Castle Walls (6 page)

From the welcome shade of her awning, Ros watched her troupe in the waning light of afternoon. She'd long since removed her black over tunic, the pale blue shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow, neck lacings open. Her long legs were propped up on the stool before her, feet crossed at the ankles, and she held a rolled up parchment in one hand.

Supper was being served and her people were clustered about the central cookfire, chattering and laughing. Despite Minkhat's stubborn injury, it had been a decent rehearsal and merited cheerfulness. The dark man had reported that Katerin had been gentle and knowledgeable in her treatment of his shoulder.

Her hazel eyes lighted on the new arrivals, studying them. Ilia was still uneasy, she being the less gregarious of the two. The blonde's smile was hesitant, her movements gentle and understated. She seemed to have been a gangly youth, all elbows and feet, her adult form still awkward and clumsy from adolescence. Katerin, on the other hand, appeared to be dealing well with the heady mix of the performers, treating each with pleasantness.

Watching the brunette's face melt into a laugh at something said, Ros' lips twitched to match it.
Aye, she's a beauty. I'll give her that. It's too bad she's…
Shaking her tousled head, she banished the thought.
Enough of that! You've got much more on your trencher to deal with.

Sighing, Ros considered her next step. She'd already begun with integrating the pair into her troupe, insuring that the score of people would insist they were from Aimsbury.
Now, to get Ilia firmly established with the clowning and lute, to lend respectability to the lie with her obvious experience.
Katerin was going to be tougher, though.
Perhaps she'd allow her hair to be cut, to aid in her disguise.

Her stomach rumbled.
Aye, perhaps. But not now.
Slapping the rolled parchment against her leg, she dropped her feet from the stool and rose. With a negligent toss, the paper landed on a nearby table, unfurling to show a portrayal of a woman billowing fire from her mouth.
Supper first, a night of enjoyment with my family. Tomorrow's another day and another show.

Ros left the shade beside her wagon, striding towards the fire and food, smiling and returning the calls of her friends.

It was dark when Katerin returned to the owner's wagon. She'd waited as long as possible, drawing performers out in conversation as she attempted to stall. That Ros had told her she'd be safe didn't help ease her heart. It was the obvious weariness of her handmaiden, Ilia unwilling to leave her mistress' side, which finally decided the brunette. With a gentle smile, she urged the blonde to bed, walking her part of the way and watching until she was safely inside her wagon.

Katerin inhaled the night air deeply, turning to scan the encampment. She could see only Abdullah, a hulking beast who played the circus strong man, on first watch at the fire. He sang quietly, his voice a sweet alto that belied his size, as he poked at the fire. Everyone else had gone to bed.

Her dark eyes finally reached Ros' wagon and her heart thumped. The owner had left the fire long before and the wagon was dark. Katerin hadn't even seen the interior, not wanting to step foot inside when she'd had the opportunity earlier. Now, she'd be a stumbling fool.
Probably trip and break something
, she mused. A thought occurred to her, the worried expression on her face fading. "I'll just sleep out here on a chair."

Pleased with her idea, she stepped closer to the shadows of the awning. Katerin's eyes widened and she gasped in shock at the dark form seated there. "Ros!" Patting her chest, she said, "You scared ten years out of me."

"My apologies, lady," the blonde murmured, rising to her feet. "I have an unfortunate tendency to brood at night, as my friends will attest." She yawned, politely covering her mouth. "Are you ready to retire?"

Katerin swallowed nervously, her heart beating double time. She tried to stutter an answer, but her tongue betrayed her.

Amused, Ros raised an eyebrow. "Come with me, lady. I'll not ravish you yet."

The sardonic tone lit the brunette's anger. Before she knew it, she stepped forward to glare up at the older woman. "You'll not ravish me at
all
!"

A wicked smile grew on the owner's face. "True," she said with a nod. "Not until you ask it of me."

Gasping at the audacity, Katerin could only bluster at the woman's gall.

Ros, her smile turning genuine, wondered how many shades of red the smaller woman could turn. Perhaps if it was light out, I'd become truly informed. Rather than remain outside the entire night, she stepped closer to Katerin, towering over her, her face returning to seriousness. "I've told you, lady. I do not condone rape."

The words were ice water on her anger, leaving Katerin gaping in the aftermath.

Relaxing her aggressive stance, the owner stepped back, studying the shocked brunette before her. "Come, Katerin," she said, brushing past and opening the wagon door. "Bring your things and we'll find a place for them."

Left standing alone, the smaller woman collected herself, anger and
uncertainty warring within. She could hear Ros rummaging about inside the wagon and she shivered against the cool air. Moving to the table, she located the sack she and Ilia had carried for so many fright filled leagues. Katerin sighed, face somber, and squared her shoulders before approaching the wagon door.

The interior was lit, Ros having a hooded lantern within. Gathering her skirts, the brunette stepped up inside. It was cramped and cluttered, as was to be expected. On the right was a row of cupboards, spanning the length and height of the wall. To the left were the shuttered window, a small table and two chairs beneath it. The bed against the far end looked soft and comfortable, a quilted blanket decorating it.

Katerin's body ached for that bed, regardless of her situation. Just the sight of it made her bone deep weariness come to the fore and she could feel herself sway at the sudden rush of exhaustion.

Digging in the cupboards, Ros pulled a handful of items from one and stuffed them in another. "You can put your things here, Katerin," she said, stepping back in the cramped space to allow the smaller woman access.

Quelling her fear at the close proximity, the brunette slipped past Ros and stashed her bag within. She closed the cupboard quickly and spun around, not liking that her back was turned to the owner. At the blonde's knowing smile, she blushed but raised a challenging eyebrow.

Ros' smile widened and she gave a slight bow in acknowledgement. "If you'd like, I can step outside while you change for bed…?" she asked gallantly. Opening another cupboard, she pulled out an oversized shirt. "You can wear this until we've had time to outfit you." Not waiting for an answer, the owner turned and stepped out of the wagon, closing the door behind her.

Katerin blinked, holding the shift in one hand. She didn't know what to make of Ros - honest and honorable one moment, a cad the next. Sighing, she shook her head.
Best get changed quickly then. No telling when she'll decide to pop back in here.
The small woman turned her back to the door, lest her knight in shining armor decided to catch a peek of her attributes, and removed the blouse she'd borrowed from Lucinda. Pulling the shift over her head and smoothing it down, she could see that it dropped to mid thigh and felt a bit easier.

When she was finished changing, Katerin folded the clothing and looked about the wagon for a place to put it. Shrugging, she opened her cupboard and placed the items inside, adding her shoes to the pile. There was a knock at the door just as she closed the cupboard.

"Are you decent, lady?"

Swallowing against the familiar thrill of fear, the brunette nodded and called, "Aye, I am."

Ros stepped inside, eyes flickering over her charge. She noted the embarrassed blush but chose to ignore it. "If you'd like to get into bed…?" she asked, beginning to remove her overtunic. "You can sleep on either side, I've no preference."

The smaller woman paled as she turned to look at the bed. If she slept on the inside, against the wall, she'd be trapped. On the other hand, sleeping on the outside would mean that Ros would have to climb over her. Katerin chewed her upper lip in consternation. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw that the owner was naked from the waist up and untying the drawstring on her breeches.
Gods!
she exclaimed to herself, jumping into the bed and scooting as far away as possible.
Does she have no modesty!?

Aware of the other woman's discomfort, Ros couldn't help but smile as she kicked off her boots and breeches. She paused long enough to blow out the lantern and open the shutters a bit before climbing under the covers herself. Sighing in pleasure, she stretched and settled comfortably on her back. Beside her, she could feel the waves of tension radiating from the other woman. "Good night, Katerin. May your dreams be sweet."

Dark eyes wide in the darkness, the brunette listened to the fluttering
of her heart, Ros' nearness agitating her no end. "Good night," she finally whispered. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the other woman moved in the bed, quelling her fear when she realized that Ros was simply rolling over onto her side. For some reason, having the owner's back to her helped her to relax.

Despite the panic, her body eased into the mattress. Well fed and warm for the first time in days, weariness took over and Katerin drifted off to sleep.

Cold sweat, chattering teeth, thunder and jolt of hooves. Warning yell, clash of metal, screams.

With a shuddering gasp Liam awoke, struggling to get to his feet. Sharp pain lanced through him, a strangled gasp forced from his over dry throat as he fell back, writhing in agony.

"By the gods! He's awake!" a voice exclaimed. There was a thump and assorted noises. "Get that witch in here!"

Uncertain of his fate or surroundings, Liam opened his eyes, relief flowing through him as he recognized the face above his. He tried to speak but nothing would come.

"Hush, my liege. You're as dry as sand. Be still while I get water."

Nodding weakly, he shut his eyes, hearing the trickle of liquid being poured. More noises, shuffling, and a hand was helping him partially sit, holding a wooden mug. Despite more pain, the water was ambrosia to his parched throat and he drank what little was given him with qreed.

"That's enough for now," Dominic said, pulling the cup away, "until the witch has a look at you. You've given Sim and I a scare, Majesty. I'd rather not take any chances."

Majesty? My liege?
It took two tries before Liam was able to voice his question. "My brother?"

Dominic's face became somber. "No, Majesty. Of the royal family only you have survived. The rest of them have gone to the afterworld."

Before Liam could form a response there was more noise; a door opening, voices speaking low. Another hovered over him, face craggy and gray, toothless mouth drawn into an intent frown.

"How do ye feel, lad?" the old woman asked. She pulled back blankets to peer at his chest, ignoring the burst of protest from Dominic.

"Keep a civil tongue, witch! This is your king!"

Grimacing, the old woman glared at the interruption. "Nay. He's a lad and one that should count himself lucky to be breathing 't all."

Their squabbling made Liam's head ache and he raised his hand, shocked at how heavy it weiqhed. "Please, don't fight. It's all right, Dominic. She means no disrespect."

Dominic's eyes narrowed in warning at the witch before softening as he looked at the teenager. "Aye, Majesty. As you wish."
With much muttering, the woman examined her patient. Surprisingly, her touch was gentle, causing little pain as she removed bandages from Liam's chest.

In an attempt to distract him, Dominic leaned closer. "You're a very lucky young man, my liege. Had the Invader's blade been a finger span off, you'd be in the afterworld, as well."

"How long has--" Gasping at the sudden sharp pain in his chest, Liam ground his teeth. "How long has it been?"

Dominic left off glaring at the witch to answer. Face saddened, he said, "Four days, Majesty. Your guard, Sim, was knocked unconscious and left for dead. When he woke, he found you still breathing."

Try as he might, Liam couldn't remember the cause of his pain. There had been war, his family fleeing the Invader. Shaking his head, he admitted, "I don't recall."

"And doubtful ye would, lad," the witch stated with a grin. "Ye'd been spitted like a pig for feast. If'n your man hadn't found me, ye'd be feedin' the ravens now." Finished with her ministrations, she laid a clean cloth over the wound. "Ye need to drink this, lad."

A stinking cup was held to his lips and he recoiled.

"Drink it, Majesty," Dominic urged. "Your kingdom needs you whole and hale." Watching the young man obey, Dominic smiled. "When you're well, we'll begin the task of returning you to your riqhtful place."

Prince Liam Dulce Caesar Alfric, heir to the Dulce throne, drifted off to sleep as Dominic held his hand.

Waking was a slow process, muscles languid from sleep. The urge to stretch too much for her, Katerin followed her body's instruction. Sighing, she luxuriated in the feel before cracking open dark eyes. Vague light filtered through the cracked shutter, reminding her where she was, what had happened. Dread filled her heart and she searched for the cause.

Ros was nowhere to be seen, the blankets on that side of the bed tossed to one side, a hollow on the pillow where she'd laid her head. Sounds from outside were heard - quiet movements of camp just awaking, low voices as people talked quietly while others slept.

Rising from bed, the brunette breathed a sigh of relief.
You're being a ninny! Ros hasn't hurt you in any way.
Katerin shook her head, moving to the shutters and peeking through the crack. She could see the circus owner by the fire, talking with some of her troupe, reaching out to tousle Wilm's head. It presented a very familial picture and a smile crossed the small woman's face as she watched.
Cad or no, she has a wonderful way with her people.