At camp, they were greeted with a warm fire and the savory aroma of the beginnings of a stew. Moose's eyes lit up at the sight of the rabbit and he reached for it with eager hands, like a child grasping for a new toy.
"Bless you, this will make for a fine supper," he said, beginning the process of skinning and cleaning it. "It's a thin little thing but I'm sure it will liven up this stew a bit."
The air was heavy and intoxicating in the forest, and the dancing light from the fire cast haunting shadows into the thick darkness surrounding their camp. The Liberators ate their supper in silence; it seemed they all shared Benedikt's unshakeable sense of peril that held his tongue. Between mouthfuls of stew, he listened, expecting some sort creature to appear from the darkened wood.
Moose broke the laborious silence with his deep and jovial voice. "We are a somber bunch tonight," he complained. "I think I have just the thing." He pulled a large wineskin from his own pack and handed it to Benedikt.
Benedikt put the bag to his lips and drew a mouthful of a terrible liquid. He swallowed it quickly, but the taste lingered on his tongue, burning his throat all the way down, and filling his belly with a warm sensation. "What is that?" he coughed, passing the bag to Berne, who took a swig without so much a snicker.
"Andorian Port. It's an awful vintage but I know it's strong," Moose chuckled.
Benedikt coughed again, unable to get the vile taste out of his mouth. "I'll say."
Yorick declined the drink but Grielle choked down a swig. Tears welled in her eyes as she gulped it down. "Oh my," she said between coughs. "It feels like swallowing vinegar-coated coals. I don't know how anyone can stomach this stuff."
Ludvig took a long pull from the wineskin and then sucked in a sharp breath through gritted teeth. He shook his head and let out a whoop. "That'll knock you on your back," he said with a grimace.
The second time the port came around, Benedikt took a much smaller sip but found the liquid didn't burn so much this time. He went back for another before he passed the bag. The warmth in his stomach spread out into the rest of his body.
He enjoyed the fuzzy sensation in his head, which suddenly felt heavier on his shoulders. A smile played on his lips; the sense of impending danger began to slip away and he could once again enjoy the meal and the warmth of a fire on his face. He caught Grielle's gaze from across their little circle around the fire. With warm cheeks, he returned the smile she gave him.
A smarter man would have averted his gaze, but he couldn't tear himself away from her blue eyes. They weren't a light blue, but a deep and dark blue. Like night skies and ocean depths. The kind of blue that made him wonder if he had ever really seen the color blue before. Benedikt shook his head to stop his sappy, wine-sodden thoughts. He shouldn't think such things even if Grielle looked at him in a similar fashion. True Love's Kiss was of paramount importance, and he knew it would serve him well to keep his focus on the quest.
But there wasn't anything wrong with getting to know her better in the meantime...was there?
Benedikt addressed the group but kept his eyes on Grielle. "So, now that we aren't captured by pirates, or getting chased or cursed by ex-lovers, can I hear more about The Great Liberators? I think I've earned the right to hear of at least one of your conquests."
Smiles spread across the faces of his companions.
"Remember that job in Linnea with—" Ludvig began.
"—with the three-legged dog and the meat pie," Moose finished.
Something about this particular incident sent a ripple of laughter through the group, but it didn't have much meaning to Benedikt.
"Come now," Grielle said, jumping from her seat. She seemed a bit unsteady on her feet, but she grabbed the wineskin from Reyn and took another drink. "Linnea was child's play. I'll tell you the tale of the cursed ruby of Balkor." She spoke in an ominous whisper that hushed everyone in the circle.
Benedikt leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, eager to see what story made her face light up with such excitement. He wondered if she was as beautiful to everyone else as she was to him.
Grielle told the story with great skill. She lowered her voice at all the right moments and spoke with hands waving at others. Benedikt listened with rapt attention, overcome with the feeling she was telling this story just for him.
"So poor Reyn was about to be hanged for setting foot in the monks' temple, which apparently had never been host to a woman in all the history of Floryndal, but that's beside the point. Reyn was marched up to the gallows and no one seemed to know she had a priceless ruby stashed on her person—"
"It was really well hidden," Reyn interjected.
"Really? Care to tell us more?" Ludvig gave Reyn a suggestive smile, but Grielle put him back in his place with a steely glare.
"As I was saying, Reyn was at the gallows with a noose around her neck and a cursed gemstone somewhere on her person, and Ludvig, Yorick, and I were up on the outer wall of the monastery, just waiting for Moose and Berne to get into position. A monk was about to pull the lever for the floor to fall out from Reyn's feet, when these two came barreling into the crowd." She gestured to Moose and Berne, who both grinned broadly. "One on top of the other, they formed what was arguably the largest representation of the Moon God I had ever seen, billowing silver robes and all."
Benedikt couldn't hold back his laughter as he pictured the sight.
"The monks, of course, lost their minds and began to kneel before the 'god' that just stumbled, and I mean literally stumbled, into their monastery. Ludvig shot an arrow through the rope over Reyn's head, she darted around the distracted crowd, and we lowered her a rope ladder. It all would have wrapped up smoothly if Moose, the Benevolent Moon God, hadn't suggested pardoning the prisoner in honor of his visit." Grielle paused to take another drink. "When the monks turned to see Reyn and the rest of us climbing over the outer wall, the crowd burst into a frenzy of action, arming themselves amid shouts for heads on spikes. Needless to say, we were all chased from Balkor by a stampede of disgruntled monks and have never returned since." Grielle gave a little bow at the end of the story as the others clapped.
"Very well told," Moose complimented her.
"I would like to hear a tale from the Prince of Fourteen Kisses. Or is it Fifteen Kisses?" Ludvig asked, giving Benedikt a playful punch in the arm.
"Just fourteen, but I'll need more drink before I can tell you any of my stories." Benedikt took a swig of the port. "I guess I'll tell you the story of princess number thirteen. Now, this quest took me to the far northern tundras of Nordenfell."
"An ice princess?" Reyn teased. Moose shushed her.
"An ice princess, indeed," Benedikt continued. "My men and I nearly froze to death in a blizzard." His words were beginning to slur together a bit. "But snow and icy winds would not keep me from finding my True Love. We trudged across barren tundras until we reached the ice fortress of the witherwitches. They, of course, were not happy with us for intruding in their kingdom, and a battle ensued between my mere fifteen warriors and me and the witches."
"That's just like a Stalvart to rush in headfirst with swords drawn," Grielle smirked.
"Watch it," Benedikt warned with a smile. "Or I will not finish the story. We were just about beaten by the witches when we discovered their aversion to fire. All we had to do was light a few torches and they retreated to their cold little holes with much screaming and wailing. I cannot begin to describe the fortress but if you can imagine hundreds of jagged spires of ice pointed towards a grey sky, that would be a good start.
We found the sleeping princess in one of the towers. I'll never forget her head of tawny curls or how they stood in stark contrast to the white pelts the witches had made for her bed. She was beautiful like all the others. She had freckles across her nose, and I was terrified. This was the thirteenth princess in a long list that never seemed to stop growing."
"Talk about performance anxiety," Ludvig whispered to Berne who made a sound between a grunt and a laugh. Grielle and Reyn shot them deadly glares.
Benedikt continued, "So, as you can guess, I kissed her lips, and she continued to slumber. Didn't even move a muscle."
"Have you ever considered that you might just be a bad kisser?" Grielle suggested.
She tripped over some of her words, a sign she might have had more than enough to drink. The others didn't bother to hide their laughter.
Benedikt straightened. "I am a very good kisser," he objected.
"Why didn't any of those princesses wake up?" Yorick asked. It was an innocent enough question, but anger bubbled up in Benedikt's chest. He stood from his seat by the fire.
"I don't know," he said, his temper rising against his control. "I guess none of them were my True Love and I'll just have to keep kissing sleeping princesses until I find her, because my country seems to think I can't rule until I do, okay?" His pulse still thrummed in his temple, but his stomach lurched at the sorry faces of his comrades. He knew he shouldn't be angry with them — it was probably an effect of the port — so before he said anything to make this outburst worse, he stalked off to his tent and ducked inside.
~
Grielle felt significantly less giddy after Benedikt's outburst. She couldn't blame him for his frustration, but the spirit of the evening had gone with him. She suggested Berne and Yorick take the next watch while she took a bucket of water and doused the fire. The hiss of water on the coals rose through the still air. She mentally cursed herself for poking Benedikt's wounds even in jest. If she had seen any signs of how deep his hurt was, she wouldn't have treated the situation with such levity.
As the others busied themselves or turned in for the night, her feet willfully carried her towards Benedikt's tent. No light or noise came from within, but she felt she had to say something.
"Benedikt?" she asked hesitantly. No response came. "Can I come in? Ben?" she asked again, a knot forming in her gut as she hoped he was asleep and not simply ignoring her. She didn't think she could handle being at odds with him for the rest of the quest ahead.
"Come in," a quiet voice finally replied.
Grielle ducked her head under the flap. The tent was small and she couldn't stand without her head hitting the top. To make room, Benedikt sat on his sleeping roll with his head lowered, dark hair flopping down over his forehead. He kept his eyes away from her face and instead appeared fascinated with the embroidered pattern on his wool blanket.
Grielle knelt down at his side. "Listen, I'm sorry about what I said. I didn't mean to upset you. Yorick either. I was just trying to have a little fun." Her voice was as low as the light in the tent. "I don't think I can even begin to understand the situation you are in."
Benedikt leaned over, lit a small candle, and placed it in the lantern by his sleeping roll. He sighed and pushed his hair off his face so his eyes could meet hers. "No, I'm sorry," he began. "I flew off the handle there and I shouldn't have snapped like that. I guess it's just setting in that I will be kissing my fifteenth maiden soon...and in all likelihood, she will not wake."
"You can't know that," Grielle whispered.
"I know. And a part of me loves this. The adventure. The danger. But it can feel so incredibly...foolish. Running off on these fruitless quests while other princes simply become king, with their True Loves or without. I just want to do something for once and actually succeed at it. I'm a complete failure and my whole kingdom knows it." His eyes still avoided her as he spoke.
"Ben, don't think like that." She grabbed his hand, its warmth filling hers. "You are one of the best fighters I have seen in a long while. It was a privilege to have you at my back when we fought at Osgarden. You are certainly not a failure, and I'm sure if your father saw the way you carry yourself out here, he would be proud."
"He only wants to see me find my True Love," he replied bitterly.
"Well, he should let you find her your own way."
"I only wish. It's a Stalvart tradition, and law, that the king wakes his queen with True Love's Kiss or other means magical and irrefutable."
Grielle gave his hand a squeeze. "I believe you'll find her. You're quite the catch." Though she kept her smile light, the trip in her voice betrayed just how much she believed her words.
Benedikt finally met her gaze. They were close in his tent. The air was pleasantly and disarmingly warm with two bodies crammed into such a small space. Grielle's head swam as the unexpected urge to kiss him crept into her heart.
"I do hope you're right," he breathed, his eyes flicking momentarily to her lips.
"I always am," Grielle laughed, and Benedikt did too.
His low, rich laugh filled the tent, and once again everything seemed right with the world. Before she could do anything brash, Grielle stood, turned, and opened the flap of the tent. "You should get some sleep and so should I; therefore, I bid you goodnight." She smiled nervously.
"Wait." Benedikt grabbed her by the hand, pulled her back into the tent, and right into his arms.
The look on her face must have been a mixture of shock and confusion as she felt him pause.
"Is this okay?" he asked with one arm wrapped around her waist.
"Yes." She couldn't get the word out fast enough.
He placed his other hand under her jaw and tilted her face up to his. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers in a tender kiss. She tensed to his touch at first, her instincts mistaking the rush of adrenaline as an attack. But as her brain caught up with the thrumming in her chest she sank into Benedikt's strong arms. His kiss was maddeningly gentle, each brush of his lips sending a deep ache through her bones. Unable to stop herself, Grielle deepened the kiss, parting her lips to taste more of him. She let her hands run up his arms and over his shoulders. Her fingers danced lightly on Benedikt's neck before winding themselves into his hair. Her body felt incredibly alive, her skin tingling at his every touch.
Benedikt pulled away first, leaving her gasping to catch her breath. "I told you I wasn't a bad kisser." He leaned back, a nervous look on his face like he expected her to take a swing at him.
"Not bad at all." She touched the smile on her lips and withdrew herself from his arms. Her eyes still locked with his, she took a hesitant step toward the entrance to the tent. She stumbled a little on the uneven ground, her head swimming with the kiss. "Goodnight," she said.
"Goodnight, Grielle," he replied with a wistful look.
She ducked under the flap and headed into the cool night. It had all happened so suddenly, she hardly knew what it meant, if in fact it meant anything at all. His kiss had been so passionate, so intoxicating. She could almost still feel the brush of his stubble on her chin.
Almost to her tent, Grielle heard a soft voice behind her.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Grielle wheeled around to see Ludvig with a furrowed brow and arms folded across his chest. "Ludvig! You scared me. I'm just heading off to bed."
"I saw you with him," Ludvig replied, pointing an accusatory finger at her.
"With Benedikt?" Grielle asked, suddenly feeling like she had to defend herself.
Ludvig gave her a curt nod.
"So?" Grielle shot back. "You were the one who told me to get along with him in the first place, but I don't see how this is any of your business." She crossed her own arms and drew herself up to her full height.
"Your father made it my business when he told me to look out for you after he was gone. You know I would follow you to the ends of our little earth, but right now you are playing with fire," Ludvig said as he towered over Grielle.
Grielle bristled at his challenge. As her second, she always valued his opinion more than anyone else's, and a part of her knew she owed it to him to at least listen to his concerns.
"He is a prince and you are taking him to kiss his True Love. What are you going to do if she wakes up?" Ludvig's tone was sharp but also full of genuine concern.
It was more than she deserved for how she was acting.
Grielle bit the inside of her cheek. "But what if she doesn't?"
"Then he will move on to the next sleeping princess."
"He may not. His country's ridiculous custom weighs on him," Grielle objected, her voice a harsh whisper so as not to let Benedikt overhear.
Ludvig pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "My point is, don't compromise your heart for a prince in an endless quest for the next princess. He is unavailable and you are just lying to yourself if you think otherwise. Just...guard your heart," Ludvig urged.
Grielle's chest ached with a terrible fire. Everything Ludvig said made sense; her sense of self-preservation pushed aside her desire to have Benedikt all to herself. Tears burned in the corners of her eyes and then a sudden anger overtook her. She wanted to hate Benedikt for kissing her and for making her feel things for him, but something wouldn't let her.
Instead, the anger turned inward. She was risking so much to let herself feel for him. The very lives of her crew depended on her clarity of mind. Grielle turned her eyes back to Ludvig and wiped the moisture from her cheeks.
"I'm sorry for letting my feelings get away from me." She steadied herself, pushing the hair around her face back into place, and then straightened her vest. "I'm better than this."
Ludvig pulled her into a hug. "You're so much more special than you know." He stroked her hair as he spoke.
Grielle pulled away and gave him a feeble smile. "Thank you. I promise, no more romantic interludes."
Ludvig smiled. "Well, I didn't say that...but no more princes. Why don't you find a nice thief or something?"
Grielle gave him a hollow laugh that didn't help her feel any better, but it seemed to satisfy Ludvig's concerns. They left for their own tents to find some rest, but she lay on her sleeping pad for a long while before she found the dark embrace of sleep.
***
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