“We were just about to send out a search party.” Olivia commented in a cheery voice that had nothing to do with whatever had been on her mind a moment before.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I mean even if it were just pushing Jolene out the door and saying ‘go find Nessa’, that’s still a search party, right?” The blonde woman put a bowl on the table and pushed a glass at Nessa. “You’d have thought somebody lit your new husband’s underoos on fire the way he was squirming around looking at the door every time someone shifted.” Olivia shook her head and grinned at Jarrett who was still staring at Nessa with his heart in his eyes.

“Why Jolene?” Nessa asked, sliding into the chair that Olivia pulled out with her foot, hands now laden with plates.

“Because that’s her job, isn’t it? She’s supposed to be the law around these parts and as there are no bandits or bank robbers to chase down, the least she can do is chase down missing wives.” Olivia said.

“Sorry, I–I was just, I…” Olivia shook her head at Nessa.

“I’m teasing, Ness.” The vet put her head in her hands. “Elbows off the table.” Olivia said primly. “Eat your fish.”

“You’re not my mother.” Nessa said.

“Nope, just your best friend, there’s overlap, eat your fish.” Olivia plunked down in her own chair and looked pointedly at the plates. “This is not revenge, it’s not best served cold.” There didn’t seem to be much one could say to that, so Jolene picked up her fork and flaked off some of the fish.

As always the food was excellent, but Jolene never felt quite as comfortable around the big table in Jarrett and Nessa’s kitchen as Sawyer did. Jolene’s husband–god she didn’t know if she would ever get used to that–didn’t even seem to notice, he talked animatedly to Olivia and Jarrett, even managing to draw Nessa into the laughter, though it was obvious that she was not completely involved in the story Sawyer was spinning.

And it was a funny one–she could wish, having met Ambassador Gavin, that she had been around when his horse had unceremoniously sat down on him. But Sawyer, as she had noticed not a few times before, had a way with words. Her smile was a little fonder than she expected it to be as Olivia threw her head back and made some crack about why the horse might have chosen such an inauspicious (at least for the ambassador) seat.

When Sawyer asked what she meant, Olivia just gave that knowing smirk.

“Well, where else would a horse sit other than on a horse’s ass?” She batted her long lashes over her brown eyes.

“Oh, cause I–” Sawyer broke off and glanced at Jolene.

“Sawyer! I’m hurt, do you think I’d tell off color jokes at the dinner table?” Olivia asked putting her hands to her chest in a great show of innocence.

“It ain’t never stopped you before.” Jarrett muttered into his glass of tea.

“Well, yeah, but the only one I could think of was a little too off color, even for me. Besides, even though Gavin is kinda a jackass–”

“Kind of?” Sawyer snorted.

“Okay, mostly, unless you’re a nobleman or otherwise useful.” Olivia dismissed. “And apparently bed companion isn’t useful enough.”

“You’re not!” Nessa gasped, dropping her mug. Jarrett caught it before it tipped over and landed on the floor, then patted Nessa on the shoulder, the creamy tan drained straight out of her face.

“God no!” Olivia said. “I’d almost rather sleep with my ex again. But that doesn’t mean that he hasn’t occasionally tried to scope a look at my tits and offer to show me his–weaponry.” The blonde shook her head again.

“He’s–he’s tried to look at your…!” Jolene honestly couldn’t tell if Sawyer started sputtering because he couldn’t imagine talking about breasts in mixed company at the dinner table or if he was sputtering because he was offended by what Gavin had offered.

“Well, yeah. They’re kinda nice if I do say so myself.” Olivia smirked again.

“I feel like an old matron auntie,” Jarrett said. “All I can think to say is ‘Well, I never!’ in a prim tone.”

“Well, you should,” Olivia smiled brightly. “It’s kinda fun.”

“But–I thought he was–paying court to Lady Fiona.” Sawyer said, his face suspiciously dark at the moment. “Or at least sort of trying to.”

“We may think he’s an idiot all around, but even he is not dumb enough to think he could get away with a supremely dumbass move like actually making a move on Fiona while she’s still Lock’s girl.” Jolene found herself nodding in agreement. He couldn’t be that stupid, not unless Archerglen was seriously trying for a diplomatic incident. “Or else mine are just better than Fiona’s.”

“Your what?” Sawyer asked, then colored and slumped in his seat.

“My those.” Olivia said blandly. “To his way of thinking, I’m a tavern wench, that means my virtue is negotiable and he just hasn’t found my price yet.” Jolene saw Nessa shift uncomfortably in her chair. “But that’s probably not appropriate for the dinner table conversation, so Ms. Quiet over there, how’s the wide world of crime?”

“There’s crime in Shadowcrest?” Jolene asked blandly.

“Sure. Why there’s fraud just walking the streets.” Olivia said, heaping more salad on Sawyer’s plate. He looked longingly at the fruit tarts on the counter before doggedly munching on the greens. Jolene’s eyebrow went up. “Haven’t you seen Alistair? He’s a huge walking dildo packaged as a human, how is that not a crime?” Nessa, who had been about to take a drink of her tea spit it back into her cup in a spew. While Jolene, despite her best intentions, found herself snickering. 

“I don’t think we can arrest Alistair for that though.” Jolene stirred a little honey into her tea, face thoughtful. She was expecting the muttered “Pity,” she was even expecting it from more than one person, she just hadn’t been expecting Jarrett to be among the mutterers.

Then again, while he tried not to speak badly of anyone, the big man was not Alistair’s biggest fan.

… Was anyone actually? She hadn’t spent enough time with Zahrah to know whether she was still firmly Team Jackass or not…

“Well, other than the fact that Alistair’s crimes are not the arrestable sort, Shadowcrest is quiet on the crime front.” Jolene finished right before Olivia glanced at Nessa who was pouring tea into a fresh mug, her eyes lost and a little moist at the corners.

“So, who wants dessert?” Olivia bounced up as if trying to distract them from the fact that Nessa was on the verge of tears. “Other than Sawyer.” The blonde patted Sawyer’s head and smiled. Jarrett looked at Nessa then at his hands.

“I–I…” Nessa started to say to Jarrett, then boiled up out of her seat. “I need a little air.” Olivia bit her lip but loaded her hands full of plates and the platter with the tarts and started doling them out. Jolene held her hand up and shook her head at Olivia’s quirked eyebrow.

To be honest, Jolene wouldn’t have described herself as a sensitive person. She was not the cop that was brought in when someone needed a child or victim comforted. She wasn’t the person who people unburdened their problems to or asked for advice. She wasn’t, really, even that great of a confidant.

So why she followed the cockamamie urge to follow Nessa out onto the porch, like she was Heidi (who was most of those things) and like Nessa would want to talk to her was anyone’s guess.

It wasn’t hard to find Nessa, though her dress blended into the twilight, her hair flamed in the moonlight like a beacon.

“Wanna talk about it?” Jolene asked, helping herself to the other side of the bench that Nessa was curled up on?

“I’m pregnant.” Nessa said. Jolene blinked, she was actually sort of expecting a surly sort of ‘no’. She bit her tongue on the ‘that was quick’ that rose immediately from the pronouncement.

“And this is bad…?” Jolene offered instead.

“I don’t know.” Nessa admitted. “If it were anyone but me? No. If I were married to anyone but Jarrett, again, probably not. But…”

“Well, I’m gonna take a wild guess and say because you only got married yesterday, and Kennedy’s not that quick, your pregnancy predates your wedding?” Jolene asked. Nessa nodded and sighed miserably. “Is it that you’re unhappy about the timing or about the being pregnant at all?” Jolene blundered on.

“It’s not the fact that the baby was conceived before the wedding.” Nessa sighed.

“Um–so–what is it?” Jolene offered in prompting, hoping the other woman would take the hint and start talking, thus sparing Jolene from asking any more awkward questions.

“I was hoping–because there are a few baby issues between Jarrett and me–cause of his children and I have my own problems there–that we could have–I dunno waited.” Jolene nodded in understanding. “But the thing is, I don’t think that we could ever have a baby that wouldn’t be born into a bunch of issues. Not with him, not with me.” Nessa confessed.

“Y’know, somebody told me that Sawyer and I would figure it out. And we are, kinda, sorta. I mean, we still haven’t–you know–done everything…” And wasn’t that embarrassing to admit? “But we are figuring it out. I bet you and Jarrett’ll figure it out.”

“I just wish…”

“Someone else told me–at least–I think someone else told me–that happily ever after is a cheap lie.” Nessa looked sharply at her. “It’s a long story.” She flipped her hair out of her face. “The reason I bring it up is, I think they were right, who wants to know how the story’s gonna end before you start reading it? If you could have all the answers, really–would you want ‘em?” Jolene asked.

“It’d make things easier.” Nessa said without answer the question.

“Not what I asked.” Jolene pointed out. Nessa winced a little. “You know, this bench is hard–and cold.” Nessa snorted and stood up. Jolene rubbed her rear, hoping it would just look like she was smoothing her skirt.

“You know.” Nessa said as Jolene fell into step beside her on their way back toward the house. Here’s where she’ll tell me that she didn’t know I could be sensitive, or encouraging or something. “I bet Sawyer would be perfectly willing to rub the cold out of your precious ass, Jolene.” Jolene gaped.

But it seemed like that used whatever confidence Nessa had, because as they walked up the stairs to the house, she seemed to go paler by the breath. What happened next, Jolene couldn’t really say, the door opened, Olivia was sheparding Nessa toward Jarrett and then a half moment later, she was sheparding Jolene and Sawyer out the door toward home.

—

“Do you know what that was about?” Sawyer asked, taking Nessa’s place at her side.

“Nessa swallowed a cabbage seed.”

“Oh…” Sawyer said. “Cause–Olivia said, she thinks Nessa–expecting.” Jolene folded her lips into something between a laugh and a smirk.

“Sawyer, sweetheart, that’s what the expression means.” Jolene told him.

“Oh.” The darkness and Sawyer’s tan skin hide any color change, but she’d guess he was blushing again. “Well, I guess…” He fell off into a familiar embarrassed silence that usually popped up around this time in these sorts of conversations.

“Can we talk?” Jolene asked, rounding on her husband as he pushed open the front gate to their yard.

“Uh, aye?”

“Do you–ever–do you wish we would?” She asked hurriedly, the words seeming to slur together in her haste. Sawyer tilted his head to the side, the feeling of his hazel eyes on her like a physical sensation. “Make love.”

“Well, aye.” Sawyer laughed a self-depreciating laugh that sounded all wrong for him. Her Sawyer was too confidant for laughs like that. “I just wanted to give you time–if that was what you needed.”

“I think you’ve been giving me too much time and understanding.” She admitted to Sawyer’s stare. “You’ve been understanding and I haven’t been understanding about what you would want or need. And that’s not very fair of me.”

“Well, but, life isn’t fair.” Sawyer admitted, as he pushed the front door open. He busied himself with lighting a candle.

“No–it isn’t, but we don’t have to help it along.” Jolene said. He turned and blinked at her for a moment as something hung for that brief moment in the balance. Sawyer’s tongue flickered out nervously slicking his lips and that, really, that simple nervous gesture was all it took to tip the balance.

Because in less than a heartbeat and a half–she knew it was just that long because her heart was pounding very loudly in her ears at that moment–she was in Sawyer’s arms, her lips pressed hard and hungry against his soft, warm, wet ones. He made a startled noise and she pulled back, all the guilt that had kept her from kissing him like that rushing back in.

“You don’t have do this just because I want to.” Sawyer said.

“Fuck that, Sawyer. I wanna do this because we both want to. If you’ve changed your mind…” It was hard to say if she trailed off or if he cut her off because they were just about simultaneous. His grip was a little uncertain as his hands found his way to her waist, and she was pretty sure one or the other of them was shaking.

But then her hands slid into his hair and there was no place for shaking or uncertainty, not in that moment. Later there might be regrets, or questions, or some stupid thing, but in that moment, they had each other and really, what more did they need?

“You know, I’m glad that I’ve got a chance to talk to you by myself, Zahrah.” Sawyer said giving his most disarming grin. Zahrah rolled her eyes.

“You’re married now, Sawyer. And your wife is jealous.” Zahrah told him. His brow went upward.

“She is?” Sawyer asked.

“That’s what everyone says and they do know her better than I do.” Zahrah shrugged.

“And to think just a couple of weeks ago she was still throwing me at other women. If it wouldn’t scandalize the entire country, I think she’d still be throwing me at other women.” Zahrah paused in midstep and stared.

“But you’re married.” She put her foot down on the ground.

“Aye.” He nodded.

“But–what are the divorce laws like here in Shadowcrest?”

“I–don’t know.” Sawyer said. “It’s not the divorce, really, it’s the annulment that’s usually a problem.”

“What’s the difference?” If she was going to have to get married as a teenager, maybe it would be better to know this now. Though she’d hope that if she got married it would be for love and to someone who she would never, ever want to divorce.

“Between an annulment and a divorce?”

“No. I mean how hard is it to get an annulment over a divorce.”

“Depends. Depends on the priest, depends on the kingdom, depends on if your marriage has been consummated.” Sawyer told her. “I think if we were really miserable, both Lord Gray and King Lachlan would give us a divorce.”

“So, it’d only be the consummation that would be a problem for you and Jolene?” Zahrah asked only to see Sawyer’s eyes drop to the cobblestone he was kicking at. “Sawyer? You–you guys haven’t–done it?” A flush crawled up his cheeks and over his ears as he continued to stare at the ground.

“She needs more time.” Sawyer whispered.

“Wow, cause if I was with a guy as hot as you–I think I’d have a hard time waiting til the wedding.” Zahrah exclaimed. Sawyer drew his hazel eyes up and looked hard at her.

“You–you think I’m–attractive?” Sawyer asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Hell yeah.” Zahrah said. “Most of you guys are. I mean, Emanuel is a bit mopey and emo for my taste, And Jarrett’s just–I don’t know how you could be attracted to him. And I mean, Lord Gray is kinda–I mean you just can’t entertain fantasies about him. There’s nothing there to work with if you spent five minutes in his company. But you’re very good looking.”

“What about Tate?” Sawyer asked after a moment’s quiet.

“He’s–cute.” She bit her lip.

“Cute?” Sawyer asked. “In what way?”

“Well, you know, cute, like Alistair’s puppy, or the new foal, or the baby chicks.” Zahrah cocked her head to the side. “How else could he be cute?”

“Like an attractive guy is cute?” Maybe Sawyer meant it as a statement, but it definitely went up in pitch as if he weren’t sure. Zahrah must have looked puzzled. “I’ve heard Lady Fiona telling Lady Jennica that King Lachlan is ‘cute’, which sounds different than when Lady Heidi or Jolene would tell me I was cute. The former sounds like someone you’re–what’s Mistress Peyton say ‘in to”? The latter was definitely baby chick cute.”

“Oh, well, it’s not that Tate’s not kinda hot. He’s just–he’s not swoon-worthy. He’s so boy-next-door.” Zahrah tossed her hair. “It’s not that I don’t like him–but he’s like best friend material. Sweet, kind, the guy you can depend on,” She listed.

“You make that sound like a bad thing. Mistress Raquel says the same thing about Blake, only it doesn’t sound bad when she says it.” Sawyer said.

“I don’t mean it bad.” Zahrah said. She chewed on her cheek for a moment trying to think. “It’s just–he’s like the actor you see in a movie that always does a great job, and you enjoy seeing him in the movie. But he’s not the leading man. He’s not the one you go to the movie for. He’s not the one you daydream over. He’s not the one you spend all weekend cutting pictures out of your magazines of.”

“And Alistair is the ‘leading man’?” Sawyer asked.

“C’mon, why is everyone so down on Alistair. He can be a really great guy if you get to know him!” Zahrah found her bottom lip pushing out into a pout. Seriously, it was totally like a movie, she was the only one who could see past his outside to the sweet guy he was underneath that.

“Maybe we do know him.” Sawyer muttered before turning to resume his path toward the house that Nessa, Jarrett, and Olivia shared. “Morning, Nessa!” He called as she stepped out onto the small front porch. “You’re looking particularly lovely this morning.”

“Sawyer, your flattery will get you nowhere.”

“But you do! Doesn’t she?” Sawyer asked turning toward Zahrah again.

“Her–your hair looks nice.” She didn’t understand Nessa. She was so much prettier when she put a little effort into her appearance. Most of the time she didn’t do anything more than pull her beautiful strawberry gold hair back in a completely unflattering braid or knot.

Between Kennedy, Jennica, and Emanuel it wasn’t like they didn’t have cosmetics around to be worn. But she was pretty sure the only time she’d seen anything on Nessa was at Jolene’s wedding. She didn’t even attempt to cover the scars on her face or give you anything else to focus on.

The looser hair was marginally more flattering.

“Okay, Liv, you win this one.” Nessa called back in the house, a laugh drifting out in response on the late summer breeze.

“Goody! I adore winning.”

“And I’ve resigned myself to not winning.” Nessa said dryly, Sawyer laughed as he followed her into the house. Zahrah followed Sawyer, knowing she shouldn’t, he was married but he had a very cute, tight butt under those hose and the fabric left very little to the imagination and it was kind of distracting, really.

“So, you ready to head up now?” Jarrett asked standing up from the table.

“Just about.” Sawyer said, turning to Zahrah, who was still lingering in the doorway. “You know, exciting isn’t always better. Fires, floods, and animal stampedes are all kind of exciting, that doesn’t mean they’re good.” What? Why was he going all Yoda all of a sudden? But he apparently wasn’t going to explain because he just nodded to her, bowed to Nessa and Olivia and followed Jarrett out the door.

“So you never finished telling me what he said.” Nessa said to Olivia who put down the needle she was using to weave with.

“Oh–you know him. King of the backhanded compliment. He asked me if I always put on weight in my ass because it was looking better these days.” Olivia tossed her hair over her shoulder and looked at her backside.

“Well, what did you expect, he’s not exactly Shakespeare.” Nessa said. “And your ass looks fine, Liv.”

“That’s cause you don’t have to see me naked.” Olivia retorted dryly. “Then again no one else does either, so I guess I can live with it.”

—

Afternoons like this, soft and sweet like warm honey, were just too rare to spend cooped up in the house helping bake pastries. And even a hard task master like Olivia realized that the heart wasn’t in her apprentice about the second time she found her thoughts wandering off as she was applying icing, getting it all over the counter. So Zahrah found herself banished to the outside while Nessa and Olivia finished up the last couple of batches.

The only thing better than lounging on the pillowy grass watching the clouds in the sky was if there had been anyone to watch them with. Someone like…

“So the cruel dungeon master let you out for the afternoon, my lady?” Alistair’s handsome face stepped into her view. She felt her heart thumping just a little harder in her chest. He was so handsome and even though almost everyone called her my lady or lady Zahrah, there was just something–personal about the way he said it, something cutely possessive. Like a pet name.

“Olivia isn’t cruel, she’s really nice.” Zahrah told him as she stood up and brushed the grass off her skirt.

“Certainly.” He smiled, although there seemed to be something else behind it. But before she could decipher it, he held out a dozen roses to her. It wasn’t shy how he did it, as Tate might have, with a blush and a stammer, simply graceful and charming. “A rose for a rose, Lady Zahrah.” No, Zahrah was the one blushing.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.” Zahrah said bending to inhale them.

“Well, what else could I bring such a beautiful lady” He asked.

“Oh, there you–oh Alistair.” Nessa said coming through the gate.

“Lady Nessa.” There was something small and tight in both their voices, though all they directed toward her was smiles, forced smiles, but smiles. Like she was five again and couldn’t see through it.

“Does Olivia need me for something?” Zahrah asked, her heart sinking, just a little. Yes, she was supposed to be helping Olivia and learning how to cook, but really who wouldn’t rather spend their afternoon with their crush, holding roses and being flattered rather than packing pastries up for the next morning’s market.

“Well, we do need to get these carried up to Fox’s for market.” Nessa said. A whine built up in Zahrah’s throat, which she wouldn’t give voice to, it would only make her sound like a petulant little kid in front of Alistair.

“Right.”

“Couldn’t you assist her, Lady Nessa.” Alistair asked dryly.

“Only if someone else wants to go check on the barn and feed the animals in it.” Nessa’s voice was bland. “And Zahrah is supposed to be Olivia’s assistant, which makes carrying them part of her job.” Zahrah sighed.

“I’ll be right in.”

“Tate!” Nessa called, suddenly. Zahrah looked at Nessa, then in the direction Nessa was looking, yes, there was Tate. Maybe Tate could take the pastries to market with Olivia and Zahrah could leave early. Although there was a part of her that felt guilty for even thinking it. Tate had already put in most of an afternoon working for the king, it probably wasn’t fair to make him do her job on top of his.

“One moment, Lady Nessa.” He called back.

“Well, my lady, it seems our time has been cut short.” Alistair leaned closer to her to murmur in her ear. If she’d been looking she might have noticed the way his leaning closer was timed just for when Tate rounded the corner. Might have seen the look of hopelessness cross his face. See the look of disgust cross Nessa’s. But all she could see were Alistair’s beautiful brown eyes.

“Guess so. I’ll–see you later?” She asked. He nodded with that smile that made her knees get all quivery, then headed off toward the front gate. She was still watching him, so she didn’t see Nessa pat Tate’s shoulder, or the pain on his face as the other woman did so.

The forest surrounding Shadowhaven was not really meant to be hiked, and certainly not in a wedding dress. Why she hadn’t thought to grab something else to wear this morning she’d never know. And the fact that the forest seemed to be clawing and pawing, trying to drag her back, didn’t help. Or maybe it was her regrets that were clawing at her, after all, the dress was seemingly untouched for as many snags as she seemed to have hit.

She’d never thought of herself as a coward. Her father would be so disappointed in her. He always told her to stand and face her fears. Although why she should care what he’d think… After what he did to her mother. But somehow twenty plus years of being daddy’s little girl didn’t go away just cause he’d done something inexcusable. And now as she had also done something inexcusable, hurt someone who deserved it no more than she’d deserved her father’s betrayal, all because she was weak.

And to add insult to injury, she was hopelessly lost. Maybe Tiffany could wander around the woods and find the one thing that would make her the happiest, but Jolene didn’t have that good a sense of direction. She was fine in cities. But cities had always had street signs and graffiti and identifiable buildings, forests… have trees.

All she knew was that the thick underbrush was all but impassible, except the from the direction she’d just come from. And what the hell was she doing anyway? Where was she going to go? She knew very little about the countries surrounding Shadowcrest, and even less about living in the middle ages, outside of the weird amalgamate that was Shadowcrest. She flung herself down on a rock and stared at the still water of the pond in front of her.

“The road’s back that way, if that’s what you’re looking for.” Jolene jumped and stared. The voice wasn’t familiar, no one that she knew. And at first she didn’t even see anyone, then, out of the underbrush stepped a man. Definitely not a Shadowcrestian. His teeshirt was somewhat familiar as if she should know the reference from somewhere. And he wore jeans and battered cowboy boots.

He looked–somehow–wrong in these woods, though maybe not quite as wrong as a woman in a gown straight out of the Phantom of the Opera, so it wasn’t like she had room to talk.

“The road to where?” Jolene asked.

“Kinda depends on you.” The man said with a shrug of shoulders that looked sort of how she imagined Sawyer’s would in a few years. Used to hard work and muscled from it, but not large, not bulky. He sat on the rock next to hers.

“You sound like the Cheshire Cat.” Jolene said.

“Just cause the person giving it is crazy doesn’t mean the advice can’t be sound.” He shrugged again, turning odd slate-blue-green eyes on her. As their gazes locked, she felt oddly naked, not physically, but mentally, as if he were seeing straight into her thoughts. “It’ll take you home.”

“Pardon?” Jolene said glancing away from the man who rubbed his freckled nose.

“The road. It’ll take you home.” He said after a moment of silence had passed.

“And what if you don’t know where home is anymore?”

“I bet you do, Jolene.” She stared at him, though he didn’t seem to notice. How did he know her name? Where was she? “If you’d just listen to yourself, you’d find you know.” He reminded her of someone. It was an odd, tip of the tongue sensation. While outwardly there were things that reminded her of the man who was probably currently waiting for her to show up to their wedding, underneath there was–someone else. That calm voice with just a hint of a drawl tickled the back of her mind.

“How do you know my name?” She blurted when the corners of his lips curled up into a quarter smile that she would have sworn she’d seen on–oh who? And the quiet huff of a laugh, she could hear it overlapping a memory as he caught her eyes again.

“I could tell you that–and you would never believe it.”

“Great. I fell and cracked my head open and am dying, aren’t I?” The laugh was a bit more cynical this time.

“You aren’t going to die today.” He frowned slightly. “Or at least your heart will still be beating in a day, a week, a month from now.” This was getting weirder by the moment.

“I don’t know whether to be more weirded out by your psychic routine or the fact that you make it sound like I will die today.”

“You’re at a crossroads, Jolene. I can’t tell you that if you make the right choice you’ll live happily ever after. The future is way too changing to pin it down. So the right choice won’t get you happily ever after, but the wrong choice, well…” He glanced away.

“It’ll mean that I’ll die like Scrooge?” Jolene couldn’t keep the sneer out of her voice. He chuckled, that maddeningly familiar laugh taunting her.

“No. I can’t even say that. Pinning down happiness is sort of like pinning down the wind. It’s difficult. Not impossible, but difficult. It’ll be harder to be happy.”

“So if I marry Sawyer, I’ll be happy?” She rolled her eyes.

“That also depends on you. You should know by now that happily ever after is a cheap lie. Even if you could get it, you wouldn’t want it. If you don’t work for it, it’ll never be enough for you. You can be happy if you don’t marry Sawyer, you can be happy if you do. You will regret not marrying Sawyer in a way that you won’t regret marrying him if that’s what you choose. You do have a choice, Jolene. You’ve just got to figure out what road you want to take.” The man scrubbed hands through his hair and looked up at the sky.

Then he turned and locked eyes with her again. His pupils seemed to expand, the tiny flecks of almost-silver in his irises flashing. Just for a second she thought she could see–she shook her head and blinked. His eyes were just eyes again. Sparkling, mischievous and yet sad, terribly sad.

He stood up and stretched. “It’s time for me to be movin’ on.” He started off the direction she’d come from.

“Wait, that’s it?” Jolene asked, scowling. “C’mon, even Dickens’ ghosts were less cheap than that.”

“You know what you want to do, Jolene. I don’t need to tell you that. If telling you something were gonna solve this, you’d have been settled right and tight six months ago.” The man chuckled. “I think what you needed is just encouragement to listen to yourself.”

“And you got stuck with the job?” Jolene snorted.

“More like I volunteered for it.”

“Why?” Her eyebrow shot toward her hairline as she said it.

“Indirectly, this involves someone who is very important to me. If I can pass along some sense to you, maybe down the road you can pass it along to them.” He shrugged, a rueful gesture, tantalizingly familiar in selfeffacing sort of way. “Ma’am.” He grabbed the brim of a hat that wasn’t there and nodded before turning and walking off in the direction she’d come from.

In the time it took her heart to beat three slow times, she was alone in the clearing though it had certainly taken her longer to make it through the trees than that.

Jolene looked over in the direction the man had said the road was in, and then back at the now empty clearing with no sign anyone but her had been in it–well–ever. When you don’t know where you’re going any road will get you there, the cat had said.

—

Jarrett sighed wishing there was something he could say to the young man who had by now had to have figured out that his bride wasn’t coming.

“I should have known–but–I thought…” Sawyer sighed.

“Aye.” Jarrett nodded.

“Well, I suppose I should…” Sawyer shifted in his seat.

“You don’t have to.” Jarrett told him. But he would, just like Jarrett would have. That was what they both did, picked themselves up out of the dirt and went along, regardless. The sound of shoes hitting the porch boards at a run startled them both and they turned to peer at the door.

“She’s coming!” Tate exclaimed hard on the heels of bursting through the door. Sawyer’s face was awash in conflicting emotions. “His Majesty says to tell you that she says that she’s sorry she kept us waiting, but if you still wanna do this. She will.”

—

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” Jolene said as she stopped under the rose arbor.

“It’s alright.” He shrugged.

“I needed a little help finding the right road.” Her eyes scanned over the wedding guests with a peculiar intensity that he could only wonder at. But then Gray was taking his place and such mundane thoughts fled. Call him a romantic, but her hold his hands in hers somehow seemed to say that they would find their way to right better than any words a silver tongue could put together.

—

Adult Content warning! This scene chunk contains adult material. You were warned!

He hesitated outside the bedroom door, slowly turning the knob before releasing it only to grip and turn it again. Somehow this was–harder–than he had daydreamed this would be. Although, wasn’t that always the way it went. “You can come in, Sawyer.” her voice called though it lacked it’s usual tone of certainty. She was laying on the bed in a white shift certainly not made to impress anyone.

“Sorry.” He rounded the other side of the bed and sat down gingerly, though he’d been sleeping in this bed in this room for weeks now. He already knew the lumps in the mattress.

“I should be the one apologizing.” Jolene said. The light glinting off the ring on her left hand. “I’ve put you through a lot and now I’m asking you to be patient while I put you through more.” He was pretty sure, given the shift she was wearing, at least part of what she meant by that.

“I understand.” He murmured towards his hands.

“I–I know it’s selfish.” She began then held up a hand as he started to protest. “But I just can’t–we can’t–I can’t.”

“At least you didn’t banish me to the couch. That’s what Livvie says she used to do with her ex-husband.” Jolene smiled at that. But it faded almost before it had finished blooming.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered again. He leaned over and started to blow the candles on the nightstand out. “Wait, Sawyer.” He turned to look at her.

“I can’t–but it’s–it’s our wedding night.” Sawyer shrugged with a nonchalance that he certainly didn’t feel.

“I’m just glad you married me.” She brushed the hair from his face with one hand.

“Liar.” She said with a snicker. “Well, maybe there is something I can do.” Her hand brushed over his shoulder and across his chest, opening his pajama top and sliding it to one side before pulling the other side off his shoulder. He sat up slightly, tossing the cloth off to one side at her gesture.

She made a noise in the back of her throat and pressed her lips to his neck right over his pulse, which started raising as she nipped gently and her hand slid down his chest, to the drawstring on his sleep trews. Even without looking at the knot, she made short work of it and then her hand slid down further. Feather light touches on his hips and belly had him hard before the first finger touched him.

“Take your pants off.” She murmured in his hair, leaving him the task of trying to manage that without sitting up because her lips were still busy at his neck and the hollow of his collar bone. Though admittedly it was the light touch of her hand, much lower on his body, that was the hardest to work around. He got them kicked off though where they fell was anyone’s guess.

“Jo–” He began.

“Hush, sweetheart, or I’ll lose my nerve entirely.” She said before kissing him. A hard, wet deep thing unlike anything she’d ever done before, almost distracting him from her free hand–almost, until it wrapped around him. He gasped into her mouth and she nipped at his lower lip, which didn’t–couldn’t entirely distract him.

And then in that usual timeless rush, it was over. Him gasping for breath, eyes wide, watching his wife who shrugged ruefully.

“Good night, Sawyer.” She said shifting herself under the covers. He slid under them himself after fishing his trews off the footboard. “I wish you didn’t have to give me the time, but thanks.” He just nodded and wrapped his arms around his wife. They’d figure it out.

“When I said you ought to do something different with your hair, I didn’t mean loosen the braid and switch the shoulder on it.” Olivia sighed. “I meant different, like, wear it down.” Nessa smiled faintly as the other woman dropped into a chair at the table and flicked a finger at her own blonde mane.

“It gets in my way if I leave it down. Being able to see what I’m doing is more important, besides sheep don’t care about style.” Nessa reminded her.

“Yes, but you don’t just see sheeps.” Olivia rolled her eyes but smiled fondly.

“Of course not, there’s also horses, cattle, a barn cat and two herd dogs.” Nessa retorted.

“And?” Olivia prompted.

“And?” Nessa asked, her brow shooting up.

“I was more thinking the humans you see.” She batted her eyes.

“Sawyer is getting married.”

“Don’t remind me, I have to go in for my final monstrosity fitting this afternoon. I can’t imagine what he sees in that bitch.” Olivia shook her head.

“Liv.” Nessa shook her head.

“She’s making us into clones. Who sends down a dress code for a wedding.” Olivia pointed out. “And then she picked that candy floss horror.”

“I don’t think it’s so bad. I’ve certainly seen worse bridesmaids dresses.” Nessa said. Although in the privacy of her own head, telling them what cosmetics they were “allowed” and requiring hairstyles was rather presumptuous of her.

“She’s marrying Sawyer, not the king. In fact I highly doubt Lachlan will force us into a uniform for his wedding.” Olivia twirled a strand of strand of hair.

“Of course not.” Nessa laughed.

“Lachlan won’t force us into anything for his wedding, if it were left up to him, who knows when he’d get married. I dunno if we should be thankful that Fiona is stepping up her campaign to get him to put a ring on it or hope she falls down a well and we’re spared her vapid flirting with anything with a pulse shtick.” Olivia sighed, something that Nessa couldn’t help but echo.

“Livvie, really, she’s not…” Nessa trailed off, unable to force out the words ‘that bad’, settling instead for “that vapid.”

“Really? I get less creeped out from being hit on by actual lesbians.” Olivia said. “Actual lesbians don’t bother me.”

“So bisexuals do?” Nessa asked curiously.

“No, bicurious college girls who end up in videos on late night tv bother me.” Olivia said. “I don’t care what you prefer, peen, poon or a combo of the two, at the same time even. But her little girl I’d-kiss-my-best-friend-while-drunk-on-cheap-beer-for-a-teeshirt bit creeps me out more than my exes fetish for animated kiddie porn.” Nessa found herself blinking, repeatedly, like one of those baby dolls that she had had as a kid. Where all it did was blink with this perpetually disturbing blank look on its face.

“Animated kiddie porn?” If there was one thing that you could say about Mitch, it was that while he liked his porn as much as any guy, and more than most. He, at least, restrained himself to large amounts of the normal variety of it.

“Yep, in fact I caught him beating off to a horribly animated version of Scrappy Doo one time and there was a file on his computer labeled “Muppet Babies.” I didn’t investigate that one further.” Nessa didn’t blame her, just thinking about it made Nessa kinda sick to her stomach.

“Um, but there weren’t actual kids involved, right?” Nessa said. Cause child molester was different than just incredibly questionable taste in animation.

“That case is still under investigation.” Olivia said delicately.

“Oh!” Nessa said.

“I wasn’t trying to creep you out, just that the kid deserves better. Especially as he doesn’t have to scrape the bottom of the barrel, he’s the king.”

“Liv, he’s your age if not older.”

“There are many ways of being a kid, Nessa.” Olivia pointed out. Well that was true enough. “And even though we both feel about a billion years old, we’re not that old either.”

“Mmm.” Nessa sighed.

“Nor are we dead or do we need to go to the nunnery or wear the hair equivalent of a chastity belt.”

“I repeat, who am I supposed to be impressing by swanning around with shampoo commercial hair?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” The back door opened, Jarrett smiled at both of them. Nessa felt her bottom lip catch in her teeth.

“So what are you ladies gossiping about?”

“Oh, hair, sheep, the impending wedding, our king’s taste in chicks, child molesting and bad porn. You know, the usual.” Olivia answered cheekily. Nessa wanted to bury her face in her hands and groan. Did Olivia really have to say everything that came to her mind. Usually Nessa didn’t mind Olivia’s cheerful bluntness, but… Jarrett just chuckled and smiled as he made his way to the water bucket and dipped out a glass of water.

The pottery caught the light and she watched as it flicker in the summer sunlight. “Nessa, where’s the…”

“Under the cupboard next to the sink.” She said absently.

“And the…”

“Sawyer has it.”

“Ah.”

“If you’re going over to Sawyer’s you could take him that basket of bread. Sweet kid, he can’t cook though.” Olivia said, the levity in her tone said something terribly amusing had just occurred but Nessa couldn’t figure out for the life of her what it might have been.

“I want to get the carrots watered first, but I will.” Jarrett said as he moved toward the door once more.

“You two are such an old married couple.” Olivia said as soon as Jarrett’s blonde hair was no longer visible through the leaded glass.

“We are not!” Nessa protested.

“Please. My nana used to do the same answering my peepaw’s questions before he finished asking them thing. They were married for like forty years before peepaw died.”

“He said he was gonna go fishing after he finished fixing the hinges on the back gate. What else would he be asking about?”

“Hmph.” Olivia shook her head.

“Livvie, we are not ready to even think about relationships, either of us.” She smoothed the linen tablecloth.

“And you’re never going to be.” Olivia said, something in her voice belying the matter of fact tone. Nessa looked at her. “I’m serious, Ness. If you two wait until you’re ready to move on, the only moving on you’ll be doing is to the next life.” There didn’t seem to be anything to say to that, so Nessa didn’t try. “But you guys deserve better. A lot better. And I can’t think of anyone in the entire bloody country who would understand you better than you understand each other. You guys get each other.”

“Right and next thing I know you’ll be trying to sell me on soul mates or something.” Nessa rolled her eyes and looked down at her work scarred hands.

“Please.” Olivia shook her head. “While I don’t think you guys are part of some cosmic plan to “be together” or any rot like that, he might not be your exact match, he might be your wildcard.”

“This isn’t getting my mending done.” Nessa shoved up from her chair.

“And I suppose I should go get my dress hemmed.” Olivia said with a shake of her head.

—

Sawyer was pacing. Jarrett remembered a lifetime or so ago, doing the same thing as he waited for Ivy. He remembered his father taking him aside and telling him jokes and funny stories, maybe just so he wouldn’t wear a hole in the floorboards of the chapel ante room. He also remembered thinking that when he had a son of his own, he would do the same thing were his son pacing holes in the floor.

It was something he remembered thinking in those days and hours after they’d laid little Frankie in the ground.

And it was something he remembered as he stepped into Sawyer’s path and racked his brain for something to tell the young man.

“How’re you doing?” Jarrett asked.

“I didn’t know it took this long.” Sawyer said mournfully. It really hadn’t been that long since the others had arrived. But it was wedding day timing. What was half a dozen minutes for the rest of them was eternities to the groom. He tugged on his stiff tunic, resisting the urge to pull at the collar, why Jolene had decided that everyone had to match he’d never know.

“I… understand.”

“But it’ll be over soon, right?” Sawyer said with a totally exaggerated expression his face.

“Yeah.” Jarrett nodded before catching movement out of the corner of his eye. Mistress Peyton. She peered into the dining room, obviously looking for someone, and as she could easily see Jarrett and Sawyer through the kitchen door, it couldn’t be them. She forced a smile that didn’t touch worried look in her eyes.

“Nessa, might I have a word?” She asked. “Or several.”

“Is something wrong?” Sawyer yelped. It was the only possible word for the sound. A yelp, like a kicked dog.

“Nothing to worry your pretty head over.” Mistress Peyton patted Sawyer on the head. But Lady Victoria’s appearance behind her in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, eyes slightly wild, certainly didn’t do anything to put to rest Jarrett’s suspicions.

“Sawyer, why don’t you go find Tate, he’s probably fretting himself near as bad as you are.” Jarrett suggested.

“It’s my wedding, Jarrett! If something’s wrong, why isn’t anyone telling me?”Sawyer said, as Peyton jerked her chin at the door that lead out onto a bit of totally useless as far as Jarrett could see porch off the kitchen.

“Because…” Jarrett said. Hesitating as he tried to think of a good because. Sawyer sighed. “I’ll go find Tate. White shows blood way to well.” Wondering what the younger man meant by that, Jarrett followed Peyton and Nessa out onto the porch, as Nessa’s sharp “What?!” caught his ears.

“Unlike bigfoot, we are lacking in sightings.” Peyton sighed.

“When?” Nessa asked.

“Last night. Nobody has seen or heard anything since they went to bed.”

“Oh, god.” Nessa groaned.

“What’s going on?” Jarrett asked.

“It seems that our bride is a runaway.”

“Ah, my first guest!” Sawyer said from the porch of his, his! new house. Never in all of his years of basically being a street rat did he think that at seventeen he would have a house of his very own. Or mostly, he’d be spending the next year at least taking over some of the most distasteful jobs for Fox, Ren, and Blake in trade for the materials to furnish the house, but more than likely he’d have been doing that anyway. It was his and that meant no more stepping to someone else’s rules or having to act like servant to a stuck-up brat of a nobleman while he sneered down his long pale nose.

He could get up when he wanted–or mostly, he still had to be up in time to meet Jarrett and Nessa at the barn or the pasture for feeding, milking, and tending the animals. And he could eat meals when he wanted to–or mostly, he still had to report to Master Fox’s by midmorn for chores there, and just after noon, he had to report to Master Ren’s, then mid afternoon, he had to go over to Master Blake’s, then he’d have to run to the pasture to bring in animals and help with evening feed–well, damn. It looked like he was still going to be running to someone else’s schedule.

“I–am?” Tate looked around himself surprised.

“Aye, I don’t think Master Blake and Master Ren helping carry in the furniture really counts as a guest, an’ nor does Mistress Raquel, as she came to help me with hanging stuff and arranging stuff.” Sawyer said. “You’re the first one who’s just come by for a gab not to work.”

“Oh! So this is it, aye?” Tate asked. Sawyer flushed a little as his chest puffed out like a little robin’s.

“Aye.” Sawyer said then the two of them stared at each other for a moment as if silently asking the other “now what?”.

“So what were your plans for this afternoon?” Tate asked. He had the afternoon off to “get settled” no chores or tasks or anything he had to do not even feeding this evening.

“I was gonna get the back garden planted.” Tate laughed wryly as Sawyer admitted it. Even when he had time off he was still doing chores. Well, that was the way it went, or at least that was the way it went when a lad wasn’t born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Or as Mistress Peyton liked to say laughingly to Lady Victoria about Alistair “shoved up his ass”.

“Well, lemme help you.” The other lad smiled.

“You’re a guest, an’ this is your afternoon off, aye?” Sawyer said.

“An’ what’ll I do if I don’t? Sit in your new living room and admire your new floorboards if you keep to your plans, an’ if you don’t? I’ll be keeping you from getting your work done an’ then you’ll scramble to get it done after I leave or in between your other chores.” Tate pointed out ruthlessly. Sawyer nodded in goodnatured defeat and jerked his chin at the fenced off plot that contained the kitchen garden.

“So how’s it feel to own your own cottage?” Tate asked.

“I don’t even know. It hasn’t settled in about me yet. All I can think of is how many years it’d have taken me to scrape together the glim for some small rat invested hovel.”

“Isn’t that rat infested?” Tate interrupted.

“Oh, aye, whatever.” Sawyer laughed and waved, careful not to spill one drop of the manure he was pouring. “If I were still back playing in taprooms for glim, crusts, an’ floor space. I’da been gray in the beard long before I had something like that.” Sawyer looked at the house, the glass–glass, his house had glass windows, could you even believe such a thing?–glittering in the early summer light. Tate paused in the process of stabbing a training stake down into a patch of beans and looked first at Sawyer then at the cottage. “An’ likely years in the grave.”

“Aye that.” Tate said.

“Did you think you would?” The king had, when he moved from his cottage into the castle, gifted Tate with his former home.

“Well, aye, eventually I suppose, but it hasn’t really sunk in that it’s mine. I keep walking the rooms expecting to hear–the king or Sir Wesley. An’ half the time I’m not even there.” Tate admitted. Tate, after all, was still King Lachlan’s only servant and most of them weren’t ready for invisible people answering doors or meals made by magic.

“Aye.” Sawyer nodded. “Still, you’ve got some place to take the girls. If it were good enough for a marquis’ son…” Sawyer trailed off.

“If there were a girl.” Tate sighed.

“I thought you an’ Zahrah were getting on.” Sawyer glanced over his shoulder as Tate shoved the next training stake into the ground with the force of someone impaling something. “Well, there’s other girls, y’know. What about Lady Olivia, she’s real nice, an’ a really good cook.”

“An’ didn’t you say she’d been married once–an’ she’s gotta be near as old as the king.” Tate said.

“So? That don’t mean she ain’t a girl. She’s real pretty besides.” Sawyer pointed out. Tate shook his sunbleached head and sprinkled a few seeds into the ground. They fell into silence after that, with nothing more said until they were seated across the table from each other, a bowl of Lady Olivia’s soup in front of them both.

“So, what do you think?”

“It’s, er, nice.” Tate said.

“Out with it.” Sawyer said. Maybe he’d been spending too much time with Mistress Peyton. “I’d rather have the truth.”

“I thought your stuff was supposed to be new.” Tate said.”This all looks kinda–old.”

“It’s a style, Mistress Raquel tells me. Shabby Chic. J–” Sawyer stumbled to a stop, looking across the table toward Tate.

“You decorated the house for Lady Jolene, didn’t you?” Tate said. Sawyer said nothing. “All of it? Upstairs? Bed, even?”

“…Aye.” Sawyer admitted.

“But you don’t even know that Lady Jolene will marry you yet.” Sawyer raised his chin defiantly. “Wasn’t that risky?”

“She’s…”

“An’ weren’t you tellin’ me there are other girls, what about Lady Olivia? You like her.” Tate said.

“You don’t understand, Tate.” Sawyer shook his head. “I like Lady Olivia an’ Lady Nessa an’ Lady Tiffany, but… the thought of trying to live without Jolene is like the thought of living underwater. I can’t breathe, I can’t think, she’s there in every daydream, in every plan. I can’t get her out of my head. An’–and maybe the house will help convince her of that.”

Tate shook his head, the stands falling in his eyes. “I don’t think it works like that, Sawyer.”

“It did for Sir Camden.” The words fell out of Sawyer’s mouth before he could stop them, painted with an unmistakable green. Was it just that Sir Camden had so much more to offer Lady Victoria? The fact that he was a knight and one of the King’s advisers and she’d never go hungry married to him? And that he couldn’t offer that to Jolene? He had no guarantees to her besides the fact that he loved her and wanted to do his best for her?

“Sawyer, don’t.” Tate said, a plea clear in his voice. “Jealousy don’t do nobody any good.” Sawyer looked hard at the other boy, something in his eyes, the way they closed tiredly, in the defeated slump of his shoulders.

“Is he still at it?”

“Sir Camden?” Tate asked, his face shocked.

“Nah, M’lord.” The scornful sneer would tell anyone who Sawyer referred to.

“It’s nothing, Sawyer.” Tate lied. Sawyer knew it was a lie in the way his shoulders slumped down more and he turned his attention toward his bowl.

“You are worth twenty of M’lord’s pretty face an’ charming manner, Tate.” Sawyer said. “All he’s got is some fine words and a silver spoon stuck up his arse. You are so much more than that.”

“You can’t tangle with him, Sawyer. Dispossessed noble or not, he’d turn you into a flapjack. Gray, he told me about Alistair, he knew him afore his da cut him off. He’s a dirty fighter–an’ mean.” Tate said.

“So why not give Lady Zahrah up, Tate?”

“I’m not like you, Sawyer. She–she… notices me.” Tate said before dropping his attention to his bowl again. Sawyer sighed and looked at his friend then turned his attention back to his own bowl of soup.

It felt kinda odd, to put his bowls into his washbowl and then adjourn to his parlor. But that oddness came secondary to trying to figure out how to help Tate, especially when as far as Sawyer could see, Tate didn’t even want help.

“Have you tried talking to the King?” Sawyer finally asked.

“The king has enough worries, he doesn’t need a grubby little peasant boy whining about getting a girl to him.” Tate shook his head.

“But you’re more than that, Tate, and the king, he likes you. I’m sure he’s got time to listen to you.” Sawyer said. “If not the king, then how bout Sir Wesley, or Lord Gray, he’s acting as priest right now, you could talk with him.”

“You can’t talk about girl stuff with Lord Gray, Sawyer, priest or no, he’s just not somebody you can talk with about that.” Well maybe Tate had a point. that statue in the church garden probably had more warmth and feeling than Lord Gray. “An’ Sir Wesley, he might understand, but he’s a knight. If M’lord pushed him, Sir Wesley’d beat him with the flat of his sword.” Right, Sir Wesley probably did lack a bit of–perspective.

Tate might have been short, but he was stocky and strong in his own right. Still, that didn’t mean that Tate knew how to fight. Other than the occasional one with his sibs, Sawyer doubted Tate had ever been in a fight.

“Well, I want you to know if you ever need a second for a fight with M’lord, I got you.” Sawyer said finally. “An’ if M’lord ever agreed to fight us both, Jarrett’d tear his hide off him, so y’got nothing to worry about.”

Tate finally smiled and as sundown fell, Sawyer saw him off, quite forgetting there was one more thing…

“When I said that I wanted you to come over and help me with that pasture fence, Sawyer, I didn’t mean you couldn’t eat breakfast first. Especially as we may not even get out to do it, if it doesn’t stop thundering.” Jarrett said to Sawyer. “We haven’t even eaten yet, and I know we’re up before M’lord ever deems to step a foot out of bed.”

“Oh, am I in time for breakfast?” The teenager sounded hopeful.

“Aye, but…” Nessa couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Would you like some breakfast, Sawyer?” Nessa asked, already adding more fruit to the pile to be sliced.

“Aye! Er, please, if it’s not any inconvenience, Lady Nessa.” He added the last bit sounding a bit shamefaced.

“Did I miss something?” Jarrett asked.

“I’m fairly certain that Sawyer came over before breakfast because he was hoping to join us for breakfast.” Nessa said. “In case you hadn’t noticed, he’s here for breakfast every morning I’m supposed to be cooking it.” There was the sound of a shoe scuffing against the floor. Ah the sounds of a teenager finding out that he was not as clever as he thought he was. Nessa smiled to herself.

It was amazing how much she was doing that! The first few times that she had smiled for no reason other than enjoying herself or the company of people around her, she hadn’t been able to stop herself from reaching up to touch her mouth, it had felt so odd for her face to move that way.

“Oh, and why don’t you ever come when it’s my turn to be cooking?” Jarrett asked, that mild teasing tone in his voice that it took often with Sawyer. He had a whole catalog of different tones with Sawyer, Nessa sometimes wondered if either of them knew about it. There was no way to ask without potentially embarrassing them both and men could be so touchy about showing affection to each other.

“Well,” Sawyer admitted to the table. “While your porridge is better than Alistair’s, it’s still porridge. And it’s always porridge, the only thing to change is what you stir into it. Lady Nessa never makes the same breakfast twice in a week.”

“Ah.”

“An’ I can get porridge at home without having to get up early to be over here with the birds.” Sawyer’s shoes scuffed again on the floor. “Maybe you should get Lady Nessa to teach you to cook something other than porridge.”

“So you can come for breakfast everyday? What happened to being here with the birds?” Jarrett asked. “Next thing I know, you’ll be asking us to start sleeping later.”

“Nah, I know that’s not happening–Is that that spiced fruit salad.” Sawyer asked as Nessa laid the plates down in front of them.

“Yep.”

“What’s that word of Lady Peyton’s? Awesomething?”

“Awesome.” Nessa corrected before sitting down with her own plat of fruit salad. Sawyer wasted no time in tucking into the fruit salad, and as such, he was finished with his portion before Nessa and Jarrett had  gotten a quarter into their portions.

“Did you even taste it?” Jarrett asked.

“Aye, and it was wonderful, Lady Nessa.” Sawyer smiled that disarming smile at her.

“Thank you, Sawyer.”

“Maybe I should ask you to teach M’lord to cook.” Sawyer mused.

“But do we really want to trust that man with a knife?” Nessa asked blandly. “I don’t really want to be in the same room with him and any item that requires trust.”

“A point.” Sawyer laughed.

“Well, lad, seeing as you’re done already, we could use some more firewood from the dry pile out back.” Jarrett suggested with an eyebrow up.

“Aye, Jarrett.” Sawyer picked up his plate and fork and went to the sink to wash them both.

“Well, for pushy teenaged guests who eat you out of house and home, at least he’s a polite one.” Nessa commented as she saw his black spikes of hair heading down the back stairs.

“Aye. He’s a good kid.” Jarrett agreed. Nessa nodded and turned her attention to her fruit salad. The only sound then being the immediate sounds of eating and the less immediate sound of rain splatting on the windows with a distant underscore of snarling thunder.

She noticed gold light playing through the windows, bathing the house in a warmer than sunlight glow.

“What the f…?” Nessa murmured, then cut herself off with a gasp and held very still as she heard Jarrett turn. Her heart hammered in her chest.

“Nessa?” Jarrett asked, sounding concerned, not angry as she tried to will herself into remembering how she breathed. Mitch had hated it when she swore. Oh, he could cuss out a nun, but if she said “shit” instead of “sugar” when she stubbed her toe…

“What’s that?” She asked, pointed at the undulating golden light.

“Oh, I–uh I dunno.” Jarrett said, turning back toward the sink to peer out the window. Nessa buried her face in her hands and told her body that it did not need to pump out any more adrenaline, thank you very much. She had enough to last her until after lunch at best. “I think it’s something King Lachlan did.”

“Why’s that?” Nessa asked.

“Because he’s coming up the walk now?”

“Oh, sugar!” She scrambled to her feet, feeling the dress get caught around her feet and legs. There were days when she wished that she were more like Peyton in her ability to keep to a conviction. But–well–she just wasn’t. Mitch had harped about how she looked like a man too much anyway. Too tall, too lanky, too few of those womanly curves. When both men and women wore jeans, it didn’t matter if she wore jeans too, but here, women wore dresses. Her need to conform overrode her desire to be comfortable and move.

Nessa took a moment to smooth her skirts–and not so incidentally wipe the sweat off her palms–before calling up a smile and opening the door. Following in the wake of Lachlan was a blonde woman with a ready smile and quizzical eyes.

“Good morning, Lady Nessa.” King Lachlan said, his lips curling up into that soft smile of his. “Sorry to call so early.”

“Nah, we were up.” Nessa stepped back out of the way. “Come in, won’t you?”

“Heyla, Jarrett, rain’s stopped. You wanna go get to that fence before it starts raining again?” Sawyer called from the back door before Lachlan could introduce the blonde.

“Aye. If, if that’s not a problem, your majesty.” Jarrett looked at the king–or more at the king’s kneecaps. He never seemed to meet the king’s eyes, which Nessa wondered briefly why was. The king certainly wasn’t an intimidating man. But then again, Tate didn’t either. Maybe it was a class thing.

“No, go ahead, though it shouldn’t rain for a while. I don’t mind the occasional spring shower, they’re good for the crops, but we’ve been getting a bit too many spring showers. I just directed this one off toward a forest area that could use it.” The king smiled. “I just brought Lady Olivia by wondering if–as Lady’s Kennedy’s barn is a bit crowded at the moment, we could use your spare bedroom.”

“I could move back to the other barn, your majesty, if you need more room.” Sawyer volunteered.

“No, I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Sawyer, though thank you. As Lady Tiffany pointed out there are spare rooms in all of the cottages, save Master Blake’s. If we make use of those spare rooms, then we’ll have plenty of space.” Lachlan said.

“That’s fine, you’re welcome to our spare room–if-if that’s okay with Jarrett of course…” Nessa said, before her eyes slid to Jarrett. He hadn’t blown up at her yet, but if there was one thing guaranteed to set Mitch off, it had been ‘emasculating him’ in front of other men, usually by making a decision without consulting him.

“That’s fine with me as well.” Jarrett said with a smile.

“Welcome to Shadowcrest, Lady Olivia.” Sawyer bowed formally over her hand. She smiled and swatted him on the arm.

“Lady Olivia, your majesty.” Jarrett said with a crooked little smile, inclining his head to Olivia and bowing lowly to the king. “So tell me,” Jarrett murmured as they moved past the King toward the open door. “Did you volunteer to move back to the barn just to get away from Alistair?”

“Wouldn’t you?” Sawyer said blandly. Jarrett’s response was too low for Nessa to make out, but he nudged the teenager with his elbow his face somewhat stern.

“Nice?” Sawyer responded. “If you put all the times Alistair’s been less than a git to the both of us together, you still wouldn’t have accumulated a half second of ‘nice’.” Nessa lifted her hands to cover her mouth. Partially because she could agree.

Not long after, Lachlan tendered his regrets at having to leave and headed off to his previously scheduled kingly duties or whatever he did. The two women tended the garden in comfortable silence, then Nessa did the laundry leaving Olivia to wish outloud for a laundromat.

A hundred chores took the two of them to midafternoon. “So, what’s for dinner?” Olivia asked.

“Fish–again.” Nessa didn’t bother stifling a sigh.

“Frequently?” Olivia asked.

“Yep. It only costs time and there’s a lot of it.” Olivia nodded. “Not to say that I don’t like fish, just I ran out of new recipes for it three weeks ago. So I’ll admit to looking forward to Sunday when it’s roast or venison or anything but fish.”

“Let me try.” Olivia laughed. Nessa looked at her. “No, really. I promise, I’m not a bad cook.” Nessa nodded and got the fish out of the cold larder handing it to the woman. If the way she handled herself in the kitchen was any indication, she was probably a lot better cook than just not bad.

Nessa watched as she mixed spices together, her brows drawing in slightly. “Trust.” Olivia said, extending a placating hand. Nessa shook her head and said nothing. But trust certainly was easier to come by when the fish hit the pan on the hearth and filling the cottage with in moments with a heavenly aroma.

“Mmmm, that smells good!” Sawyer said.

“Is that your way of asking if you can stay for supper as well?” Jarrett laughed.

“Nah, well–,” Sawyer inhaled a deep breath. “if you were offering.” Olivia laughed.

“Wash your hands, there’s plenty.” The blonde said nodding toward the sink. “And this is almost ready.” In the time it took the three of them to get washed up and sat at the table, Olivia had the fish on plates and delivered all four to the table with a professionalism that bespoke of waitressing in her background.

“This is… wonderful, Lady Olivia.” Sawyer said.

“Uh oh, if the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, Jolene might have competition.” Nessa teased. Sawyer blushed and dropped his eyes. Nessa had to agree, wonderful almost didn’t seem adequate as the tender fish melted on her tongue, the spices she’d looked in askance at earlier melding together like a symphony in her mouth.

“Nah, I’m not a homewrecker. Is Jolene your girl, then, Sawyer?”

“Well…” Sawyer blushed again.

“He’d certainly like her to be. Jarrett tells me he’s worshiped at her feet since she arrived last year.” Nessa said with a laugh.

“You didn’t have to put it quite that way.” Sawyer’s flush deepened to a painful eggplant hue.

“What are friends for  if not to tell embarrassing stories about you.” Jarrett interjected. “This is wonderful, though, Lady Olivia.”

“Just Olivia, or Liv if you’d rather. If you keep saying lady, I’ll probably keep looking around for who you’re talking to.” Olivia said. “And thank you, I’d hope after ten years of working in kitchens I’d figured something out.” She smiled with a faint bit of pain in her eyes. “I’d hoped, at least–some day down the road–that I’d be able to open my own restaurant, but…”

“Well, maybe you can. Lady Tiffany can build you one.” Sawyer offered. “At least if we can pull her away from the King’s castle.”

“That easy, hmm?” Olivia quirked her brow.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Is it sad how much I want to squee?” Jolene asked Heidi.

“Over the fact that I’m getting married–or over the fact that I’ll be moving out and you’ll have more closet space?” Heidi teased.

“Which do you think? Especially considering that Zahrah will be taking over your wardrobe space before the last of your stuff clears the stairwell.” Jolene stuck her tongue out at Heidi who laughed and stuck her tongue out back.

“Ah, well, then, no. I don’t mind if you want to squee over the wedding.” Victoria tucked a strand of her hair back into the updo and headed down the stairs.

“So, ten bucks says it’s six weeks or less before Kennedy’s firing up the old preg tester again.” Peyton was saying as she came into the living room of the barn.

“You’re betting on people’s sex lives now, Peyton?” Tiffany asked, a bit incredulously.

“Isn’t anything else to bet on. I wonder how hard it is to make slot machines.” She trailed off looking at the ceiling.

“Fairly.” Victoria pointed out as she took a seat in the empty chair to Peyton’s left. The blonde looked at her with an eyebrow quirked. “Think about it. Not only would you have to figure out the mechanics of making one, you’d have to figure out how to build a generator cause they need power to run. Besides, would you really want to dump all your money into something like that?”

“Not for me, I’d build a bank of them and everyone else could lose their money in them.”

“Right.” Victoria said. “And what would you do if someone won?”

“I’d think of something, don’t kill my buzz, Vikki.”

“Have you been drinking already, Peyton?” Jolene asked from behind them.

“Oh, you know. Just a little liquid courage.” Peyton stretched.

“For what?” Jolene sneered. “You aren’t getting married, after all.”  If Peyton was in the room, Victoria would have sworn that it was her permanent expression. Granted this was the real world and not some place occupied by fuzzy little bears or ponies who were all bff’s all the time, but Victoria still didn’t know why Jolene was so disparaging of Peyton all the time.

“For seeing my ass in this dress.” Peyton waved airily. At least Peyton got as good as she gave very rarely letting the other woman get her goat.

“I take it,” Kennedy interjected before they could get any further into a disagreement. “That Heidi is ready to go and that we should head for the chapel?” Jolene looked at Kennedy for a long moment as if judging whether she’d win a battle with the doctor, but apparently she didn’t think so because she just nodded.

Heidi had decided that she wanted to have an outdoor wedding, something that was questionable, given that it was spring, and doubly questionable considering the dark clouds on the horizon, but, as Heidi pointed out, the king was a wizard. If he could bring people from the future, he could keep it from raining on one wedding ceremony.

Though she really didn’t know Heidi that well or Dolph either, the ceremony was very sweet and apparent to everyone that the bride and groom adored each other. After the vows were said, Dolph swept Heidi off her feet and spun her around, garnering applause from the spectators.

Then it was inside, after all there was no reason to tempt fate with an outdoor reception as well. The plants did need rain so if it decided to drizzle all afternoon, they should probably let it.

“Aren’t you going to have any cake, Lady Victoria?” A voice asked by her elbow.

“I want to be able to fit into this dress for the next wedding if I need to.” Victoria said turning toward Camden.

“I think it’ll fit fine,” Camden blushed then. Oh, my. Victoria stopped herself from giggling. He’d been checking her out! Maybe walking everywhere and not being constantly stuck behind a desk going over columns of numbers was helping put her curves back where she remembered them being.

“What about you?” Victoria asked. Camden’s green eyes widened for a moment. “Cake, aren’t you going to have any?”

“Oo-oh. Uh, no–I don’t think so.” Camden glanced around. “The young lady with Alistair, who is she?” She glanced over her shoulder in the direction that Camden was looking.

“Is that Alistair?” Victoria asked. For some reason she had been expect Alistair to be–the skeezy guy in the trench coat. Someone who looked like a rat. He looked normal. Handsome, even. Then her eyes flicked onto the girl talking to him. Zahrah. She was new to Shadowcrest too.

Of course Camden would notice her. Zahrah was young and very pretty, and her curves had the benefit of never having shifted out of position in the first place. She was probably closer to Camden in age than she was. Victoria stifled a sigh, as Camden would probably notice. Still, when she turned back Camden’s eyes shot up from where they’d been settled, which wasn’t on Zahrah.

“That’s Zahrah. She came a few days ago.” Victoria said, watching Camden’s face for a hint of his eyes leaping away to look at Zahrah again. Except they didn’t. Huh?

“Hadn’t you met Alistair?” Camden asked as if the girl was no longer anything he was concerned with.

“No. I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I can’t name a single complimentary thing that was said about him.” Victoria admitted. Camden looked thoughtful for a moment. “What?”

“I’m trying to think of a complimentary thing I’ve ever heard said about him.” Victoria stifled a giggle. Alistair had moved away from Zahrah, who sat on one of the benches as Dolph and Heidi took the dance floor.

Camden grabbed a couple of glasses of wine and handed her one. She twisted the stem of the glass in her fingers before taking a sip of the wine, as Camden’s eyes swept over her profile.

The peace was broken by the sound of someone angrily hissing their breath in between their teeth. Victoria glanced at Camden who was watching Dolph and Heidi. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. Okay, it wasn’t Camden… who then…? She wondered taking a slightly larger drink of the wine from her glass.

A stir by the door caught Victoria’s attention. “Well, my loves.” Blake said, rubbing Raquel’s tummy in a way that made Victoria smile wistfully. “I think I should take you and your mommy home. It’s walk from here.”

Considering Victoria hardly knew Raquel and Blake even less, it felt somewhat wrong to watch the two of them leaving, so she turned her attention back to the wine in her glass. Whatever it was, it was a lot stronger than the wine in a box that was served at book club and it was seeming to go straight to her head. Just one glass shouldn’t have tipped her into “buzzed” but this stuff had managed.

“Lady Victoria?” Camden sounded concerned.

“I just need a little air.” At least she hoped that she only needed some air. She didn’t know how she’d live with it if she got too drunk to walk home off one glass of wine. The young knight fell into step with her, holding the door open as the still-slightly-chilly night air hit her arms and face and cleared her head.

They both stood looking up at the sky for a moment until a cultured voice speaking in a hushed but obviously angry tone caught her attention.

“Leave her alone.” She recognized the redhair and black embroidered clothes from the back.

“You–you don’t.” Whomever responded was obviously by the voice a lot younger–and a lot smaller as she couldn’t see him past Alistair.

“Oh please, come back and retort when you can do it without a stammer.”

“Go to hell.” The boy said. Alistair grabbed the younger boy and jerking him half off his feet.

“What was that, you little urchin?” The boy didn’t say anything and the redhaired man shoved him away, obviously prepared to walk away. Camden’s fists were clenched like he was about to lay into Alistair.

“Go get Sawyer.” Victoria suggested. Camden looked at her. “Please, Camden.”

“Yes, Lady Victoria.” He said turning and running back into the reception hall. Alistair stalked past her, sneering down his nose and Victoria found her own hands balling into fists. The boy, she thought for a moment, Tate had his face buried in his hands. She wanted to say something, or at least give him cookies and a big hug, but they didn’t even know each other.

And having a woman you didn’t know witness you getting bullied was sure to perk the old self-esteem back up.

“Heyla,” Sawyer said, rounding the corner, Tate pulled his hands away from his face in such a way that Victoria was sure he was brushing away tears. Sawyer didn’t act like he noticed. “What’s wrong.”

“Just–Alistair. I asked–it’s nothing.” Tate said.

“Ah, Alistair, is it? You know the first time Jarrett put him in charge of stirrin’ the laundry, he burnt his braises?” Sawyer said. “He did. He was stirrin’ the pot of laundry o’er the cook fire, and he stirs like a sissy, y’know, barely swishin’ the water an’ me an’ Jarrett are at the pond fishin’ when we smell something burnin’ Go back and there’s ‘is braises at the bottom of the pot, burned just like the tag end of a pot of porridge in a cheap inn!”

The young bard continued to tell what Alistair would surely find to be highly embarrassing tales about him until Tate giggled, just a little.

“Alistair’s a bully isn’t he?” Victoria asked.

“That’s about all I’d call him in the presence of a lady.” Camden agreed. “Why’d you stop me?”

“I hate seeing a kid picked on, but I also know that if you interfered he’d just do it again, sometime when you weren’t around. And that Tate’d feel lower than a worm’s belly.” Victoria sighed. Camden cocked his head to the side. “My brother was bullied when he was about Tate’s age.” She felt her stomach clench.

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“I don’t. But I used to.” Victoria said staring down at her hands.

“Oh.” Camden said.

“Lady Victoria, Sir Camden.” Sawyer bobbed his head as he sauntered past. Tate barely looked up as he murmured something that Victoria couldn’t catch.

As if that were some sort of a signal for people to start leaving, the doors pushed open only a few moments later, spilling Peyton and Ren out into the street. The two walked along for a moment before Ren caught Peyton’s hands in his. Not a drop of romance in her, my ass.

After Emanuel and Kennedy headed down the dark street toward the town gates, Sawyer, Tate, and Jolene followed.

“That’s quite alright, Alistair. Jarrett and I’ll see Zahrah back to the barn.” Nessa said as the doors pushed open a fourth time. Good, I wouldn’t want to see anything happen to Zahrah, and I’m not sure I trust Alistair any further than I can throw him. Especially not after what he did to Tate. Victoria thought. Not that anyone had asked her. But still it was always good to have one’s personal approval met.

Alistair followed a moment later, a snarl on his face. Lastly Wesley and Fox, followed by Tiffany, and Lock.

“If you’ll wait a moment, Lady Victoria, for me to say good night to Dolph and Lady Heidi I’ll walk you home.” Camden said, twisting his hand nervously. Victoria smiled and nodded.

The walk back was more quiet than talk, but pleasant still. And then they were back at the house with the familiar lanterns and the scarecrow watching lecherously over the crops. Maybe it was just her but that scarecrow was creepy.

“Thank you, Sir Camden.” Victoria tried to curtsy, not that it worked worth anything, but she tried. Camden nodded then raised his hand, tucking it under her chin and lifting it.

Nessa wouldn’t be surprised if she soon looked down at the floor and found herself walking in a trench. It was just that the king had told her that he’d be by, today–this morning–sometime with Master Jarrett. Oooh. She pressed a hand against her stomach and waited for the ache to pass. She tried to tell herself that Sawyer adored Jarrett, and she could tell that darn near everyone was fond of him. Well, Lord Gray didn’t seem that impressed, but if Lord Gray could tell his ass from his elbow it was probably sheer coincidence.

She supposed Alistair didn’t either, but Alistair liked one person Shadowcrest and he saw him in the mirror, you couldn’t really trust an asshat like that. She pressed her palm against her stomach again. Really? She’d managed to trust Mitch for–ugh. She pounded her fist against her forehead. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Kian’s voice washed over her. He doesn’t have any power over you, Nessa. You’re free from him. You never have to go back.

Was it sad that she still clung to the sound of his voice? Maybe she’d only hear Mitch in dreams–well, nightmares, in her own head she could call a spade a spade–but she’d only hear Kian’s in her dreams too. She leaned her head against the cool plaster wall and heard a little choking sound. God, she missed him. What else could you do when you lost the only angel you ever knew?

Funny to imagine a guy with a funny drawl, tight black wranglers with a Copenhagen ring and a battered old hat as an angel. But if there were such things, and Nessa believed there were, he was one.

She went and peeked out the window again. The leaded glass was warm from the spring sunlight and comforting. Except, as her stomach dropped again, this time she saw something–something other than just the church or the cemetery, or the hills.

Sawyer was easy to pick out, walking along the top of the stone fence before hopping down into the yard, one of his companions also easy to pick out. The king. The third, blonde, brown leather clothes. That must be–ugh–she pressed her hand against her stomach holding it to the count of ten then she fumbled with the door and walked out.

“Morning, Nessa!” Sawyer grinned up at her. She caught her hand before she could press it against her stomach again and smiled back. He was a good kid, even reminded her a little of Kian. They had the same black hair, though Kian’s was always kept short and neat.

“Lady Nessa.” King Lachlan said, mounting the steps. “I hope we didn’t keep you waiting, there were half a dozen minor crises that demanded my attention this morning. None of which could wait.”

“Oh, no, I kept myself occupied.” Nessa said. Wearing a moat into the new parquet floor. “Nothing serious, I hope?” She couldn’t keep her eyes from wandering past the king’s shoulder toward Master Jarrett. He didn’t–he didn’t really look how she expected. Those sad, very dark eyes wandering around the street, rather like her own seemed to wander.

“Well, c-come in, won’t you?” She asked, unable to keep the small stammer out of her voice. Mitch was screaming in her head–what an idiot she was–how stupid, the house was supposed to be for Jarrett, they were–they were just letting her live there and here she was pretending like it was hers. Like she had the right to invite them in. Nessa turned to the door, closing her eyes briefly before fumbling with the door handle.

She could feel the eyes on her back and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly so with luck no one would see that she had taken it. She pushed the door open and walked in. Toward the kitchen, hopefully that would, hopefully that would put her out of the way, before turning and watching the three men unable to keep the quiver out of her hands and needs, and hoping they didn’t notice how much like a mouse she felt, cornered by cats. She wasn’t cornered, there was another door, she could get out. There was no reason to feel trapped.

“Can-can I get you anything, tea? Um,” She thought hard about what else there was to offer. Did you offer a king tea? Her eyes shot past the king though, toward Master Jarrett, trying to gauge his reaction. He was a disgustingly unreadable man. She couldn’t tell anything about what he was thinking. That was good, though, maybe? Mitch, you could always tell. She felt a mewl crawling up her throat throttled it back.

“While tea sounds lovely, I’m afraid I don’t feel I can stay.” King Lachlan was watching her with a measured look. He hesitated, so she wasn’t sure what passed over her face. “Unless–,” he took a step toward her. Her stomach flipped and shivered and she held herself very still, fighting every instinct to back away, perhaps run for the door.

“No, I’m–it’s fine.” Nessa said glancing at the flower arrangement on the table rather than the king.

“Well, if you’re sure.” The King said, his voice still uncertain.

“I told Blake I’d help him with these beams this afternoon.” Sawyer said looking uncertainly between Jarrett and Nessa.

“Then you’d best be off.” Jarrett said, his voice was deep and very quiet. “Don’t forget to take lunch this time.”

“Mistress Raquel said she’d be making lunch.” Sawyer said.

The sound of the door shutting seemed very loud, leaving Nessa alone with Jarrett. Everyone said that it wouldn’t be a problem for the two of them to share a house. That Nessa needed to get out of the barn and so did Jarrett. The house had three bedrooms, oh it had all seemed quite logical while everyone else was saying it, but Nessa had never found herself so badly wanting to be back in the stall next to Brick-the-fat-plow-horse and across from Daisy-the-cow in her life as she did watching Master Jarrett.

He turned and looked around the room, looking at the little touches that Raquel and Peyton had helped her put together, put up. Nessa bit her tongue and tried not to apologize immediately when he said nothing.

“So you like horses?” He asked, looking at a southwestern print of galloping horses. It was very like one she had admired in this bar in Phoenix that they sometimes stopped in when she had still be on the circuit. Nessa had no idea how they had come by it, how they’d even known she’d like it.

“Not as much as I–once did.” She heard herself admit. “But I still think they’re beautiful.” Master Jarrett turned those dark eyes toward her and her breath hissed between her teeth. I don’t even know what I’ll say if he asks. The truth was out of the question. But he didn’t ask.

“Would you like me to show you to your room?” She asked. She didn’t know if he was still supposed to be on bed rest or not. But he had just come off of bedrest and it seemed like something to say. He looked at her for a long moment before nodding.

Nessa tried not to scuttle, like a crab, but feeling Jarrett’s eyes on her back made her stomach clench and turn all sorts of unnatural directions.

He looked around the upper hall at the various doors and she nodded at one, letting him lead the way into it. It was just a basic room, the personalization mostly in the wall treatment, nothing much more than a double bed, a window seat, an armoire, a wash bowl and a nightstand.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like this room?”Jarrett asked, sitting on the window seat. He patted the cushion beside him, in indication for her to sit. Which she did, warily. He didn’t seem like she should need to be cautious, but you never could tell…

“Is something wrong with it?” She asked.

“I suppose not.” Jarrett said staring for a moment at the bed. “I just…” He trailed off and glanced at her.

“I’m kind of already set up in the other room. Tiffany–well, Tiffany told me that I was staying here cause a barn was no place for a lady. I don’t know why she was so upset about it. I like animals far more than I like most of the people I know.” She slumped, realizing just how that sounded. But Master Jarrett didn’t do anything more than chuckle.

“I’ll let you get settled.” She said. “I turned the dirt for the garden yesterday, but I haven’t gotten anything planted yet.” Nessa slipped off the cushion.

“I can help.” Master Jarrett offered her a smile. It was a faint smile, one that was, to her eyes, full of sadness and pain, but it was a smile.

Help apparently meant something different to Jarrett than it had meant to Mitch. When Mitch said he’d help, mostly that meant he’d stand around with a beer and watch her and tell her she was doing it wrong. Jarrett worked at planting the seedlings as Nessa poured the fertilizer over the turned up ground.

It was weird. Not hearing insults or how she did things wrong. There was mostly just quiet, but not a looming storm sort of it. She could actually almost relax in the warm light.

All in all it was a strange day, she thought as she settled in to bed that night. Her fingers laced over the scars on her stomach. Lightly tracing them for the familiarity of it. The house was utterly silent except a faint rustle from the overhead thatch. Her eyes went over the walls, the horseshoes hung over the bed, the post cards. It was kind of scary to think that this was her life now. But she couldn’t deny it was better, probably better than since Mitch had made his way into it seven years earlier.

Whether his specter would ever go, she didn’t know, but as tiredness crept into her bones, she couldn’t help but cast one last thought upward. Kian, if you can–please don’t let me dream tonight.

Then sometime around Junior high she realized that there weren’t a lot of homeless royalty out there commissioning castles, so she’d put the dream aside, but it had never really died. Okay so she wasn’t really going to be building it. And it wasn’t exactly Cinderella’s with all the spires and happy Neuschwanstein nonsense, ala Disney, but in some ways this was better. This was a real castle.

Something had been built to be functional, not just pretty.

And being not much more of a hike from the barn than the king’s cottage, it would be a perfect new locale for their illustrious leader. Now Tiffany just needed someone to tell about it. She checked her shoes and hem for dust and dirt and found that other than a bit of cobweb from exploring the dusty halls, she was fine.

The barn was curiously quiet. She’d probably missed lunch–wouldn’t be the first time–but she’d ate a big breakfast and she was never adverse to a big dinner, which would more than make up for the lack of noon meal.

“Hey, Heidi, where is everybody?” Tiffany asked, spotting the barn’s one occupant, Heidi who was scrubbing down one of the counters.

“Oh, Peyton’s out in the shed. Jolene went to go talk to Master Fox, and I believe Kennedy’s out talking to the scarecrow.”

“Again?” Tiffany sighed.

“Well, she came back from Raquel and Blake’s grumbling about something, then went and weeded the garden like she was ripping choicer bits off something. She’d probably have talked to you, but you disappeared.” The redhead was too polite to add “Again”, though it hung very clearly in the air after the statement.

Tiffany shifted from one foot to the other, trying not to scuff her shoe like a schoolboy being scolded. Heidi could do disappointed like her Grandma Lacatelli and Tiffany never knew whether it was on purpose or not.

“Well, okay, so technically I disappeared again, but it was totally worth it!” Tiffany said. “I found a castle, well, sort of, it was once a castle–kinda in disrepair, not quite ruins. But I think it’s still structurally sound and…” She trailed off, noticing the look on Heidi’s face, that polite, I’m zoning out now while you ramble on about the baroque period and flying buttresses again look. “Meh, I’ll go find Kennedy. If she’s cussing out the scarecrow again, she probably needs to talk more than I do.”

I didn’t think I was that boring. Tiffany tried to avoid her shoulders slumping as a small sigh, relief–or something close enough to be kissing cousins, that came from behind her.

Yes, indeed, Kennedy was talking to the scarecrow–and it was worse than usual. She could hear her from here, but the real telling point was that Kennedy’s hair was down. She almost never had her hair down, not in a figurative sense, just a literal one. Even for stuff like bed, Kennedy did something with it was only when she was extremely annoyed that she’d take it down and never remember to put it back up.

“I’d like to see his medical license.” The doctor snarled at the vapidly grinning pumpkin in front of her. “I’m not doing all of this for my health, you know. I have lots of things I would rather be doing than bothering Master Carpenter’s beloved wife. She’s pregnant. I’m monitoring. Hovering? I’ll hover his fucking ass straight into next Tuesday. ‘Oh, but lady Kennedy’… grrr.”

Tiffany started up the path toward the small kitchen garden. Hopefully she could be better to listen than the scarecrow, but a glint of red caught her before she could interrupt the still ranting doctor. Emanuel.

“Emanuel, what finds you in the neighborhood?” Tiffany asked, intercepting the apothecary before he could interrupt Kennedy. Given the way those two got along, it would either be massively helpful–or explode like something out of a bad action flick.

“Um,” his blue eyes flicked past Tiffany to Kennedy. “Is there cobweb in your hair?”

“Huh?” she smoothed at the black strands. “Uh, maybe. I was out today and I found this castle not far from…” She trailed off noticing Emanuel’s eyes were back on Kennedy’s back. “I’d walk carefully around her. Heidi said she’d been out here for a while.” Tiffany said stepping back to ostensibly pick up a loose stick that had fallen to the ground. Emanuel’s eyes barely flashed to see that she wasn’t there anymore before he turned toward Kennedy who had apparently stopped ranting at the scarecrow.

Nothing like feeling superfluous. Tiffany thought as Kennedy stepped into the chunk of ground Tiffany had been occupying only a few moments before. And when she started talking, his attention was hanging on every word. She tried not to sigh as she watched her best friend and the apothecary. Something familiar, the bitter, strong knife of jealousy flashed across her stomach.

Check another person off the list of people who’ll wanna hear about the castle. She thought. But why should I mope? Tiffany pulled her chin up trying not to feel like the little kid who had just gotten chosen last at tag–even though she had been that kid for so long. Still, the sun was shining, she didn’t have anything to do with her afternoon, she could just sit and enjoy the spring day and think about the castle.

Hopefully it wasn’t one of those abandoned cause of the evil spirits places–it had stood empty for too long to be the plague, even the earliest plague victims–she could work around most of the other possible reasons the Shadowcrestians had abandoned it. But it wouldn’t work too well to have Sir Wesley making signs to ward off evil every step he took in the castle.

And there was some very interesting… Tiffany sighed as she noticed Ren walking up the slope toward the shed where Peyton undoubtedly was, even she couldn’t pretend to be really interested in what she had to say about the castle, not when everwhere she rested her eyes there was…

…someone else. Oh, the hell of being single in a house full of couples. And how fucking well she knew it. The guys in Shadowcrest at least had hope, they could imagine that there would be some girl who would come along…

… but she’d met all the guys in Shadowcrest and there wasn’t a one that set her heart a pittering. There were ones she liked. Ones who were interesting to have conversations with, and all of them were gorgeous, was Shadowcrest just a genetically freaky place prone to very good looking people or had the plague just skipped all the freakisly good looking ones?

But there wasn’t anyone who just made her lose it by walking into the room.

“Is something the matter, Lady Tiffany? You’re looking forlorn.” Tiffany tried not to jump as the King startled the hell out of her.

“Oh, just thinking.”

“Of?”

“Lord Tennyson.” Tiffany said. No need to admit to Lock that she was moping–after all she had a castle now…

… Or at least she could keep telling herself that.

“Pardon?” Lock’s deep kingly voice was confused and she looked up for a moment into his very blue eyes.

“Alfred, Lord Tennyson, he was a poet. In his poem Locksley Hall he said ‘In the Spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.’ Just noticing all of the–fancies.” She gestured around the yard where it seemed as if something had become bound and determined to kick her while she was down. Maybe she could just start talking about her castle, that’d bore everyone back to their chores, wouldn’t it?

“Ah, aye. I understand.” She noticed a blush starting across his cheeks and she turned to follow his gaze. If Ren and Peyton hadn’t just stopped kissing, they were surely about to start, or maybe were just taking a break from it.

Something familiar crossed Lock’s face, a mixture of wistful longing and sadness, with just a dash of hopelessness. When she turned back to him, he’d laced his long fingers together, clasping his hands to his chest and giving the most ridiculous grin like ever. He was such a dork. Just like a little brother, not that she had a little brother, but other people had cute little dorky adorable brothers. Not that anyone she’d known had one quite that… her thoughts trailed off as the king turned those so-very-blue eyes on her again.

“Is there cobweb on your sleeve?” He asked after a moment.

“Damn it!” She brushed furiously at one sleeve. Lock leaned toward her and elegantly lifted a bit off–the other sleeve of course. “Yeah. I-I was exploring a castle.” Tiffany paused.

“A castle?” Rather than sounding dull and uninterested, his eyes glazing over in another “Tiffany’s off about whatever-it-is-this-time”, Lock’s eyes looked intent–and interested? He leaned forward a little.

“Yeah, I’m not sure whose it was or whatever–it looks like it’s been empty for a long while, the stables are almost completely collapsed and there’s a hole in one wall, but it’s only an hours brisk walk that way.” She pointed.

“Oh, that would probably be the old Cooksley keep.” He said.

“So, was it abandoned because of spirits or goblins or rogue ninjas or what?” Tiffany asked, waiting for the other shoe to drop, because it inevitably would. Nothing like a lovely spring day to kill a buzz.

“No, I believe the family just died out and it was an old keep, no one in the cadet branch wanted to fix it up.” Lock said after a moment’s thought.

“Sweet! So there’s no reason I couldn’t fix it up if I wanted?” Tiffany asked, the king blinked very long eyelashes at her for a moment, his head cocking to one side.

“I… suppose not.” Lock said.”Why?”

“Well, everyone keeps commenting that your house just isn’t big enough. It was probably cool and great when you were just Lock the wizard of whatever, but you’re the king now. You need someplace to put people. We’re gonna have to start sitting out on your lawn to have meetings.” Tiffany bit her lip. “And–it’s a castle.” She admitted toward another bit of cobweb on her sleeve. What did she pick up a spider who was fucking with her somewhere?

“Ah! Well, I had thought that I would just–” he trailed off for a moment and Tiffany could feel the hope dying in her eyes. “I guess I don’t understand the importance of a castle.”

“I’ve always wanted to build one, lacking the man power to do that…” She stubbed a toe at the ground.

“Oh! Well, it certainly would have room. Perhaps the next time I can pull myself away from my–my nanny goats–we could go look at the keep.” Lock suggested. Tiffany’s eyes came up fast and then shifted toward where the couples around her stood lost in each others eyes.

“Well, your nanny goats don’t have you locked down now, why not now?” She hoped that he wouldn’t hear the desperation in her voice.

But if he did, he was more than enough a gentleman not to say it. He made an after you gesture and Tiffany hurried off toward the castle. Maybe I don’t have a Prince Charming, but at least I still have my castle. And maybe if she kept telling herself that–it’d be enough.

“Yes. Right now if I sat on anything soft I’d probably fall asleep. I haven’t done this kind of hours in a while. I’m out of practice.” Kennedy said, shaking her head. Gray scoffed softly which caused Wesley to glare at him. Gray looked significantly at the king, who did look tired. Kennedy found her right arm up, middle finger extended before her tired head even caught up with the fact that she’d moved.

The lords looked at each other and then at Kennedy, their faces all puzzled. “It’s an inappropriate gesture.” Kennedy explained, rubbing at her temple. “Just slightly more kosher than telling Lord Gray to go commit an unnatural act with Sir Wesley’s horse, which also came to mind.”

“That’s disgusting!” Gray said, his lips turning down.

“Whatever small amount of tact I possess checked out sometime yesterday.” Kennedy said. “Just because King Lachlan looks more tired than I do doesn’t meant that I’m not tired too. And if you’re just going to belittle what I have to say, my lord, why don’t you take the opportunity to go get to know Sir Wesley’s horse or one of those damned sheep better and leave me alone.” The last came out as a snarl, despite her efforts, which, admittedly, were half-assed to begin with. Gray grumbled something under his breath which netted him dirty looks from both Wesley and Dolph.

Given that she would have expected to see flying pigs before she thought Wesley would come to her defense, it apparently was pretty bad.

“Gray, Lady Kennedy, please.” Lock said, echoing her hand across the temple. “This isn’t getting us anywhere.”

“How is Master Jarrett?” Dolph asked. Lock looked over his shoulder at Kennedy.

“Critical but stable.” Kennedy shrugged. “He’s not getting worse, it remains to see how much better he’ll get, and how fast, but he’s weathered the first storm.”

“That poor man.” Camden murmured.

“He can’t keep up the pace he’s been going at. This fall and into winter, I’ve treated him for more minor and semi-major injuries than the rest of you put together.” Kennedy said.

“I know.” Lock shook his head, his bright ponytail, catching the light. “It’s one of the things I’ve been concerned about.”

“Well, what about you, couldn’t you and the other ladies help him?” Gray asked.

“I don’t know shit about raising animals. Nor, from what I know of my roomies, do any of them. Yeah, we probably could go help with milking and feeding, like Tiff, Jolene and Peyton did this morning.” Right after Tiff threatened to tie me to the bed if I didn’t get some rest. Kennedy thought wryly.

“Is that all?” Gray asked.

“Yeah. My lord, the closest most of us have been to a cow is, as a comedian once said, when we’ve stopped to take a piss at a restaurant… Or a petting zoo. Although my petting zoo didn’t have cows.” She frowned for a second before pulling herself back onto the topic.

“How long, Lady Kennedy, do you think Master Jarrett will be–?” Dolph paused obviously struggling with the words.

“On bed rest?” Kennedy offered. “Weeks, if I can at all help it.”

“Weeks? Sure not!” Gray protested. “Most peasant men were up and around within days.”

“Most of the men who sustained injuries of the type Jarrett has probably died on the table, or in the next couple of days, Lord Gray.” Kennedy’s brows drew in and she stared at him as if daring him to disagree.

“I agree with Lady Kennedy, Gray. I’m still not sure how Jarrett ended up pulling through this and I am not willing to risk his life by shoving him out of bed.” Lock interjected.

“Master Jarrett is a very stubborn man though.” Dolph said. “I can’t imagine he’ll agree to extended bedrest.”

“He doesn’t have to agree to it. I’m ordering it.” Lock said. “And I intend to supervise it.” Four pairs of eyes shot to the King, two pairs of gray, a pair of green and a pair of brown all reflecting the same shock.

“Surely you’re not intending to–to move to that–that barn to supervise this–bed rest.” Gray said recovering first.

“No, as Tate will be staying with Sawyer for the duration, I’m installing Master Jarrett in Tate’s room where I can keep an eye on him.”

“Your Majesty!” Gray couldn’t have been any more shocked if the King had racked him in the nuts. “This is unheard of. Who will see to your household?”

“I can conjure a servantus, Gray, to tend to the general chores, and I can get my own door. I’m far from helpless. Sawyer will need the assistance far more than I need a servant.” Lock said mildly.

“And to install a peasant in your household like a noble guest, Your Majesty, this–this never would have happened under King Phillip!” Gray protested.

“I am not my uncle, Gray!” Lock’s shoulders under his doublet were tight, a faint sparkle of magic seemed to congregate around his hands which were balled into fists. “Uncle Phillip never would have put a peasant farmer in his guest room, no, but he ruled a kingdom of hundreds. He couldn’t know every man under his rule. I rule a kingdom of less than twenty! I do! I know them and I admire them, and I want to do the best I can by them! To the hells with propriety, with what my uncle would have done. I am through burying my people for stupid reasons. There is not one good reason why Master Jarrett cannot stay here and a great many good reasons why he should.” Lock took a deep breath and unclenched his hands, shaking them slowly.

“This is not up for discussion, Gray. Tate should have Jarrett settled or nearly by now. And he is staying until Lady Kennedy believes that he is fit for work once more, she is the expert here, not you.” As if that were a cue, Tate appeared in the doorway.

“How is Master Jarrett?” Lock asked of the teenager, who shifted nervously as the gazes of Shadowcrest’s nobility fell on him.

“He seems–disoriented, my–Your Majesty. But he seemed content enough to drink the potions you had me fetch from Master Emanuel and to rest.” Tate said.

“Excellent, thank you, Tate.” Lock said.

“If you don’t mind, Your Majesty, I’d like to give him a once over before the medicines all kick in.” Kennedy said, sliding off the desk.

“Certainly.”Lock said. “Thank you, Lady Kennedy.”

“I told you my first day here. I don’t do half-ass when it comes to my patients, your Majesty.” Kennedy reminded him.

“Tate, please show Lady Kennedy to your room.” Tate bobbed his head and slipped out of the room silent as a mouse.

—

One of these days, when it was a little less raw, Kennedy’d have to ask Lock why he thought she needed an escort. The house was not that big to begin with and laid out in a straight forward manner. He could have just told her that it was the room above the parlor and the stairs were in the kitchen. She pushed the door that was slightly ajar open and slipped inside.

Jarrett lay on the bed, his gaze slightly unfocused, hands folded on his stomach.

“Lady Kennedy.” His voice was always soft, but he spoke even softer now as if his chest hurt–actually having seen some of the bruising to his abdomen, it probably did.

“Jarrett.” Kennedy said. “How do you feel.”

“I–I’ve felt better.” You were damn near trampled to death yesterday morning and have spent the past day and a half randomly being operated on, no-fucking-duh, you’ve felt better.

“Of course.”

“My lady, where am I?” He looked around the room, puzzled.

“Tate’s room, in the King’s cottage.” He blinked, obviously startled.

“What am I doing here?” He asked, rubbing at one of the new scars that Kennedy and Lock couldn’t prevent.

“Bed rest. I want you off your feet and the King has graciously agreed to keep you there.” Kennedy said blandly.

“This isn’t necessary, my lady, I’m sure I’ll heal just as well in my own bed.” He swung his feet down off of the bed as if to stand up and Kennedy leveled a stare at him. The butcher gulped, his feet hovering off the floor.

“And this is exactly why you’re staying here until I say you can go. You won’t listen to Sawyer, that’s obvious, I have enough to do, I can’t keep an eye on you all the time, besides there’s too much estrogen at my house, you’d go nuts–and there’s no place for privacy really. But I figure if Lock tells you to stay in bed, you’ve kinda got to do it. And I want you in bed, asleep as much as possible and resting even when you’re not asleep.”

“My lady,” He protested.

“No, Jarrett. Damn it! We came this close,” She held up a forefinger and thumb just barely apart. “To losing you yesterday, and all through the night. Sawyer thinks this is all his fault. Lock and I exhausted ourselves keeping you off Death’s doorstep. Tiff had to threaten to tie me to my bed, and let me tell you I’m not into that, because I didn’t want to leave you. I was afraid if I did, you’d die. The least you can do is not make all of our work in vain.”

“I–I am sorry, Lady Kennedy.” The Butcher stared at his hands.

“Jarrett, I’m not saying this well. I’m tired, you’re drugged, it’s been a long fucking couple of days. Just stay in the goddamn bed, you cranky old coot, and we’ll argue this later–like sometime in a couple three weeks.”

“Weeks?” Jarrett yelped.

“Do not start that. I already had that argument today. Yes, weeks. If it makes you feel better, I full intend to drug you senseless for the next three weeks, so you really won’t notice it.” Kennedy said. “Now sleep.” She leveled a finger at the older man and waited until he’d slipped under the coverlet, curling up onto one side.Kennedy stood for a moment, watching his bright hair on the pillow.

“Sleep well, Jarrett, we’re glad to have you back.” She whispered.

—

Sawyer hadn’t expected to see the king certainly not with-in the week of the accident. After what he’d heard from Tate, the king had flat exhausted himself with helping Lady Kennedy with Jarrett. Nobody understood. Nobody.

Everyone said it wasn’t his fault, but it was, at least–sort of. It was his job to take care of Jarrett. Self-appointed maybe, but his job. And he’d failed at it. Jarrett got hurt and other people, who shouldn’t have had to, had paid the price for Sawyer’s failure.

And that the king didn’t even seem reproachful when he arrived on the doorstep just puzzled Sawyer all the more. As did the King’s companion when he arrived. A pale woman with strawberry gold hair that the King introduced as Lady Nessa.

She hadn’t said much, her green eyes had spent more time skipping around the cobbled streets and the trees and the hills than they had on anyone human. She had a soft drawling voice that held something that reminded him of Jarrett–almost to the point of tears.

Lady Nessa, the king explained, was here to help Sawyer and Tate with the animals until Jarrett was back on his feet. She was a veterinarian, whatever that meant. Something to do with animals?

The king didn’t stay long, not really, but Sawyer didn’t blame him. He looked exhausted, and Sawyer was too busy feeling guilty about it to be any sort of company.

After he and Tate manhandled a bed into the barn for Lady Nessa, he realized that the woman had disappeared. Well not disappeared, she was sitting on the hillside outside the barn, looking at Lake Haven.

“My lady?” He said. She jumped, shying away and stared at him over her shoulder like she expected him to take up a stick and take a swing at her.

“Yes?” She asked, her shoulders hunched in, arms wrapping tighter around her knees.

“Just–um–I hope you’ll be comfortable there, we could put you up in the loft, you know”

“Thanks all the same, but I don’t think I’d be–any more comfortable trying to sleep where you are.” She shrugged. Sawyer sat down on the grass, shrugging his own shoulders under his new tunic. As there was no way to get the blood out of the old one, Fox had made this one for him. It–fit too well. Tailored specifically for him, he wasn’t at all used to it.

Lady Nessa stared at her hands but turned to face him. “S-so, this Jarrett, he’s your…?” She asked hesitantly.

“Just my friend. We–take care of each other.” Jarrett’s just better at it than me. Lady Nessa nodded as if she understood. Who knew, maybe she did.

“So, what’s a–veterinarian?” Sawyer asked before she could ask anything else, he got the impression that if he started crying, she’d start crying and they’d both be off to a wonderful start.

“A-a doctor for animals.” She said after a moment.

“Like–like Lady Kennedy?”

“Except for sheep and horses and cows and dogs.” She nodded.

“Have you met Lady Kennedy?” Sawyer asked when it was apparent she wasn’t going to say anything more.

“Yes, I met her right after she told one of the lords he might want to accompany us here.” A smile poked up at the corner of Lady Nessa’s lips, somehow making the scarring on her cheek more prominent.

“Why?”

“Um–well, because he,” Her eyes rolled upward and she bit her bottom lip. “Had a few frustrations he might want to relieve on a–pig. I believe is what she said.”

“Huh?”

“She was telling him to go fuck a pig, Sawyer.”

Sawyer stifled a snort of laughter with his hand. “Who’d she say that to?”

“Lord Gray. After meeting him, I have to say I think it sounds like a wonderful idea, except for–well–the poor pig.” Sawyer couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up, maybe it was early days, but he thought he’d probably like Lady Nessa.