Chapter 21 - Derrick

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Derrick peeked underneath his bandage. Still looked ugly and subhuman with the fat stitching the physician used. Lord Bedivere must have hit him partially with the broad side of his sword, judging by the harsh bruising. Derrick smoothed the bandage back in place.

Last night he tried to convince the physician he didn't need stitching but he fell into an exhausted sleep halfway through his arguing and woke up with fibers in his arm.

He was fortunate that it wasn't a deep cut, otherwise it would take weeks, possibly months, to heal. And the tournament wasn't going to be stalled for more than a few weeks, or so the reports said.

The weeks would provide a welcome break to the intense go, go, go, of the past month. However, he couldn't let himself get out of shape. Lord Bedivere was gone, yes, but Damon was still in the running and Derrick wouldn't even give him a chance.

Speaking of the fopdoodle - where was he? Or more importantly, where was Katherine?

It'd be just his luck to wake up at noon and find that they both had gone for a picnic.

He flung on a fresh shirt and ran his right hand through his hair as he raced down the hallway.

He looked inside the dining hall. Empty except for a few servants bustling around. He didn't see either of them as he marched through the corridors. Maybe they were already at the stables. Would Katherine go somewhere with Damon and not him? He thought they had an agreement.

No. She was going to give him a chance and he had a lot of making up to do. Katherine had every right to be interested in Damon, no matter how much it irritated Derrick.

Derrick's eyes narrowed and slowed his pace. Damon sat outside the stable, scrawling on a piece of paper.

Damon glanced up and stuffed the paper away as soon as he saw Derrick approaching. "Glad to see you are well enough to get out of bed. Looking for Katherine? She went back to her room, I'm afraid; she was complaining about her stomach hurting when we were out on our ride."

Damon's face begged to be smacked. The two stood face to face for a long, tense minute.

Derrick turned around to leave.

"I must admit, her lips are very soft." Damon called after him.

Her lips were soft? What did that mean? Did he kiss her? Did Katherine let him kiss her? A pain worse than Lord Bedivere's sword stung Derrick's heart. There was no better way to deal with the pain than turning it into anger.

Derrick whirled around and punched Damon square in the jaw. His whole hand ached from the impact but he tucked it away in his pocket and stalked off in the direction of his room.

How dare Damon take advantage of Katherine? Surely she wouldn't let him kiss her. Or would she?

In less than a blink, Derrick found himself on the ground struggling with Damon.

"You need to learn your place, farmer boy." Damon rolled on top of Derrick and punched him on the cheekbone. "Lowlifes like you can't punch the son of a Lord and expect to get away with it!"

For a brief moment, Derrick was pleased to see that Damon's nose was bleeding. Another whack to his face woke him from his glee. He wasn't going to lie here taking a beating.

He thrust his hips, bucking Damon off and took the opportunity to pin him down. "You need to learn that you can't take advantage of ladies, you dew-beater."

Damon smirked from where he lay on the ground. "I don't think it's any of your business if she chooses to kiss another. And she seemed most willing, I assure you."

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