Chapter 19: 19_Demanding Princess treatment
His head held high and two swords crossed in the sheaths on his back, Thoran rode proudly on a large, black horse, barely caring about her obvious anger.
“Not a manner or a wit in this cart!” someone chided. “No one offered the gal a drink!”
Bjorn looked at a glumly silent Frank. “Pass the bottle next to you, Frankie, I’ll pour the girl a tot.”
“Do it yerself!” Frank spat. He glared at the man beside him. “After all, I’m ugly enough to have her fainting, right, Jonno?”
Jonno choked on his drink. “Hey, I didn’t say it!”
“You laughed! I saw everyone who laughed, yer all getting a smaller roast for dinner.”
“Hey!” Harald jolted upright, swinging his other leg into the cart. “You can’t have your revenge out on our food!”
“I’m the cook!” Frank muttered bitterly. “I’ll do *whats’ever* with the food.”
Bjorn silently offered Amethyst a cup. “Here’s a drink, girl.”
Leaning away, Amethyst grimaced as though she was in misery. “No, thank you, I don’t drink.”
There was a collective gasp in the cart.
“Why not?!” Harald wanted to know. “You’re missing out on life, fair maiden!”
“A sheltered bird, she must be,” commented Jonno.
“You leave her alone!” Frank shouted crossly.
“What the bloody hell’s the matter with you?” Bjorn demanded.
“What’s wrong wiv me is that I’ve got an ugly mug!”
The cart exploded with a mixture of angry shouting, laughter and the clinking of glasses.
In that chaos, Amie sat in a vacuum of charged silence. “Lier.”
The single word was softly spoken but carried enough rage to propel it forward until its sharp, poisonous tip pierced Thoran’s ear.
He scoffed. Damn it, he couldn’t ignore her any longer. “Is there something wrong—”
“Of course, there is!” she said, her voice getting drowned out by the chaos around her. “You said I would get a vehicle and I agreed to ride with Mr. Gunnar! I graciously accepted to share yet you couldn’t even keep your promise!”
There was unhidden mirth in Thoran’s eyes, but he kept his mouth in a firm line as he looked straight ahead. “I have no clue what you mean. You do have a vehicle and you are riding with Gunnar.”
Huffing in disbelief at his audacity, she glanced at the back of Gunnar’s head as he sat in the driver seat of the cart beside a very smug Ivar.
“You know exactly what I meant and it wasn’t this. I couldn’t be more uncomfortable!”
“Get used to it.”
“Get u…” Trailing off, she released a shaky exhale. “You just wait till my sisters find me! They’ll make you pay!”
He glanced at her for a moment and his amusement was gone. Her identity as the spoilt princess he’d met was back with full power. “I’ve told you before, that I am not fond of threats. Especially coming from you.”
“But, Sir, I don’t care.”
His jaw clenched and, even more annoyed, Thoran caught a glimpse of Gunn’s smirking face. What was that bastard smirking about?
“Well, how come you get your own horse?!” Amie demanded then. “Why don’t you come into this cart and squash up with the rest of us?”
“Just be grateful you aren’t walking,” he told her tightly, getting irritated.
“You didn’t answer my question. How come you have a horse? Have you been taking advantage of these poor men by putting them into a life of crime while you make away with the goods? They work so hard for you and the best you can do is shove them into carts?!”
“Be quiet!”
She jolted. The cart she rode in went quiet too, only Harald was singing a pirate song, unaware of the tension.
Thoran had had enough, she was grating on his nerves and, God’s truth, it was driving him to madness. Finally, in the silence, he could easily draw breath and listen to the sound of the woods around them, hoping she wouldn’t complain again for the rest of the journey.
His wish went ungranted. Her silence only lasted a few minutes.
“I want a horse of my own,” she said firmly. “I refuse to ride in this cart any longer.”
“Holy fucking hell,” he growled.
“Get me on a horse!”
With a sharp curse, Thoran stopped his horse and jumped off, marching over to the cart she was in.
Instinctively, Amie shrunk away, grabbing Bjorn’s arm like he could save her. “Help—”
She was snatched out of the cart with a squeak and dropped to the ground on both feet. “How about you walk then?!”
Wide-eyed, she stared at him. “W-walk? I can’t walk—”
“No, you’re *going* to walk! I put you in a perfectly good cart and even put all the nicest guys in there so the meaner guys wouldn’t offend your delicate *fucking* sensibilities and yet you’ve got the ungrateful audacity to make demands.”
She looked shattered like he was currently being worse than the devil himself. “But i-it’s because… you promised—”
“I didn’t promise you anything, bloody hell! You’re walking and that’s final. Maybe you’ll learn a little about how lesser folk have to live so you can get a peek into the real fucking world.”
With that, he stalked back to his horse and climbed on, glaring back at the men. “Move it!”
The party of carts and horses that had stopped started up again in its slow progression through the dark woods.
Embarrassed, Amethyst avoided the eyes of the men in other carts as they rode beside her. Feeling uneasy around the unfamiliar faces, she hurried her steps to walk closer to the cart with Harald and the others in it, feeling more comfortable near them. The fact that she’d gotten to the point of feeling comfortable with a bunch of criminals didn’t register just then.
“Well, that can’t be right,” someone murmured in her cart.
“Aye, Steel’s a bit mean, i’n’t he?” Frank whispered back. “She’s just a gal. Even I’d be done in walking like that.”
“You’d be done in just tying your shoestring,” Harald said.
They got on with their usual squabbles and, feeling her eyes prickle with tears, Amethyst tried to pretend she wasn’t embarrassed, hoping her face wasn’t as red as it felt.
She urgently reminded herself that she was doing this for her kingdom. Gadon wasn’t a filthy rich kingdom, they were only comfortable. Where the wealthiest kingdoms had a currency of diamonds and other jewels, Gadon still used gold as a currency. It was true that poorer kingdoms used silver, bronze and, in the worst cases, precious stones, but gold didn’t mean they were invincible.
A visit from these Barbarians would ruin them and the last thing she wanted was for Natalia and Raiden to have to replenish her father’s coffers using Zaire’s wealth. It would become even harder to face the social mosquitos she dealt with at Zaire kingdom events.
Her teeth clenched. She may have lost her sword, but she wasn’t deterred. She was a Vamp Viking and she’d trained for several days before this. She would fight the Barbarian and she would win. She’d return home with the safety of her kingdom in hand.
Lowering her gaze, she stared at her dirty black boots with each step she took and then studied the gash she’d torn in her gown the other night. It went from the space of four fingers above her knee down through the very hem of the material. She let her mind imagine different ways to patch it up or turn the slit into a fashion statement, trying to bravely ignore her current situation.
What a jerk he was. How could he make her walk? Her dear sisters would have beaten him to death if they could see this!
Sighing, she hung her head, blinking away tears with every step she took. The thought of her sisters brought on a sudden onslaught of regret and she wished she’d thought out her plan before going after the horrible Barbarian before her. What a horrid hand she’d been dealt. With another sigh, she trudged miserably along.
***********
“Steel,” Gunnar said quietly, glancing at him.
“Don’t.” Thoran glared into the woods, refusing to yield.
“Seriously, man.” Gunn’s glance turned into a glare. “Just look at her.”
Gritting his teeth, Thoran ignored the suggestion. After a long moment, he cursed and glanced over his shoulder.
There she was, her head hung low enough to have her thick sandy-brown hair hanging over half her face. Her steps were random and rapid, making each step she took look awkward as she kept both hands fisted in the folds of her torn dress.
He turned around with a sigh, annoyed with both her and himself.
Muttering a few words in a language no one there understood, he jumped off his horse.
Amethyst only looked up when he was already marching toward her, his hard expression making her steps halt.
She gasped, flinching when he took her wrist, but he only tugged her along behind him.
She had no idea where he was taking her and, expecting to be put back into the cart, was highly surprised when he led her to his horse instead.
His large hands circled her waist, further stunning her. He didn’t give her time to process it. In one go, he lifted her and sat her on his horse.