Bedding Camp

Chapter 4: Strawberries And Tragedy

"Of course, you may. You should not have even asked." Illyria shook her head.
The young woman let out a sigh and sunk into the chair.

"Well I figured... since you are now a high princess, and I’m just a lowly convent girl," she spoke meekly, but with a familiar, slightly teasing smile.

Illyria smiled. How her friend had not changed, still as shy as ever, but blunt to a fault.

"Your title of duchess may have been legally revoked when you pledged service to the church, but it never will in my heart. You, Rosaline are always welcome at my table, no matter your station."

"Thank you, Illyria." Rosaline smiled genuinely before diving hungrily into her meal.

"My... You look positively famished. Did you not eat well last night?" Illyria asked between her own bites.

"I didn't touch that stuff..." Rosaline shuddered.

"Do not tell the others, but I spent most of my night hiding behind the changing panel," she admitted, bracing herself for the disappointed look she knew would be on her brave and unfaltering friend’s face, but it didn't come, instead only one of concern.

"Did the one you were bound to cause you harm?" Illyria's hand immediately went to the knife hidden beneath her dress, ready to run through any man who had laid so much as a finger on her kindhearted, loyal old friend.

"No... I’m fine, I promise. My actions were based on my own fear and not caused by anything he did." She was reassured when she saw that familiar look of fire in the princess’s expression.
"He tried forever to convince me to come out, and he wouldn't let up. I finally had no choice but to tell him of my position. When I did, he was surprised, to say the least..." Her brown eyes reminiscing as she explained.

"Then the Morwick did something I completely did not expect. He sat down on the other side of the panel and began to tell me stories of his scripture, which were surprisingly like ours. It turns out these people and ours share the same faith!" She exclaimed.

Illyria was surprised, from all the rumors she'd heard it seemed like the Morwicks had no faith at all.

"The one in my tent is called Casper, and he actually sat up all night with me just speaking softly, and he left every candle in our tent lit." finished Rosaline.

Kindness pondered the princess.
So, it was a trait of these people. She thought back to how Meridian had risked a flogging just for a pillow, and how he had woken her and gently helped her into the bed when he could have, and probably was supposed to just let her lay there on the cold, bumpy mulch floor.

Lord Gale cleared his throat, the Dakia gained the attention of the ladies to announce something.

"Honored guests. If you would please follow me."

Leaving the dining outdoor dining area, he led them outside the camp gates, to the grassy field along the lake. Every 15 paces along its banks lay a large mat, a Morwick officer standing beside each one.

"Walk until you reach your husband." He instructed. Illyria gritted her teeth at that last word. They were not husbands! The girls in the line all turned to look at her, waiting for her to say or do something. She exhaled and began to walk, leading them all down, examining each man for the striking blue eyes and features of Meridian, but found only the eyes of strangers staring back. She walked and walked, continuing to put one sandaled foot dutifully in front of the other, but had yet to find him. Finally at the end of the line, standing next to the very last mat, stood Meridian patiently, his hands folded behind his back. His training uniform had been replaced by a crisp, clean white shirt, a black leather belt, and tan breeches. His hair, which she had last seen in a mess, and drenched in sweat, appeared to have been washed and combed neatly back. He almost looked like a gentleman.