Chapter Text
“You see, miss—a robust material, yes? And the colour would flatter you very finely, I think so!”
Jade swallowed down a sigh and cast about for some excuse to make to the remarkably persistent shopkeeper before her. She hated people trying to sell her things, and the merchants of Phnom Nonh—struck by the dual blow of the mural’s destruction and the fall of Yggdrasil—were evidently trying to make up in enthusiasm what they now lacked in customers.
“I’m not sure it offers the kind of protection I’m looking for,” she declined, eyeing the Strongsam doubtfully.
Unfortunately, this was only taken as a challenge. “But there are many other uses for such a garment, yes?” the shopkeeper insisted. He held the garishly red outfit even closer, apparently on the off-chance that her vision was failing. “Life is not only about armour rating! We must also live it to the fullest!”
He paused, and added almost bashfully: “Especially, if I may say, for a lovely young woman like yourself, miss.”
Ah, not just persistence, then; Jade was certain that if she squinted, she’d be able make out the hearts shining in his eyes. This reaction was often even more an inevitability than the desperation of a merchant trying to close a sale.
“I’m afraid that’s not relevant to my needs—” she started to say, not wanting to completely crush his spirits. As it turned out, however, he was either incapable of taking a hint, or had entirely resolved not to.
“In fact, I have a changing area in the back for you to try it on, if you wish!” the shopkeeper continued eagerly. “Most convenient for you, I think so!”
A spark of irritation flashed through her, but she shoved it back down. The man was far more oblivious than predatory, and it wasn’t worth having to find another armour shop—with the possibility of equally amorous shop tenders—when the day was marching on.
“I don’t think so, sorry,” she replied firmly. “Now, what do I owe you for the rest of it?”
As the shopkeeper packed up the assortment of armour she’d picked out, visibly drooping with disappointment, Jade counted out enough gold to offset the discount she knew he’d given her. There was a time when she had relied on such favours to scrimp and save every last shilling, but nothing gave her greater relief now than to be able to decline them—and all the strings attached alongside.
She was just considering how to carry the lot of it when Hendrik came back over from his perusal of the weapon merchant’s stall.
“Have you finished, Princess?” he asked her. He’d obviously taken care of his part of the shopping, a bundle of fearsome weapons propped up in the crook of one arm. Jade noted that the armour merchant had seemed to find a pressing reason to scurry to the backroom upon the appearance of the knight—not an uncommon reaction, really.
“I think I’ve got everything,” she said, frowning slightly as she mentally calculated how best to disperse the load between them. “If you could just grab the helmets and the chestpieces, then I’ll carry the...”
Jade trailed off as Hendrik wordlessly bent down and gathered up the pile in its entirety, lifting it as easily as if it were made from silks instead of steel. Well—all right, then. She made no attempt to object; what use was there in having a companion with arms like tree trunks if one did not take advantage of the convenience they provided?
“I suppose that’s settled,” she said instead, brushing her bangs back from her face. “What else is left?”
Hendrik frowned and shifted the bundle in his arms. “I must confess to ignorance on that score, Your Highness. Despite these months of travel, Lord Robert’s penmanship remains rather indecipherable to me.”
Jade smiled as she reached over to pluck the crinkled shopping list from Hendrik’s belt. “It’s a wonder he was a king once, isn’t it?” she mused aloud, squinting at the parchment. “Lady Eleanor apparently started insisting on his using scribes after he accidentally sent out a proclamation honouring the sheep charmers of Dundrasil.”
“Yes, I recall the circumstance,” Hendrik replied, his brow furrowing in recollection. “King Carnelian assumed it to be a jest at the time.”
“No, just Rab being...well, Rab.” Shoddy handwriting finally puzzled out, Jade looked up again. “All we need are a few Extra Murals from the item shop. The others should be back from Hotto by then.”
The knight nodded overtop the arsenal that filled his arms. “Lead the way, Princess.”
Foreboding clouds were beginning to move in above the high cliffs surrounding Phnom Nonh as they made their way through the town. The lantern-lit streets were far emptier than the last time Jade had visited, before the World Tree’s fall. The people didn’t seem to be in poor spirits, but it was a stark difference from the bustling clamour she remembered.
“I had hoped the town would be more prosperous by now,” Hendrik remarked, also glancing around as they walked. “Perhaps even those treasures recovered from Avarith’s lair were inadequate to their needs.”
“It’s not easy for anyone in Erdrea these days,” Jade replied with a twinge of melancholy. She’d never enjoyed visiting Phnom Nonh during her travels with Rab, but no one deserved to live in hardship—especially after what Hendrik and Sylvando had said about their trials some months ago. It was a shame they were still struggling to recover.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden, furtive movement at the edge of her vision, and Jade instinctively jerked her head around to look. All she managed to catch was a dark flash before it disappeared into a nearby alleyway. She paused, frowning after it.
“Is something amiss, Princess?” Hendrik asked her, immediately on high alert. His gloved hand moved reflexively to his sword hilt—which, of course, caused him to relinquish his grip on several of the armour pieces.
The loud clatter on the cobbled streets broke whatever momentary spell Jade had been under. She turned away from the alley just in time to chase after a rolling helmet before it fell down one of the town’s many steep staircases. Hendrik’s grimacing dismay brought a small smile to her face as she returned to him and helped gather up the rest of it.
“Should I go back to the armour shop and request a crate?” she asked lightly, re-balancing the helmet on top of the precarious pile of equipment in his arms.
“I would not wish you to trouble yourself,” Hendrik said with a shake of his head. He then added, with a hint of dryness: “Although if you were to ask, I am certain the shopkeeper would be most eager to accommodate you.”
Jade looked away and made some show of adjusting her gloves in order to hide her widening smile. Ever oblivious to the desperate attentions of women on four separate continents, Hendrik certainly seemed to have a knack for noticing when men were interested in her. It would have been irritating, had his inexorable knightliness compelled him to adopt a protective role; but thankfully, he seemed well aware of her ability to handle herself, and generally left it alone.
“Do you really think so?” she asked mischievously, never able to resist an opportunity to tweak his short-cropped beard—figuratively speaking, of course. “Perhaps he might even throw in a free shield if I bat my eyelashes at him.”
There was a minuscule movement in Hendrik’s jaw and she instantly knew that he was clenching it. “A true knight endeavours to support any stratagem his future monarch wishes to enact, both in and out of battle,” he replied with iron resolve.
“Well, that’s a comfort,” Jade tossed back, smile finally tamed as she turned to face him once more. “It’d probably work better without your standing five feet away glowering at the poor man, though. Come on, let’s go find the item shop.”
They procured the Extra Murals from the young girl who ran the store and graciously accepted her offer of a crate—no batting of anyone’s eyelashes required. After that, they had only to wait for the rest of the party to return from their own supply runs at sundown. Too restless to sit around the main square, Jade paid an enterprising pair of children to watch their purchases—over Hendrik’s strenuous objections that he had only dropped them the once—and they set out again, her wanting to show him the Nhou Wat ruins with the bit of time they had left.
It was honestly refreshing to explore the place with someone who wasn’t constantly complaining about the endless stairs, like Rab always did. Small wonder, she thought, her eyes lingering on Hendrik’s substantial legs as he easily climbed the steps just ahead of her; his arms weren’t the only tree trunks that sprouted from his massive torso.
So occupied she was by her covert examination of his bulk that Jade missed the last step of the stone staircase leading up to the plateau. She let out a startled cry as she tripped, and would have met the ground in a thoroughly undignified manner had certain recently-pondered limbs not suddenly reached out to catch her.
“Are you unwell, Princess?” Hendrik asked worriedly, his eyes scanning her for invisible injuries as he helped her right herself again. “If the climb has wearied you, then would it not be better to—”
“I’m fine, Hendrik,” she said quickly, embarrassed at having given the impression that a few dozen stairs were too much for her. She could feel the warmth of his skin through his leather gloves, and the contrast with the cool air of the plateau sent a brief shiver down her spine.
Once assured that she was in no imminent danger, Hendrik immediately dropped his hands from her arms. An unconscious frown flashed across Jade’s face as she watched him withdraw. It was rare these days that Hendrik ever touched her and he was always very prompt in letting go; a far cry from the casual affection they’d once shared together. True, they’d both been much younger then, but she’d thought at least something of their one-time bond might still remain.
A memory, hazed over with crimson fog: And you can keep your hands to yourself.
“Princess?”
Hendrik’s eyes were searching her face, concern creeping into them once more. Jade shook her head slightly to clear her mind and offered him a small smile.
“Let’s go see the ruins before the rain starts,” she told him, eyeing the threatening clouds overhead. And with that she set off, Hendrik having no choice but to follow her.
They’d occasionally spoken of their adventures in the mural over the campfire at night, but Jade now told the whole story to Hendrik as they descended the stairs to the Nhou Wat ruins and entered the sunken main building. The area was deserted, as it probably had been ever since their defeat of the demon inside it.
“It almost defies credulity,” Hendrik murmured as they stood together before the empty space on the wall. “Truly, the magic in this world has depths beyond mortal comprehension.”
“I think we’ve all learned a bit about that in the past year,” Jade agreed quietly.
He looked down at her, his stern face softened by a somber compassion that twisted something inside her chest. It suddenly felt like a mistake to come here, too close to this reminder of the trials they had endured thanks to Moredegon’s evil influence.
“Well,” she said in a louder voice, trying to force her way past the moment, “if you truly are incredulous, we could always hop inside so I can give you a tour.”
As she’d hoped, Hendrik’s brow immediately furrowed with alarm.
“Your Highness, I must strongly advise against such a course of action,” he objected, one fist coming up to his chest. “If this mural yet contains such foes as you described, it would be a perilous undertaking for the two of us to venture into...”
Hendrik’s mouth drifted shut as he finally registered the amusement on her face. “Ah,” he said then, resignation in his voice. “You seek to provoke me for your own enjoyment, Princess?”
“I haven’t any idea why you volunteered for this outing,” she teased as they both turned to leave the room. “I’d have had much more fun with Sylvando, anyway. He’s been telling me all about your childhood in Puerto Valor, you know.”
“There is nothing in my youthful past that could cause me undue shame or humiliation,” Hendrik declared, waving her through the doorway first with a courtesy so long-practiced it had become second nature.
“Is that so, Sir Hendrik?” Jade asked innocently. “Not even the jellyfish incident?”
To her credit, she did manage to avoid outright laughing at his aghast expression—but it was a very near thing.
“That—you—but he—we swore ourselves to secrecy about the matter!“ Hendrik sputtered in outrage. “Solemn oaths, no less binding than any given in the course of our service as knights! Whatever could he be thinking of?”
“You’ll have a chance to confront him about it shortly,” Jade reassured the scandalized man as they marched back up the steps. “Just so long as you promise to let all the rest of us watch.”
The rain was just beginning to fall when they reached the main square of town again. Huge droplets plummeted down from the sky and an ominous thundering accompanied the start of the deluge. Jade and Hendrik hurried under the shelter of the inn’s large awning, crate of equipment once more in the knight’s capable hands.
“The others should be back soon,” Jade said, uselessly trying to make out the position of the sun behind the roiling clouds. Hendrik made an indistinct sound of agreement beside her and deposited the crate on the ground next to him while they waited.
A minute turned into several, then a dozen, then an hour. The townsfolk of Phnom Nonh—obviously well used to such dreary weather—scurried about their business with hooded cloaks as the princess and the knight looked on. The light began to fade, and the square gradually emptied out as people returned to their homes for the evening.
“You don’t think...something’s happened, do you?” Jade finally asked, voicing the thought that had been looming larger and larger in her mind as the minutes crept by.
As usual, Hendrik spoke with all the conviction of a convert’s faith in the divine. “As sworn companions of the Luminary, I am certain that we would know if some harm were to befall our comrades.”
“I’m not,” she replied softly, thinking of a quiet, wooded grove and its still occupant. Her eyes started to sting around the edges and she blinked rapidly until the feeling passed.
Hendrik seemed to take her meaning and fell into silence, and they once more looked out into the rainy square. A nearby bird chittered as it settled down in some unseen nest above the rafters of the awning.
Too anxious to wait any longer, Jade had just resolved to find some covering so she could investigate the path into town, when a group of travellers came rushing up the steps of the inn. They appeared to be a family, comprising two parents and their four children.
“Are you sure you’re casting it correctly?” the mother asked waspishly as they stood on the landing beside Jade and Hendrik and shook the water off their clothes. She was trying to shush the wailing infant in her arms, without much notable success.
“Yes, dear,” the father said in a long-suffering voice. “I’ve told you a thousand times, the magical pathways don’t always work right when it’s storming out, remember?”
“What I remember is that I wanted to go to Lonalulu so the children could see the ocean, but you insisted on stopping by to visit your uncle here first. ‘It’ll only be a quick trip, darling—don’t forget that I can Zoom!’ Well, where does that get us now, I ask—”
The woman’s rant was cut off as they disappeared into the inn, but Jade hardly noticed with the sudden wave of relief that crashed through her. There hadn’t truly been much reason to worry, of course, but she’d always had a hard time letting go of certain old habits.
“Did you hear that?” she asked Hendrik eagerly. “They must not be able to get back because of the storm!”
“Indeed,” he replied, looking much less tense himself, despite his earlier words. “I had heard that the spell has become less reliable since the World Tree’s fall. I fear we may be stranded until the weather clears.”
“Well, I’m certainly not spending it stuck out here,” Jade declared as she walked over to grab the handle of the inn’s front door. Hendrik picked up the crate of equipment behind her and followed her into the noisy, warm, blessedly dry taproom on the lower level of the inn. It was full of people evidently avoiding the deluge outside. The bartender was pouring drinks with scarcely a break in between, while busy servers carried large plates of food to the tables. Jade caught a whiff of some kind of roasted meat and suddenly realized how ravenous she was.
“We should probably get a couple rooms, just in case,” she said to the knight beside her. “I can do that—I know the innkeeper and her husband.”
He nodded, shifting the weight of the crate in his arms. “I will inquire as to supper while you secure our lodgings.”
Jade could hear the sound of squabbling children as she climbed the steps to the second floor of the inn. The family of travellers was at the front desk, presumably having had the same idea as her. She leaned against the stairwell railing as she waited for them to finish, idly fiddling with the laces on her arm guards. The storm continued to rage beyond the open balconies of the lobby.
A movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention and she looked up. One of the children, a girl around eight years old, was standing before her.
“Hello,” Jade said, tilting her head curiously. Children were somewhat of a mystery to her after growing up with only an elderly man for companionship—despite his constant claims of being ‘young at heart’.
“Hi,” the girl replied shyly. “I just...I just wanted to say...I think you’re really pretty.” This last part came out in a rush, and the girl dropped her gaze to stare intently at her own shoes.
“Oh—thank you.” Oddly touched, Jade knelt down at eye level with the girl in the hopes of putting her more at ease. “I quite like your ribbons, myself. Did you pick them out?”
The girl glanced over at the bright fabric adorning her braids. “I...I guess so,” she whispered.
“Well, they’re lovely,” Jade smiled. “Are you travelling with your family?”
Her young friend scowled, timidity overcome at once by a child’s natural eagerness to complain. “Yes, and I hate making all these trips with my brothers,” she burst out. “They’re noisy and smelly and they ruin everything!”
“That sounds quite aggravating,” Jade acknowledged with a sympathetic nod. “I haven’t any brothers, so I wouldn’t know.”
A delighted smile came over the girl’s face. “Really? I wasn’t sure if that man you were with outside was your brother or your boyfriend,” she chattered excitedly. “I’m so glad he’s not your brother—he’s very handsome. I hope my boyfriend is just as good-looking someday.”
Jade blinked at her, momentarily flummoxed. “Ah...that is...”
“Time to go, love!” the mother called from the front desk. The girl gave Jade an enthusiastic wave and dashed off, leaving the princess crouched on the floor staring after her. She blinked again and shook her head, smiling to herself about the naive assumptions of children as she rose and walked over to the desk.
Another surprise awaited her there, and she paused at the sight of the unfamiliar woman of middle years behind the counter.
“Yes, miss? Can I help you?” The woman squinted at Jade suspiciously, as if her martial artist’s garb was enough to instantly condemn her as a probable troublemaker.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jade apologized. “I was expecting Mony’s wife.”
“I am Mony’s sister, Parsi,” the woman sniffed. “He and his wife travel to the Academy for a new business idea of his. During the rainy season and with so many bandits about lately—foolishness! But I always watch the inn in their absence, I think so.”
“Ah, of course,” Jade agreed politely, secretly lamenting the replacement of Mony’s kind, helpful wife by this rather cantankerous-looking substitute. “In any event, I’d like two rooms for tonight, please.”
Parsi shook her head, her thick braid of hair swishing from side to side with the movement. “Impossible. The family before you has taken all but one of my rooms, and it contains but a single bed within.”
Jade paused again as she absorbed this information. Not an insurmountable problem in and of itself; the party often doubled—or even tripled—up on accommodations during their travels, and she’d shared rooms with nearly every one of her companions at one time or another.
Nearly. That she was currently stranded with the sole exception to this practice was possibly going to be a problem—on his part, anyway. But given the alternative of trekking through this downpour to a soggy campsite, she was certain he could be made to see reason, regardless of whatever knightly nonsense he tried to throw at her.
“We’ll take it,” she told the interim innkeeper, mentally determining the supplies needed to make a floor pallet large enough to fit a man who defied normal-sized bedding. “If I could just have a few extra blankets and a pillow, that would be—”
“I am hoping you understand that this is a respectable establishment, yes?” Parsi interrupted, glaring beadily at Jade.
The princess blinked at her. “I’m sorry?”
“There is no tolerance for any funny business here, I think so.” The innkeeper placed her hands on the desk and leaned forward ominously. Despite having at least a foot on the woman, Jade had to stop herself from instinctively shrinking back.
“Matri does whatever she thinks is best, of course,” Parsi continued, “but when I am in charge, there is to be no sharing of rooms between unmarried adults. No exceptions.”
Jade stared, mouth gaping open slightly. In all her years of travel with Rab, she couldn’t recall ever coming across a demand like this before. Granted, most people had assumed him to be her father or grandfather, so perhaps it simply hadn’t come up; but even so, she found herself entirely taken aback by this unexpected prohibition.
A loud clap of thunder shook the walls of the inn. Jade glanced past the balcony at the sheets of rain pounding down outside and knew that it would take half the night to dry their clothes off once they reached the campsite. Moreover, Erik tended to carry the tents in his pack, so they’d be forced to sleep out in the open—something she’d promised herself never to put up with again if she someday gained the means to avoid it.
It took a few moments for her to realize that the loud thumping behind her was not more thunder, but rather the sound of familiar heavy steps on the staircase. She turned in time to see Hendrik reach the landing of the second floor, the crate of equipment still in his arms.
“Is this your companion?” the innkeeper asked suspiciously as Hendrik joined them at the desk. He placed the crate on the floor and glanced at the woman before giving Jade a questioning look, presumably wondering what was taking so long.
She had a split-second to make a decision. The face of the little girl flashed in her mind, and Jade knew at once—for good or ill—how she might overcome this unforeseen obstacle. It wasn’t a difficult choice, in the end; not with the life she’d lived to get here.
“Yes,” Jade said, grabbing onto one of Hendrik’s massive arms in what she hoped was a convincingly affectionate grasp. “This...is my husband.”
The bicep underneath her hand flexed as Hendrik instantly went rigid at her words. She ignored him, pasting on a smile as she focused her attention on the older woman.
“Married, are you?” Parsi squinted as she sized Hendrik up, her gaze dropping steeply as it moved back to Jade.
“Oh, yes—quite happily,” the princess assured the innkeeper. Her knuckles whitened as her fingers dug into the muscles of his arm in a silent warning not to interfere. “We’re actually newlyweds, you see.”
Despite her efforts, she saw a stupefied Hendrik open his mouth to say...something, probably entirely incoherent and completely disastrous for their chances at getting a room that night. Jade very casually shifted her leg out of sight from the woman behind the desk, and stomped on his foot with the heel of her boot. He doubled over at once with a muffled cry.
“What is the matter with you, sir?” Parsi asked, suspicion flaring up again.
“Forgive me,” he gasped, clutching his foot with a grimace. “I find myself...struck by sudden injury...”
Jade leapt on this excuse like it was a stubborn monster at critical health. “Oh, darling, that’s awful,” she cooed, hands lightly stroking his shoulders in spurious sympathy. In some distant place at the back of her mind, she hummed with satisfaction at the firmness she felt there.
She turned to the innkeeper again and adopted her most beseechingly sweet tone. “Do you think we could have that room? It’s been a tiring day, and he really shouldn’t be on his feet much longer.”
Parsi’s expression remained wary, but she grudgingly accepted Jade’s coin and grabbed the single key hanging on the wall. Before she handed it over, however, she paused.
“When you first came, you asked me for two rooms, yes?” she said with narrowed eyes. “A strange request for a married couple, I think so.”
Jade hadn’t lived through years of Rab’s elaborate ruses and disguises for nothing. “He snores,” she explained without skipping a beat, offering a rueful smile to the older woman. “The most dreadful sound you’ve ever heard. I like to have somewhere else to go if I can’t sleep through it.”
To her relief, Parsi nodded, finally relaxing the slightest fraction. “Ah, so did my own husband, may his soul rest with Yggdrasil. I did get used to it, in time.”
She then offered the key to Jade, and the princess forced herself to accept it calmly rather than snatching it from the woman’s hand before she could change her mind. Hendrik had by that point recovered enough to be able to mostly stand up straight again. He still looked rather dumbfounded, however, and it took a few discreet jabs of her finger into his side before he snapped out of his daze. He manfully picked the crate back up from the floor and hobbled after her as they went across the hall to their room.
Jade had only a moment to take in the minimal furnishings and white-linened bed before the door clicked shut behind them and Hendrik heroically retrieved his capability for speech.
“P-Princess Jade,” he choked out, his face turning an intriguing shade of crimson as he dumped the crate into a nearby corner and then rounded on her. “What in the heavens do you mean by all this?”
Rather than answer that question right away, she glanced down at the injured foot he was still favouring. “Heal yourself, Hendrik,” she told him as she walked over to the bedside table and pulled her satchel and claws off her belt. “I’m sorry about that, by the way—it was all I could think of in the moment.”
His wild eyes never left her face as he lifted his hands and a bright flash of light filled the room. She heard his small sigh of relief before he straightened back up to his full—and significant—height.
“Princess—” he implored again, chest heaving and fists clenched at his sides.
“This was the only room left, and the innkeeper’s sister-in-law apparently has a very strict sense of propriety,” Jade explained as she rifled through her pack for her comb. “I had to do something.”
“And so, you...you made claim that we were married?” Hendrik asked in disbelief. His brow was so impossibly furrowed that she felt a slight concern about his chances of premature wrinkling.
“It was either that, or us heading out in the pouring rain to the campsite. I, for one, would like to avoid that if at all possible.” She tried to muster up her most businesslike tone, hoping to sway him to her side with unassailable logic; never let it be said that a princess could not be as vulnerable to foolish optimism as the next person.
“Then I will journey to the campsite,” Hendrik declared in a burst of chivalric zeal. “Better that by far than to maintain a farce so dishonorable to us both.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Hendrik,” she sighed, finally turning back to him. “I’m not sending you out into the Champs Sauvage alone at night.”
“Yet you expect me to share bedchambers with the Princess of Heliodor? As well as allege her to be my—my—my wife?” He stumbled over this last part, as if his lips and tongue were fundamentally incapable of expressing such an outrageous concept.
Jade arched an eyebrow at him. “Haven’t you been sharing rooms with all of us for months now?”
“Yes, with Sylvando, or the Luminary!” he sputtered. “Certainly not with the only daughter of my sworn liege!”
He somehow seemed to be taking this even more poorly than she’d feared. “It’s a room, Hendrik,” she said patiently, one hand on her hip. “I’ll ask for extra blankets and you can sleep on the floor. No one’s going to force you to climb into bed with your princess.”
She paused a moment, then addressed what was likely the far more upsetting aspect for him: “As for the other...surely a knight of the realm is allowed to bend the truth a little for a chance at a warm, dry night’s sleep?”
It wasn’t that she had no sympathy or understanding of his plight. Hendrik’s towering nobility and strict sense of decorum was one of those immutable facts of life, like the sun rising in the east, or the irresistible urge everyone sometimes got to cuddle a slime despite knowing they really, really probably shouldn’t. He had, to his credit, relaxed at least some of his strict principles in recent months, thanks to the influence of their friends; but a deception of this magnitude was clearly a test beyond anything he could ever have conceived of.
Jade watched as Hendrik slowly slumped against the door and covered his face with one trembling hand. “Princess, if this is yet another of your attempts to provoke me...”
“It’s not,” she assured him. “I just don’t want either of us to have to go out in that.” A clap of thunder boomed in impeccable punctuation to her words.
A long breath went out of him and his throat bobbed in a hard swallow. “I...do not know what possible defence I could muster if the king were to hear of this,” Hendrik said weakly, half-hidden face contorted into a pained expression.
She instinctively knew that he was relenting, and a whisper of relief wound its way through her. “It’s one night, Hendrik—no one ever has to know. I’ll even swear to that, if you’ll accept the word of a princess instead of a knight.”
Hendrik huffed a humourless laugh and his hand dropped to his side once more. “Perhaps all the more for it,” he responded wearily. “I have been given reason to question the word of knights, of late.”
He then straightened and set his shoulders back. “Very well,” he said in a stronger tone. “I must yet raise the strongest of objections to this ruse, but I will nevertheless follow your lead, Your Highness.”
Jade smiled and impulsively stepped forward to lay a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Hendrik,” she said earnestly, looking up into his blue-green eyes. “I’m grateful for that—truly.”
Those eyes went wide for a moment, her gesture apparently having startled him. He awkwardly coughed into one fist. “Think nothing of it, Princess.”
His use of her title suddenly gave her pause. Sixteen years of anonymity had so far removed her from noble life that it had been strange, at first, to reunite with someone so relentlessly proper. Now, she was well used to it—easier by far to adjust than to ever expect Hendrik to drop formality—but there was no question it might cause complications in their current predicament.
She withdrew her hand and pursed her lips as she considered him. His eyebrows once more pushed together at her intent gaze.
“It’s probably best you forget about the ‘Princesses’ and ‘Your Highnesses’ when we go down for supper,” she decided. “I’d rather not blow our cover and get kicked out to the campsite after all.”
Hendrik nodded reluctantly. “There is wisdom in what you say. We would be well served by inconspicuousness in general. It remains unclear how long our stay will prove to be, and our vulnerability in this situation causes me some concern.”
Jade smiled up at him. “I’m not sure how you could possibly avoid being recognized, Sir Hendrik, but that’s a good point.”
“Do not underestimate your own ability to attract attention wherever you go,” he replied, frowning as he was apparently caught up in some thought.
A mixture of surprise and amusement coursed through her. “Why, Hendrik,” she said lightly.
He suddenly seemed to realize what he’d said and wide eyes snapped back to hers. “That is—I meant no offence, Princess,” he stammered.
“None taken.” She reached around him for the doorknob and he dutifully moved out of her way. “Now, shall we eat? I’m absolutely starving.”
The taproom had cleared out somewhat when they finally sat at one of the tables and flagged down a serving girl. The meal that was soon brought out smelled so delicious that Jade’s mouth was watering before she even picked up her fork. It seemed likely to her that supper would be a quick affair, probably followed by an early bedtime.
What she hadn’t anticipated, however, was the general chattiness of serving girls the world over, once given a particularly juicy bit of news to chew over.
“So, I am told that you are newlyweds, yes?” came an eager voice from behind Jade’s elbow.
Across the table, Hendrik visibly stiffened in his seat. His large frame looked quite comical on the rickety chair, and she had been trying to hide a smile for some minutes as she watched him on that precarious perch.
The princess turned to the server, a young woman about her age with shockingly red hair. “That’s right,” she told the girl. After another glance at the uncomfortable Hendrik, a sudden fit of mischief prompted her to elaborate: “We’re actually on our honeymoon.”
“Ah!” The server took this as invitation to scurry forward and plant herself beside the table, directly in the middle of the two ostensible lovebirds. “A beautiful place you have chosen to come to, I think so. We have always been a very popular destination for honeymooners, despite our recent troubles.”
Seeing as Hendrik was preoccupied with chewing the same mouthful of food he’d been labouring over for the past few minutes, she turned her attention to Jade instead. “When did you get married?”
“Very, very recently,” Jade said demurely. “It was rather a spur of the moment decision, actually—but it felt right for us.”
“A sentiment I hear many times these days!” the girl nodded vigorously. “The World Tree’s fall has changed much. Where is the sense in waiting or denying our wishes any longer, yes?”
She had an almost starry look in her eyes as she clasped her hands to her cheek. “Especially such feelings as strong as love and matrimony. Ah, you are very lucky to have found each other, I think so!”
Jade saw Hendrik briefly squeeze his eyes shut in pain, and she almost felt sorry for him. Which, of course, in no way prevented her from flashing him an exaggeratedly sweet smile and responding: “I couldn’t agree more. Don’t you think so, darling?”
He choked slightly as he hastily swallowed his food, and was forced to thump his chest several times before he managed to reply. “Er—I—that is—yes, I must certainly concur, Prin—”
She kicked him under the table—hard.
“—beloved,” he finished in a coughing gasp. His near lapse went unnoticed by the serving girl, who was instead entirely overcome by his gallantry and practically swooned where she stood.
Fortunately—and unfortunately—for Hendrik, she was called away by another table right after, giving Jade a chance to pounce on this new revelation.
“Your pet name of choice is ‘beloved’?” she asked delightedly. “How charmingly old-fashioned of you, Hendrik.”
“This is not an area in which I can claim much expertise,” he protested, a flush creeping up his neck.
“I suppose it does answer the question of what types of novels you read by the campfire,” she continued with some show of thoughtfulness. “Did Serena lend you one of hers?”
She’d meant it as a joke, but his face was quite serious as he answered. “I had already accepted her generous offer before I realized its genre,” he said stiffly, somehow even redder now. “Courtesy demanded that I finish, and so—”
Jade, in her infinite graciousness (and strong desire to return to her meal), decided to grant mercy to the blushing Hendrik and dropped the subject. She knew it wasn’t really fair that she was finding herself enormously entertained by the same circumstance that caused him so much discomfort; but at the same time, it was honestly a relief to be able to live in a simple moment like this, unburdened for a short while by the cares that had dogged them all since Yggdrasil. Their friends were out there somewhere—safe and sound, she had to believe—and they were here, listening to the storm raging on outside of the warm, comfortable taproom.
She suddenly felt glad that it was Hendrik she was with now, above anyone else. She offered him a small smile as they continued eating, no hint of mischief this time, and his gaze seemed almost to soften as he looked at her.
The serving girl came back a few minutes later, and her eagerness to continue the previous conversation was equal only to Hendrik’s poorly-concealed dismay.
“So, how did you two meet?” she asked with great interest, stopping just short of pulling up a chair and cupping her chin in both hands.
This question gave Jade pause. It wasn’t exactly a secret who their companions were, but it seemed best not to spread the word any further than necessary. That the young woman hadn’t already recognized the most famous knight in the world spoke well of her general obliviousness.
“Oh, the usual sort of way,” Jade answered vaguely, gesturing with her fork. “We’ve both travelled extensively, and happened to run into each other. One thing led to another, and...here we are!”
“And did it take long for love to blossom? It surely must not have, yes?” was the breathless follow-up.
Hendrik mouth was pressed into such a thin line of distress that Jade was once again struck by the irresistible urge to tease him—just a little.
“With a man of such bravery and unrivalled nobility, I should hardly think so,” she told the girl. She leaned in closer then, voice dropping to a low, confidential tone. “And, well—you’ve gotten a good look at him, haven’t you? It certainly didn’t take much to convince me.”
Across from her, Hendrik choked on the drink he’d unwisely chosen as a distraction. This brought the young woman’s attention back to him, and she turned eagerly.
“And you, sir?” the server asked earnestly. “With a wife so beautiful, I am certain it was love at first sight!”
Jade tried very hard to conceal her interest in his response as she glanced back at him. Rather than the red-faced stammering she’d expected, Hendrik was oddly pensive as he frowned down at his half-finished plate of food.
“When we...first met, some months ago,” he said slowly, “I must shamefully confess to having gravely misjudged her character. Truthfully, we did not part on the best of terms.”
He took a deep breath and then looked up at Jade with a serious gaze. “Over time, however, I began to understand the strength of her convictions, and realized the full extent of her bravery and resolve. I have had much to make amends for, and can only pray that she forgives the enormity of my actions at the start of our acquaintance.”
Jade felt a fluttering warmth in her stomach as Hendrik’s eyes stayed locked on hers. Perhaps it had been too long since her last visit to Phnom Nonh; the spiciness of the food certainly seemed to be having an unusual effect on her tonight.
A sudden laugh from the serving girl broke the spell. “Of course she has forgiven you, sir!” the woman admonished Hendrik. “After all, you are now married, I think so!”
He mumbled something non-committal and stared down at his food again. Jade swallowed reflexively as her fork hovered over her own plate. She wasn’t sure why, but she almost wished he had given the awkward, embarrassed answer she’d counted on. The predictable answer; the safe one.
Almost, but not quite.
The serving girl was called away once more, and Jade wasn’t sorry to see her go. She and Hendrik finished their meal in silence and then rose to leave. Before they got to the stairs, the young woman caught up with them to say farewell.
“Thank you for your patronage, and congratulations!” she said, beaming at them. A frown suddenly crossed her face, and she squinted at Hendrik.
“Forgive me, sir,” the girl said to him, “but you remind me greatly of the famous knight, Sir Hendrik of Heliodor. Is he perhaps a relative of yours?”
A ghost of a smile crossed Jade’s face as she watched Hendrik struggle with his answer.
“There is...some degree of relation, yes,” he finally managed, rubbing at the back of his neck like some irritating knot was stuck there.
“Ah! I thought so!” The serving girl winked at Jade. “Now there would be a most splendid husband, yes?”
“I’d certainly say so,” Jade agreed. “But I’ve heard he can’t walk ten steps without beautiful ladies throwing themselves at his feet, so I fear there’d be no chance for ordinary women like us.”
Beside her, Hendrik sighed the sigh of a man weary of the world and its trials, and she embraced all the resulting fondness that flowed through her.
Jade made a stop at the front desk to request extra linens and a pillow, under the guise of Hendrik’s needing further coverage thanks to his large size. Parsi reluctantly obliged her—though not without making it well known how egregious this interruption from her very serious examination of her nails was.
Bedding in hand, Jade opened the door to their room and discovered Hendrik standing very uncomfortably in the centre of it, his hands nervously flexing as he stared at the bed.
“Hendrik,” she said, and his head jerked up. He blinked at her for a moment, as if startled from some distracting thought, and then his eyes dropped to the bundle she carried.
“Ah,” he replied, quickly stepping forward to relieve her of her burden. “I thank you, Your—” He abruptly cut himself off, a look of such helpless confusion on his face that she immediately regretted all her relentless teasing during supper.
“It’s all right when we’re alone,” she told him with a small smile. “And you can just use my name, otherwise—there’s no need for any...endearments.”
“The option had not occurred to me at the time,” he admitted, one weary hand at his temple.
“Well, hopefully it won’t matter for much longer. Go ahead and make your bed, Hendrik.” Jade walked over to the side table and picked up her comb even as she tugged at the ribbon holding up her wealth of hair. She sat on the bed with a whump and began pulling the comb through her dark locks.
“I don’t know how I got to be so tired,” she said with a yawn. “Something about storms, I think.”
To her surprise, she noticed that Hendrik hadn’t moved. He was looking at her oddly instead, his eyes fixed on her face.
“What is it?” she asked him curiously, her hand slowing in its motion.
He shook his head; less in response, she suspected, and more as a way to clear his mind from whatever had struck him.
“It is of no matter, Princess,” he said quietly. He turned from her to place the linens on the floor—as far away from the bed as he could logistically manage, she noted with amusement.
“If you’re having doubts about the comfort of your night’s sleep, we could always trade,” she suggested.
A scandalized noise came out of his mouth as he wheeled toward her again. “On my honour as a knight, I could never in good conscience allow a lady to take the floor while I...” His mouth snapped shut at the sight of her face, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Yet more provocation, Princess?”
“It’s my one true failing,” she readily acknowledged. If he had a reply to this, he evidently chose not to share it.
While Hendrik knelt on the floor and began laying out blankets, Jade finished with her hair and started undoing the laces of her boots with nimble fingers. Her nightly rituals were automatic to her, and she absently stripped off her gloves and arm guards while listening to the sound of rain lashing the closed shutters. The candle on the bedside table flickered with an unseen breath of air, casting dancing shadows on the walls.
She had just turned her attention to the belt of her skirt when Hendrik finished with his rather neat pallet—doubtless the result of years of practice on the field—and looked up at her.
“This will prove adequate for the—” he started to say, before again cutting himself off. His eyes locked at once on her fingers and he sucked in a sharp breath. Even in the darkness, she could see hectic spots of colour on his face and neck.
Jade wanted to be amused, but was somehow slightly breathless instead. Her fingers had frozen in twitching stillness on her belt clasp, and she could not determine any mechanism to get them moving again.
Hendrik abruptly scrambled to his feet. “I will wait outside the room until you are abed,” he declared hoarsely, already walking with decisive steps to the door.
“Wait!” she commanded him. He paused in the act of reaching for the doorknob, head tilting toward her.
“What will the innkeeper think if you have to leave the room while I undress?” she pointed out, thoroughly bewildered at the slight tremor in her own voice. “Just...face the wall while I get my skirt and halter off.”
She could tell he wished to object, but there was no denying the logic of her words. The hand that hovered by the doorknob clenched into a tight fist, and Hendrik gave a curt nod of assent without looking at her. He turned on his heel and strode over to the other end of the room, his broad back very deliberately facing her.
Jade’s fingers felt strangely numb as she undid the clasps at her waist and neck and loosened the laces of her halter. She pulled the leather garments off and folded them neatly, depositing them next to her other clothing underneath the table.
When she pulled back the covers of the bed, she paused for a moment, struck by a wild urge to ask him to turn around before she slipped inside. For a man who had reacted so strongly to the sight of her with her hair down or unclasping her belt, she suddenly burned with the desire to know what he’d do if he saw her in only tank top and shorts.
I suppose even fine, upstanding knights of the realm need a cheap thrill every now and again, eh?
She shook her head and pushed the mad idea back down. The sheets felt pleasantly cool as she got into the bed and settled herself in the middle of it. The pillow was a tad on the firm side, but she’d managed to sleep well on rocks in her time, so had no real complaints. After a brief consideration, she rolled over to face the opposite wall from Hendrik, not wanting him to feel more uncomfortable than he already was. Not her, of course—it was definitely for his sake.
“I’m done,” she said, voice muffled slightly by the pillow.
There was a quiet rustle as he presumably turned from the wall again. Jade’s ears focused equally on the distant rumbling of thunder as the sound of Hendrik’s preparing himself for sleep. Unable to watch, she instead tried to deduce his actions as she listened, thoroughly engrossed by this rare insight into his own nighttime rituals. She heard the clunk of his scabbard as he laid it on the wooden floor, and a faint clinking as he removed his belt and harness. The gentle scraping of leather must be his boots, she decided; a suspicion confirmed when his much lighter footsteps then padded over to the table.
“Shall I extinguish the candle, Princess?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
“Of course,” she answered, nestling further underneath her blankets.
A puff sounded in the air and the room plunged into darkness. The footsteps moved away again, and there was the stirring of fabric as Hendrik lay down in the pallet and settled himself. All was then silent for a time.
“Good night, Hendrik,” Jade said into the darkness.
“Sleep well, Princess,” came his voice from across the room.
She closed her eyes. There was something soothing about the sound of rain’s steady patter while she lay curled up in a warm, dry bed. She let it lull her racing heartbeat to steadiness once more, and then soon after drifted off into slumber.
It was one of life’s injustices that a waking world of nightmare could follow its weary occupants into the land of sleep, denying them any chance for rest or respite. Yggdrasil’s fall had spawned many such restless nights for the people of Erdrea, most of them plagued by dreams of fire and ash, of screams and suffering, of vicious monsters and hopeless battles.
Jade dreamt of gold.
In this, she had the company of Erik’s sister and the good people of Sniflheim. But where their gilded nightmares loomed frozen and still all around them, hers were filled with the clink of coin and the glare of shimmering lights.
The images were scattered and disorienting as they came to her, tinged over with a reddish haze. She was a monster—no, she was creating monsters—no, there were no monsters at all, just revelry and mindless hedonism. She no longer had any purpose or desire but that of her doting master, and she performed her role with enthusiasm, eager to retain his favour. The raucous music of the casino flooded her mind, and she shivered at the feel of gold slipping through her fingers, hour after endless hour.
But it wasn’t the captivity or the possession, or even her awful part in luring innocent people to their doom, that plagued her sleep those nights; it was that, in some tiny part in the back of her mind, she’d been relieved to let go. She had spent so long searching, fighting, enduring—chasing after a future that only seemed to get further away the harder she tried. What she’d felt during that delirious time had not been happiness, but it had been a very near thing, and so easy to grasp in comparison. Would it really have been so bad, to stay? Could anyone truly have faulted her?
On some level, Jade knew that she was not trapped in a blaring, gaudy casino, but asleep in a quiet inn surrounded by high cliffs. But she was too caught up in the unsettling mixture of dream and memory, in too deep to rouse herself and end her own torment. She tossed and turned in the sheets, whimpering as the visions assaulted her relentlessly.
A voice intruded from very far away, calling her by a title that had long ago ceased to have any meaning for her, and she ignored it as she continued her restless thrashing. But then the voice said her name instead, this time accompanied by gentle fingers brushing back the sweat-damp hair from her face before drifting featherlight to her shoulder.
Somehow, it was enough. Jade did not quite awaken, but she felt the calmness of that presence infuse her and tug her out of the nightmare’s grasp. Gradually she settled down, her breathing slowing and her limbs relaxing into the mattress.
Right on the cusp of deeper sleep, the touch at her shoulder started to move away. She instinctively clung to it, pulling it even closer as she rolled over and insistently brought it along with her. A sudden heavy weight on the bed beside her was the last thing she was aware of before blackness came over her once more.