**ASH**
I stand out in the garden with Klyesque, just before the noon meal. She has glamoured herself back into the same old villager she is normally disguised as.
“How was your night?” I ask her, chuckling as her nose scrunches up and her lips purse.
“I’m afraid to ask how many times I’m going to have to do that.”
“Did the fat king enjoy himself?” I inquire, glancing around in amusement.
“Unfortunately,” she sighs. “And more than once.”
“Ahh,” I say. “So, he must be in a terribly good mood.”
“I fear the acts that were committed in that tower room may haunt me beyond that of a formal nightmare.”
I giggle as the nobles begin to litter the courtyard, each of them fat and heavy with greed in their bellies. “Do you see anything else you like?” I say and she shoves me, nearly sending me off the stone banister I am seated on.
The sky is gray and bitter this morning, and there is a chill in the air. A hint of winter on its way.
“I should get back. I pray the king is sated, and for long enough that your three stones can remain dry.” With that she is a whisper in the wind as she leaves me in the throes of laughter.
**DAPHNE**
My seat beside the king during the noon meal is a strange one indeed. He is glancing at me every five seconds and constantly filling my plate from his very own. The weirdest part is when he insists on tasting the wine from my goblet, before I do.
Then, he leans in close to whisper to me. “You never know with this lot. Jealousy can drive a woman to do terrible things.”
*What on earth?*
He winks at me, and I smile my response as I take a delicate bite of the food he has set in front of me. He comments, “I’m a little tired from our escapades last night and I fear I will not be able to see you again until I have built up my stamina. You are a thirsty little wench, aye, you are.”
Immediately I begin to choke on my quail. I sputter and cough and the king slaps my back to assist me. Handing me my goblet, he laughs. “Did I embarrass you? For that I apologize.”
“No sire,” I answer, after swallowing a good deal of wine.
*No matter what happens today, just roll with it. The king should be very pleased with you this morning.*
Ash’s words. They are singing in my head as I recover from my shock.
The king sampled my wine to protect me! How? Why?
The cloud of confusion I am sitting under begins to expel a might bit of understanding.
*Did Ash, trick the king somehow?*
*Does the king think that he visited me last night?*
*Who did Ash have assume my place in the tower?*
Just as I think of him, he appears. Late again and with the prince at his side. The noon meal began nearly an hour past. Our eyes lock at the same moment my head goes swimming, a delightful tingling interrupting my thoughts.
*Am I drunk?*
“I would be angry with you both if I weren’t in such a fantastic mood,” the king says. “Sit boys, eat. I am feeling quite blessed this afternoon. It seems villager Myrth is a better farmer than I realized.”
This sends me into fits of laughter and the king sputters his own drink, joining me in my merriment of his absurd jest. I am nearly red from giggling and the sight of the king’s belly bouncing with glee only causes me to chortle.
“What in the blue devil,” Hayden hisses. He passes behind me with a cold glare, and I work to control my sudden inebriation.
But, I can’t help myself, I stammer, “I th-think I am growing quite fond of wine.”
“Ha,” the king winks again. “Then wine you shall have, sweet. The finest from each and every vineyard.”
I grin at him. I can’t help myself. My cheeks are finding it much easier to compliment the king, than my tongue is. It isn’t until I’m halfway through another glass of the fascinating red syrup, that I realize, Ash is sitting stiffly and silently in his seat next to mine. He appears to be angry with his quail.
“It’s dead,” I say in a whisper.
The clank of his fork dropping onto his plate as he turns to face me, is mildly unsettling. I lose my smile under the heat of his gray eyes. His jaw is tight as his gaze shoots behind me, toward the laughing king.
“What’s the problem? Why are you angry?” I inquire a bit too loudly.
“He is jealous, sweet,” Hadimere boasts. “For it was I and not he, that have claimed the youngest, and most dazzling beauty in all the land. Despite his strapping good looks.”
Ash’s muscles flex and strain against his cotton tunic. Mouth in a grim line, he is gripping the table, causing all sorts of muscles to pop about under his skin. The sleeves are rolled up his arms, and I realize for the first time, he and the prince are both wearing tattered clothes. My attention is now on Hayden, searching for evidence of what must have transpired.
I missed it when they first came in, but sure enough, Hayden is sporting the beginnings of a black eye, and his bottom lip is split down the center.
Still mostly drunk, I throw caution to the wind and ask, “Have the two of you been fighting?”
“We have not,” Hayden hisses, filling his plate heavy with meat. “Mind your tongue peasant.”
“Oh,” I falter. “I apologize, highness.”
I fight back tears, though I don’t know why. What is there to be upset about. I am in fact a peasant and the prince, is always cruel. This is nothing new.
After a glance my way, the king pounds a fist on the table. That is when the unthinkable happens. Hadimere takes Hayden’s heavy plate and tosses it into the wall, causing servants to scatter and nobles to scream in surprise.
“Get out,” he says simply.
Oh my...
“Excuse me?” Hayden stands. “You can’t be serious.”
“Get out! You, disrespectful filth. You will not address my company in any manner that I deem unfit. Get out. And pray I allow you to enjoy your supper, come the evening, little prince.”
As Hayden retreats, all I can think about is the female who must have taken my place last night in the tower.
And-
\-how extraordinarily skilled she must be.