“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…”

“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.

“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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That poor man.” Camden murmured.

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

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

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

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

“Is that all?” Gray asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My lady,” He protested.

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

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

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

“Weeks?” Jarrett yelped.

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like–like Lady Kennedy?”

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

Dolph sat at his desk and stared at the piece of parchment in front of him, trying to force the lines into some semblance of sense. But every time he thought that maybe, perhaps this time he had achieved that, the bottom would fall out and he’d have to start all over again. Nearly eight years working as a traveling judge was surprisingly little aid in becoming a councilor to the king. He sighed and shuffled the papers once more. Maybe it was more winter was finally releasing it’s hold on the world and so the part of him that had spent all those years as a judge was preparing to pack up and ride out.

Except all those towns, all those circuits, weren’t there anymore, the roads were overgrown with trees and weeds, hardly more than a beaten rut going soft with melted snow or a bottom jaw of broken stones and patches of mud in towns that no longer existed. Even in Shadowhaven, in the Black Gate region, the part that was hit first and hardest by the plague, the streets were an ugly mess.

Maybe that was why it was so hard to make the words on the page fit some semblance of sense. This sort of thing just didn’t make sense. None of it made any sense at all.

A soft tap came upon the door. “Come in, it’s open!” Dolph called in answer to that tap, shutting the heavy law book and straightening the papers on the desk in front of it. A breeze that was still sort of chill, but scented with the coming spring, and a soft footstep signaled someone coming in.

“What if I’d been a bandit, Lord Dolph?” Lady Heidi asked, her breathy voice was teasing.

“Bandit’s don’t knock, besides there aren’t any bandits in Shadowcrest at the moment, Lady Heidi.”

“Well, not if you don’t count Master Fox. You should see what he’s charging for this pair of slippers that I want, my lord.” Lady Heidi teased.

“That is a merchant for you.” Dolph smiled. “Besides, my lady, I could only think of a few people who might knock, and all of them were people I would like to see.”

“Apparently you have better luck, then, my Lord, than Peyton, she says when the door opens it’s almost never someone she wants to see.” Lady Heidi smiled.

“Perhaps I just like people better than Lady Peyton. I didn’t realize she was so curmudgeonly.”

“She isn’t, not really. I mean she can be a grouch, but, I think part of that is camouflage. She doesn’t want to admit that she likes people.”

“What could possibly so wrong with liking people, my lady?”Dolph asked confused.

“Nothing, really, but if you allow people in, they have a certain degree of power over you, I don’t think that Peyton likes giving over that power.” Heidi’s brown eyes were far away for a long moment. “So, what’s today find you doing, my lord?”

“The King asked me to review some of the laws on the books, to see if they made sense or how we could make them better.” Dolph laughed wryly. “Unfortunately that’s several hundred years of law, and painfully little sense.”

“Isn’t that always the way?” Heidi asked with a faint smile. “Of course most laws were written to stop or prevent people from doing certain things, and those things didn’t always make sense either. Like there’s a law where I’m from that makes it illegal to wear a false mustache in church. I haven’t any idea why someone would need to make a law against that, but apparently it was enough of an epidemic that someone needed to outlaw it.”

Okay, so most of Shadowcrest’s laws weren’t that bad. Dolph echoed the smile though, it was hard not to answer that smile. Especially the way that Lady Heidi’s eyes softened and turned far away. He didn’t think that anyone would really categorize Lady Heidi as a “hard” person, she was, for the most part genuinely nice and caring. And very open–at least compared to most of the women that Dolph had known–not that they were always the best example.

But there was definitely something in her eyes that was misleading, and when she smiled, that mask seemed to waver a little.

“And you, my lady?” Dolph asked, after perhaps a hair too long of running his eyes over her face.

“Oh, the king had a favor he wished me to do for him and then as the snow has finally receded, at least for the moment, and I was in the relative neighborhood, I thought that I would stop by, my lord.”

“Sounds like a good idea, after Sir Camden returns from his errands, we had discussed trying to turn over some soil for our kitchen garden.” Dolph said.

“I thought that Tiffany was going to work on getting you guys into houses in the spring.”

“This isn’t a house?” Dolph asked his brow arching upward.

“Oh, well, yes, it is. Definitely a guy house. But a house.” Lady Heidi said. “But, you’ve got to admit, it is not exactly a–nobleman’s house.”

“Then again neither is Lock’s cottage, my lady.”

“You have me there, my lord.” Lady Heidi chuckled.

“Might I ask, my lady, what a ‘guy house’ is?” Dolph asked.

“Oh, just, your house has a very masculine feel to it. No huge amounts of clutter or pictures upon the wall, the dishes are put away in the cupboard. In my experience it seems that most men follow one of two extremes when not living with a woman. They’re either hyper neat with no real need for clutter or throw pillows or they’re total slobs and you have to pick socks up off the sofa before you can sit on it.” Lady Heidi said. “It looks nice in here, it’s not that it’s not decorated, but your walls have one tapestry or painting, not half a dozen.”

“Ah.” Dolph said not sure what to say or do, other than to wonder at why he was so curious about how Lady Heidi knew of other men’s houses. And not wanting to ask until he did know, he changed the subject, inquiring about luncheon and whether she’d eaten or not. Over lunch they talked of the coming spring and how it was making Dolph feel somewhat restless and of Lady Heidi’s plans for the spring, which seemed to mostly be learning weaving and potting and so forth–and also to teach Lady Peyton to cook–cause she apparently didn’t.

After the meal, and three times of Dolph reassuring her that he could, in fact, wash two bowls and spoons, even dry them and put them away, she sat on the sofa and watched him with those dark steady eyes.

“I suppose I should probably go and let you get back to your silly laws.” Lady Heidi said after a long turn of silence.

“I haven’t really the time to get back into them,” Dolph admitted. “Sir Camden should be returning practically at any moment. Unless–unless you have something that I’m keeping you from.”

“Not a thing.” Lady Heidi’s head cocked to the side just slightly as she watched him and he found himself shot back in time, it had been on a sofa quite like this one, in the well-used parlor of the dowager estate where he’d grown up, that Lady Marjorie had told him that her father, Lord Ashby, had decided that his judicial apprentice was–well, under the fancy words–not good enough to marry into his family. So he was going to pursue the betrothal to Baron Sadius.

He wondered, briefly, if she had been happy. He’d seen her, a few times, on circuits, always from a distance, as if he’d been something she didn’t want to remember. He had, in fact, signed the betrothal agreement for her eldest daughter, the last time he’d gone through the baron’s lands.

“My lord?” Lady Heidi’s voice broke into his reverie and he pulled himself back into the present, only to lose himself again, in her deep eyes.

He pushed himself up out of his seat, a stricken look on his face.

Dolph felt a hand lightly touch his shoulder and turned to face her, wondering, for a brief moment why this was effecting him so badly now–after all this time.

“We all have bad memories, you know.” Lady Heidi said.

“What did I say?” Dolph asked, his voice sounding somewhat hoarse.

“I–uh,” She blinked as if not quite able to recall, her small, pale hand reached out and touched his jaw, tipping it just slightly, then her lips were on his. Wrapped up in the sense of her was something else, something sharp and light… something like the feeling inside the King’s work room, but at the same time very different. “Oh, I am so sorry!” Her voice was the next thing he was aware of.

As if that contact had scrambled his wits entirely, it was a blur, Camden appearing in the hallway, Heidi excusing herself a moment later, leaving both men to stare after her. But the door shutting after her seemed to wake him.

“Heidi! Heidi, wait!” He called as he hit the door with a force that probably cracked something. She was already over the footbridge and on her way back to the barn. She turned and looked at him, something in her eyes, her shoulders seeming to quiver just slightly.

And then he was there, with her, taking her in his arms and kissing her. She pulled back, shocked, but something on his face seemed to break the shock and she giggled. He felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips, something that felt like the spring sunlight falling down onto their shoulders. Something like–like a new beginning.

Tate stepped nervously into the parlor. Not so very long ago it had just been that, a parlor. One he occasionally helped dust when Master Gray was busy. Now it was, more or less, the counsel chamber. All of the big decisions made about the future of Shadowcrest were made in this room, with the same desk chair that had been here as long as he could remember coming, serving as a throne for his king. That somehow didn’t seem right, thrones were supposed to be impressive, special. Only kings were supposed to have sat in the throne. Tate himself had sat in that chair himself, and more than once.

“My-Your Majesty, your guests are here.” Lord Lock sighed softly as if to himself. King, King Lachlan, Tate reminded himself sharply, even though he’d likely forget again in just a moment.

“Show them in, Tate, please.” Tate bowed and stepped out of the room to fetch the two men.

“What, Lock?” Tate heard Sir Wesley asked. “You look like swallowed vinegar when you were expecting wine.”

“I didn’t used to scare him.” Lord Lock said.

“Scare who, my lord?” Master Gray asked, sounding puzzled.

“Tate.” He could hear the murmurs from the parlor indicating that the conversation was continuing, but he could no longer pick out individual words, and that was probably all for the better, he didn’t need to eavesdrop.

“If you’ll follow me, my lords?” The king, along with a proper throne, should have a proper herald or at least a page. Not a peasant boy with dirt from the garden under his fingernails. Someone with the manners that these men no doubt expected. Nevermind if Sir Camden was little older than Tate was.

Even though it was only half a dozen steps from the door to the parlor, Tate proceeded them and held the door open for them. “Sir Camden and Lord-Judge Dolph, my-Your Majesty.” Tate said, sort of unnecessarily, none of the men in the room were blind, but that was what formality seemed to be about. Doing unnecessary things for the reason of because somebody, once upon a time, had decided it should be so.

Sir Camden entered first, dropping to one knee, his mail jingling as he did so. Lord Lock nodded formally to the young knight. Then Lord Dolph, who bowed deeply before taking his seat in the chairs that Tate had pilfered from the kitchen and set in front of the fire. Tate’s duties done, he started to slip out of the room, leaving the king and his lords to their discussion when Lord Lock’s deep voice stopped him.

“Tate, please, stay.”

“My-Your Majesty?” Tate asked in alarm, looking around the room.

Lord Lock started to say something then shook his head. “Tate, stay.”

“Aye, my-Your Majesty.” There were no more seats open and truthfully no room for another chair so Tate simply took up residence on the floor and listened.The first order of business was apparently just a general state of the country. Which then switched over to the arrival of Lady Kennedy, about a week prior.

Tate liked the doctor, she was funny in rather dry way and she scared Sir Wesley terribly. That was amusing all on it’s own. Sir Wesley was a knight and a brave one. Tate had seen him stand up to hulking brutes twice Lady Kennedy’s size and never even blink, but Lady Kennedy always seemed to know just how to poke holes in Sir Wesley.

“I think, my lords, that it is time for a second summoning.” Lord Lock told his assembled nobles and Tate.

“Are you certain, Majesty? The last summoning tired you terribly.” Master Gray said in that deferential but still firm voice.

“Aye, I’m fine, Nanny Gray.” Tate had to hide a smile.

“Your majesty.” Master Gray protested.

“It has been a week, Gray. And I am perfectly recovered.” Lord Lock told Master Gray with a shake of his head. Master Gray apparently gave up for he said nothing further. “My inquiry though would be what does Shadowcrest need most?” The lords looked around as if hoping that someone else might have an idea. Tate cleared his throat, the sound barely audible over the crackle of the fire.

“Aye, Tate?” Lord Lock asked as the lords looked at him, perhaps having forgotten that he was even present.

“You said, my-your majesty, that one of the ladies-did something with buildings?” Tate asked, even more uncertain with all those eyes upon him.

“Aye.”

“Might, as we’ve not had lots of luck with the rebuilding of Shadowhaven so far, my lord, might she be of use?” Tate stared at his hands, twisted on his lap. Lord Lock said nothing and Tate cringed further in on himself. Never say anything, that’s not why he asked you to stay, dummy.

“Very good, Tate.” Lord Lock said then. “That is a very good idea, thank you.”

“You are-you are welcome, my-your majesty.” Tate said. The lords then finished their discussion and Tate jumped to his feet to get the door almost as soon as Lord Lock deemed the meeting over.

After he had seen Lord Dolph and Sir Camden out, he entered the parlor to bank the fire and put the chairs away, expecting to find it empty. But Lord Lock stood by the window, looking out into the twilight.

“My-Your majesty, I’m sorry for disturbing you.” Tate said when Lord Lock looked over at him after he squeaked.

“You know, Tate, we’re all kind of new at this. Don’t beat yourself up over the fact that you’re still getting used to it.” The king patted his shoulder before heading over to his study, leaving Tate to gape after him.

***

“It’ll be fine, Sawyer.” Jarrett sighed, in his quiet voice. “T’ain’t no reason to take the time to walk ‘crossed town during the busy season.”

“But it ain’t fine, Jarrett.  It’s been hurtin’ you since early week an’ it still ain’t stopped.” The young man countered. The former butcher shook his blonde hair.

“We’ve got too much to do. And somebody ain’t helping any.” Jarrett murmured, neither of them bothering to glance over at the man stretched out on the hammock under the tree. The young nobleman paid them about as much mind as he did the squirrels chittering in the tree above him.

“You heard what the lady doctor said, she said when things start hurtin’ ye, to come see her right away.”

“She’s probably jist looking for money.” Jarrett said. Sawyer scoffed massaging an ache in his left palm.

“She ain’t charging nothing! Tate and I went over to help Master Blake move in a table for her, an there she was looking over Master Ren’s knee, an’ she sent him on her way without any word of a bill, you know merchants, Jarrett, they’s very good at wiggling them fingers for the glim.”

“Well, then she ain’t probably a very good doctor.” Jarrett had enough stubborn some days for two plus ten donkeys. But Sawyer wasn’t giving up. He liked Jarrett, who was a far better companion than the lazy-assed noble who treated them like his servants and did absolutely no good.

“That’s a load of horseshit, Jarrett an’ you know it. Maybe you an’ me wouldn’t know much about doctors an’ doctorin’ but Tate says the king’s even impressed an’ I think he would know.” Sawyer countered.

“This ain’t get getting the crops tended an’ we still need to put those leaves on the pile.” Jarrett dismissed. Sawyer shook his head as the older man walked away, but followed him over to the small field where all the crops were planted in orderly lines. Theirs might not be the best kitchen garden in the world, but Sawyer would’ve laid odds that it was at least tied for the neatest and nearly the best kept.

Sawyer heard Jarrett’s pain-filled grunt as he bent to pull some of the weeds that had seemingly popped up over night and would have laid glim on a grimace twisting the older man’s  face, though he couldn’t see it.

“I can handle this, Jarrett, get your ass over t’ the lady doctor, now. If you lay yourself up over this, who’s gonna help with harvest, which t’ain’t that far off now.” Sawyer said, earning himself a black look. “An’ no, you can’t go after lunch or after y’finish the weedin’, y’go now.”

***

“You should have come earlier in the week, Master Jarrett, you didn’t have to live all this time in pain.” Kennedy scolded the butcher as they stood outside her barn.

“Lady Kennedy, it weren’t nothing.” Jarrett shook his head.

“I disagree.”

“M’lady, work means pain, that’s the way it is.” He told her in a voice that was deep and rich was so quiet an errant bit of breeze from the tree behind her could practically rip it away.

“Pain means something’s wrong, Master Jarrett, if working means you’re always in pain, then you’re doing something wrong.” Kennedy crossed her arms over her chest and tried to meet his eyes, which darted away. “I want you to take it easy, you hear me? I’ll take you over my knee and spank you if I hear you’ve been ignoring this injury.”

“Animals don’t care if you’re hurt, neither do the crops. Sawyer’s a good lad, but he can’t do it all by himself.” Jarrett told her.

“So get your other lazy-ass roomie to work.” Kennedy said. At Jarrett’s puzzled look she explained. “Alistair, he’s there, what’s he doing with all his time? Beating off?” The butcher looked even more puzzled. “Never mind the beating off.”

“He’s a noble, Lady Kennedy. I can’t just order him to work.”

“That is so stupid. He’s a man just like any other man.”

“It jist doesn’t work that way, Lady Kennedy.” Jarrett protested.

“Well, how bout it working like this: You don’t work, you don’t eat. That’s what my aunt used to tell me and my cousins about our chores. And she had a lot of success in it.” Jarrett shook his head, though a bit of a shy smile quirked the corner of his lips. Kennedy felt an answering smile herself, before she noticed the blonde man coming up the path behind Jarrett.

Apparently he saw her eyes slide past him, though they weren’t gone for long, and he turned, bowing practically before he was all the way turned. “Your majesty.” Jarrett murmured.

“Master Jarrett.” Lock said with that “I’m trying really hard to be reassuring” smile that he seemingly always wore around his subjects.

“Now, you take that prescription over to Emanuel at the merchants’ camp and get it filled, and you take it easy, else I’ll sic the king on you.” Jarrett nodded and bowed again before hurrying off. Hopefully he was going to the Merchant’s camp, hopefully. Kennedy sighed. Boneheaded men.

“Problems?” Lock asked.

“He hurt his arm and it took him the better part of a week to tell me about it. Men! That is so like you.” Kennedy shook her head.

“I thought Master Fox was going to bring over a new dress for you.” The king looked Kennedy over, apparently ignoring the fact that Kennedy had just insulted his entire gender.

“He did, but I washed it last night and the flippin’ thing wasn’t dry when I got up this morning and so, I figured it was probably better if I wasn’t running around in my skivvies. I think Jarrett would have died in embarrassment if he came up to the door and I answered it wearing panties and a bra.” Kennedy paused as Lock blushed crimson. “So, what might I do for you this morning, your Majesty?”