Chapter Four #2
He lights up when he spots me, pulling me down from Willow. Oliver’s hands grip both sides of my face. “Hello, Islabelle,” he whispers tenderly before kissing me deeply.
Before I can respond, Oliver leads me to a bedroll that’s spread out on the ground. Two lanterns light the space, giving it a warm glow in the night. He gives me a sheepish look. “It’s the best I could do for now,” Oliver shrugs, as he motions for us to sit.
I feel exasperated, tired of hiding from his family. His sister’s wicked gleam flashes in my mind. Her taunts and teases ring in my ears. “How long are we going to have to hide this, Oli?" I ask him.
“Islabelle, do you trust me?” He questions, examining my eyes.
“Of course I do,” I tell him. I trace the lines in his face, taking time to memorize all the little freckles that dot underneath his eyes. It gives him a boyish complexion far younger than the years he actually is. “It’s just hard,” I take a deep breath.
“I know, and I’m afraid it’s not going to get any easier. I’ll be leaving with the Prince to follow him on the rest of his tour.”
I sit up, moving out of his arms. The smug look on Philipa’s face leers back at me in my mind. “So what your sister said was true then, was it? You’re leaving with the prince on his coronation tour.”
Oliver stands, quickly pulling me back into his arms. I want to push him away, needing to distance myself from him.
“The rebellion has garnered some strength in a few villages near the border. They want to tighten up security for Prince Cailean.” Anger that I’ve never seen before flares in his eyes. “This is getting out of hand. Their leader is slowly spreading his plague of hate throughout the kingdom.”
“But—” I start. He cuts me off before I can ask anything.
“He’s destroyed three villages along the border already, Isla. This is serious. Think about those women and children. The Hood — that’s what they call him. He rides in in the middle of the night, lighting villages on fire, slaughtering men in their beds, raping the women, murdering babes.
He’s a plague to this kingdom. Whoever survives, the Hood enslaves them. The flesh market is growing bigger and bigger since Cailean made it legal. This Hood has seized his moment to extort the prince’s generosity.”
Fear swims in my stomach as Oliver goes on and on about this rebel leader and his group of men who were destroying the countryside. A breeze kicks up, carrying the soft whispers of the trees.
My ears perk up at the sound of nervous whispers. I can’t focus on the rush from the trees and the touch of Oliver. It’s overwhelming. “So, you see,” he pushes on, ignoring the conflict on my face. “I have to help our kingdom. Our Prince needs me.”
“But,” I try again, wanting to ask about the rumors that swirl around the kingdom.
I want to press him about Philipa and the sheriff in the village.
Warning bells sound in my head, but I can’t understand why.
Be it the trees whose whispers wouldn’t stop or the lies I worry Oliver is going to spill, I’ll never be able to tell.
Uneasiness crawls up my throat. Oliver ignores me, stepping away from me to pace back and forth. He throws his hands up in the air in a tirade.
“What if it were you? What if it were you selling your wares in the village when an attack came? And this, this monster stormed the place. He ransacked your stand, destroyed all of your things, and stole your money. He took you, and beat you, raped you, then passed you around to his men before he sliced your throat. Laughing the entire time you suffer. I couldn’t stand it. ”
I blanch at his descriptive tirade. His passionate speech makes me feel ashamed of ever doubting him. “You’re right,” I relent, pausing. A beat of silence passes when I look up at him. “Why is Philipa collecting taxes with Sheriff Coley?” I ask.
Oliver halts his pacing and turns towards me. Confusion pours from his features. “What are you talking about?”
“Sheriff Coley and Philipa stopped me in the market the other day after I sold goods to Healer Sibley. They demanded the coin for taxes and shoved me to the ground.” Oliver paced as I recounted what happened in the market.
The humiliation I felt then magnifies as I go through the motions again of Philipa’s snarl and the feel of Coley gripping my arm.
“You must be mistaken,” Oliver pauses in front of me.
“Mistaken? No,” my heart dips and I lower my head. “I assure you; I’m not mistaken at what happened.”
“Isla, Philipa isn’t out collecting taxes with Coley. That doesn’t make any sense.” My jaw drops open at Oliver’s insistence that his dearest sister isn’t the one tormenting me in the market.
“I’m not lying, Oliver. You know how she is.” The use of his full name has him reaching for me. “I promise you; Sheriff Coley took all the coin I had and Philipa was beside him, assisting.”
“Father did raise the taxes,” he starts. “But maybe you just misunderstood her, is all. Yeah, I’m sure it’s all just a misunderstanding. Tensions high from more taxes.” Oliver pulls me into him, resting his chin on the top of my head. “This rebel leader is ruining everything. Can’t you see that?”
I pull out of his grasp, stepping away. I can’t believe what I’m hearing, what he’s insisting. “I fail to see what this Hood has anything to do with Philipa and her behavior.”
“Everyone is just tense. Philipa over her engagement to Cailean. The state of the kingdom and this rebel. Father having to raise taxes on our village to support the crown. It’s a mess, Islabelle.
It’s why I’m needed now more than ever. I have to stand by the Prince in support. That's why I have to leave again.”
We circle back to him leaving. A knot of emotion fills my throat. Mixed emotions war with each other as resentment fills the empty well. I try to swallow the emotions down, nodding to him instead.
“This is why. This is why I have a bigger role now, Isla. You know this, that this is what I have to do. I know you’re not happy that I’m leaving, but I’m a captain in the royal guard. I can’t just shirk my duties for some girl.”
His emphasis on “girl” caused me to flinch.
Oliver pauses for a moment, looking at me. “You know what I mean. I’m the second born, the worthless spare. I won’t be ruling this estate, or taking over the Dukedom.
“My place in Prince Cailean’s army will push me further in society. I’ll be able to free you from that little hovel. Your station, your dowry, those things wouldn’t matter. It’s what we need.” Oliver grabs my hand, pulling me into him.
“My home isn’t a little hovel,” hurt blooms in my chest again.
“I only mean that the prettiest girl in the village should be living in a castle, dressed in gowns of fine cloth, dripping in jewels equal to the beauty that radiates from her.” He caresses my cheek. His forehead touches mine.
“Let me destroy these monsters before they come here, before they get to you. I have to continue to make a name for myself, and then I’ll come and get you. I promise. You won’t have to worry about taxes, about working, about anything.”
His hands grip my waist as he leans in closer. “Just let me be your hero,” he whispers. Oliver kisses along my jawline in an attempt to distract me.
“When do you go? And how long will you be gone this time?”
“We’re leaving at first light tomorrow and I’m not sure.
It shouldn’t be long. Let’s not talk about it anymore.
I just want to spend time with you. Between the Prince being here and Philipa running me around like an errand boy, I haven’t seen you.
” Oli digs his face into the crook of my neck. “I’ve missed you, Islabelle.”
I resist the urge to sigh. “Oli,” I whisper.
“Just trust that I know what I’m doing, Isla. This is for us. I’m doing this for us.”
His hands grip my waist tighter in desperation, begging me to listen to the words he says. To my relief, the trees stop their whispers. I wonder if I made it all up. I look up at Oli.
The shadows that dance across his face from the light of the lanterns lure me into a comfort. Words won’t come to me. What can I say? He brushes his lips against mine. Soft, gentle kisses over and over until I ultimately relax in his arms.
“You’re mine, Islabelle. And I’ll do whatever I can to keep you.”