If Jarrett had to lay money one way or the other, the only person in the room of two minds on the event that had called them all here was probably him. Lady Kennedy might still have been of two minds on the subject, but she wasn’t in the room. And she was apparently okay enough that she’d sent the king back down to the Great Hall.

Raquel had gone into labor earlier that morning and they’d all congregated in the Great Hall to await the arrival of the first born Crestian since the plague. There was a part of Jarrett that joined the others in their joyfulness, their hopefulness for the future. This event, more than anything, signified that the plague was behind them. Their desperate scramble to breathe life back into Shadowcrest had worked.

A baby was being born and that child was theirs. He or she would be a Crestian. It was oddly like the coronation that Lachlan had never had.

At the same point, Jarrett had never felt so old as he did now. He was alone in having been where Blake was now, staring at the ceiling, drumming his fingers on the table. Worried for his wife, worried for his baby, waiting and waiting. But all of the good feelings that were tied up in those memories were unfortunately also harnessed to the waiting and waiting of a more modern–and infinitely sadder–vintage.

Of staring at the ceiling and wondering if this would be the last night he would have his Rosie-girl, his little Frankie.

“Something wrong?” Nessa asked, leaning toward him and talking in a low voice that nearly blended into the buzz of conversation around them.

“Hmm? No.” Jarrett said glancing at her.

“Liar.” Though there was no venom in it, only a bit of–he hoped–fondness, she smiled at Lady Phoebe who was talking about something to do with some of her jewelery designs. She wrinkled her nose and winked at him before asking Fox a question.

“Does–does it usually take this long?” Blake asked, nervously twisting his wedding ring around his fingers. Eyes shot to Jarrett as if, because he had been a father, he ought to know. Or maybe it was just that he was older, or that he’d played midwives to calves, horses, baby piglets.

“My mother never failed to remind me that she was in labor with me for thirty-six hours.” Nessa laughed. “Thirty-six hours and twenty-minutes and fifty-seven seconds or something like that. The minutes and seconds tended to grow the more irritated she was with me.” Jarrett shot her a grateful look and she pressed her hand reassuringly against his.

“So have you thought about what you’ll name the baby?” Lady Phoebe asked Blake.

“We’ve narrowed it down. I had originally thought that we might name the baby after Raquel’s parents. But–she said she’d rather we didn’t.”

“What about your parents?” Ren asked. “Or your brothers or sisters, isn’t there that old legend that when people–,”

“Die?” Mistress Peyton asked. “It’s just a word, and everything does it. Only two certainties in life, death and taxes.” Ren laughed.

“Does that count?” Blake looked down the table at Fox. “I thought that it was only for…” He trailed off, eyes skipping toward Jarrett.

“I don’t know.” Fox said, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“What is this?” Lady Phoebe asked.

“There is an old legend or wives tale or something. That when a child dies young, it may be reborn later to the same family.” Fox said. Jarrett felt his breath his in between his teeth, but no one else seemed to notice it, except a moment later a strong work callused hand gripped his just briefly a second time under the table. Nessa caught his eye and held it for a moment. He nodded once and she flashed something like a smile.

A wave of silence started as the door opened and Lady Kennedy stepped through. It moved slowly toward their end of the great hall, conversations dropping off. All eyes on the white linen bundle in her arms, Jarrett’s included.

Blake almost knocked his chair over scrambling to his feet as he realized what that bundle was. He looked terrified.

“I have someone to introduce to you, Master Blake.” Lady Kennedy said as she handed the baby to Blake. He took the baby gingerly, as if his fingers were clumsy and stiff and the child were spun glass.

“Did–did Raquel choose a name, Lady Kennedy?” Blake asked stroking the infant’s soft cheek, the soft coo seeming to echo from the rafters. “What–er–what is it?”

“A baby?” Lady Kennedy suggested sardonically.

“Of course, I mean–I know that–it’s uh–just.” Blake stammered.

“Kennedy, be nice, how’d you like it if someone handed you your first child with a it’s a baby?” Lady Tiffany said from the next table.

“I should hope that I wouldn’t ask that silly of a question–and if I did, I would have just been giving birth and would be excused.” Lady Kennedy said, turning back to the father. “Hope.” Jarrett blinked right along with Blake.

“Pardon?” Ren asked.

“Her name is Hope.” Kennedy said. “If that’s still too subtle for you, it’s a girl.” Blake looked at Hope for a long moment, then up at Kennedy, tears welling in his dark eyes.

“That’s rather–apt, isn’t it?” He asked. “Hope?” Lady Kennedy smiled, one that was surprisingly free of cynicism.

“Congratulations, Blake!” Ren said, thumping the young man on a shoulder–but with care for the baby in his arms. “She’s got your eyes.”

“Aye.” Blake said wonderingly.

“Now we just hope she doesn’t get his beard.” Mistress Peyton said with a laugh. Ren shot a dark look at his wife that just caused her to laugh harder.

“Raquel’s okay?” Blake asked suddenly, the tan draining out of his face.

“She’s fine, came through it like a pro.” Lady Kennedy said. “Will, I’m sure, be up long before I want her out of bed.” Blake smiled gratefully.

“So this is your uncle Ren.” Blake held the baby out to the blacksmith who seemed even more uncertain holding Hope than Blake had. “And your aunt Peyton.” Peyton waved at the little girl.

As the others gathered around the baby, Jarrett noticed a flash of red-gold moving away from the crowd. Nessa…

He slipped out of his chair and followed the flag of her bright hair through the mostly dark throne room and into the library. It would have been impossible to miss Nessa’s drawn in breath, the shaky exhale clear as it ricocheted off the panel walls.

“Nessa?” He asked, only then realizing that maybe the reason she had left was because she wanted to be alone. She turned back toward him, something on her face that he couldn’t read. The veterinarian shrugged, a faint lift of the lips as an excuse for a smile.

“It’s been a long day?” Jarrett offered. Nessa stared at him for a moment, then nodded in agreement, her eyes looking more lost than he’d ever seen them. “I bet Blake wouldn’t mind if we called it an early night.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nessa’s voice was wooden and she fell silently into step behind him, seeming to almost use him as a shield as they entered the Great Hall.

“She’s a baby, not a priceless antique, as long as the words ‘go long’ do not enter the conversation she’ll be fine.” Mistress Peyton was saying as they edged into the room.

Nessa stopped and murmured something at Blake and at Olivia, so by the time that they arrived at the door out, it was pretty apparent they were heading off for the night. The king stood in their path but after a look at Nessa simply offered her a hug and accepted her murmured apology.

“You think they’ll forgive us for skipping out?” Nessa murmured, the chill air thick with the smell of autumn leaves.

“If they really notice we’re gone, probably.” Jarrett said.

“Hope, it really is kind of an apt name, isn’t it?” Nessa offered as they walked past the windows, Mistress Peyton holding baby Hope and talking with Lady Heidi and Lady Fiona.

“Names have a way of being surprisingly apt sometimes. We–we named my daughter Rosie–she–had auburn hair–but she grew up to be a lot like a rose.” He offered.

“Yeah, I think about it, sometimes, what I might name my children–if–if I ever have the chance to have any.” Nessa sighed again and hugged her arms to her chest.

“Oh?” He asked, wondering if that was prying or encouraging.

“Kian–definitely–if I ever had a boy.” She smiled sadly.

“Kian?” Jarrett asked, then regretted it as her face fell.

“Someone–very important to me was named that. He was my–best friend doesn’t even cover it. I used to call him my guardian angel. Cause he was, he was always there for me. I didn’t even have to say anything. No matter how fucked up Mitch left me, he’d be there with a pack of beers and a bag of Ol’ Red’s pork rinds. Just like magic. I think–of everything I regret–the fact that I couldn’t save him like he saved me–is my biggest one.” She said shivering a little as the breeze picked up and moaned through the trees. “I never even got to tell him how much he meant to me.”

“I–dunno about where you’re from–but they always told me that they know–the people you love like that–they know.”

“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.”

“Ugh, I’m beginning to feel like I should just have Kennedy graft this dress onto my body.” Peyton said, glancing to up meet Ren’s eyes in the mirror over the dresser. “It seems like I’m wearing it all the time anyway.”

“But what will you do if it goes out of fashion?” Ren asked curiously. Peyton snorted and tossed a platinum curl out of her face. It would probably only be another few days before she handed him the scissors and told him to trim the ends off it. He couldn’t help but wonder though, what she’d look like if she ever grew her hair out completely. Not that he didn’t like it short, Peyton could shave herself bald and he would still think she was beautiful, but he still, sometimes, wondered.

“Since when do I follow fashion?” She turned and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Okay so she had him there.

“You don’t, but–well what about when it wears out, it’s only cloth after-all.” She sighed and rolled her eyes.

“I suppose you have me there.” She echoed his thought from only a moment before in that odd way she had. He remembered his mother telling his sisters that good wives could do that, but given what his mother had also said, somehow he doubted that Peyton’s ability to do it had anything to do with being a good wife the way Martine had thought of the title. “How many festival days does one season have to have?” She turned away from the mirror and slid onto the bed next to him, smoothing the coverlet with an absent hand.

“There’s really only one more.” Ren said. “Then we get into harvest season and all there’ll be time for is harvesting or finishing up the last of projects before winter sets in.”

“Yeah. Vikki said that at least from what she and Camden have talked about, the borders maybe reopened before the harvest faire, I guess it won’t be like last year.”

“Oh?” Ren asked. Did Lord Camden really tell Lady Victoria about what happened in counsel sessions? Was the king really expecting that they would get a lot of visitors for the faire this year. By the time Harvest Faire came, there wouldn’t be a lot of time for merchants to return home, most who had come before the plague had come with the intention of wintering over.

Would anyone want to winter over in a country that had so recently been closed to a plague. It seemed odd to be thinking of winter, he glanced at the window, at the sunny summer sky visible over the town wall that backed the property, on a summer day, but it wasn’t that far off either. Peyton’s lips pursed as if she were trying to decide between sighing at him for stuffing so many questions into one word or smiling because he did stuff so many questions into one word.

“I more meant that it just doesn’t sound like we’re all gonna have the big feast that we did last year.” Peyton clarified, her fingers flicking at an invisible piece of lint on her dress. “Vikki doesn’t give me a lot of details, I have a feeling that’s part because most of what she tells me is pillow talk.” Ren couldn’t help twisting to stare at his wife for a minute.

“Oh, don’t look at me that way.” She laughed, that deep throated chuckle that made Ren’s knees turn to water. “People with brains have to talk about something in bed other than just sex–and,” The sentence trailed off.

“And?” Ren prompted.

“Babies, you know, like Raquel’s going to spawn–soon–like Heidi’s gonna have, like Vikki’s going to have?” Peyton tucked her hair behind her ear and looked at her hands.

“Lady Victoria is–” it was Ren’s turn to trail off, the tips of his ears burning. Maybe some people talked about the occupants or future occupants of noblewomen’s tummies, but not any of his mother’s children.

Peyton glanced at his ears and grinned. “Yep, she told me right after she came back from Kennedy. It’s a girl thing.” Peyton shrugged, her grin fading as she plucked at the bodice on her dress.

“What’s wrong?” Ren asked, his eyes widening slightly in panic.

“Well, it’s just–babies, Ren. Three out of four of the married couples in Shadowcrest are expecting one–and we’re four.” Peyton said.

“We hadn’t really talked about–children.” Ren found himself hesitating over the word.

“I know, that’s the problem.” Peyton admitted. “We haven’t talked about kids.” She gnawed on her lip before exhaling a sigh.  “At all.”

“Uh.” Well that was intelligible. He hadn’t brought up children because he didn’t want to seem like he was putting pressure on her. The same reason he didn’t harp on her wardrobe, even though Fox seemed to think that he should. (Well, in part, the way her trews showed of her long, athletic legs certainly didn’t hurt Ren’s–er–views on the subject.) He wanted her to be happy here in Shadowcrest. If she was happy in trews then she should wear them. If she wanted to talk about children, he would have thought that she would have.

Was this something he was supposed to have brought up? He knew that Lady Kennedy had insisted that Blake and Raquel wait, but that mostly seemed to be because of Raquel’s age. Lady Heidi and Lady Victoria hadn’t waited, but…

“Do you want–kids?” Peyton asked tentatively. “I mean I know we’ll need them eventually, but–” She sighed.

“I…” Did he want kids. Not did he think they should have them, but did he want them, as in right now? “Do you want them?” He asked. She turned and looked at him for a long moment, something sad lurking behind her gray eyes. He’d put every royal in the cash box on it having something to do with Peyton’s mother.

Martine had raised her children not to speak ill of people, but Ren once again was completely grateful that he would never meet his mother-in-law. She had to have no idea of how amazing her daughter was. He felt a deep smoldering anger once more that she had been so dismissive and restrictive to Peyton that even simple conversations like this hurt Peyton.

“I–Well, we’d talked about opening a shop, for my pottery. Right now it’s kind of stuck in with your metalwork, which I mean I guess is as good a place as any. It isn’t quite like my fabric samples hanging in Fox’s workshop though.” Peyton said. Ren nodded. “And if the borders are going to be reopened, there might be more interest in it–if it weren’t sitting in between the horseshoes and the penny nails.”

“Right.” Ren nodded, if still slightly confused.

“I–I don’t know that I want to deal with trying to get a new shop off the ground and swollen feet and general waddles, Ren.” She turned and looked at him, hurt and shame in her eyes.

“That makes sense to me.” Ren said. Her gaze returned to him from where it had retreated to off the footboard.

“It–it does?” Peyton asked. Her voice seemed near to cracking. “But–don’t you want children?”

“Of course I do eventually but I think that right now it’s as much your choice as mine.” He said taking her hand kissing it. “If not more so. Maybe I would think differently if I were going to be the one carrying the child, but I’m not. And if you want to wait, then we can wait. Until you’re ready.” Ren said.

“Or until the gods have other ideas.” Peyton laughed ruefully. Ren looked at her curiously. “There’s an old saying back home, if you want to hear the Lord, meaning God, laugh, just tell him what you have planned. The only way we’ll completely one hundred percent for certain not have kids is to one hundred percent for certain stop–any bedroom activities that lead to kids.” Ren’s ears burned. “We should go, shouldn’t we?” Peyton asked.

“Fox is expecting us.”

“If he’s not busy trying to convince Phoebe that she should join us.” Peyton smirked.

“Do you know why Lady Phoebe doesn’t like him?” Ren asked, swinging his legs down off the bed.

“I don’t think it has anything to do with like, I think it has more to do with trust, she doesn’t trust him.” Peyton said after a moment. Huh? He turned and looked at his wife, who was looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. “Fox is smooth as silk and charming as a fairy tale prince. But that doesn’t always add up to trustworthy. Sure, he’s charming, but is he sincere?”

“Well…” Admittedly not always, Ren thought. He’d known Fox before the plague and he had always treated every woman who walked into his master’s shop as if she were the most beautiful woman on the planet. It helped him sell more dresses, and unlike some of the other salesmen who would adopt the same thing, he never turned to one of his fellows after she left and commented that the woman in question was a dog–or any other insult. But he couldn’t have meant all of that flattery to all of those women.

“I’ve known chicks like Phoebe before. She strikes me as the type who has been burned before.” Peyton shrugged. “Probably by a guy who talked very pretty but meant about every third word. If you wanted to pass along a bit of advice to our dear friend, the tailor, I’d start with, skip the flowers and go straight to the truth, it’ll get him further.”

“Oh.” Should he have done that? He wondered, chewing at the corner of his lip. Ren didn’t think of himself as a man who was overly flowery, most of the time he couldn’t think of ten words to say, let alone how to make them all sound pretty.

“Now me, I’ve always had the opposite problem. Guys have a very hard time being flowery or flattering with me, but I get more truth than I’d ever want.” Peyton laughed. Oh. “But I guess he’ll have time to work on his game, what with her helping him out for Joey’s wedding.”

“Will it be that hard?”

“If what I’ve heard is any indication, it’s a damned good thing that the King is footing the bills for weddings, and that ours was less than extravagant.” Peyton laughed, Ren sat back down the bed next to her in wonder. He thought their wedding had been fine. “Sawyer’d be in hock until his great-great-great-grandchildren.”

“Really?” He had no idea.

“Oooh yeah,” Peyton shook her head. “I’m half getting the idea that she’s going so overboard for the whole thing because she’s hoping someone will call the whole thing off rather than accede to her demands, after all if the king says no, then she doesn’t have to.”

Except of course if Ren knew anything about Lachlan as a person he would never say no, not on something like that. If that’s really what Lady Jolene was doing, then she was bound to be disappointed.

“So she doesn’t want to marry him?” Ren asked. Peyton shrugged.

“I don’t know. Joey’s not got the easiest head to climb into. I think there’s more going on there, but it’s not as if she talks to me.” Peyton shrugged again.

“We really do need to go.”

“I know,” Peyton sighed. “But I don’t really want to go. Fox is so boring when he’s talking saints.” It was Ren’s turn to shrug. “You know, it’s almost too bad that we didn’t decide we really wanted to have kids.”

“Why’s that?” Ren asked.

“Because I can think of a lot better ways to celebrate the feast of For Pete’s Sake, or whatever today is. Lots and lots and lots.”

Suddenly, so could he.

“Why’s that?” Camden asked as they laid back on the grass, starring up at the sky.

“Light pollution, mostly. Even on the clearest day back home, there’s too much light in the city to be able to see the stars this clearly.” Her head came to rest on his shoulder, the feel of silk against her cheek, warm and soft, the rise and fall of his breathing.

“I used to watch the stars a lot when I was on my quest.” Camden said. “It’s much nicer watching them with you than with my horse.” Victoria chuckled.

“When do you move into your new manor?” She asked.

“Tomorrow, probably. If the weather cooperates.” Camden stretched a little, his arm tightening just slightly around her shoulder. “I, uh, wanted to talk with you about that.”

“Mmm?” Victoria asked, her eyes closing.

“Would–would you–would you like to come over tomorrow, for dinner?” Camden said the last part in a rush that made Victoria almost positive that that wasn’t what he was going to say originally.

She sat up and looked at him for a long moment. “I–I…”

“I’m just asking you to come for dinner.” Camden said. “Vikki, please.” She chewed on her lip, avoiding his so very green eyes.

“Camden, I think we might be…” She sighed and made the mistake of looking at him. he was twisting a strand of grass between his fingers, the lantern light touching off his hair and softening his face.

“It’s dinner.” Camden repeated in a way that Victoria would have bet money was as much trying to convince himself of as much as her. “If you don’t come–then…”

“You could always come to dinner–at Ren’s with us.” A few days prior Peyton had decided that before someone could suggest that, as Ren’s house had three spare bedrooms, someone make use of them, that she and Victoria would move in.

“I worked too damn hard to get him, Vikki, I’m not gonna let any other chick move in and see just how much better a wife she could make for him.” Peyton had said.

“And I’m coming, because?” Victoria had retorted with a quirked eyebrow.

“Because we need a chaperone, or at least the appearance of one, it’ll make it look less like impropriety,” Peyton had shrugged. “We’re not married yet. You’re there to make sure I’m not sneaking into Ren’s room every night. That might knot Gray’s panties.” 

“You could still sneak into Ren’s room.”

“Doubly so cause you’ll suck as a chaperone, you’re always with your boy toy.” Peyton laughed. “But it’ll look like I’m keeping an eye on you too. See,” she gestured, “it’s a mutual respectable thing.”

“But–you can’t see the house if I come over to Ren’s.” She was going to lose this–argument? discussion? whatever–she was gonna lose it, cause she couldn’t even begin to win it in her own head.

“Alright, I’ll come for dinner.” Victoria said with a sigh.

—

If there was one thing you could say for Tiffany, she knew how to pick locales. You could see straight down to the shore of Lake Haven from Camden’s front yard. “I’ll have to decide what to do for plants.” Camden said as they walked through the white washed iron gate.

“But you have the beds all marked out.” Victoria smiled. “Most guys, especially your age wouldn’t even think of it.”

“I didn’t, Lady Tiffany did. She said it’d make putting the fountain in the right spot easier.” Camden admitted. It wasn’t a huge house, so the tour didn’t take long. Nor did it take long for Camden to toss together a salad.

“I wouldn’t have thought lavender cushions and wallpaper.” Victoria commented as they sat at the long wood table in the dining room. It was sort of empty. Not too many personal touches, the whole house felt like it was waiting for… something.

“Mistress Raquel picked them. She helped with a lot of the decorating. Said it gave her something to do.”

“It looks nice.” Victoria smiled.

“I’m thinking, after Lady Peyton’s wedding, of taking a short trip up to the summer home that my family kept. The estate was–lost–but I might be able to find some things in the summer home as it wasn’t visited after the plague started. At least tapestries and portraits and the like.” Camden said.

“That sounds like a great idea.” Victoria smiled. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if about to ask something else, then shook his head and asked about Peyton’s wedding plans. If ever there were a person less prepared to plan a wedding…

—

That was definitely the door. Peyton thought, struggling her way out of sleep. About a million “could be wrongs” went through her head as she shook out of the blanket’s hold and stumbled to the kitchen. She scrubbed at her eyes, blinking at the darkness. A sound came from her right and she turned. Just barely, as the fire was banked for the night, she could make out…

“Vikki? Vikki, what’s wrong?” And why are you sitting in the corner of the kitchen in your panties? was hard on the heels of that thought. But that could wait. She started at the sound of Peyton’s voice and brought her arms up over her head, curling in on herself.

“Oh, god, Peyton. I–I can’t. Oh, god.” Victoria stammered out, tears clear in her voice.

“C’mon, what’s wrong, you can talk to me.” Peyton said trying to project reassurance into her voice. Victoria stumbled to her feet and buried her face in her hands again.

“I–oh–How did this happen, Peyton?”

“Not know what “this” is, I can’t say.” Peyton told her, rubbing her hand up and down the other woman’s back in what she hoped was a calming gesture.

“Peyton, he’s not even eighteen yet! And I just–” Victoria sobbed out. “I just raped him!”

“Somehow I doubt that.” Peyton said as Victoria wailed. “Vikki, Vikki, listen to me. Did you like tie him down or in anyway coerce him?”

“No, but…”

“Did he tell you no?”

“No!”

“Then it wasn’t rape.” Peyton said waiting for the shriek she knew would come–agh, right on schedule. “Vikki, Vikki, listen to me.” When that didn’t work. Couldn’t the morning after guilt have had the decency to wait until morning? Seriously. “Screw that, listen to yourself.”

Vikki cut off in midwail and looked at Peyton, eyes huge. “Now, I understand your guilt.” Sort of. “But before you wake the entire neighborhood and we have to explain this to everyone, let’s think about this.”

“You were in prelaw, there’s more than five years between us!” Victoria moaned, thankfully a little lower. Peyton shot a look at the ceiling and nudged Victoria toward the room Victoria was staying in.

“True. But there are no statutory rape laws in the country were in, Vikki. Not to mention, Camden’s like three months shy of turning eighteen. He’s barely a kid by our standards, and might I point out, quite lawyerly, the majority in Shadowcrest is sixteen. He’s old enough to enter a contract and he’s old enough to have sex.” Peyton pointed out. Victoria was still sniffling. “Forgive me a tangent here, but, did you really come all the way home wearing that?”

“I could find this without having to light a candle. My dress is still somewhere at Camden’s.” Victoria admitted shamefaced.

“Okay.” Peyton refrained from rubbing her temples by grabbing the flint and steel from the kitchen and lighting the candles so they weren’t sitting in the dark. Then she turned the chair from Victoria’s vanity toward the bed and sat down. “If you can tell it without wailing and going all mea culpa, he’s a kid, rape-0rape-rape, aka all Joey on me. What happened.”

“I don’t even know, Peyton. I meant to come home and then he kissed me good night and then we were in his room, on his bed. I–mean I like him, but it’s still–now I’ve totally ruined him for anyone else.”

“Back up to the room. What color was his bedding?” Peyton asked.

“What does that have to do with anything?” A flash of anger crossed her face.

“It helps me set the scene.” Peyton said blandly.

“Purple, and white–and teal.” Victoria said. Peyton mouthed an Ah, but said nothing. That’s what I thought. Just who else is she thinking he’s likely to want?

“Then there went my dress and there went his tunic and… how much detail do you want?”

“Can’t remember?”

“Can remember all to well.” Victoria said primly.

“This is plenty. So, lemme ask this, if Camden weren’t seventeen, if he’d been–seventy-one, would you have called this encounter a rape?” Peyton tapped her fingers against each other.

“… No…” She said in a very small voice.

“Okay, then I think you’re safe enough.”

“He’s going to hate me now.”

“He’s a guy, a teenaged guy. Unless there’s a very good reason for not having the sex, it usually takes more than sex to make them hate someone. At least if it was good sex…” She looked pointedly at the redhead, who blushed and looked away. Meh, that’s what I thought too. “Vikki, you’re hating yourself WAY more at the moment than Camden will hate you for this.” Peyton shook her head. Victoria climbed onto her stomach and propped her head up between her hands.

“What am I gonna do, Peyton?”

“Oh, come on, Vikki. You didn’t ruin his life. It’s not like a teenager can’t survive through one panties on the ceiling fan experience. In fact, I’ll bet you wearing that frothy white lace wedding dress you suggested versus the one I want, that as soon as that kid wakes up and finds you gone, he beelines straight here. If you’re lucky, he’ll even bring your dress with him.”

“Really?” Victoria said.

“Really the bet or really that’s what I th…” Peyton grinned as a brisk knock came on the door. “I’ll get that, you might wanna–just saying.” Peyton left Victoria scrambling for the dresser and went to the door.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, Lady Peyton.” Camden stuffed his hands behind his back, but not before Peyton saw a peek of teal.

“Vikki’ll be out in a minute.” She noticed him glance over his shoulder, then gulp. “Or now. Why don’t you guys go uh, talk it out. I’ll get some–tea.” Peyton gestured toward the couch.

If they kept pausing and stammering it was going to take them all night to talk out anything. But maybe this didn’t need talking, at least tonight. She heard a door upstairs open and slipped out into the shadows and up the stairs.

“Peyton? What’s going on?”

“Oh, just your average middle of the night crisis.” She smiled.

“Is everything alright?”

“I bet it is now…”

“Um, what sort of something?” Ren asked, his brown eyes puzzled.

“Well, last night, Joey comes home looking like someone just passed a mandate forever banning the rom-com.” Peyton began, then shot Ren a glance and shook her head. “Bewildered, I guess, like she couldn’t believe that something had happened.”

“Oh.”

“Apparently, our dear musical Romeo asked her if she’d ever think about marrying him.” Peyton said.

“Oh.” Peyton tapped him on the nose.

“You said that already.” He smiled and held her hands in his, not seeming to notice that she still had clay under her fingernails. Maybe he didn’t notice. She somewhere along the line had stopped noticing the work roughened texture of his hands, too caught up in the strength and warmth of them. Kind of amazing. “I don’t think he asked her to marry him, just if she ever would marry him.”

“What does that have to do with the water?” He prompted, after her left hand escaped his grasp and brushed the long strands of white blonde hair off his forehead.

“In and of itself, nothing. It’s just not long before that I ‘caught’ Vikki and Camden making out like teenagers under the oak tree.”

“Camden is a teenager.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But Vikki isn’t.” Peyton shrugged. He mouthed one of those “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but please keep talking” sounds he seemed to make at her frequently. “It just got me thinking, what is it with your young men and falling hard and fast?”

“Um.” He shrugged.

“Maybe it’s a limited population thing.” Peyton thought for a moment. “I mean there are only thirteen of you, there are only going to be maybe that many of us. But still, I could see them being as eager as anyone for the, you know, random roll in the hay. Not so much for putting a ring on it.”

“Maybe they just have confidence that we older gents lack.” Ren said after a moment.

“Well, maybe.” She cocked her head to the side and willed Ren to keep talking. The blacksmith had really good insights into people, but getting those insights out of his head was not so easy.

“They’ve had less time to build up doubts and concerns, they can pour their whole hearts into things where we tend to dither or lose our courage.” Ren shrugged his broad shoulders.

“Yeah, I guess. Less baggage.” Peyton nodded. “Still you do realize that you guys might have less time though, right? I mean for all that Charlie Chaplin was still having babies when he was in his seventies–well his wife was having babies, he was just putting them there. But, still, I mean if Jarrett were ever going to get remarried, he’d have years less time to go about the busy of providing wee Crestians than say Sawyer would, wouldn’t he?”

“He will.” Peyton blinked.

“I think I missed something.”

“Jarrett, he does intend to remarry.” Ren said.

“Really?” She cocked her head. “I thought…”

“He believes it’s his duty.” For a man whose job was whacking the shit out of metal with a big-ass hammer he sure could put things a little too subtly and delicately for her sometimes. Oh well, best to blunder ahead anyway, that was her job, chewing leather clad foot.

“No one would blame him if he didn’t, though.” Peyton said. “I mean considering all the shit he’s gone through, psh, I don’t think there’s a single one of us who wouldn’t understand. Does the king know?”

“Aye. That’s how I know. We had many talks about it before the king told us about his intended plans. The king offered Jarrett an exemption, but he insisted.” Ren told his hands.

“Jeez. He’s a better man than I am.” Ren ducked his head, but not fast enough cause she could see the flush on his neck and his ears. “Person sort of man, I’d call you a lech, but I kinda like the fact that you notice.” He went even redder.

“It’s not so hard.” Ren finally stammered out.

“My mother would disagree.” Peyton shrugged. Ren’s lips tightened.

“Well, I would say if your mother were ever right about anything as far as you were concerned, it was come to by complete and total accident.” He tucked her hair behind her ear, fingers skating down her jaw, leaving tingles in their wake.

“Thanks.” For once she was the one ducking her head and speaking toward her hands. “So, who do you think the next one of us to get married will be?” Peyton asked after a moment.

“I–do not know?” Ren said.

“I thought you were the blacksmith, aren’t you the one who makes all the metal stuff? Doesn’t everyone come to you to get rings made.”

“I’m better with horseshoes than jewelry.” Ren said looking at his fingers.

“Liar. I saw that necklace you made for Raquel.” Peyton said.

“Well, also, with the nobles, they may have heirloom jewelry.” Ren pointed out. “Which they might use to propose with too.”

“You take the fun out of trying to guess, though I know who I hope is getting married next.” Peyton said. Ren cocked his head to the side. Even though she’d practiced, it was just slightly easier to be confident with a tree stump stand in. She went to her knee, pulling the jewelry box out of her pocket. “I hope it’s us. Ren, will you marry me?”

His hand pressed against his chest, his brown eyes huge for a long moment. His hands shook as they took the ring from the box in Peyton’s hands. The next few moments seemed to blur together, clearing with her face tucked against Ren’s neck, arms wrapped tightly around him and his arms wrapped tightly around her. He released her wiping the tears off her cheeks that she didn’t even know she cried.

“You know,” he dug in his belt pouch and pulled something out. “I’ve been carrying this for weeks.” She held her hands out and he dropped a beautiful gold ring into her palm. “I just didn’t have the courage to ask. I’m glad you did.”

“And you,” she sniffled. “Said you didn’t have talent with jewelry.”

—

“You look very pleased with yourself.” Victoria said when Peyton came into the barn that afternoon.

“As well I should be.” She smiled and flopped on the sofa.

“Why?”

“Let’s just say blonde hair and a fondness for the sound of my voice aren’t the only things that  I have in common with a certain merchant.” Peyton said.

“Damn, there’s only one blonde merchant, so I can’t even pretend I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Victoria grinned. “So what, did he propose?”

“No, well, kinda. I tipped it off. Got the ball rolling.”

“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.

“What are we doing here?” Heidi asked. Here was a break in the trees before the land evened out into cleared pasture and farmland, a brisk walk from the city gates. There was nothing, from her vantage point that would point to why they were here.

“We’ve been spending too much time inside, you’ve been closeted with the King three days this week, if I were a jealous man–and if I didn’t know that the king had received his first tentative diplomatic missive from King Robard of Archerglen–I’d wonder if there were something going on there.” Dolph smiled, though he seemed to peer at her a bit cautiously. He didn’t have any idea why Heidi was closeted with Lachlan, and unfortunately for the both of them, Heidi wasn’t supposed to say.

“Eh, it was something that I sometimes dealt with in my previous job.” Heidi demurred. “Sometimes.” Not exactly the truth but not exactly a lie either. She hated the not being able to tell people, the constantly hiding things. It was one of the reasons that she had never really been involved with anyone before she had come to Shadowcrest, there just was too much that she couldn’t tell people.

Jolene understood, or at least she understood the reticence as something she’d dealt with on the force. Maybe that was why there had been the distance between her and Peyton too. Because Peyton was pretty much an open book, her parents might have both been practiced liars, both being lawyers, but that was different than the sort of lying that Heidi did. The sort of lying Peyton was used to was just words and feelings.

The sort that Heidi did involved… everything. Pulling on a new personality at every new situation. Although, if she was going to be honest with herself, she doubted that was all there was to it. She knew that she’d hurt Peyton’s feelings when she’d gone to Lock back in the winter and there was no way that she could make that up to her.

It was what Lock had told her to do. To pay attention to the other girls and to tell him when they were unhappy, not that that absolved her either. But whatever it was, Heidi was just as glad that Peyton was getting along so well with Victoria. It didn’t make the breach of trust go away, but maybe it would make it enough less immediate that they could resolve it eventually.

Dolph was nodding understandingly. He knew that she had worked for “the government” before she’d come to Shadowcrest, he probably thought that she had been some sort of clerk or aide or something. She smiled as he reached for her hand.

“And I’ve been buried in helping Camden with these military laws. So I thought that we could both use some fresh air.” Dolph finished.

“Isn’t that what windows are for?” Heidi couldn’t pass up the opportunity to tease him, Dolph was so solemn, it worth any lame joke to see him smile at her.

“I’m almost certain you’ll like this better than the view out your window–or even the king’s window.” Dolph said. Heidi followed him down a worn path between two hills and–oh my. He looked over his shoulder anxiously.

“This is beautiful,” She said looking around the little cup of a pond fed by a waterfall and a small spring, little bursts of color from wildflowers sprinkled here and there like fireworks in the lush green of the meadow. “Do you bring all your ladies here?” She teased.

“Only the ones I really like.” Dolph said with a peculiar half smile. Ones? She thought worriedly. “What?” He asked, his brown eyes turning alarmed. Apparently the thought had shown on her face.

“How many would that be?” She tried to make it sound teasing.

“Well, just you.” He admitted toward his leather half-boot.

“Oh.” She couldn’t keep the relief out of her voice–and maybe that was for the better because Dolph seemed relieved too. He lifted her hand to press his lips against the back of it.

“Hopefully those crows haven’t picked over the picnic.” Dolph tucked her hand in her elbow and lead her off toward the carpet someone had lain out under a tree.

“Don’t think you’re getting off that easily.” Heidi said after nibbling at a few berries. “Weren’t you engaged once? Didn’t you really like her?”

“No. It was a good match for me, and perhaps one for her. Besides I wasn’t exactly engaged. I was a suitor, one of a couple actually. And her father chose to pursue the betrothal with the other suitor.” Dolph picked at a strand of grass.

“But didn’t you ever take her out on picnics or anything?” Heidi asked. Wondering why it felt like there was a gulf between the two of them. She couldn’t claim that there was anyone that she’d been serious with since high school, but even she’d been taken out.

“Oh no. It wouldn’t have been proper. We mostly met in the gardens either at Lord Ashby’s estate or on two occasions at the dowager estate where my mother and I lived. Both of which were very closely chaperoned. I think my mother practically denude the estate both of those times.”

Heidi settled back onto her hands. “Why did you grow up on a dowager estate? Isn’t that for cranky old ladies?”

Dolph smiled. “My mother was my father’s second wife. My half brother was twelve or so years older than I was and he very much resented how–quickly–our father remarried. Especially as he already had a son and heir.”

“How quickly?” The question slipped out before she realized that maybe Dolph didn’t want to talk about it. This was probably kind of painful for him.

“He started to court my mother three years after his first wife died.” Dolph traced over the pattern on the carpet with his finger. “It was close to five before they actually married.”

“So five years is quickly?”

“It was to Douglas.” Dolph sighed. “Anyway, our father died when I was eight, Douglas was twenty–and apparently he never lost the animosity to my mother so she and I were shipped off to the dowager estate within a moon of my father’s death. He wasn’t–bad to us. We had only a few servants–but they were good ones, he didn’t stick us with only layabouts. And the house was kept well. Douglas made sure I had tutors and arranged for my apprenticeship.” He shrugged and looked at the trees for a moment.

“Still sounds like a jerk to me. It’s not like she married him five days after his first wife died.” Heidi said. “Then again, my mom never remarried after my dad died, maybe I’d have felt different if she had. I was only a little older when my dad died than Douglas was when his mom did.”

“What were your parents like?”Dolph asked. Heidi paused for a moment and thought, a smile poking up at the corner of her lips.

“Oh, my dad was–like a chameleon. He wasn’t around a lot, but he was always there for anything important. Because of his job, he couldn’t always show up as my dad, but he would be the shifty looking guy who slouched in. Or, like for my kindergarten graduation, he came as a photographer, My mom and I had to pretend we didn’t recognize him, but we could always find him.” Heidi sighed. That job. She couldn’t help but be a little bitter about it. Her father had given his job everything he had, including his life, and in repayment, it repaid him with a tainted legacy and whispers. They weren’t true. She’d never believe it.

“My mom was the most practical hopeless romantic in the entire world. She would lose herself in novels and stories of love everlasting, and yet she’d still have dinner on the table at six on the dot. She missed my dad.” Heidi glanced down at her hands.

“I understand. I wasn’t–trying to upset you.” Dolph said.

“No, it’s not that. I miss them too is all.”As if that bit of conversation had sucked all the conversing they had in them out, Dolph settled back on the grass and Heidi settled in against his side, her head resting on his arm as it was wrapped around her shoulders. He pointed out clouds and birds, although she would fully admit that she watched Dolph more than the robins, finches, and jays.

The afternoon did that peculiar crawl-sprint, where it seemed to take forever and yet no time at all. Then dusk was settling in around them.

“Well, I suppose I should get back–someone’s going to think we tripped and fell down a well or something.” Heidi said, squinting at the cruel sun that was receding on what had been a nearly perfect afternoon.

“Wait, Heidi, something first?”

“Hmmm?” Heidi turned back to Dolph who reached into his tunic and pulled something out. Her eyes flew wide.

—

The barn looked about the same as every evening. Tiffany engrossed in a book, Kennedy washing something, Jolene sitting on the sofa probably about to get out an embroidery project or something.

Peyton and Victoria were talking about–well, Heidi had no idea when she skipped into their midst–though she would have sworn that Peyton looked over her shoulder and hid a smirk by turning back to Victoria.

“What are you looking so pleased about?” Jolene asked.

“Other than she escaped work all afternoon.” Peyton said over her shoulder. “Usually that’s Tiff. Tiff actually had to stay here and help garden.”

“And your shoes don’t have the right support for a grown woman to skip.” Kennedy cautioned.

“You are not going to rain on my parade.” Heidi stuck her tongue out at Kennedy and then sat down on the sofa next to Jolene.

“What parade?”Jolene asked.

“Notice me not asking if she got laid.” Peyton said to Victoria in a stage whisper. Victoria swatted Peyton on the arm.

“Oh nothing.” Heidi fluffed her hair, the ring that Dolph gave her clearly visible on her hand.

“Ring!” Jolene said grabbing her wrist and jerking it so that she could see the piece of jewelry better. Peyton snickered.

“You knew!” Heidi accused. “Did he tell you?”

“Seriously, Heidi, that red dye’s getting to your brain. Who’d tell me they were going to propose. Next thing I know you’ll be saying I helped plan the whole thing!” Peyton dismissed airily.

Well, put that way…

“So spill.” Jolene said, giving up her examination of the ring to stare intently. “I want to know everything!”

“One, two, three, four, five.” As this was the seventh time in two pages Dolph had uttered this particular set of numbers, Camden looked up from his page. “What are you doing?”

“Pacing.” Camden’s eyebrow arched upward. “I’m waiting for Lady Peyton.” Camden could have understood (sort of) if Dolph were pacing while waiting for Lady Heidi, but as far as Camden knew, Lady Peyton was involved with the blacksmith and quite happy to be and Dolph was still head over heels for Lady Heidi. That meant unless things had drastically changed, the only reasons that Dolph would be meeting with Lady Peyton were completely mundane things, like new cups. And who would pace over a new tea pot.

Dolph stopped pacing and flung himself down on the settee. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s–complicated.” Camden looked at his friend.

“I want to–ask Heidi to marry me.” Dolph admitted, his cheeks taking on a flush of pink.

“What does that have to do with Lady Peyton?” Camden asked, stretching out his long legs.

“The only proposals I’ve had any experience with were a father sitting down with another father and hammering over betrothal agreements. Or a lass saying that she didn’t mind marrying the lad her father had picked for her. I’m fairly certain my previous experiences will not help me out here…” He ran a fingernail over a bit of candle wax that had fallen onto the table next to the settee. “I want to do this right, the way that Heidi would have been asked at her old home.” Dolph paused before adding “Only better.”

“So, may I ask why you’re asking Lady Peyton?” Camden asked, uncertain why of all of the women who were in Shadowcrest anyone would ask Lady Peyton for advice on proposals. Lady Peyton was a lot of things, a romantic was not one so far as Camden had ever noticed. Lady Jolene, he could see. Even Lady Tiffany, but Lady Peyton? She still wore trews!

As if he had read the thoughts that Camden had not voiced. Dolph slumped back against the cushions. “I don’t want anyone to know I’m asking. A secret is a secret between two, between three it’s in doubt. If I asked Lady Jolene to come here, even with you as chaperone, I’d fear Sawyer’s response. I don’t want to get into a fight with him. Lady Peyton, however, I could be asking her about any number of things.”

“And Master Ren will not get angry?”

“I don’t believe he would.” Dolph said. “There are too many logical explanations for why I might invite Lady Peyton.”

“Rap, rap, rap.” Lady Peyton called from the front door.

“Please, come in, my lady.” Dolph called back.

“I hope you don’t mind, I brought company.” Dolph and Camden exchanged a glance, he could see Dolph practically calculating what they needed more of to give this a legitimate feel.

But while the woman who followed Peyton was redheaded, it certainly was not Lady Heidi. Camden couldn’t help but stare for a moment. A bright fall of copper hair tumbled down over her shoulder in loose curls, brilliant green eyes sparkling even in the dim light inside of the house.

“G’afternoon, my lords.” Lady Peyton said. “This is Victoria. It was either bring her with me or leave her to listen to Tiffany’s plans for updating the walkway at the castle. Which she’ll hear about at dinner anyway.” Lady Peyton shrugged and absently swatted at her platinum hair.

“Oh, no, that’s fine.” Dolph said. “Greetings, Lady Victoria. When did you arrive in Shadowcrest?”

“Yesterday.” Lady Victoria said with a soft smile.

“Vikki, this is Lord Dolph and that’s Lord Camden.” She gestured over her shoulder.

“Greetings, Lady Victoria.” Camden added belatedly, closing his book.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lord Dolph, Lord Camden.” Lady Victoria said, her voice a softer drawl more like Lady Nessa’s than Lady Peyton’s sharp angular sounding voice.

“So, what’s the damage?” Lady Peyton asked as Camden put his book back on the shelf. It would probably be very rude of him to spend the afternoon nose shut into a book.

“I beg your pardon, my lady?”

“Well, given the sick look on your face before you saw Vikki, I imagine you didn’t call me here to talk about plates, so why did you ask me to come by. And it better not be anything untoward or I’ll kick your ass further than Kennedy’s gonna kick Blake’s if he doesn’t either shut up and let Kennedy do her job or produce an MD.”

“Oh–of course. No, uh, I wish to propose to Lady Heidi. And I was–hoping that you might, perhaps, have some ideas.” Lady Peyton looked around the room.”What, may I ask, are you looking for, my lady?”

“The cosmic bunnyhole I’ve fallen down… again.” Lady Peyton said, Lady Victoria pressed her hand against her mouth and giggled. “Who in the name of Peter Pan’s floating panties would ask me for proposal advice?”

Dolph looked at Camden and mouthed “Peter Pan’s floating panties?” Camden could only shrug. He had no idea what she meant by that.

“Well, you at least know what Heidi would be familiar with, or perhaps, what she might wish for in a proposal?” Dolph said, sounding small and yet hopeful.

“Well, I guess I could run through some old rom-coms and see what I can pull out of my butt.” Peyton said. “Although personally, I was more a fan of shit blowing up.”

“But you can quote Casablanca perfectly, Pey.” Lady Victoria interjected with a laugh.

“Hush. We don’t mention that.” Lady Peyton pointed at the redhead. Lady Victoria smirked which just caused Lady Peyton to haughtily raise her chin.

“Well if we’re gonna think about something as dreadful as romantic proposals, perhaps we should sit down. Might as well not end the day with my feet hurting as not as much as my head.”

“Certainly.” Dolph said gesturing at the kitchen table.

“So, Lady Victoria,” Camden said. “How are you liking Shadowcrest so far?”

“Well, it certainly is different and when I saw the bathroom I almost cried, but I imagine that I’ll get used to it.” Lady Victoria said. Why was it that the bathing room was always one of the first things that the ladies commented on. A bathhouse was a bathhouse, wasn’t it?

“Is there anything romantic around here?” Lady Peyton asked.

“Has Master Ren not taken you to romantic places?” Dolph asked.

“Um, I don’t know that what I would think of as romantic is quite what Heidi thinks of as romantic. I mean we sometimes go down to the lake and skip rocks and fish. But I somehow don’t see Heidi find that romantic. Venice or the Eiffel Tower  it’s not.” Lady Peyton said.

“Well, what about a meadow?” Lady Victoria offered. Lady Peyton turned and looked over her shoulder. “You know something with trees and flowers and butterflies. Most women find that romantic.” She pulled out the chair across from Lady Peyton and sat down. Camden sat back down on the settee and picked up his book, though it was hard to concentrate on the words on the page.

What’s gotten into me, you’d think I was Sawyer. He thought, as he watched Lady Victoria talk, the animated way her hands moved and her eyes sparkled.

Still as he settled in that evening, after Dolph had made his plans and Lady Peyton and Lady Victoria had left for the evening, though he heard the conversation, and ostensibly had read twenty pages in his book, he couldn’t remember a word of what Dolph had said, nor a letter in those twenty pages.

He could, however, remember exactly the way the candlelight flickered off Lady Victoria’s hair, the way she flicked an errant strand back from her face. He tapped a quill on the treatise that King Lachlan had asked him to scan over, but his mind wasn’t on that either.

Instead he raised his eyes to the candles on the desk, the slow, almost lazy, way the wax slid down the side and thought of green eyes and a slow, steady hum, like that electricity that Lady Peyton sometimes talked about that seemed coursing through him.

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.

“We meet here again, Mr. Smith.” Lady Peyton laughed. Ren tried not to look blank, which just made Lady Peyton throw her head back further, the sunlight shimmering off her platinum hair, her gray eyes shining near silver, apparently he hadn’t hid it very well at all.

“Uh–aye?” Ren said when she looked at him expectantly. She shook her head. “So, what does this fine morning find you doing.”

“Being awake, apparently.” She shrugged. Ren cocked his head to the side. “Mornings, in my view at least are really only there to keep night and afternoon from bumping into each other. “But you can’t sleep around here after the sun starts rising, Dr. Misra’s day starts at Oh-my-god and woe to anyone who is not their most productive when it’s still dark out.”

“Uh–I’m sorry?”Ren said.

“For what, you’re not the one waking me up at an hour where even the birds roll over and hit the snooze alarm and then expecting me to be happy about it.” Lady Peyton shook her head. “As for what I’m about to do, well, there’s a never ending parade of things I probably should do, help Heidi in the garden, work on those fabric samples Fox wants me to try weaving, making a new set of cups for the kitchen. But I don’t think I’m doing any of those things today. I think today I’m gonna play hooky.”

“Hooky?” She was so different, how could you love a woman who could talk for an hour and you didn’t understand a single word that she said? Or if you understood the word it wasn’t in a context you did.

“Yeah, that’s what they’d call it when you should be at school but weren’t. There’s this patch of clouds that just needs to be studied today, and I think that that is what I’m going to do.”

“Study the clouds?”

“Haven’t you ever done that?” Lady Peyton asked. “Just say and stared at the sky, watched for dragons and hippopotamuses and Sneezy the dwarf in the clouds?”

“Not–not since I was a very young lad.” Ren admitted.

“Then it’s time you did again,” Lady Peyton said. “Play hooky with me.” She smiled and Ren felt his resolve crumbling. He had stuff to be doing. There was a long list of things that he needed to get done. But somehow, with her smiling at him like that, he just didn’t want to go do it. He followed as she lead him off to a space behind the barn, between the two sheds.

The grass was soft and just slightly cool as they sat on it. Though the clouds on the horizon could have spelled rain, or even snow, the air held nothing but the promise of spring, blossoms and new leaves, fresh grass. So different than last year when the air still held the smell of things burned.

“So what do you see?” She asked as she laid back on the grass and he laid back also.

“Um…”

“That one,” She pointed to a cloud. “It looks like an elephant with wings.”

“Uh, aye?”

“No, c’mon, try!” Peyton turned gray eyes toward him. “What about that one?” She pointed to another cloud.

“A bat?” Ren said after a moment of attempting to decipher the shape. It looked like a cloud. But this seemed important to Peyton and so he had to try.

“No, it more looks like moose antlers.”

“Oh.” Apparently he was bad at this. Peyton looked at him before sitting up.

“Ren, you’re not getting this wrong. It’s–open to interpretation. So if I tell you that that one looks like Elvis in a parrot-head hat, you can tell me no, it looks like King George smoking a joint. And we both might be right.” Her hair fell into her eyes and he had the overwhelming urge to brush it back. Except–what if that was too forward?

“…Did King George do that?” He asked instead.

“I dunno.”

“Oh.”

“You are so cute.” Peyton laughed, cocking her head to the side.

“I–uh–I am?”

“Adorable.” He bit the inside of his lip, uncertain what to say to that. He never had the right words. They just weren’t… they never came at the right time, if they came at all.

A scream rocked the idyllic morning. “Heidi!” Peyton shot to her feet with a speed Ren could only blink at for a moment. She was running before he could even get up.

“What happened?” Heidi asked.

“The–it was,” the boyish tenor that was stumbling for an answer, rough in a way that Ren had never heard, was still unmistakable. Sawyer.

“Oh, my god!” Peyton shrieked. “Kennedy!” She pelted off toward a shed. “Kennedy!” Ren rounded the corner as she went the other way, only to pull up short and gasp.

Sawyer was gasping and sobbing, his back against the stone fence. Heidi knelt on the other side of a prone form. The coppery scent of blood caught up in the thick smell of blossoms. He was pretty sure, though, he recognized those boots.

“The animals, they just–I ain’t never seen nothing like it! We were up in the lower pasture and I dunno what happened!” Sawyer said. “And then sudden Jarrett went down. And I got to him quick as I could, but, it wasn’t…”

Some disconnected part of Ren paused for a moment in wonder. It was over half a mile from the lower pasture to here, how had Sawyer, slim, practically waif-like Sawyer, carried Jarrett over half a mile. Jarret was a big man, nearly as big as Ren and Ren wasn’t sure he could have carried Jarrett down the street, let alone halfway across town.

By the time it took him to get from the corner of the barn to halfway down it, Kennedy had materialized out of nowhere. She took in the scene with a quick glance then turned to Ren. “Go get the King.” Ren nodded quickly and bolted.

Ren would see Sawyer’s face, hear his plaintive voice apologizing for a long, long time. “I’m sorry, Lady Kennedy, I’m sorry.”

“Sawyer, it’s okay, we just need to get him into the house now.”

Ren didn’t slow, he could see Emanuel and Fox look at him as he cut through the yard at the merchant lot, see Lord Dolph and Sir Camden in their garden, but he didn’t stop, nothing stopped him until he stood facing the door of the King’s cottage. He knocked, a loud rapping sound like a woodpecker on a tree.

“Master Ren!” Tate, the King’s servant, looked shocked to see him there.

“Is the king available? It’s an emergency.”

“I–” Tate began to say.

“Yes, I am, what is it?” King Lachlan stepped out of the gloom in the hall and into the sunlight, a book still in hand.

“Jarrett’s hurt. Hurt bad. I don’t know what happened. Lady Kennedy just told me to get you.” He didn’t hardly look at the king, who was he to demand that the king go anywhere, even to save the life of a man. King Phillip wouldn’t have, not for a butcher, a peasant.

But Lachlan had never been King Phillip. “Tate, grab my things.” King Lachlan said sharply. The boy bobbed his head and took off quick as a squirrel.

It all seemed a blur, he couldn’t remember if he walked back to the barn or the king had done something else, all he knew was that the next thing he really remembered was walking into the barn, the king to his right, Sir Wesley a few steps behind. Sawyer and Jolene sitting side by side on the sofa, not speaking and certainly not touching and Peyton pacing the floor like a caged wolf behind them.

The King and Sir Wesley both headed for the staircase after Peyton had pointed upward in response to Lachlan’s inquiry as to where Jarrett was.

“Anything?” Ren asked.

“They–say no news is good news.” Peyton said, her face starting to crumble.

—

Why him? Why Jarrett? Sawyer would have cursed, would have screamed, if he could have done anything to burn through the apathy that stole his strength and his breath.He could hear Lady Jolene crack her neck, first to one side, then to the other. It seemed to be a nervous tick. He’d never noticed.

“Wanna talk about it?” Lady Jolene’s voice murmured.

Sawyer opened his mouth to say no. “Why him?” He found himself asking instead.

“I don’t know.”

“If anyone deserved to be left alone it should be him. Unless…”

“Unless?” Jolene echoed.

“You don’t think he–he wanted this, do you?” Sawyer asked of his hands. Everyone leaves me. Everyone always leaves me. He could never remember his parents, his mother, but everyone he could remember, they were always taken from him. Usually violently and in great pain. Was it me? Did I? Oh, please, Gods, don’t tell me I did this.

“No.”

“He wants to be with his family, my lady.” Sawyer whispered.

“He wouldn’t want to leave you, not like this. Not when you’d blame yourself.” Lady Jolene said, her hand touching his just briefly. The day drug on and on and still they heard nothing. Sawyer couldn’t take it anymore. It was like there was no air in there.

Maybe some part of him, as he settled on the grass outside, realized that he was crying, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. A soft swish of fabric alerted him that someone was standing outside, but he kept his eyes fixed on the sky, on this cloud that sort of looked like a sheep–sort of looked like Jarrett.

“I wish I knew what to say.” Lady Jolene spoke softly, her hem almost brushing his arm.

“Why don’t you just say what everyone is thinking? That this is my fault.” He was on his feet, yelling, even as a part of him recoiled from the idea of ever yelling at her.

“How the fuck do you get that?” Lady Jolene said. “Sawyer, if anything you helped, if he lives, you saved him. If, heaven forbid, he doesn’t, you tried.”

“Because people around me just die.” He said but before he could unclench his teeth to say more, a pair of arms were wrapped around him, he found himself drawn in, wrapped in the soft smell of Lady Jolene’s hair.

“Sawyer. Life’s a pretty fragile thing. Have you ever thought maybe it’s less you kill all the people around you and more the life you’ve lead is unstable?” She whispered, her breath stirring his hair, sliding down his neck.

“Then why did this happen?”Though it pained him to pull away, he couldn’t–it was hard enough arguing with her, he couldn’t do it when she was standing so close to him.

“Why does anything bad happen?” She countered.

“There’s got to be a reason.”

“Okay, it was a moment of catastrophic failure destined to occur for millions of years.” Lady Jolene said. Sawyer stared, and she reached out brushing a tear off his cheek. “You asked for a reason. Not one that made sense, cause there isn’t ever a reason that makes sense when bad things happen.”

“Never?” Sawyer stared at his feet. Jolene looked at him, her eyes so dark in the twilight, and then he found himself being pulled into her again, caught in her grasp like a leaf in a whirlwind. Her lips brushed soft and quick across his. Before he could even make sense of what had just happened, she buried her face in his neck.

“There’s not much of a reason good things happen either, you know?”