Chapter 13 #2
Rowan put on a gambeson—a thickly-padded shirt—as Ben lifted the mail shirt—a full hauberk that would hang to mid-thigh when worn. The steel was heavy, substantial. Real protection, not just a costume.
Bend down a little," Ben said. Rowan complied, and Ben guided the chainmail over his head. The rings whispered and clinked as they settled into place, the weight distributing across Rowan's shoulders.
“How's that feel?” Ben asked, adjusting the lay of the mail across Rowan's back.
“Heavier than I expected.” Rowan moved his arms experimentally, testing the range of motion. “But good. Substantial.”
“That's about forty pounds of steel you're wearing.” Ben grabbed a leather belt and cinched it around Rowan’s waist. Then he circled him, checking the fit.
“The belt helps take some of the weight off your shoulders and redistribute it to your hips, but you're going to feel it by the end of the day.”
“Worth it.” Rowan grinned. “I look like an actual knight, don't I?”
“You do.” Ben couldn't help but smile. There was something satisfying about seeing his work worn properly.
He moved to retrieve the hardened leather arm bracers, and as he buckled them on, Rowan spoke quietly. “So. You and Sir Mariel.”
Ben's hands stilled for just a moment. “What about Charlie and me?”
“Come on, mate.” Rowan's voice was warm, amused. “I've got eyes. I’ve been watching you two dancing around each other since last Saturday.”
Ben focused on adjusting the bracers, not looking at Rowan's face. “We're... getting to know each other better.”
“That's one way to put it.” Rowan chuckled. “For what it's worth, I think it's great. She's brilliant. Terrifying, but brilliant.”
“She is.” Ben couldn't quite keep the softness out of his voice.
“Just like Viv,” Rowan said, and something in his tone made Ben look up.
The actor's expression had gone serious, almost vulnerable. “I know what people might think—divorced less than a year, jumping into something new with the director of my show. But it's not like that. I didn’t cheat.” Rowan met his eyes. “And it's not a rebound.”
Ben finished with the bracers. “You don't have to explain—”
“I want to.” Rowan glanced over at where Viv stood with Charlie, the two women talking quietly.
“My marriage was over long before the divorce. We stayed too long trying to make it work. By the time we finally called it, we were more relieved than heartbroken. Well, until the media decided to play judge, jury and executioner. It did get messy.”
Ben nodded, understanding.
“Viv is...” Rowan's whole face softened. “She's everything I didn't know I was looking for. She's brilliant and fierce and she doesn't take shit from anyone—especially not from me. When I'm with her, I'm not Rowan McCrae the actor. I'm just... me. And she likes that version better anyway.”
“Sounds like you've got it bad,” Ben said, but he was smiling.
“Completely gone,” Rowan admitted. “Head over heels. Absolutely ruined for anyone else.” He paused. “Kind of like someone else I know.”
Ben felt heat creep up his neck. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Right.” Rowan laughed. “Just like you don't spend half your time staring at Charlie when you think no one's watching. Just like she doesn't light up every time you walk into a room.”
“It's complicated,” Ben said quietly.
“The best things usually are.” Rowan adjusted the chainmail, letting the belt take more of the weight. “But from where I'm standing? You two make sense together. Warrior recognizes warrior, yeah?”
Ben thought about Charlie at Loveland Pass, the way she'd looked at the mountains like she understood them. The way she'd let him see her vulnerability over dinner, the way she'd fallen asleep under his hands. The way she'd said I can't wait like it was both a confession and a promise.
Warrior, yes. But more.
Warrior Princess.
“Yeah,” he said. “Something like that.”
“Then don't overthink it.” Rowan clapped him on the shoulder, the chainmail clinking. “Life's too short, and the good ones are too rare.”
Before Ben could respond, Viv called over. “How's he look?”
Ben turned to see both women watching them. Charlie's eyes met his, and something warm passed between them.
“I look like a king,” Rowan said, turning in a circle.
Viv beamed. “Perfect. Let's go make some magic.”
The morning sun had climbed higher by the time the Faire gates opened, and the grounds filled quickly. Ben could hear the crowd's energy even from backstage—laughter, excited chatter, the periodic roar when someone won at the axe-throwing lanes.
Della's son Marcus was manning the forge for the day, which freed Ben up for this madness. He stood behind the main stage now—a permanent structure built to look like the front of a castle, complete with crenellations and painted stonework—and watched organized chaos unfold.
Viv had transformed. She wore a deep crimson gown with gold trim, her hair swept up under a delicate circlet. She looked every inch a medieval queen, which made sense given that she'd spent the last hour at Della's costume shop. Apparently, she and Della were now best friends.
“No, no,” Viv was saying to the streaming crew's director. “Camera two needs to be stage left. We want to catch reactions from both the players and the audience.” She gestured expansively. “And make sure you've got a tight shot ready for when—”
“Viv,” the other director said gently. “I've got this.”
“Right. Sorry.” Viv smiled sheepishly. “Occupational hazard. I'll just... stand over here and be queenly.”
Charlie stood nearby still in her tactical gear—dark pants, boots, fitted jacket over a black tee that allowed her to conceal-carry.
But Ben had seen her face earlier when they'd returned to the costume shop so Viv could change.
When Charlie saw that the Princess Evelaine dress was gone, Ben had caught the flicker of disappointment across her face before she'd masked it.
Ben smiled. Yes, maybe the princess dress had been a stoke of genius after all.
Now, watching her stand there in bodyguard mode while Viv glowed in her queen's gown, Ben found himself imagining Charlie in that dress.
The way it would bring out the gold flecks in her eyes.
The way her blond hair would look loose and curling over her shoulders instead of pulled back in that practical ponytail.
She'd be breathtaking.
He couldn't stop staring at her.
“Stop gawking,” Shane muttered as he passed. “You're gonna trip over your tongue.”
Ben ignored him.
“Well, well,” a voice called out. “Quite the production you've got here!”
Ben turned to see Duke Holloway striding toward them, dressed as Caiden Bramble in dark leather and wool, a chronicler's satchel slung over his shoulder. He wore an easy smile, arms spread wide in greeting.
“Rowan! Looking properly kingly, mate.” Duke clapped Rowan on the shoulder. Rowan's smile didn't quite reach his eyes, but he played along.
“Duke. Good to see you.”
“And Vivienne!” Duke swept into an elaborate bow before Viv. “Your Majesty. Absolutely stunning. You're going to break the internet in that dress.”
“Thank you, Duke.” Viv's voice was carefully neutral. Professional.
Duke's attention shifted to Charlie. “And who's this lovely lady? I don't believe we've met.”
“Charlie King,” Charlie said, her tone flat. “Viv's friend.”
“Friend?” Duke's eyebrow quirked, but his smile never wavered. “Well, any friend of Vivienne's is a friend of mine. Pleasure.”
Then he turned that thousand-watt smile on Maddie, who was standing at Viv’s elbow. “Maddie, love! You look gorgeous today. New hairstyle?”
Maddie flushed pink. “Oh, yeah. Um, thanks for noticing.”
“I always notice.” Duke's voice was warm, intimate. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “You work too hard, you know. Have you eaten today?”
“I grabbed a protein bar—”
“Not good enough.” Duke shook his head in mock disapproval. “After this is over, I'm buying you a proper lunch. My treat.”
“You don't have to—”
“I insist.” Duke winked at her.
Maddie looked absolutely flustered. She shot Viv a look that screamed SOS.
“Please stop harassing my assistant, Duke.”
Duke laughed. “Someone sounds hangry. How about I buy you lunch, too?” He looked at Rowan. “Honestly, you need to feed these lovely ladies more often.” He winked at Maddie again. “Ciao, bella.”
Maddie kept her eyes on his as he walked away.
Viv shook her head. “The nerve.” She put her hand on Maddie’s shoulder. “I hate to give him the point, but you do need to eat something more substantial than a protein bar. Why don’t you take a break until it’s time for the joust? Grab something to eat, have a look around.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely! I’ll text you if I need anything.”
Maddie looked relieved. “Thanks, Viv. I’ll be back before the game’s over.”
The stage manager appeared. “Five minutes, everyone. Let's do a quick run-through.”
They gathered in a loose circle while the stage manager explained the setup.
The game was called Chronicles of the Realm.
It was a BattleLore-specific strategy card game where players took on character roles from the books.
Ben would be the Game Master—the Chronicler's Voice, they were calling it—narrating and adjudicating the game.
Duke would play Caiden the Chronicler of course. Rowan had King Aldric.
“Which of you ladies is playing Sir Mariel and which is Princess Evelaine?” the stage manager asked. He looked Charlie up and down. “As if I don’t already know.”
“Actually,” Charlie spoke up. “If it’s all right, I’d like to be Evelaine.”
Yup. I made the right decision with the dress.
“Perfect! I wanted to play Mariel,” Viv said.