Chapter Four

Bright saffron and gold cracks glowed through the wooden logs crackling contently on the open fire. Reaver's arm was leant against the grand mantle studying the flames as they danced; gently swirling a glass of Mistpeak Brandy in his long, pale fingers. Heat from the fire escaped its flames and flooded into the room warming Reaver's cold skin from his escapade to find Sparrow in the moonlit mists of Silverpine.

His eyes were heavy with a taxing sensation that washed over him like the warmth of the flames against his body. He sighed softly and ran his free hand through his hair. The drink was quickly finished and the glass placed carefully on the mantle. He placed each of his hands into the pockets of his black suit trousers; his white shirt was loosely unbuttoned at the collar with both sleeves rolled up to the elbows and his bowtie rested untied around his neck.

Scarlet streaks crept over the canopies of the trees across Bower Lake. The stars would begin to fade back into the paled skies of early morning soon.

Looking out from the window to the rippling scarlet and blue waters of the lake; Reaver leant his shoulder against the white windowpane and closed his eyes. The chorus of birds was beginning to chirp as the daylight grew quickly in the summer morn. It didn't fit with the cracking of the fire which washed everything in the room a hot, tired sensation: as if waking from a nap under too many duvets or sitting in too hot a bath.

As his eyes drifted shut – Reaver knew only pain. The fire crackling against the chirping birds made him remember being a young man. Years had passed since then.

Sighing, memories flooded his mind. Cries of the burnt pained his ears and tied a noose in his chest ready to hang his heart in hopes of redemption. If not; then to pay for what had become of its ill-gotten desires. Crashing of lumber tumbled to the ground from its stone foundations; the weight of sin and fire engulfing all hope and happiness that lay within its walls.

Screams loudened and pierced Reaver's mind. He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed the lump in his throat. A gentle cough same from behind him. His eyes rapidly released his thoughts from the past; Reaver turned to see Sparrow in the doorway dressed in a long white sleeping gown and thin woollen dressing gown – her hair was loose and rested lightly on her shoulders, as if weightless against the air. A faint smile curled on Reaver's face and his thoughts of despondency quickly retreated to the back of his mind.

"I see you found the wardrobe alright, my lady". Reaver stated, taking a step closer to the queen. "I trust you bathed well and found everything you required?" He stood tall in the room looking at Sparrow straight in the eye. Sparrow entered the room and closed the grand wooden doors behind her.

"I appreciate your…hospitality, Reaver, thank you." She tried to avoid Reaver's eyes as much as she could without seeming cold or ungratefully hostile.

"The pleasure is mine, madam, truly an honour to have royalty in my home." Reaver bowed again, his dark hair brushed against his brow as he did so elegantly. "Surely, your majesty is tired. As I mentioned to your Grace earlier, there is accommodation should you wish to use it. Something tells me you'd rather not however; I regret to inform you the only way back to Bowerstone at this time is by foot."

Sparrow rolled her eyes to his comment on her contentment and cleared her throat. "If you would be so kind as to offer me a place to sleep I would be most appreciative, thank you." She caught Reaver smirk at her stating her gratitude and shot him a cold glare through her dark eyes. Composure returned to her posture and she smiled.

Reaver laughed in his throat and stepped away from the window towards Sparrow, bowing; he took her hand and kissed it softly; smiling kindly to her as he looked up. Sparrow's face flushed a little, however Reaver couldn't see as the orange reflected flames on her perfect skin hid her reddening complexion. With little time to dwell on their past conversation the Hero left and ascended the staircase to her temporary boudoir.


Throwing the woolen gown aside upon the dressing table chair Sparrow fell back into the soft quilt and pillows of the lavish four post bed. A soft sigh escaped her breath.


Reaver awoke from the chair he'd reclined himself in after Sparrow's departure from the Drawing Room. Light was creeping in through the velvet drapes and warming his skin where it seeped through into the dark room. The fire had been reduced to a heap of dimly glowing ash and the dust from the hearth had risen and started to dance against air. Heavy eyed, Reaver moved his gaze to the floor: his eye caught on a small envelope on the table next to the chair. Raising an eyebrow he took up the letter and squinted his eyes at the seal. It was too dark to see.

He heaving his tried, heavy body from his seat and walked over to the closed drapes and pulled them open. His eyes winced at the blinding sunlight. Reaver rubbed his eyes and looked at the sealed envelope.

The wax was black and the seal was plain. No imprint was pressed into the seal. A confused look swept over Reaver's face. He flipped the letter over to see a well written 'R' on the thick paper. He turned it over and pulled on the wax seal. His eyes widened as he read.

"My dear friend,

How nice to finally write to you again after all these years. It has been far too long since we last spoke; it brings be great pleasure to have learnt you are well and living in Millfields.

Good to find out that at least one of us managed...

Nonetheless I am not writing to inform you of my intentions for vengeance, oh no. I have something better in mind. I do hope your guest isn't too shaken up by the little…ambush, shall we say? My men merely needed to give you the chance to have her in your hospitality; unfortunately for you I never intended it to be for your pleasures…yet.

Due to our…past with one another benefiting greatly from our exploits – I have decided to inform you of my intentions.

I will be arriving at your estate in precisely one week. From there forth we shall discuss the finer details. And I thoroughly advise you not to leave your manor estate before my arrival. You know me, Reaver. Remember that.

Reaver's breath stopped. He rested himself against the windowpane and tried to clear his head. He pushed the letter into the chest pocket of his shirt. Turning away from the window he finally left the room and ascended up the staircase to his bedchambers to change.


Sparrow stirred from her slumberous bedstead and yawned, stretching. Her eyes ached at the feeling of the light seep through her opening eyes. She'd regretted leaving the curtains open when she'd fallen asleep in the early morning; however, she hadn't really had the energy to heave the heavy, red drapes across the large windows.

She washed and dressed into a blouse, bodice and some rather stylish, yet practical trousers and boots; leaving her hair loose after brushing out the tangles from sleep.

The door opened smoothly and she peered into the empty corridor, it was dark considering the bright light of the midsummer morning which had shone so radiantly through to her provisional chambers. Closing the door behind her, Sparrow stepped into the dim hallway; squinting her eyes against the dark – adjusting to the small amount of light. She jumped as she heard a door click shut suddenly; turning, she saw Reaver stepping out into the corridor.

He was wrapped in a silk dressing gown which was tied yet loosely slipping off his shoulder at the top. His hair was dripping at the tips but was still in its perfect wave across his flawless skin. His eyes glanced up to see Sparrow down the corridor; he placed the towel he held in his hand over his shoulders and approached her.

Sparrow held her head to the floor. "I apologize, I didn't realize you were bathing, or had been, or even finished…" her words trailed as she sighed and tried to regain her composure.

The gown was slightly damp, clinging to his upper body where he hadn't dried properly. Silk clung to his perfectly sculpted chest and torso; showing the subtle creases of muscle. Reaver was not a large, brawny man yet his slender figure carried itself rather well as it was strongly built with the suave charm many women had fallen prey to in the past. Water droplets fell from his dark, ebony hair and landed on his chest where the fabric had not covered him.

A single, perfect eyebrow rose above his left eye, "It's perfectly fine, my lady." His dark eyes surveyed Sparrows face and body. Smiling, he continued, "I've nothing to hide from my queen." Reaver smiled and laughed softly to himself as if to imply a euphemism to Sparrow; who raised her eyebrows at his remark. Reaver looked directly at her eyes and laughed, his glance caught Sparrows eye and she tried, yet again – to regain composure.

Clearing her throat, Sparrow finally spoke. "I'd like to thank you greatly for my stay, Reaver, but I must return to court. I'll make my way to Millfields and return to Bowerstone by coach."

"As you wish, my dear lady," Reaver bowed and took Sparrow's hand in his and placing a kiss upon her knuckles. His eyes meeting hers through his still wet hair which was continuing to drip slightly at the tips; his thumb rubbed her hand before she pulled her hand away and walked down the staircase and left through the doors.


Sparrow flung the doors of Bowerstone castle open and ran up the stairs to her chambers. As she barged through the thick, wooden doors and collapsed on the bed (after ignoring several "Good morning, Madam"'s from noblemen and servants) She sighed deeply and rolled into the sheets; still fully clothed. Hammer burst through into Sparrow's chambers and breathed heavily and ran over to the bed.

"Wha' happened?!" She managed to blurt out whilst gasping for air.

"Hammer!" Sparrow exclaimed, "At least knock."

"I was worried; you didn't come back last night…by the Light. You didn't...?"

Sparrow stared coldly at Hammer's concerned and curious gaze towards her. "Oh, Heavens, no!"

Hammer exhaled heavily, sinking into a chair by the door. "So…wha' did 'appen?"