Chapter 12
Benoit
After I had stopped Lucas from making a mistake that would cause grave harm to Milord, I returned to the stables, where Guillaume and Comrade were already resting.
Though Guillaume’s icy exterior seemed destined to keep us all at a distance, he seemed to have struck up a friendship with the horse, and they took turns spotting small flecks of magic from great distances (which they had only borne explaining to me after great persistence on my part).
I checked on them, to make sure there was no trouble brewing, and then took a walk around the small exterior of the inn.
We were still technically in the frontier portion of King Aristide’s lands, so there was barely a town surrounding the inn.
Much of the food we’d eaten that night would have been grown nearby, hunted, or traded for.
When I returned, I caught the horse locking eyes with…a shadow? Upon further inspection, no one was there.
“I guarantee, there will be at least one tomorrow,” Comrade was saying.
His ears flicked towards where I was standing at the door to the barn.
No more was said.
Instead, once I located Guillaume, he and I and Comrade bedded down in the straw.
It was early summer, and we could see the faint flickering glow of fireflies through the wooden slats of the barn.
The lazy stillness of the air warmed me and comforted me, though I could not stop my thoughts from drifting towards Milord, wondering how she fared now that Lucas had quit his foolishness and stayed with her.
I passed nearly an hour dozing on and off.
Comrade had not urged us to set a guard to keep watch, and I trusted the faerie horse’s judgment.
Still, every so often, I would startle awake, looking about.
Once, Guillaume shot me a nasty look from over where he reclined in the hay, as though to say it was insulting for me to even insinuate that he would not be keeping watch.
A creak at the barn door. I couldn’t see who it was, so I leapt to my feet…
…only to ease back down into the soft hay. It was just Lucas, who had moved too quickly for my eyes to perceive.
I thought of how to phrase my question, so as not to intrude on Milord’s privacy, but still to ascertain how the evening had gone.
“And how fares Milord?” Guillaume asked, his tone only slightly mocking. I did not grace him with a questioning gaze, though I was surprised that he beat me to it.
Lucas plopped into the hay between us, a dreamy smile on his face.
“Milord is well, and currently resting. I had originally thought to spare her the shame of associating with me, but she persuaded me to leave the choice in her hands, and I have no regrets on the matter.”
This was all too easy to interpret: she had shown Lucas the same grace as she had shown me. And clearly, it had proven as intoxicating to him as it had to me.
Guillaume huffed and turned his back to both of us.
I did not know why he maintained such a cold exterior regarding Milord, but if she had the same effect on him as she did on us, at least she would find out someday.
Whether she told us was another matter…but if some of the whispered conversations I’d been hearing from innkeepers and traders we’d encountered were any indication, we would do better to form strong bonds with one another before the travails of the war encroached any further upon us.
I wanted to ask Lucas more about his encounter with Milord, but he drifted off to sleep soon with a blissful smile on his face. A worry tugged at my chest: would he ultimately remain faithful to Milord, or would he give in to his baser instincts and fears?
I turned on my side to face away from him, from the easy smile gracing his lips. Morning would bring answers; it always did. That was something my parents had said, before everyone in my village had taken to shrieking at my newly acquired faerie strength.
Morning did indeed bring answers, and one more complication.
In hushed tones, Lucas told me of his encounter with Milord: the shame evaporating into passion.
The first halting steps of intimacy, which had not proceeded much farther than my own time with Milord.
How they had stopped before too long in part because we had to assume Milord’s body was still female enough to get with child if it came to that.
It grieved me to realize that this access to Milord’s body as Milord explored was a point of pride for me. I determined to think on it more, to get to the root of any jealous feelings before they could mar our group’s camaraderie.
I was so deep in thought I practically walked into Comrade’s rump midday when our party stopped.
The horse’s back leg nearest me quivered. Comrade shot a look at me, as though to say that if he’d kicked me in response to my clumsiness, I would have deserved it.
When I peered around the horse, I saw the reason for our abrupt stop.
A man was lying on his side, just off the path.
For a moment he was so still that I feared he was a corpse. It would not be unheard of, in these dark times. My heart battered at my chest, wondering how I could support Milord through what was likely her first encounter with a casualty of war, or of its accompanying ills like famine and poverty.
Then he sat up.
His eyes were piercing green, his hair sandy blond. The fine filaments rose at all angles, likely having been arranged by his time lying on the ground in odd positions.
He stood, and advanced towards our party.
And normally, I would have thought nothing of it, the way we clustered around Milord and Comrade, closing ranks. Lucas lowered a hand to loosen the bindings on his legs; I rolled out my shoulders, preparing for conflict.
Except Guillaume was the first one to glue himself to Milord’s side, his gray eyes blazing and his lips pressed together.
I sent a hard look his direction, knowing that something must have provoked him. But he did not acknowledge me.
“Greetings to the Chevalier Fortune and his retinue,” the man said, brushing dirt off his clothing. Despite his tousled appearance, it was fine clothing, not that of a beggar or wanderer.
I looked at Milord, looking perfectly masculine and lordly, who had opened his mouth, but said nothing. The man’s eyes were guileless and wide, though I knew not whether to trust him yet.
“My name is Aubert, and I am called Quick Ear, for I can hear the very plants sprouting around me, so I can better determine which I need for my pursuits as an herbalist. I heard your party approaching and knew that there were others like me in it,” and he inclined his head towards us.
“Well,” Milord said, finally finding her voice, “it would please me greatly if you would join my retinue. We travel to aid King Aristide in his war against the usurper Matapa, and I am sure a faerie-charmed man like yourself could be of service.”
Aubert agreed, and Milord made him swear the same oath as us all: to obey her every word, especially if she invoked the name of her horse, Comrade.
Unlike Lucas and I, Aubert was not startled when Comrade spoke, instructing us on where to settle in for the evening. Between that and Guillaume’s response, there was certainly more to this man than met the eye…and it was my duty as the first man sworn to Milord to ascertain his secrets.
But how to do so in a way that would not attract his attention, when he could hear every whisper, every exhalation of an unfurling leaf?