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Meg leaned heavily on her new cane, fashioned by one of the young soldiers from a twisted branch. She focused on the flames that flickered beneath the animal slowly turning above it. She only looked up at the grunt produced by the man turning the spit when he stepped back for another soldier to take his place. Commander Brent had said it was good exercise and they had seemed to make a game of it, but she couldn’t focus on the chatter and banter this evening, and the cool breeze made her shiver.
“Do you need a shawl?” Kiam asked, standing beside her with his hands stretching out towards the flames of the fire pot.
She shook her head.
“Do you need a seat?” he asked.
She shifted, her leg aching and stiff, but she wouldn’t give in to the worry he wore beneath the smile. “I am well,” she said.
“You are too quiet,” he returned.
She looked at him properly then and tried to smile. “I want to go home,” she said.
He sighed and looked back to the flames. “We must await the order.”
She nodded, unsure why she had thought of Rocfeld so much that day. She longed for the Temple and the bustle of familiar faces, and despite her best efforts, the sadness pulled on her.
“Don’t cry,” he whispered, leaning in closer. “We will return before you know it.”
She looked up at him. Unable to find the right words, she nodded instead. She glanced across at the meat, still turning, and Brent watching her from the other side of it.
Kiam’s stomach growled loudly. “This beast must be nearly done,” he said, stepping away from her and taking a knife from his belt. He pierced the meat and the clear juice flowed slowly down its side and sizzled in the flames.
“Let’s carve it up,” someone shouted, and the men moved forward to cut into it.
When Meg and Kellin had first eaten with the men, they had been polite and restrained, standing back to allow the princesses to go first. They didn’t wait so well now, pushing each other for the best cuts. Meg stood back a little; she was hungry, yet not as keen for the battle to get to it.
Her leg ached, and for a moment she wanted to turn back to the Keep, but again she noticed Brent watching her. She gave him a nod, but when she stepped forward her leg pinched and gave way beneath her, the cane not enough to support her. She reached out and Raf had a hand beneath her arm before she had the chance to grab his sleeve.
“Let me help you,” he said, his gruff voice soft and his hands firm.
She nodded but could feel the tear squeezing out from beneath her eyelid. She wiped quickly at her face and tried to stand straight but grimaced as her leg took her weight.
“You do too much,” Raf said quietly.
“I must do something,” she said. “I cannot hobble forever.”
“You will not,” Brent said briskly, beside her. “But you must at least allow the leg to heal.”
“I do,” she said, turning on him only to groan again as the pain travelled up her leg.
He raised an eyebrow.
“I’m tired of hiding in the house,” she snapped.
“You didn’t want to come out,” Kellin said beside her, and she sighed and closed her eyes.
When she looked up, too many people were watching her, and she had the sudden feeling that she might just snap like they were waiting for her to. She tried to breathe again but it sounded wrong even to her, rough and sad.
And then she was being lowered, and she looked up at Raf, who had a smile for her. He gave her a subtle nod and she felt the block beneath her. Kiam pushed a trencher into her hands loaded with meat and Bessie poured a ladle of vegetable stew over the top. And then Raf let her go, and she was so overwhelmed the food before her started to blur.
“Don’t waste it,” Kiam said.
She nodded mutely.
“Are you sure you are well?” Kellin asked, but she couldn’t look up.
“She is fine,” Kiam said. “That leg is going to trouble her a bit longer is all.” And he shooed Kellin away.
He dragged up another stool and sat beside Meg. Raf reappeared and handed Kiam a metal plate, then stood beside her with his own, eating with one hand. When she glanced up, he grinned at her.
“Love venison,” he said through a mouthful of meat.
Bessie walked past again with her ladle and refilled their plates. They nodded thanks.
Kellin sighed and Rainger appeared beside her with a plate. “We are princesses tonight,” she muttered.
“So it seems,” Rainger responded. “Unless you do not want to be.” He took the plate from her hands and she called out. He handed it back with a grin and even Meg laughed.
Brent shook his head and moved away. Kiam gave her a little nod and she focused on the food. But when she looked up again, Brent had moved a stool closer to the fire and had a plate of his own.
They continued to eat in silence, and Meg wondered just how long they would wait for Elalia to bring them home. And then someone was taking the plate from her lap and handing her a cup of mead. She sat and watched the interactions of the group as the talking increased around her and someone started to sing. The talking lulled as the men listened to the haunting lullaby, one she remembered from her childhood, one they all knew that told of the story of Kira and Kion.
Kellin hummed along and when he finished, they remained in silence, listening to the distant river rushing by and the night birds calling. Kiam started a quick-paced ditty that Meg struggled to follow, although as the others joined in and more wine flowed she picked up some words she thought she shouldn’t have. Rainger made a face and a growling noise, but the men only picked up their pace and volume.
Raf took Kellin by the hands and swung her around. She giggled and squealed. Then one of the others stepped up, put an arm around her waist and kept her momentum spinning as he guided her around the yard. The singing increased and it seemed to fill the whole world as the men took their turns dancing with Kellin.
Raf held out a hand to Meg but she shook her head, worried she couldn’t stand, let alone dance. Before she could protest, Rainger had her up in his arms, her feet well off the ground, and after the initial shock wore off she too laughed as they spun around the rough dance floor.
Raf stepped up beside them and they passed her between them as though she was weightless, her feet never nearing the ground. The song melded into another and then another, and she was passed from man to man to be danced around the makeshift dancefloor.
She tried to watch Kellin as she twirled by, but she couldn’t focus on her amidst the movement. By the time she ended up in Kiam’s arms again, she was quite dizzy and parched. He gave her one good spin and then stopped. “I think I have had enough,” she said. And when she looked up into his face, he was looking seriously ahead. Brent stood stiff and tall and stern. “I think the fun is over,” she muttered.
“How do you feel?” Kiam asked.
“Better,” she said with a smile.
Brent’s strong arms took her from Kiam and they turned towards the house.
“I can walk,” she muttered, giving a half-hearted attempt to push her way out of his arms.
“Can you?” he asked, pausing.
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “No,” she admitted with a sigh. “I can’t.”
Without a word, he carried her into the Keep and slowly up the narrow staircase. When he pushed into her room, he sat her carefully on the edge of the bed, gave her a little bow and then turned back for the door.
“Thank you,” she called after him.
He stopped at the doorway and gave her another bow. As he pulled the door shut, she asked, “Do you think I will be whole again?”
He stopped with his hand on the latch but didn’t speak.
“It aches so,” she said.
“How is your head?” he asked.
She shrugged then. “Well enough.”
“You do not feel the discomfort you did before?”
“You are asking if my mind works,” she snapped, and then bit her lip. “I am sorry,” she said slowly. “I should not speak so. I am well, just a little sore.”
He nodded but stayed where he was in the doorway.
“Can I help, Your Highness?” Lora asked, coming in behind him.
Meg nodded, and when she looked up the commander had gone.
“Did you have fun dancing?”
Meg smiled at the girl. “I think you could have joined in,” she said.
“Even cook had a little dance,” she said softly, and Meg laughed.
They could be here a long time yet. It was worth remembering that they were all trapped together, and if spit-roasted deer and dancing was to help that time slip by more easily, then she was happy to encourage it.
A loud cheer went up from the barracks. She smiled and gently pushed off the bed. Lora was quick to unlace her and she was relieved when it was time to sit again. Lora stood before her, waiting for more instructions, and Meg took her hands. “Go and dance,” she said.
Lora gave her a nervous look.
“Go,” Meg said, and the girl slipped out the door quickly.
Meg gave her a few minutes and then slowly raised herself from the bed to walk even more slowly to the window, realising that she had left her cane by her makeshift stool. Kellin stood clapping beside Commander Brent as Rainger took the cook on a slow twirl. Lora looked even smaller in the arms of Kiam, but they both laughed as they moved through the dust in time with the cook. Meg moved back to the bed and slid down between the blankets. If only her leg would stop aching, it may be a little easier to accept her time here.
Meg walked out into the sun and paused as the gravel crunched under her shoes. Another lovely day and she wondered if it was cooler in Rocfeld, and if they were far enough away for it to be so different. She sighed and then looked up as a shadow fell across her face.
“Brent,” she said. “You scared me.”
“I am sorry, Your Highness. I did not mean to sneak.”
She grinned. “How do you walk so silently across the gravel?”
He shrugged. “What are you doing on this fine day?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I suppose the same as I usually do, sit before the fire, talk with Kellin and perhaps read a book.”
“Sounds interesting,” he said slowly.
“What would you suggest?”
He looked across to the active men, stacking wood, polishing boots and armour and sharpening blades.
“You would put us to work?” Meg asked.
“There could be something you could do that would be of more help.”
She sighed. “You are right of course, Commander.”
“Often,” he said with a grin.
“We are just useless women who sit idly by while you do all the work.”
“That is not what I said,” he said, his voice gruff.
Meg smiled. “Where is your sense of humour, Commander? If you require our help, then we are only too happy for the distraction.”
“It is not your help I was thinking of.”
She turned her head a little to the side and studied the serious man before her.
He took a deep breath. “I simply thought a little distraction would be of benefit to you and your sister. I worry with you trapped in the house. I would at least like to see you walk more.”
“Kellin walks most days.”
“You,” he said firmly.
She looked down then. “I do not like to go too far,” she mumbled.
“The exercise could be good for you.”
“And if I walked too far and was unable to make it back on this leg, then it would just be a worry or bother for you and the other men to have to find me and fetch me back.”
“Excuses,” he muttered.
One hand found her hip as the other closed tight around her cane. “What do you propose?” she asked sharply.
He raised his hands in defence. “Just that I worry about you locked in the front room before the fire all day long. That you need some air and exercise and distraction.”
She continued to stare him down.
“Perhaps you could assist the cook with the garden,” he said softly.
“Oh,” she said.
“Oh,” he repeated.
“That might be nice,” she said, and took the arm he offered as support to walk slowly around to the side of the house by the kitchen.
“Your Highness,” the cook said, greeting her with a smiling although red face as she sat outside the kitchen fanning herself. “How may I help you?”
“It seems Brent thinks I can be of assistance to you, Bess.”
The woman looked at the commander and back again. “In what way?” she asked slowly.
Meg laughed, “Do not worry that I will invade your kitchen,” she said. “Perhaps I could help in the garden?”
The woman laughed and fanned herself a little more. “You are welcome to invade the garden, Your Highness, for the weeds are trying to take it over.” She held out her hand and Meg looked where she pointed. She gripped tighter to Brent’s arm as her leg pinched and bit down on her lip.
“Are you...” He stopped when Meg held up a hand.
“Let us look at it,” she said to Bess. They walked slowly towards the garden bed and she tried to lessen the limp. “Please point out the ones I am to keep,” Meg said as they stood side by side and the cook looked up with a laugh, then quickly became serious when she saw that Meg was not jesting.
She patiently pointed out and named each plant, and Meg went over them again to be sure she knew what she was doing.
“Perhaps an apron, Your Highness,” Bess said.
“Two I think,” she said. “For I shall drag Kellin into this venture.”
“I saw the princess walk out with the commander,” Bess said.
“Or not,” she muttered. “But a second one could be of use,” she said more chirpily, “for I shall need something to sit upon.”
Bess nodded and headed back to the kitchen to find the young girl and something for the princess to sit on while she tended the garden.
“It was only an idea,” Brent said. “If the leg is bothering you, perhaps sitting with it raised before the fire would be best.”
“Not at all,” she said. “It is a fine idea. And if the leg fails, you will not have to search far for me.”
“I do not mind,” he said.
“I do,” she said more sternly, then softened when she saw his face crease. “I do not like to be a bother,” she said.
“Never a bother,” he said. “Our purpose in life is to protect you.”
“And I am sure you could be spending your time far more productively than watching over me,” she said.
The cook appeared with the maid and an apron, and Kiam not far behind with a canvas sheet. “Are we camping?” he asked.
She laughed and swung her cane at him.
The maid tied the apron around her as Brent and Kiam spread the sheet by the garden. “Lovely,” Meg said, using Brent as support to lower herself down to the ground. She swallowed back a yelp, but once she was on the ground she was a little more comfortable. “Come back for me before dark in case I cannot get up again.”
Kiam laughed and at the glare Brent gave him, he raced back to his other tasks. Brent opened his mouth to speak but she held her hand up. He nodded instead and backed away. She turned back to the garden before her and sure that she knew what she did, she reached forward for the first weed and pulled. It snapped at the stem and the young maid made a noise above her.
“I am sorry, Your Highness,” the girl squeaked.
“It is not right, is it?” she asked.
She shook her head.
“Come and show me,” she said.
The girl knelt quickly beside her, put her hand at the base of the plant, against the soil and pulled. The plant slipped easily from the ground, roots and all.
Meg nodded and reached for another in the same way and pulled it out. She grinned at the girl.
“Well done,” she said.
Meg reached for another and tugged, but it barely budged. She looked at the girl, who smiled and nodded encouragement. Meg lifted herself up a little and pulled again. Taking quite some effort before it pulled from the ground.
“Some of them is not so easy,” the girl said.
“So it seems,” Meg said.
“I need to help cook, Your Highness,” she said.
“I will be fine,” she said. Although once she was alone, she was a little less sure of herself.
Meg worked at her new task, thankful for the distraction, and she soon realised she had spent quite some time in the sun thinking of nothing but the pulling of weeds. She stopped and looked over her dirty hands, sure that her dress was the same, and quite possibly her face since she had pushed her hair out of her eyes. She had worked across quite a bit of the garden, but within the reach of her canvas sheet. There was a lot of garden to go and she was sure that once she finished, there would be more to start over again.
She stretched and wiped her face again before she realised what she had done. She laughed at herself and tried to push off from the ground to find her leg had gone to sleep.
She twisted slowly around and attempted to put some pressure on it. She called out involuntarily as it pinched and the pain seared through her. She sat heavily and clamped a hand over her mouth.
“Meg?” Raf’s deep voice asked behind her, and she hung her head. “Do you need a hand?” he asked.
She nodded but remained where she was.
Raf squatted down beside her and held out a hand. She put her dirty hand in his, but her eyes were still on her lap.
He leant forward and with an arm around her waist, he had her lifted onto her feet in seconds. She winced again and despite her desperation to hold herself together, the tears pushed through.
He pulled her closer and in one swift movement he had an arm beneath her legs and her full weight in his arms, and she pushed her face into his chest to muffle another scream.
“Too long,” he mumbled.
She nodded agreement.
“Kiam,” he shouted over her head as he moved her quickly towards the Keep.
“He will fuss,” she muttered.
“I think you need some fussing,” he said.
Kellin was waiting inside the door. “Did you fall down?” she asked.
Meg shook her head.
“What happened?” Kiam was asking behind her, and her frustrations grew. “Upstairs,” he said to Raf, who nodded and continued up to Meg’s room.
He sat her gently on the bed and stepped back.
“Did you fall?” Kellin asked again, standing at the end of the bed.
“No,” she said slowly, trying to breathe and not cry out as Kiam positioned himself beside her. “I don’t need you,” she said.
He gave her an angry look.
“It is too much,” she whispered.
“Let us have some space,” he said, and Raf walked Kellin from the room. As the door opened she saw Brent’s face, but at a shake of Kiam’s head he pulled the door shut and left them alone.
“It is stiff. That is all,” she said.
“It is not all. You have knelt on it too long, worked too hard. It is going to give you trouble for some time.”
She nodded, wiped her streaked face again and pulled her skirt up above her knee. Even her shoes were grubby despite the canvas. Kiam gently removed the shoe and with a cloth by the wash basin, he wiped down the leg with the cool water. Meg shivered despite trying her best to remain still. Kiam grumbled as he worked, cleaning the dirt away. There was still some green bruising that covered her leg, but the bone was reasonably healed he had told her. Then he lifted the little pouch from his belt.
Meg screwed up her face.
Kiam waited.
She nodded and he started smearing the ointment across the skin and over the knee.
“It does help,” she said. “I do not like it, but it helps.”
He nodded and continued. Once he finished, he surprised her by sitting beside her on the bed. “What were you doing?”
“Trying to be of use,” she said.
He raised his eyebrows.
“Brent thought I shouldn’t be inside so much, but I don’t like to walk far for I fear I can’t make it back. I thought being close to the Keep would be of less bother for everyone.” Her words tumbled over each other and he reached out and took her hands in his.
“You are not a bother,” he said slowly. “And you need to ensure that you look after this leg. Exercise is important. You would be better to walk out with Rainger and Kellin.”
She nodded. “I did enjoy the garden,” she said.
“Then you are to stand more often, walk around a little, and not sit upon it for so long.”
“Yes sir,” she whispered.
“Meg,” he said, squeezing her hands. “It won’t be like this forever, and we are here to watch over you. Do not try to do things simply so that we are not put out.”
She nodded again.
“You were well enough after the dancing?”
“My feet didn’t touch the ground,” she said.
He nodded and, releasing her hands, stood up. She reached out to pull the skirt down over her leg and he grabbed at her hand again.
“Kiam?”
“I will not have that dirty dress over that clean leg,” he said. “Lora,” he called, and the girl appeared instantly. “I suggest a wash and a clean dress,” he said. Then, looking out the window, he added, “Perhaps it is time for rest. I do not want that garden in this bed,” he added sharply. Both Lora and Meg nodded in response.
He stomped out and as the door closed, she could hear muffled voices on the other side. They still seem to be protecting me from myself, she thought.
“I will get some hot water, Your Highness,” Lora said. Then, picking up the jug, she moved from the room.
Meg leaned back into the pillows and tried not to move in fear she spread more dirt about the place as she closed her eyes. She had not seen Kiam so stern before, and she had only been following Brent’s instructions. If only they could go back to Rocfeld, it would not matter what she did, and the nurses could watch over her leg and let the soldiers get on with what was important.
The door opened quietly. “It may be time to light the candles, Lora,” she said softly.
“I can do that for you,” Brent’s voice replied, and she sat up again. “Rest,” he added.
But she could not, and she longed to cover her leg but feared Kiam’s anger if she dared.
He took a taper from the fire and began to light the candles. “I am sorry,” he said.
She sat taller. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she said.
“I do,” he continued as he moved from candle to candle.
“Stop,” she said.
He turned then and looked at her, his eyes on her face.
“Don’t light another,” she said.
He nodded and flicked the tapper into the fire. “Are you aching?” he asked, his eyes resting on her leg.
She nodded. “But it is less so now that Kiam has smeared his duck ointment on it.”
Brent nodded. “I am sorry.”
“Please do not say that; it is my fault. I do not do as you suggest, or Kiam either. If the leg is to mend, I need to use it.”
“But I push too much,” he said, and then Lora was back in the room.
“I need to rest now,” Meg said, and he nodded and stepped through the door. “Brent,” she said as he put his hand on the latch, “I thank you for your advice.”
He shook his head and opened his mouth, but she held up her hand to stop him.
“I know why you give it,” she said.
He gave her a smile and then pulled the door closed.
“He worries so,” Lora said.
“They all seem to worry more than they should,” Meg said, giving her hand to Lora to wash the dirt away. “But that is the nature of soldiers perhaps.”