yes, Ser," he nodded his head.
She pursed her lips at his never changing response. It was odd to see her out of armor. Whenever she called her squire to her side it was always while she was in full plate as if the existence of him in her life was a formal matter. Whether it was to appear intimidating to the taller charge or because she truly believed that heartily in the cause to never change he couldn't say. A few weeks in and Gavin felt as if he knew nothing about her beyond her leather's size and weapon preference.
No doubt Myra could form an entire life history with that bit of information.
"Come along," Daryan ordered, leading him out of the back tents and the kindly old bandager.
"Wh...where are we going?" Gavin's eye was pulsing with pain. While Myra's spell helped at the time, without her cooling hand it was back to swelling in agony. He felt the right side of his vision trying to close courtesy of the trauma, but Gavin fought against it.
"To see if the other squires are in their beds," Daryan said in her crisp tone. She stared back at Gavin, seeming to hope he'd break down and confess to his real whereabouts, as well as damn the others, but he remained steadfast in his lie.
Though, it was going to be a lot harder to explain if everyone else was gone.
As Daryan stepped into the ring of tents, she drew the sword upon her hip and used the pommel to bang against the roof of one. "Hello! Get up! Let's go!" she shouted, marching through the circle as if the demons of the void themselves were waiting to pounce. Gavin flinched with each jab, his heart thundering in his chest when no voice shouted in response. What if they hadn't made it back in time? What would he say then?
His knight reached the full circle and began to sheathe her sword. Turning, she cocked her pointed chin at him to ask, "Well, it seems no one is..."
"Oi," a voice called out from below the canvas, then a head peeked out of a gap. It was Cal, his hair mushed from sleep...or other activities. The thought caused Gavin to sneer, leaving him wondering why he was lying for the man. "Is it daylight already?"
"No," Daryan's nose pickled, upset that she lost, "But your knight requests your presence. All squires present!"
"You heard her," Cal called and, as if they were all laying wide awake on their pallets too terrified to move prior, each boy's head poked out and they shuffled to land in a line in front of Daryan. It wasn't until Snowy's much shorter stature emerged from their tent that Gavin took a breath. If anyone could be left behind it would have been the dwarf...whom he abandoned without thought.
"Ser," Cal stuck out his chest, his arms lax at his side, "all squires present and accounted for." He let the serious tone slide as he glanced over at Gavin, "And seems you already caught this one wandering about after hours. Tsk tsk."
"Curb your tongue," Daryan ordered, then she turned to Gavin. "I ask you again, when you confronted the assassin in our midst..." All the boys gasped at that, their eyes darting over to Gavin in awe. "What were you doing out of bed?"
He could feel them all hanging upon his word, each head twisting to somehow both hear better while also trying to look as if they didn't care. For a brief stint Cal's smug face drifted in Gavin's vision. The boy snarled, no doubt trying to imprint a warning that he better keep his mouth shut.
"I was taking a walk, Ser," Gavin said.
"A walk?" Daryan snorted. "You expect me to believe on our first night with a town just a few klicks away, all you needed was to get up and stretch your legs?"
"Yes, Ser!" Gavin shouted, his eyes staring over the distance, "I couldn't sleep and thought pacing would knock me out."
Daryan snickered, clearly not buying it. She'd all but dragged him out by the ear to the medic, barely listening to his tale while she spun one of her own. The fact Gavin kept refuting it only made her grow more incensed. "And you're telling me there's no one else, no one here, that say 'went on a walk' with you?"
"No, Ser. I went alone. Which was why I was attacked by the assassin alone," Gavin explained in a calm manner. It was a simple explanation, one the seasoned veteran refused to believe.
Folding her arms up over her chest, she sighed, "You think me so naive, boys?"
"Ser," Cal spoke up for his brood as if he wouldn't sell them out in an instant to save his hide, "unless you've got something to prove against us, we were all snug in our pallets. Unlike your squire."
The other boys all flinched at Cal chucking Gavin under the wagon, but he expected it. Why not? If I go in at you and you still don't turn me in, then I'll seem twice as innocent. "Very well," Daryan sneered, tired of being played, "squire Gavin, for disobeying curfew you will be required to do double chores for two weeks."
"Yes, Ser," he shouted, glad it wasn't anything worse.
"And," Daryan continued, causing his shoulders to waver. How much more could she heap upon him? "The Princess has decreed that you are to serve in her bodyguard retinue." The knight pinched into the bridge of her nose as if she found the order beyond idiotic but couldn't argue with royalty.
"Ser?" Gavin turned, fully confused. He was supposed to be disciplined.
"Just...she seems to think the man who caught the assassin can control her. But don't think of this as a promotion. You are being punished for your misdeeds," Daryan waved a finger at him. Punished for stopping an assassin, sounded about how his night should end. "And the rest of you, get back to bed. Dawn isn't for a few more hours."
The other squires all scattered, practically fleeing to their bedrolls before more discipline was doled out. For a brief second, Cal stared into Gavin's eye and the boy nodded his head solemnly. Did he truly think Gavin took the blame for him? Ha. How great an ego must one have to believe that?
Bleary eyed, Gavin stumbled into his tent with Snowy in the lead. He struggled to yank his shirt off, his fingers running over the rip he'd have to repair at some point. There were bruises all along Gavin's midsection. If he touched his back he flinched in pain, and they were worried their might be poison in the knife wound. The healer woman gave him a disgusting poultice he had to consume all of to counteract it. All in all, a perfect end to his
terrible evening.
"That was smart," Snowy whispered, sliding his feet up onto his bed. "Not turning 'em in. Showing, wozzat, solidarity."
Gavin blinked blearily through his right eye that was beginning to water. All he wanted was to vanish into sleep for a few blissful hours before he was due back at work. "I didn't do it for them," he said cryptically, curling up into a ball and turning away from Snowy and the rest of the squire camp. The final vestiges of the bonfire danced across his face, but it felt warm on his aching flesh.
"Oh?" Snowy whispered. "Well, I didn't tell 'em about you, uh, being a virgin. Secrets and all between bunkies. Not that it's, I mean, there's worse things to be, right?"
Gavin groaned under his breath. Yes, there were far worse things to be.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Intriguing
Rosie sat perched upon an outcropping overlooking the Bann's back acreage. She had to step away from the negotiation table to catch her breath and try to find a moment's calm. Her handful of handmaidens wandered off after a time, all content in the knowledge that their princess was content. Which she was. A soft breeze lapped against the summer fields, bluebells swaying to match while sunlight danced with the clouds skirting over the sky. And standing right in the middle of the vibrant field was their new assassin.
Maker, did Rosamund receive a cross look and sterner words from the lead advisor her father sent on this trip. It was so harsh it gave her flashbacks to her nanny catching a young Rosie attempting to use Cailan to sneak treats off of the high shelf. Marn would brook no such trespass, even from a princess, but Second Chancellor Avery had to. She was the lead in all matters, and she ordered that they keep the assassin with them.
"Wait until your father hears about this..." was the final threat, as if any of them would be telling the King of what transpired. He was a laid back sort of man when it came to ruling, but was highly liable to shoot the messenger that said 'Oh, and your daughter was nearly killed by an assassin. We think.'
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