6. The Captain & The Thief
The Captain ready to snap at the slightest provocation.
Cypress had been given Ember first, and then she and the crown had quickly come to the conclusion that any lady seen riding such a horse would be swiftly brought under suspicion that something else was amiss.
If nothing else, this trip gave Cypress the excuse to just be herself, without the prying eyes of the court as she carried out her mission.
Cypress rolled her neck and shoulders to free the shirt that clung to her back, then wiped the sweat beading along her brow.
They’d been traveling most of the day without conversation and she’d begun counting down until she could make camp and stop for the night. Torren had also spoken only when it was necessary.
Torren the thief.
And the exiled Prince.
There was this… whisper in the back of her mind, a sound hissing through the leaves that set her instincts on edge. Torren’s motives were not as plain as he’d stated in the throne room, Cypress was sure of it.
Torren was planning something, and she would find out what it was.
For now, though, Cypress merely rode along, soaking in the warmth of the day, glad she was not wearing full plate armor, even if she did miss the thrum of the crowd during a bout.
As it was just the two of them, Cypress and Torren were making good time, the castle no longer looming behind them on the horizon.
Cypress couldn’t help feeling lost, but also… excited in a way she hadn’t felt since she was first knighted under the cover of darkness. No Knight had been sent into the Wylds before. She was the first.
Cypress would not fail, not in this.
“We should make camp soon,” Torren said, turning his head to glance back at Cypress.
“Be my guest,” Cypress retorted with a wave of her hand, content to let the male find a suitable place.
She was more than capable of finding and making a campsite, but was content to let the thief continue to underestimate her.
“Any suggestions?” Torren countered without turning, though his horse slowed, bringing them side by side.
“Somewhere off the road, I would imagine,” Cypress drawled with a smirk.
Torren let out a soft growl of annoyance, and Cypress had to smother a laugh.
“Sorry, Princeling. I’ve never been this far south. You’re on your own.”
Torren wrinkled his face in annoyance, and Cypress smiled in return, the picture of ladylike innocence.
“You know, this damsel disguise doesn’t fool me, Lass,” Torren drawled, looking over at her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Princeling. Or is it Thief?”
“Neither. Torren. That is all.”
“Torren…?”
“If you must know, Torren Lefay… Blackthorne,” He said, squaring his shoulders.
“What was your mother’s name?”
“Rosalind Lefay. She was considered royal in her own right, among her people.”
“So you are double Prince’d.”
Torren snorted. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
“But you’re just Torren?” Cypress pressed again, looking over at him.
“Just Torren,” he confirmed.
Cypress didn’t respond or try to pry further. Instead, she said, “Lefay is a better name than Melvin, at least.”
Torren huffed a laugh. “Come on, we can camp down in the glen tonight,” he said. Then Torren directed his horse off the road and deeper into the valley at a slight trot.
Cypress followed, her horse easily keeping pace with his as they ducked around trees until gradually slowing to a walk.
Then, Torren led them into a sort of natural ring in the trees, protected and shrouded from the road. They were much further up the hill than she would have gone, but it was of no consequence.
Cypress dismounted, then set about removing the saddle and tack from Seren while Torren did the same.
The pair quickly groomed and checked the horse's hooves while the edge of twilight swept over the land in a creeping shadow.
The warmth of the sun faded as it set, but here in the circle of trees, it still felt as if the midday sun was overhead, not across the horizon.
Cypress finished brushing down her mare and slipped a nosebag over her head full of oats. Then, she rummaged through her saddlebags to determine what she would eat this evening while Torren collected firewood and a handful of small stones.
Tonight’s menu would be… salted pork, cheese, and a bit of bread. It wasn’t even close to her usual meals at the Keep, but it would do. The Mother knew she’d survived on far less and much worse.
Cypress collected her goods, then set about portioning them for herself and Torren.
Unfortunately, the male was key to the success of her mission. Cypress would not fail the King. Not in this. Despite her mistrust of him and his motives, Cypress would make do. She would learn what she could, and then report back once she witnessed whatever proof Torren provided.
If there was a threat somewhere in the Wylds, Cypress would put an end to it before any harm came to Cade. She owed her success, her stature, everything to the Prince. And, he was her one and only friend.
Oswald… well, while he knew Cypress’s face, the subterfuge laid down by the crown meant there was a distance between them that could never be bridged. Oswald was a man of duty, and currently, his duty included hiding her identity. That was all. Cypress trusted her second, and yet.
No, Cypress would not fail, nor would she return home without determining if these whispers of the Old Ones were true or false.
Torren glanced at her while he deftly lit a small fire among a ring of stones, shaking his head.
“What?” Cypress snapped, glaring at him.
“Do you not know how to hunt?” He asked, pointing toward the salted meat with his chin, warming his hands over the growing flames.
Cypress furrowed her brow. “Why hunt when we have provisions?”
“Would you not rather have fresh meat? Berries?”
“Of course, but hunting takes time. Skill.”
Torren rolled his eyes and rose to his full height. “Stay here, lass. Guard the horses. I’ll be back.”
“You think I’m so foolish as to let you wander off?”
“I never got what I came for, remember, Lass? Why would I abandon a horse and my ticket to the Scepter now, when back at the Keep they’ll have locked it up tight to keep me from it without your return?
” Torren shot back as he dropped the heavy sword next to his bedroll, then grabbed the small bow from the pile, strapping the quiver to his back.
Cypress grit her teeth and said, “Fine. I’ll wait and see what you bring back before I judge. Don’t be long.”
Torren scoffed, then gave a deep, flourishing mock bow and said, “As you wish, my lady.” Then, he was gone, stalking off into the dark depths of the wood with only a bow and a handful of arrows.
Cypress resigned herself to waiting, keeping a watchful eye on the road, her ears primed for any sound from the forest, the flickering fire warm against her face.
However, it was not long before she heard a twig snap, a loud echo through the trees.
Torren’s face appeared moments later, a decent-sized hare in one hand.
“Honey, I’m home,” Torren called, dangling the hare in the air between them.
“Oh, marvelous,” Cypress drawled.
Torren snickered, then quickly and efficiently began to skin and dress the animal. From his saddle bags came a few sachets of spices, which he directed Cypress to sprinkle the meat with once he’d quartered the hare with a few quick strokes of his knife.
Then, he placed the hare on some of the flat stones ringing the fire, now scorching hot. The meat sizzled on contact, the aromas of the herbs and spices filling the air immediately.
“Bring some of that bread over here, warm it by the fire,” Torren ordered while keeping a watchful eye on the cooking meat.
“I do believe you forgot some words in that sentence, just Torren,” Cypress said, raising an eyebrow.
Torren glanced up at her for a heartbeat, then bent and deftly turned the meat to sear the other side. “Please warm the bread by the fire?”
“Good boy,” Cypress praised, then did as he asked.
Torren shook his head with a short laugh, his smile lit by the fire. “You’re a strange one, you know that, right?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t, Lass.”
“Enlighten me.”
“How does a pretty thing like you get knighted and become Captain of the Prince Guard, unseating Barrons’s sons like it’s a normal summer’s day?” Torren drawled, turning the meat once more, revealing a nice caramel colored sear already beginning to form.
“Maybe it was my pretty face that charmed the King so much he Knighted me just for the fun of it,” Cypress retorted, warming her hands over the flames.
“Now, Lass, I thought we were being friendly. Friends don’t lie to each other.”
“We’re friends now?”
“You wound me,” Torren said, pressing a hand to his chest.
“You’ll get over it.”
“Really, though. How? I know my father. He doesn’t put a woman at the helm of his precious heir’s guard on a whim.”
Cypress shrugged. “I’ve been training with Cade since I was twelve. Queen Henrietta picked me out of the children available to be his companion. I earned my place. Their respect.”
“You truly think you have my father’s respect?” Torren asked, and Cypress did not miss the condescending pity in his tone.
“I command his heir’s guard, as you said. If I didn’t have his respect, then I wouldn’t have command,” Cypress retorted, though there was still a voice of doubt in her mind that agreed with Torren. King Caelith was… well. Complicated.
Torren narrowed his eyes at her over the fire, but didn’t press the subject. Instead, he asked, “So how does a Lady learn to unseat a man twice her size?”
Cypress smiled and sighed contentedly. “Life’s greatest pleasure.”
Torren cut her a look through his lashes. “Lass, you haven’t lived if you think that is life’s greatest pleasure,” he drawled, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“Believe me, Princeling. I have tasted life most thoroughly, and few things compare to the sight of seeing some so-called great man flat on his back, his horse charging away– all at the end of my lance.”
“I knew you were no Lady.”
Cypress huffed a laugh. “No, I am no Lady. Just as you aren’t nobody.”
Torren grinned at her over the fire. “I was, until you used your ladylike wiles against me.”
Cypress snorted. “My ladylike wiles? You mean beating your ass in a sword fight?”
“Please. You only won because you surprised me. I was trying not to hurt you, or have you slice your own arm off.”
“That's what you get for assuming every woman is incompetent.”
Torren opened and closed his mouth a few times while he tried to form words. “That's not-”
“It is exactly what you were doing, Princeling. Let's not lie to each other, hmm?”
“How was I to know a Lady in my brother’s tent knew how to handle a sword?”
“You’ll find, Princeling, many women are quite adept at a great many things.”
“Alright,” Torren said, raising his hands in supplication. “ I get it, I’m sorry.”
Cypress smiled. “Thank you,” she said, and then moved the bread a bit farther away from the fire so the crust wouldn’t burn. “How much longer for the hare, do you think?”
Torren bent to inspect the meat, prodding it with the tip of his knife. “Few more minutes at most. Did they pack any wine for us?”
Cypress smirked. “Trying to get a Lady drunk?”
“I don’t see any Ladies here, Cypress. Just a Captain and a Thief.”
Cypress bowed her head in acquiescence, reaching into her bags for the jug she’d seen while rummaging for provisions.