“I ran away again because I could be hanged for lying!” Bran protested.
“That’s bullshit. What were you lying about? Everything you’ve told him has been honest, except your race and status.”
“And that is the most important thing to these people!”
Isabella eyed him incredulously, “Do you really think your prince would care? It seems like he enjoys talking to you.”
“He’s not my prince,” Bran argued. “He might be… entertaining to talk to, but the man is idealistic to fault! He can be so irritating.”
She gave him a sideways glance. “I usually don’t spend weeks talking about the people who irritate me.”
The tips of Bran’s pointed ears turned pink as he let out a huff. “Regardless, the whole thing is too risky. It’s for the best that I don’t see him again and that is a fact.” He stretched out in the grassy knoll and turned to face her profile.
“Anyways, you’ve been talking about that guard for a few days now. Do you plan on seeing him soon?”
Isabella sighed heavily, twisting the green blades between her fingers. “You can’t blame me for reminiscing. Few partners have been able to work my anatomy like that. He’s as handsome as anything, but he wants more than I do. It really is a shame.”
Bran nodded. He and Isabella were both pitiful at relationships, it was another trait they had in common.
“Well, I best be going.” Bran plucked a wilted daisy from the field they were lounging in and held it in his hands. A spark flew from it as the petals turned healthy and yellow. He put the blossom in Isabella’s dark hair.
“For some reason, Atticus is having us prepare a feast for lunch. Diana has helped me make most of the food, but I should bring back these herbs for garnishing. Thank you for letting me-”
He was cut off by the sound of hoof beats. Both looked to find the source of the noise. Through the dusty haze of the dirt road, they could see a gilded carriage approach the Carpenter manor.
Isabella turned to him, mouth agape. “That can’t be--”
Rowan’s golden hair poked out of the carriage, prompting Bran to throw himself behind the first large bush he could see. He turned to look at Isabella through the brambles but, to his abject horror, she was already running towards the prince.
“Your highness!” she called out.
The blonde’s tired expression morphed into shock as he stepped out onto the dirt. “Baroness Isabella?” Rowan gasped. “You live with the Carpenters?”
“I live next door, actually,” she corrected breathily, slightly winded from running.
Rowan’s brown eyes searched her desperately. “This is fate, yeah?”
“To what are you referring to?” she replied in an outrageously oblivious tone.
“Please, please I need to find him. You must realize you’re my only connection. Where is he? Who is Bran staying with?”
Isabella could see Bran in his hiding place. No! he mouthed, gesturing wildly. No! Don’t do it!
“He’s… staying with my family for now, but he’s not here at the moment,” Isabella added quickly. “I’m supposed to meet him in a few hours at the Walpick Tavern a village over, you know the one?”
“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been there.”
“I’m actually feeling rather ill.” She stopped to give a pathetically fake cough. “You’d be doing me a great service by meeting him there. You could let him know I can’t make it, maybe give him some company.”
“Are you sure he’d want to see me?” he asked nervously. “I don’t want to impose if-”
“Yes, I’m 100% sure,” Isabella replied confidently.
Rowan’s face split into a wide grin as kissed her hand. “Then I’d be happy to help! Thank you, Isabella. I owe you a great debt.”
“I’ll be sure to make a note of that. It never hurts to be owed a favor from a crowned prince.” She gave him a sly wink.
Rowan bowed at her in return. With a spring in his step, and a goofy smile plastered on his face, Rowan walked inside the Carpenter manor.
Bran reappeared from the foliage as soon as Rowan disappeared. He desperately tried to pick brambles from his hair and clothes as he scolded her. “You wicked, wicked girl! What have you done?!”
“I’ve given you a head start.” She gave a devilish laugh. “After you change out of those clothes, you can take my horse.”
--
Rowan’s heart was soaring. He could definitely handle a few hours with the Carpenters now that he had something to look forward to. The gardens surrounding the Carpenter manor were healthy and beautiful. They seemed to brightly juxtapose the drab and dull people that lived inside.
“Your highness!” Beatrice and Kirk said in unison as they came out to greet him. “We’re so happy to have you here!” Beatrice hooked a bony arm around Rowan’s elbow to escort him indoors.
Sullen looking servants moved around them, only to give a nervous smile when they noticed him going by. His servants never looked this unhappy or run down. Did most servants live this way? Or was the Carpenter manor an anomaly?
Kirk and Beatrice continued to lead him through the stone, sparsely decorated building until they reached an extravagant dining room. Atticus Carpenter gave a low bow and kissed his ring. “Your highness,” he said in an oily voice.
Some very formal pleasantries were exchanged before they sat down at a long wooden table. Everyone stared at him eagerly without saying a word.
Rowan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “So Beatrice, are you still studying the Bible?” he asked.
“Of course!” she replied enthusiastically. She paused and looked up, as if she were trying desperately to remember something. “And art and music texts as well!” She added loudly. “I love both of those things.”
“How lovely. Do you play anything?” Rowan inquired politely.
“Uh, no.”
A painfully awkward silence ensued that was eventually broken by Atticus. “So,” he said, stroking his salt and pepper beard. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but you and Beatrice actually have a lot in common.”
“Is that so?” Rowan turned to Beatrice. “Do tell.”
“It’s widely known that you’re an expert horse rider. I absolutely adore my stallion. There’s nothing I enjoy more than riding. Except reading,” she added hastily
“And art!” Kirk interjected.
“Yes,” Rowan said noncommittally. He was a rather good rider, but he found the whole thing very uncomfortable. “I’ve had many riding lessons.”
He shifted nervously in his chair as they continued to bombard him with questions, and miraculously agreed with all of his answers.
The conversations were mind numbing, but Rowan perked up when a delicious looking meal was delivered.
“This is exquisite!” he said after taking his first bite of a moist and savory pastry.
“We heard you were a fan of meat pies,” Atticus nodded. “This is Beatrice’s favorite dish as well.”
“What an amazing coincidence.” Rowan was trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. He had no idea if he was successful. “I’d actually like to give my compliments to your cook, if that’s alright.”
“You are so gracious, your highness. Willing to interact with the help- you truly are a marvel.” Beatrice grinned toothily. “Go on, fetch them from the kitchen!” she barked at another servant.
Diana’s plump figure turned the corner. She gave a deep bow.
“And where’s the halfling?” Beatrice demanded.
“I’m sorry,” she bowed again. “But he’s unavailable at the moment.” She turned to face the prince. “You wanted to speak with me, your highness?”
Rowan directed his attention at the fae woman. “Please, call me Rowan. I can’t remember the last time I’ve enjoyed eating something so much. I hope the Carpenter’s recognize how lucky they are to have you on staff.”
“Thank you, your highness.” She shot Atticus a nervous glance. “Yes, my son and I are treated very well here.”
“I’m happy to hear it! If not, I’d have to steal you away to work at the castle.” He started rummaging through his pockets. “You have a son? How old is he?”
She nervously bowed again. “He’s ten, your highness.”
“Please, there’s no need for the extra pomp and title.” He withdrew a small velvet pouch. “Here. I’m sure a growing boy needs extra clothing and food. Consider it a tip. I’d be delighted to have such an extraordinary meal again.”
Diana took the velvet bag with shaking hands and opened the drawstring. Tears accumulated in the corners of her eyes as she stared at shimmering, gold coins. Her voice trembled as she tried speaking. She had never held so much money in her life. “I-, I-, oh dear-”
She was cut off by Atticus’s booming voice. “If you enjoyed her cooking, then it’s decided; you’ll stop by for dinner next week! Diana would be happy to cook for you again.”
“Yes,” Rowan looked at the grandfather clock in the dining room. “That would be great, but I must be leaving now.”
“So soon?” Beatrice seemed crestfallen.
“Afraid so. I have many prince-ly duties to attend to and such. I look forward to seeing you again,” he lied while bustling out the door. “Ta-ta.”
He immediately felt lighter when he was back outside, basking in the sunshine.
Exquisite food or not, he didn’t think he could spend another minute with the Carpenters.
Rowan had a place he needed to be, and he had no desire to bring the carriage or his guard along. He tried to devise a plan to ditch Liam and have a few hours alone.
He approached the large man, ready to rehearse the story he’d come up with. “Liam, I need a favor. I have to borrow one of the horses from the carriage, it’s for a-”
“Sure,” Liam waved a hand, not bothering to look at him. He continued to stare at Isabella. “That is, if Baroness Isabella doesn’t mind keeping me company while you’re gone.”
She looked back at him through her dark lashes. “I think I can manage that. You can go ahead, Prince.”
Rowan couldn’t believe his good luck. “Alright. First, I need to borrow the street clothes you wear under your guard uniform. I don’t have my cloak, and I don’t want to be recognized.”
Liam turned to face him, looking ready to argue, when Isabella stroked his jaw.
“What do you say, Liam? Maybe I could be the one to help you undress?”
Rowan stared in confusion as Liam blushed. It was possible for Liam to blush?
Rather than take the time to question the odd scenario, Rowan changed quickly into Liam’s extra clothes and jumped on one of the horses. He wasn’t going to miss a moment of the rare opportunity fate had given him.
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