Return to Caer Lon Read online

  The room was brighter than she expected, almost welcoming. A few costumers were seated in front of a carafe in spite of the early hour. Others were eating. More than half of them snatched a glimpse at the newcomers and Sacha felt like a rabbit surrounded by foxes. Maybe having him entering first had not been such a bad idea...

  Derek pushed his hood back and she could only imitate him, but she kept her face down, glad her long braid was caught beneath her cloak. At least the thick cloth protected her from more probing. With her delicate face and slender frame, she could hardly be mistaken for a boy.

  The prince chose a table near the wall and she nearly sighed in relief at the idea of having the thick barrier in her back. Murmurs of thanks evanesced from her lips when she saw Derek take the bench near the wall while he invited her to take the open one.

  “I prefer having my eyes on the room instead of it watching my back.”

  So do I. Sacha thought bitterly. She preferred swallowing her comment. No need to let her discomfort show. He would be too happy. Instead she sat down, trying her best to look poised and at ease with her neck exposed to curiosity.

  A waitress with an outrageous neckline showed up within minutes with two cups and a jug. Derek did not let her enough time to take a proper look at them before he declared, “We need a room for the night and baths. Our horses are in the back.”

  “Yes; my lord.”

  Her low bow exposed more cleavage when Derek placed a silver coin in her hand to punctuate his list of requirements. Sacha quirked an eyebrow; the smirk on her companion was insufferable. As for the absurd behaviour of that woman... The waitress left, and Derek looked back to her, apparently sure she was shocked by the amount of money he offered, and obviously amused by her silent blame.

  “There has to be some interest in winning tournaments.”

  Escorting her was the only valuable reward to the jousts. Knights told her so every single time, before Derek beat them methodically to win the day.

  She fought not to slap his grin off his face. His smirk grew some more, as if he could see the wheels turning in her head. Sacha bit back a comment about greed, her cheeks burning. Couldn’t her mind shut up about the way he glimpsed at that woman? He’d never looked at her that way. Not that she wanted him to. Did she? No. Of course not. She wasn’t interested in the slightest in Derek or his frolics…

  “My lady, my lord, your room is ready. If you please follow me…”

  The young woman jumped to her feet to follow their guide upstairs. Derek imitated her with a glance toward the bar. Sacha did her best to ignore his hesitation. Her hands trembled with outrage.

  Fortunately, Derek stayed in the room just long enough to peek at the two small beds and make sure their bags were intact. Satisfied, he ordered the tub hidden behind an overused screen to be filled for bathing immediately and left her blissfully alone.

  oOo

  The tavern’s main room was filling up quickly as the morning bloomed. Locals and merchants alike poured through the door for a drink or to exchange the current gossip, which was fine with him. Rumours travelled faster than light. By experience, Derek knew one could learn far more by listening rather than asking questions. Unfortunately, that took time, and time was a luxury he had not.

  A bunch of old men now occupied the table by the wall. Derek overlooked his previous observatory to walk to the back of the room. The barman nodded at him, never stopping mopping the wooden surface.

  “What’s for you, lad?”

  Derek fished a silver coin from his purse, and put it on the counter.

  “Information.”

  The barman shrugged. Derek pushed the coin forward. The man stayed still, looking straight at the young man. After a few seconds, he grunted, “I have ale or cider. Which one do you want?”

  Derek frowned. The barman held his stare steadily. Derek tried to think fast. Why offer a choice of drink when he had made it clear he didn’t want to drink? He took a wild guess.

  “Give me a pint of cider.”

  Apparently satisfied, the barman put a chop in front of him. When he glanced down, Derek noticed the money had disappeared. One coin of silver was way too high a price for cider, but at least he…

  “You’re lucky. Last bottle from a bunch I bought last winter. Was pretty surprised to have goods from the other side again at the time.”

  Derek sipped the beverage tentatively. His mind worked in a frenzy to process the two words the barman had put emphasis on. His mother often prized Camelot’s apple trees and the talent of the peasants to exploit them. Tiny bubbles fizzled on his tongue, sweet and dry at the same time, an invitation to drain his cup. He resisted the temptation in extremis and bowed his head in appreciation. The barman bent forward.

  “When the wolf is out of the woods, the forest breathes again.”

  The man talked in enigmas, but this one rang a bell.

  “What else crossed the border?”

  The barman stepped back. For a second, he feared he had been too direct. His source groaned, “Told you. Goods.” The man lowered his tone, “and bad things.”

  The young man opened his mouth to push on the matter.

  “That’s a very nice squire you’ve got, Sire. Very nice…”

  The sneer sent Derek’s heart up his throat. He forced himself to take a long gulp of cider before he turned. The ruffian elbowed a poor costumer nearby.

  “If pretty boy here is fed up of his page, I’ll supply.”

  The salacious laugh shrieked on Derek’s nerves, hard. His left hand looked for his sword. He gripped the hilt, and stepped forward.

  “It won’t be necessary.”

  Though hissed through clenched teeth, the new comer recognized the threat. He fisted hands large as ham. Derek prepared for the first swing.

  Feminine curves appeared out of nowhere between them, and the blond who had first welcomed Sacha and him locked arms with the brute.

  “Let me show you to a nice table…”

  The intruder glanced down on the generous corsage, growled at Derek and deserted the scene. Breathing more easily, the young man noticed his informer had disappeared in the back room. Whatever bad things had crossed Camelot’s borders would have to wait. His squire had soaked by herself long enough anyway.

  oOo

  Sacha relaxed, vaguely wondering how long she could indulge in the water before Derek claimed his turn. The man came haunting her thoughts all too often. He was probably flirting with that cheeky waitress and not at all in a hurry to use the cleaning facilities.

  She closed her eyes, sinking deeper in the tub. The hot water started to wash annoyance and soreness away. Her unplaited hair sprang to life in the water, dressing her shoulders with a black web. Sacha pinched her nose to immerse fully in the water and rinse her mane. Underwater, she could not hear anything, but the low beating of her heart and she savoured the peaceful rhythm as long as she could. Finally she broke the surface for air, wiping water off her eyes.

  “You have been in there for an eternity.”

  Sacha screamed and lost her balance, slipping to the bottom of the tub, spraying water everywhere. The shadow behind the screen jumped backward instantly. Her sore biceps hit the rim and she moaned in pain. The brutal invasion of water into her nose and down her throat brought up tears, as she choked and coughed.

  “Get out Derek!”

  Crouched in the tub with water up to her chin, she didn’t dare moving one lash.

  “I need to tell-”

  His sentence floated toward her, muffled by the sound of her heart racing and thudding blood in her ears.

  “How dared you!”

  She shut up immediately, fighting to retrieve her composure. She refused to sound like a terrified little girl. There was nothing to be afraid of… It was nothing but Derek acting like an oaf! Taking a deep breath she spat, words angrily banging out of her mouth.

  “Close your eyes while I dress.”

  “Don’t worry. Your virtue has nothing to fear w
ith me.”

  Oh, really. If she had not been so mad at him, she would have loved proving him wrong and adored every single minute of it. Arrogant, vulgar, ignominious...

  Sacha risked a glimpse out of her hiding. Her change of clothes was on her bed. Derek was facing the door, hands crossed in his back. If he had heard the boil of water when she climbed out of the tub, it did not show in his nonchalant posture. She tiptoed to the bed and snatched her clothes before she retreated behind the screen in a flash. It took her less than a minute to vest despite the resistance of the fabric on her humid skin.

  “You can turn around now.”

  Her voice was regal, and perfectly icy. Derek stayed immobile for a few more seconds. When he finally decided to grant her one look, she was seated on the bed, working her brush through her mane. The surprise on his face annoyed her even more.

  “You are wearing a dress.”

  The brush stopped midway in her damp locks.

  “Yes, I am. Is that a problem?”

  “No, of course not.”

  She was not sure she liked the glint that sparkled in his eyes. The taunting smile was even more hassling. Sacha continued arranging her hair, falsely unconcerned.

  “The water is still hot, if by any chance you feel like cleaning up.”

  His smirk disappeared at the insult. Excellent.

  Derek put off his jacket and started unlacing his shirt. Sacha narrowed her eyes on him, unable to chase away the warmth spreading up her throat.

  “The screen is over there, Derek.”

  His boots landed on the floor. Sacha turned to face the opposite side of the room but she refused to close her eyes. Her locks were already tangling, she had no reason to wait for him to discover the sense of the word ‘modesty’.

  “You really splashed water everywhere…”

  God, was he insufferable! What need had he to always try and make her feel addled or futile!

  “I am not used to have someone entering my chambers while I am bathing.”

  “This is reassuring… Hum, this is good.”

  The appreciative murmur when he entered the tub tore away a smile. Sacha focused on one particularly difficult knot; like certain prince. The sound of water caught her attention again. The knot gave in with a vigorous pull that echoed down to her arm and she could not stop a whimper to escape her lips.

  “I asked a couple of questions of the barman. He was able to buy some cider from Camelot last winter.”

  She chocked. He hadn’t intruded her privacy to talk about alcohol, had he? If this was an excuse for ill behaviour, this was the lousiest she had ever been served. And Elwyn had a bottomless stock of them. She put her brush away without a reply and started arranging her hair, wincing every time she pulled too hard at the wavy mass.

  “I suspect beverages are not the only thing that came across. Apparently, bad things did too. Whatever they are. So, are you ready?”

  Sacha looked up to find him dressed fresh, his hair shining a dark gold from the bath. Irritated at liking the image, she took her time to clip her braid up with a beautifully carved hazel comb Agnes had thoughtfully added to her packing. Then she stood gracefully, a perfectly composed smile on her lips. Derek’s expression flinched, yet it was still too bold for her taste.

  “Good. Let’s go explain to the innkeeper why a lady dresses as a page and why said lady and her knight need to find the church…”

  Chapter 8

  Derek decided the furious embarrassment in Sacha’s eyes when he served his story to their hostess was worth every second. She had no idea what her shriek had done to his heart rate. Especially given that he was still recovering from his encounter with one of her two admirers in the main room. What the hell was she thinking, screaming like that? He thought... No, he had just stopped thinking for a split second.

  Afterward, the effort of calming the beast raging inside his chest had nearly made it easy to ignore her shadow playing on the wall as she dressed; well, quite easy. She had taken her sweet time vesting. Did she think he was made of stone? Good God, he was only human and she was beautiful…

  “I cannot believe you told her we eloped!”

  Her outrage cut through his distracting thoughts. Caught off guard, Derek managed a sneer.

  “I did not recall using that particular word. I told only the truth. We did leave without your father’s approval.”

  Derek paused to observe their surroundings and find the general direction the innkeeper had indicated for the church.

  “But you implied we eloped. And you asked for the church! Now she is convinced we need a priest to… To… To marry us!”

  Finding the church would automatically lead them to the monastery, as he was about to explain to the enraged lady before she started fustigating him. Then Sacha was so far gone he didn’t bother. Derek continued to walk, his progression slowed down by the various spreads of market.

  “We will not stay long enough for her to offer you a wedding crown, if that is your concern.”

  He avoided one cart offering flowers, before he half-turned to make sure she followed him despite the garish crowd. It was nearly noon, and the market was in full swing. Markets always made him nervous, teeming with noises and bustling tenants. The crowd was the perfect hideout for ruffians and cutpurses.

  “One conversation with the librarian should suffice to convince you Caer Lon does not exist anymore and tomorrow, we will ride north.”

  He chose to consider her glower was due to the reek coming from the next shop, the acrid smell of stale fruits assaulting his nose. Sacha fumed more than ever.

  “You have planned this ridiculous exit all along.”

  Derek glanced at her quickly while they reached the packed place. Sacha was looking around with a beguiled expression in her eyes. Her irritation was slowly easing. He grabbed her hand to take her away from a baker. They were not here to stroll.

  “Every woman falls for a romantic story, especially one in which the young lovers need to fight to be together.”

  “We are not lovers. In love. Whatever.”

  She pouted, pulling her hand free from his. The haughty Lady of Haven thoroughly refused to be associated with him in any romantic way. His smile deepened as Derek thought about teasing her about it. Then he decided to hold his tongue. It was probably not a good idea to seed the notion in her lovely head. In addition, her repulsion at the idea was strangely disturbing. He was a prince after all, a fair knight and reasonably good looking. She should be… at least flattered.

  Derek tried to focus on the matter at hand. While she got steamed up about their pseudo-pairing, she did not take notice of his denial over the mythic city of Caer Lon. He forced a short laugh out. He should be relieved that she was not interested. Whatever his mother and his friends insinuated, he was absolutely not ready to have marital knots tied around their wrists. She crawled under his skin too easily.

  Derek jarred when Sacha touched his elbow slightly, forcing his attention toward the high shadow on their left. A four-storey building was visible behind the bell tower. He had been right about the monastery flanking the church. They would not need to go inside to ask the sacristan for directions. He regretted it, at least a little. Just to see Sacha jittering... Given her current state of mind, it was better to avoid the place entirely.

  The monastery was not secluded and the monks allowed them inside. The presence of a woman into their walls made two of the older friars frown while three of the youngest skittered like rabbits. However, the friar librarian who joined them in the chapter room was pretty happy to have young people querying his expertise. He guided them toward the scriptorium, chatting openly about his devoted life.

  “We acquire books as often as we can; we are lucky enough to produce honey and cheese so our resources are comfortable. Of course donations are always welcome…”

  The allusion was crystal clear. Derek extracted a little purse from his jacket to present it to the plump little man trotting by their side.


  “I trust this will secure future purchases.”

  “This is very generous, my lord; very generous indeed…”

  The purse disappeared quickly into the large sleeves as the monk bowed, never slowing down. Sacha used his pause in front of a large double paneled door to explain bashfully.

  “Friar Johan, we are passionate about history, and your library is so well known… We hoped we could use your extensive collection.”

  Derek recognized the suave inflection of her voice. She added just the right glint of innocence in her admiring stare. When did she begin to use charm to have her way with the male population around? He repressed a smirk. Her feminine tricks might have worked on him - once - she could not think it was going to be effective here, could she?

  “Of course, my child, but only with my supervision.”

  The prince’s narrowing stare went unnoticed.

  “Oh thank you so much… You see, Derek and I had this little argument and maybe you can help me prove him wrong...”

  Baffled, the prince shot a deadly glance at her over the tonsured head, but Sacha was smiling at her new friend, ignoring him. The monk patted her arm gently.

  “I will do my best, of course. What is it about?”

  She blushed slightly. Derek growled internally. Blushing! As if this was going to win the day! Baiting him - only once! - was one thing, but a monk!

  “Well, we disagree about Caer Lon. Derek’s family originated from Camelot, so he thinks he knows all about it.”

  Another blazing glare got lost. Her tone was deceitfully soft.

  “He pretends the city is in the northern part of the kingdom, but I always heard it was in the south…”

  He had never said north; he had said it did not exist! She would put the patience of a saint to the test!

  They had entered a large square room with small writing desks covered with scrolls, some rolled and others flattened under stones. Ink bottles and quills were dispatched on each table. Friar Johan motioned at the entire room.