We spend the next six weeks traveling back to Paevia, riding from dawn till dusk. We only stop in small villages to purchase supplies that are absolutely needed, sometimes grabbing a hot meal but never staying for more than an hour.
The days are reserved for strictly business while the evenings are for practicing swordplay and relaxing by a crackling fire filling our bellies. The nights though, I save for Crispin. Exploring his body and committing every beautiful inch to mind. I run my fingers over the plains of his skin that I've never had reason to before—the curve of his cheekbones, the cupids bow of his lips, his heavy dark eyebrows, the straight line of his nose, the smooth skin over his collarbone....on and on I discover him until I know his body better than my own.
Usually—after he is spent and has drifted off, encasing me in his strong arms—I am wide awake, high from the mixture of hormones and adrenaline that course through my body. It's during these times that his warm breath heats my chilled skin with each exhale, and I lay in pure bliss as I study his face.
Ever since the first night we slept together I assumed things might be different between us, awkward even, but they're not. Instead, each look he gives me sends a warmth through my body that only he can supply and usually sends my mind in the gutter as I think about what the night will bring us.
Tomorrow we will arrive at Paevia, marking an end to our journey. In the beginning it was the only thing that mattered to me—a pocket full of coin with both my life and freedom still intact. Now it is more like a sentence which will break apart the bond between the four of us which I hold most dear. It also brings a looming thought to my mind that I try not to think about, but I glance at Crispin anyways who trots in front of me and feel my face fall.
Our return to Paevia means a return to our normal lives and routines. For him, that doesn't include me. Sure, he has told me time and time again that he wishes for me to be by his side, but were those empty promises he had no intention on keeping? Will he forget about me when he's back in his own bed? When he sits in court next to his father, having more important things to worry about than me? When the women he's slept with come knocking at his door in the middle of the night? When his father tells him that I am not a good match?
"Are you alright Cora?" Laria asks, saving me from my thoughts.
I look over to my left and give her a nod. "Just thinking about tomorrow is all," I tell her, stealing another glance at the raven haired boy. He chats lively with Amiri before tossing his head back in laughter at something what was said.
Laria follows my gaze and frowns, "He won't do that to you, you know. Crispin is a good man, a man of his word," she says, reading my thoughts. "If he's told you he wishes to stay with you then you should believe him."
Tearing my eyes away, I focus them on her and sigh. "Perhaps," I pause, "I fear that once he returns to his old life he will forget about me. Surely all of the delectable food, posh parties, and getting everything handed to you that you ask for might outweigh a life with a thief."
Laria gives a half-grin. "Aye, maybe. But you aren't a thief anymore, Cora. And besides, if there is one thing I've learned in my twenty-eight years, it' that when you find someone you love—truly love—you hold onto that with everything you have. That kind of love is priceless...immeasurable. As much as I hate to say it, given Crispin's track record with other women, I'm certain he realizes this too," she tells me. "That kind of love doesn't come around often and unfortunately, most people just have to settle."
Pursing my lips, I nod. Perhaps she's right...perhaps not. It's really hard to say.
"Do you and Amiri have any plans?" I ask, changing the subject.
She gives another half-smile and shakes her head to where her blond hair falls from her face. It too has grown, and where the side her hair was once shaved closely to her scalp, now dangles loosely a few inches from her ear while the other side now touches her shoulder.
"He'd like to go back to his homeland and visit some friends and family for a while," she says, glancing at him. His long braid sways back and forth across his back as the sun warms his russet skin. "I've never been to Acadia so I figured why not see more of what the earth offers," she says with a shrug.
The thought of the two riding south to Amiri's homeland brings a smile to my face. "At least those two will get their happy ending," I think.
"I wish things could be that simple for me," I tell her, gripping the leather reins as a distraction. "That it could be black and white."
"They could be," she begins, "After we talk to King Robert—explain the situation about Rose—perhaps he will have a change of mind when it comes to you."
Smirking, I shake my head, "He believes me to be nothing more than a murderous thief. In some ways he's right," I say, thinking of the men I've killed. Though the baron was my first he certainly wasn't the last. Some I could have let go perhaps, have them swear that they would live honest lives in exchange, but I didn't. Instead, my blade ended their life without so much as a second-thought.
"I'm sure when he finds out how you saved not only all of us, but his son as well, that he will be more than grateful to have you live in the kingdom," she says.
My lips purse as my eyes tighten, "But that's the thing. I do not wish to live in the kingdom. That lifestyle isn't for me. I'd feel like an outsider roaming those halls. Draped in fancy dresses pretending I care about who would be attending such and such ball? No thanks."
Laria chuckles and we duck under a low hanging branch that our mounts guide us under. "Have you spoken to Crispin about this? Your time is running out," she says.
My left shoulder rises and falls, "Yes and no. When we have it's been brief. I don't really care for thinking of the matter. I could never ask him to leave Paevia with me, forsaking his duty as a prince," I explain and give my head a shake, "It's wrong and unfair."
Silence befalls us and we ride another half-hour when a small town comes into view and our pace slows.
Amiri sighs and looks at Crispin, giving him a pathetic look. "Do you think that since it is our final night, we can stop and treat ourselves to some mead and food?"
Crispin smirks and rolls his emerald eyes. "I suppose so. Given that we are far enough from any hostile territory we should be safe, and I'd say we earned it."
Even with the looming thoughts in the back of my mind, I perk up at the thought of getting a proper bath and meal tonight along with one final hurrah with my friends.
A wide grin sneaks its way onto Amiri's face and he sits up straight. "Well considering how many times I've saved your hide on this trip, I'd say so," he says, superiority in his tone though we all know he is kidding.
The four of us begin a slow trot towards the small town and examine its surroundings. With the wide rolling plains surrounding it and the winding creek that appears to run through its center, a name comes to mind. "Is this Butchers Creek?" I ask, turning to my left towards Crispin. I had heard of the town in passing but always imagined it to live up to its name.
He gives me a nod and a reassuring smile, "Aye, but don't let the name discourage you. Butchers Creek has always been very...hospitable in the past. It also has one of my favorite inns as well," he says. "Though they are a small community, they have a full menu, large private baths, and some of the best spirits you've ever tasted."
"Hmm," I hum, slightly taken aback by this information. I guess—considering the short distance they are from Paevia—they try to keep all passerby's happy in case they get a visitor from the palace. "Do they know you well there? You and your brothers must stop by often," I ask.
He gives me a nod as we ride through the grassy plain, this distant village growing in size with each step. "Well enough I suppose. We pay to keep our identities private. Some of the townsfolk have their suspicions but they keep their reservations to themselves," he explains.
In my mind, I picture the three brothers—all dangerously handsome sitting at a table in the corner of a small tavern, wearing fine clothing and having an endless supply of coin—and decide that I too would have my own suspicions of the Carlyle boys but would have enough sense to not ask questions.
As we draw nearer to Butchers Creek, my stomach tightens as flashbacks of our previous stay come to mind. Our short stay in Farnmoss proved to be a disaster and ended up with us in the back of an iron cart—bound, gagged, and destined to be slaves. Of course, the chances of that happening again—especially so close to Paevia—are slim, but the memories still loom overhead as we reach the town.
It's slightly smaller than Ipswitch, and the only shops I see are the necessary ones such as a butcher, a blacksmith, a bakery, and a seamstress. Men load up their carts with the wares they attempted to sell earlier in the day and wheel them back to their homes. We only earn a few curious glances and I slightly relax. "I guess the sight of four strangers on a horse clad in fine armor is not as abnormal as it is in other towns," I think.
At the end of the dusty street is a two-story building that has a rickety sign that reads "Harper's Hollow." A middle aged woman sweeps the front porch and looks up at as we draw near. Her long brown hair is fastened and piled into a bun on the top of her head and she brushes a few strands from her matching eyes. Recognition flashes across her face when she sees Crispin and she gives a warm smile.
"Well look what the cat dragged in," she greets before resting her broom against the one of the wooden support beams.
"Good evening Harper. Have room for a few more tonight?" he asks pleasantly, dismounting his mare. He gives her a loving pat and the rest of us do the same. Landing, my boots his the hard-packed dirt and I grab my stallions bridle, insuring he doesn't run off.
She eyes the rest of us, unsure if we bring any trouble. I can't imagine they get too many new faces around here. When she gives a nod, I assume she approves of us and returns her focus on Crispin. "Aye, we have a few rooms. How many would you like?" she asks.
Crispin turns around and looks at Amiri who motions towards Laria with his head and he turns back around. "Two will be fine," he asks, offering a winning smile.
"And I suppose you'd like the usual?" she inquires, digging her hands in one of the pockets in her smock before pulling out a ring of keys.
"If they are available," Crispin answers patiently. When she gives him a nod, he hands her a few coins in exchange for two keys and turns to us. "Harper will take the horses if you want to hitch them here and grab your bags."
We do, and even though I protest when he offers to carry my bag I still find myself following him up the narrow staircase empty handed.
"This is you," he tells Amiri, handing him a key when we stop at a door that as the letter A painted on it in fancy gold paint. "Ours is right next door. Want to meet across the square for dinner?" he asks, adjusting our heavy bags in his hands.
"Aye. I think I'll take a bath first though," Laria says and then the two disappear into the room.
We walk to the next door down—room B—and Crispin unlocks the door and we are greeted with a large room. To the far right wall is a queen sized bed with plush grey bedding that looks inviting. There is a small table for two next to it and to the far left is a fireplace already alight. In the center is a wooden tub large enough for two. The walls are painted a light yellow that is complimented well with the cedar floor.
"Wow," I say as I look around, "I have to say this is pretty nice for such a small town."
Crispin gives a light laugh as he sits our bags in the corner of the room. "As much as I hate to say it, I'm pretty sure the reason why it does so well is because of my family. We are typically her only customers save for the random visitor and we pay her very well for secrecy," he explains.
I nod my head slowly and turn when there is a knock on the door. Raising an eyebrow to Crispin he gives me a smirk and walks over to the door, swinging it open. A blond haired beauty with wide blue eyes stands on the other side. "Crispin!" she greets and snakes her arms around his toned torso, pressing her over-spilling bosom against him. "It's been too long! What? Maybe a year?" she asks, burying her face in his chest.
Frowning, I stand there as if I'm intruding and purse my lips. He gives me an embarrassed look and awkwardly pushes her away. "Hello Mary," he greets, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand.
She looks up and her face falters when she sees me but she quickly puts on a forced smile, looking back to Crispin. "I've brought you some hot water for a bath," she begins, "I thought you'd want some company but I see you already have some."
Crispin turns to me and nods, "Yes, this is Cora," he begins, "Cora this is Mary."
"Pleasure," I spout evenly before walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Here let me help," Crispin says, keeping the mood light. He bends down and picks up the bucket of steaming water and empties it into the tub. We stand in silence for a moment when he says something along the lines of him helping to make it go faster and disappears into the hallway and down the stairs.
Mary turns to me and bats her blue eyes before pulling out two vials of liquid. "Do you prefer floral scents or vanilla?" she asks, before adding, "Crispin likes vanilla but I'm sure you already knew that."
I know what her game is and I debate whether or not to play. Obviously she is a former lover of his, perhaps warmed his bed each time he paid a visit to Butchers Creek. From her initial reaction, I do not think he has ever bought another companion with him and my presence seems to irritate her.
Shrugging, I begin to unlace my boots, "It doesn't really matter to me. Vanilla is fine, thanks," I say, sliding the first one off. I hear a cork pop and she empties a vile into the tub in circular motions and in seconds the sweet scent of vanilla fills my senses.
"So, are you Crispin's courtesan? I couldn't imagine you being his lover," she says amusingly.
Letting out a slow exhale, I look up at her with tired eyes, deciding to take the bait. "And why is that?" I ask.
She gives a nonchalant shrug, "Just because he's not the type to settle down. I'd know," she replies. "If it's any consolation, don't feel too bad when he moves on to another girl—we've all been there. His preferences change like the seasons I'm afraid." She then dips out of the room and almost runs into Crispin who carries two full buckets in each hand.
"Smells good," he says out loud, emptying the buckets of water into the tub. It sloshes around and I wonder just how many more trips will he have to make for it to be full.
"Mhm," I hum, removing my other boot. "Would you like some help?" I offer.
He shakes his head and gives me a lazy smile, "No need. Just sit back, relax, and do what you do best—look gorgeous."
My eyes roll and I can't help but to chuckle as he disappears once again.
Mary and Crispin make eight trips before the tub is full. She's made no effort to talk to me again and for that I am pleased. She tells Crispin she will move onto Laria and Amiri's quarters next and to let her know if we need anything. SHe then takes her leave when Crispin locks it behind her.
He gives me an embarrassed look and I know he is waiting for me to mention her.
Sighing, I stand up and begin to remove my dirty clothing before slipping into the steaming tub. "So, I'm assuming you and Mary were once a thing?" I ask, watching Crispin strip. I can't help but to allow my eyes to linger on his body before he joins me in the water, resting his arms on each side of the rim. He sits across from me and I notice the water as it laps at his sculpted chest.
He gives a slow nod and I see him visibly relax as the heat begins to seep into his muscles. "I guess you could say that. She's Harper's daughter and the same age as me so I've known her for years. One drunken night at the tavern led to us sleeping together a few years back. Ever since, each time I've stayed she's always...offered me company," he says.
"Hmm," I say, not sure how to respond really. I know he has been with many women, but it's one thing to imagine what they look liked and another to speak with one of his concubines personally.
He smirks and tilts his head, soaking the bottom of his raven hair. "Jealousy isn't a good look for you," he teases me. Scowling, I swat him with water and sink down to my chin. "I'm kidding I'm kidding," he says, "If it's any consolation, she's slept with just about half the town—even my brothers."
At this my nose wrinkles up and I try to block the images of the other princes from my mind. "Lovely," I mutter.
He chuckles and grips my wrist underwater, pulling me in to him, "Come here," he says, and I come to a rest sitting on his thighs. My legs drape over to one side and I wrap my arms around his neck as he holds me bridal style.
He takes my chin in one hand and gently lifts my face towards his, "You might not have been the first, but I intend for you to be the last," he tells me. He then leans down and places a soft kiss on my lips and for the next half hour we explore each other's bodies once again.
After getting dressed in a fresh pair of clothes, Crispin and I walk hand-in-hand down the stairs to the main floor. Mary works behind a counter folding linen and I can't help but get satisfaction from the look she gives me at the sight of us two.
We step out into the evening air and I look up at the sky. Though the sun is beginning to set, the moon is already beginning to rise. Shades of pink and purple paint the sky and I take in its beauty, feeling wide awake after our bath.
"Come love, let's get something to eat," Crispin tells me and pulls me across the slender dirt street. An old man gives us a friendly nod when we near the tavern before ducking inside. Smells of cooked food fill the air and I inhale deeply, picking up the scent of tomato soup.
Turning, I see Amiri and Laria are already at a long table, shoveling down bites of food.
I allow Crispin to lead me over to them and we take our seats at the table.
Amiri looks up and points at his plate with his fork at Crispin. "This is the best mallard I've ever had. You weren't lying about how great this place is," he tells him, wiping the grease from his mouth with the back of his hand.
Crispin gives a pleased grin and nods, "Call it a hidden gem of Paevia," he says, turning to Laria. "Is that the pottage stew?" he asks, looking at her bowl of yellow liquid. Beans and cabbage float around and I catch a whiff of vinegar as she takes a bite.
"Aye. I think I'll order a second serving," she says.
A middle-aged woman with black hair comes over to the table and turns to Crispin. "Very good to see you again. What will it be?" she asks kindly.
"I'll have the roasted hen and a tankard of ale please," he tells her.
She then turns to me and gives me a soft smile. "And for you love?"
I look at the words scribbled onto the makeshift menu that sits before me and decide on something I've never heard of, "Can I have that bratwurst please?"
"Anything to drink?" she asks and I tell her just a cup of water.
When she turns to leave, Amiri takes another bite and turns to the two of us. "So, what's tomorrow's course of action? Should we count on daddy Robert to be welcoming?"
His choice of name for the king causes me to smile and I see Laria shake her head disapprovingly.
Crispin runs a hand through his damp hair and gives a shoulder a shrug. "I couldn't say really. He won't be pleased with us that's for sure..." he says, trailing off.
Laria takes another bite of her stew and places a reassuring hand on Crispin's. "No matter what he says, know that you didn't fail. Rose made her decision and you had no other choice but to accept it Crispin. War would have ensued the moment she left."
Turning to him, I nod my head. "You did the right thing," I agree. "He can decide to see that or not, but you gave your sister an opportunity at a happier life."
Crispin presses his full lips together and nods, "I suppose so. I'm just not looking forward to the argument with my father," he says, forcing a laugh.
"The girls are right, my friend. And we will stand by you no matter what as well as accept whatever punishments that might befall us—so long as we can keep our heads," he says, clapping him on the back.
This time, Crispin gives a real chuckle, "Thanks Amiri. I just know that no matter which way we look at it, it won't be pretty."
The woman then returns with our food and a bowl of smoked sausage sits before me, complemented with steamed carrots, potatoes, and some sort of slaw. It smells delicious and I waste no time diving in. It takes only a few seconds to declare this dish my new favorite food.
For the next hour or so, we recount or journey—both good memories and bad. We laugh at how much the four of us have grown to like each other considering Laria was initially repulsed by Amiri and his honest mannerisms and how Crispin hated everything about me. They poke fun at how far I've come with handling a sword—from tripping over my own feet to being able to take down men twice my size. We also poke at Crispin, who was once a peacock needing to be primed.
When we reach the turn of events with Jasper, more than a few curse words are muttered amongst us as we recount the harsh treatment received on the slavers end and the fear we felt with Crispin's spurious hanging. We then revel in the satisfying memories of revenge—seeing Jasper hang from his neck, the death of the castrated man, and the every other victory we achieved.
When our cups empty and go dry, we head back to our rooms for the evening and bid Laria and Amiri goodnight, telling them to be ready bright and early. Crispin and I then retreat back to own room and close the door behind us.
With the hearth alight, the room is warm and the dancing flames cast an orange glow around the room. Crispin and I change into our nightclothes and crawl into the plush bed and I nestle in beside him, laying my head on his bare chest. His heart beats at a slow, strong pace and I find it soothing. He whispers sweet nothings into my ear as he runs his fingers through my hair in even strokes until he falls asleep.
As I drift off myself, I make sure to soak in these final moments with him and engrave them to memory, not knowing what tomorrow or the future holds for us. This could be my final night him, or just one of hundreds—still, there is no way of knowing.