}{-Milk and Honey-}{
Gallius stalked through the main doors, held open for him by the Roman soldiers who stood guard there. The Main Hall was empty apart from some familiar wood sculptures his people had crafted and the Roman influences that were slowly taking over completely. Gallius shook off his distaste and headed straight for the Hall of the Elders. The same room he and the others had met Marcellus before when they had first arrived. It had been two days now that they had been here. Only twelve days left before Marcellus sentenced his sister to death if she did not marry a knight.
"Master Gallius!" Accalon called out from the other side of the Main Hall and he walked briskly towards him. His clothes had not changed from the day before, but he wore a deep bruise on the side of his face, a black eye and a broken lip.
"Accalon, what happened?" Gallius motioned towards the side of his face where the wounds resided. They were at least a day old, but the man had not had them when Gallius had seen him yesterday. "Those weren't there when we met before."
"I was trying to stop a Roman solider." Accalon grimaced at the memory and ran his fingers gently over the bruising. "A little girl was starving, like most of our people are these days, and she had stolen some bread. Thievery is rewarded with having the hand cut off."
Accalon did not need to say anymore. Gallius understood the laws Marcellus had put in place. Crime would be rewarded with violence; no matter the age the circumstances.
"You are alright though?" Gallius asked and placed a hand on the man's shoulder. He looked over the black eye, puffy and swollen. Accalon smiled and nodded his head.
"Yes sir, I am."
"And the girl?"
"I instructed her to seek refuge with your sister. She is her shadow these days." Accalon explained with a small laugh. Gallius removed his hand and took a deep breath, sighing as thoughts raced through his mind. He shook his head at his thoughts and looked back at Accalon.
"Arthur is meeting with Marcellus?" Gallius questioned and nodded his head towards the large wooden door that led to the Hall of the Elders. "And my father?"
"Yes. Your commander arrived as soon as the son had risen over the hill." Accalon replied and looked to the doors. "Marcellus and your father arrived a bit before yourself."
"I shall join them." Gallius announced and looked back to Accalon, who appeared leery of the idea.
"Are you sure, Gallius?" Accalon did not want to disrespect the man, the knight, but he knew what the conversation inside the hall was going. Gallius took no disrespect and instead nodded his head.
"She is my sister, Accalon. I abandoned her once. Never again."
Accalon understood and led Gallius to the doors. The soldiers, who stood guard there, watched with weary glances of the two men. Everything to them was black and white. Despite Gallius having given his life to the Roman army, he would forever be looked down upon by these men.
Accalon took hold of the door and opened it, stepping aside for Gallius to enter. Gallius entered the Hall of the Elders and spotted Arthur and Lancelot standing before the semi-circle of elders, who were beginning to rise from their chairs. Vayle gave a single nod to Gallius in greeting and then turned her eyes back to Gereon and Marcellus, who sat in the middle of them.
"You are a Roman, Arthur." Marcellus' words held a menacing tone. "You must understand."
"I understand that you have conquered these people and are oppressing them." Arthur replied as Gallius walked up beside him. Vayle and Gereon hung around as the other elders exited, closing the door behind them.
"Ah, young Gallius. Wonderful you could join us." Marcellus smiled at him, making his blood boil. Marcellus was the devil in disguise; handsome, tall, strong, but cruel.
"My question, Marcellus," Arthur began again as irritation overwhelmed him, "why has this one woman earned so much animosity?"
"She refuses to follow the laws set in place, refuses to follow her own elders." Marcellus motioned to the elders who sat on either side of him. "She is turning the people against me and my men. She is a rebel raiser and soon she will start a civil war that will leave this town in ruin."
"Rebel raiser?" Gallius voice betrayed him. His eyebrows knitted together as he stared at Marcellus. "What proof do you have?"
"Have you not seen the way the people look at your sister, Gallius? Surely, you are not so daft." Marcellus' words caused Gereon to turn his head, jaw clenched and biting his tongue. Gallius noticed as well as Vayle. "Your sister is a beacon to them. With her defiance and her status, she is raising an army of townsfolk against us. It is only a matter of time before she gives the command and they set themselves upon us."
"Army? What army? The people live in fear of you. They are too downtrodden to try anything against you because you only react with violence!" Gallius shouted.
"Your sister has led several of the skirmishes herself. She voices her rebellious propaganda openly in the streets, is teaching the young ones to fight." Marcellus countered, keeping his composure. Arthur turned to Gallius and placed his hands on his shoulders.
"Let me handle this." Arthur spoke softly, but sternly, meeting Gallius' gaze. Arthur turned back to Marcellus and stood straight, a hard stare on his face.
"Even if the people rose up, you have enough men and enough arms to subdue them." Arthur looked from Marcellus to Gereon and then back again. "Why fear something so implausible?"
"You don't know these people like I do, Arthur. You have not spent as much with them as I." Marcellus' eyes grew dark as he locked gazes with Arthur. "You do not know her as I do."
"So I have heard." Arthur gave a short, slow nod. His eyes quickly met Vayle and she narrowed her gaze at him. Some battle raging between them. Arthur looked back to Marcellus. "There are rumors that this is not the first time you have been here, Marcellus. That, many years ago, you had passed through with your legion as a legati."
"This is no rumor, but truth." Marcellus confirmed, but he tensed ever so slightly.
"I also heard that you had fallen for one of them." Arthurs words caused Gallius to look to Vayle, confusion setting in on him. Vayle met his stare openly as she straightened herself in her seat. Arthur took a step closer to Marcellus. "It was Rhoswen's mother; Celyne. You wasnted to ask her to marry you."
Gallius eyes shot to his father for confirmation. Gereon stared at his son, hand to his mouth as his elbow rested on the arm of his seat. It was true. Gallius could see it in his father's eyes.
"But you left before you could ask. You had orders and you followed them. They led you back to Rome and by the time you were able to come back she had already given herself to another." Arthur's eyes fell on Gereon, who could not meet his gaze. "She had borne him children, was in love with him and that drove you mad."
"You think you have it all figured out." Marcellus' lips curled at one side. His eyes grew ever darker as did his expression. "Don't you?"
"No. Just you." Arthur replied, not backing down from the battle. Marcellus rose from his seat and stepped down the small few steps to stand at Arthur's level. Lancelot's hand found the small dagger at his side, holding the hilt tightly. Gallius openly gripped his sword's hilt, pulling it up enough that the blade showed.
"You don't know me at all, Artorius." Marcellus gave a huff of a laugh, looking from Lancelot to Gallius. "There is much more to the story that I am sure Vayle would be more than willing to share. Given she has already shared this much with you."
Marcellus turned and looked at Vayle, who swallowed a lump in her throat, but did not shrink away from his accusation. He looked back to Arthur and smiled, but it was not a true smile. It showed that he had won this round. That he would not fall to idle threats. Not when he had all the power.
"I look forward to our next encounter." Marcellus looked at the three of them and then turned to walk away, Gereon at his heels. "Oh and just one more thing. I almost forgot."
Marcellus turned back with a devilish smirk creeping onto his face.
"The next we meet I expect to have a name to put on the wedding registry. Seeing as Rhoswen only now has ten days left. It would be a shame to allow such beauty go to waste on the pyre."
"Ten days?" Lancelot looked to Arthur and Gallius. Gallius shook his head and moved forward.
"She has twelve as of tomorrow. You gave her a fortnight." Gallius argued, hand gripping the hilt of his sword so tight that his knuckles went white.
"Did I say ten?" Marcellus looked back at Vayle and then at Gereon. "My mistake, young Gallius. The days are running together. I meant eight."
"What are you playing at Marcellus?" Arthur growled lowly, unamused by this general's games.
"I am playing at nothing, I assure you." Marcellus liked to see the anger, the flaring tempers. He watched Gallius carefully, his slow approach with hand on hilt and then met his gaze. He dared him to make another move. He would put the young man and his entire family in their place once and for all. Gallius relaxed, but his hand never left his sword. Marcellus looked to Gereon and snapped his fingers. Gereon quickly moved to a table at the back of the hall and picked up a parchment. He handed it to Marcellus, who looked it over and nodded his head approvingly.
"Ah, here it is. Clear as day." Marcellus folded the parchment back and looked to the three knights with a smile. He held it out to them and then made a disappointed, childish face. "Oh, shall I read it myself then? Very well."
Marcellus took the parchment back and cleared his throat in a dramatic fashion.
"As hereby decreed, Rhoswen Caratacos has been given a fortnight from the day this decree is finalized to marry a knight of Roman status in order to produce a treaty between Rome and Celtica. If not married within a fortnight after the decree is finalized, whether all parties have acknowledged the legitimacy of the decree or not," Marcellus choice this point to look up and stare at each of the men before looking down once again, "then Rhoswen Caratacos, first of her name, daughter of Celyne and Gereon Caratacos, and chosen envoy of the Celestials, will be forced to forfeit her life and take to the pyre in the center of the city. At which time, she will be burned alive for heresy, rebellion, rebel raising, theft, sabotage, promiscuity, and murder. As is decreed by the elders of Caleti, the Roman commander Marcellus, and the embodiment of Rome itself."
Marcellus thrusted the parchment back Gereon's way and he took it, folding it back neatly. Marcellus' gaze fell on each of the three men. Gallius' gaze moved to Vayle, who met his stare with worry.
"This decree was finalized six days ago. Two days before you all arrived, I am afraid." Marcellus' voice brought Gallius back. He glared at the older general and fumed, readying himself to throw a punch; knock a few teeth out of his perfect smirk. "She has eight days. See to it that she makes the right choice."
Marcellus turned on his heels and strode away with purpose. Gallius shook his head and watched him go, his own father trailing behind like a beaten mutt. It was disgraceful, despicable. Vayle held her hands before her, laced together neatly as she stared down at the ground with sorrowful eyes.
"Eight days…" Gallius breathed out and ran a hand through his short white-blonde hair. He had no idea what they were going to do. It was a mess before when they believed they had a fortnight, but now it was worse. Gallius looked to Arthur and shook his head again slowly. Would one of his brothers in arms step up for him? For her…? How could he ever ask one of them to do that?
"Vayle," Arthur's tone had lost all nicety to it. He was done being strung around, done having himself and his knights, his friends played like marionettes. "What more to the story is there?"
Vayle met his harsh stare and licked her aging, weathered lips. She took a deep breath and huffed, shaking her head.
"Yes, there is much more." Vayle closed her eyes and shook her head again. Her thoughts were focused on her niece and her nephew who were paying the price for old sins. "Perhaps we should retire to my cabin."
"You will tell us here and now." Arthur demanded and she surrendered.
"Yes, Marcellus had been here before. Long before you were ever born, Gallius." Vayle began and moved towards her chair in the semi-circle atop the small platform. She sat and looked to the three men, who moved closer with open ears. "The thing is… Marcellus is not a man of Rome at all."
"What do you mean?" Lancelot's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he side glanced to Arthur. Vayle leaned back in her seat and sighed heavily.
"I warned your mother he was bad news. She never listened. Fool." Vayle snapped softly and raised an aging hand to her lips. "I knew there was something off about him. Ever since he was born."
"You have known him since he was born?" Gallius moved closer to his aunt, a weight gripping his gut. The hairs on the back of his neck rose up.
"Aye, I have known him that long." Vayle nodded her head and looked to the men once more. "I was an apprentice when he was born here; born a Celt."
The room fell uncomfortable silent. The reveal had hit Gallius in the face so hard that he thought he might crumble. He searched for words to ask all the questions that circled in his mind, but he could not find them.
"His father was a man of Rome, a socialite of some sort, while his mother was Celt. His father left her here with their son and returned to Rome, never coming back for them." Vayle looked from Gallius, seeing how hard of a blow this was to him, and looked to Arthur and Lancelot. "His mother killed herself when he was a boy and he grew up alone. My fool of a sister took pity on him, both of them being bout the same age. They went everywhere together, did everything together. It was no surprise when they fell in love."
"What?" Gallius finally spoke. He could not believe his ears. His mother loved that monster?
"Yes, Gallius. Your mother loved him dearly." Vayle nodded her head and looked to Arthur. "He did ask her to marry him and she agreed. Our parents were furious. They disowned your mother, Gallius, cursed her. So, when some Roman soldiers came through Marcellus elected to become a soldier so that he could steal her away, but that wasn't possible. Not until his training was complete. He left, left her, and went to Rome."
"But he came back." Arthur urged her to continue.
"Aye, he came back," Vayle began, "but it was too late. Celyne was forced to marry Gereon while Marcellus was out of the way. A marriage of convenience for our parents seeing as Gereon's family held a seat in the elder council. When Marcellus found out, he went mad. He killed our parents, good riddance, but then he turned on the town. He had figured out that while he was away–"
Vayle suddenly stopped herself and looked to the floor. She closed her eyes tightly, feeling tears spring forth and tried to compose herself.
"Vayle? What is it?" Gallius moved closer and knelt beside her chair. The older woman raised her head and looked to him, eyes red and cheeks flared. She patted his hand that sat on the arm of her seat and then gripped it.
"While he was away your mother gave birth to a baby boy." Vayle grew quiet again as tears raced down her cheeks.
"Liam, yes." Gallius nodded, but Vayle shook her head. He had not realized it yet and it was paining her to have to drudge up such a muddled history. Gallius knitted his eyebrows together as the worry grew inside of him. "Vayle?"
"Yes, Liam was born, but Gallius," Vayle looked him square in the eyes and swallowed the lump in her achy throat, "he is not Gereon's son. Liam is not your father's son."
Gallius looked between her greying green eyes and then stood up, stepping back. He shook his head at her with a nervous huff and turned his back. He licked his lips and swallowed hard, turning back quickly to meet her stare again.
"Please, please do not make me utter it…" Vayle said, hoping she would not have to say it; the thing she feared to reveal. Arthur looked to Lancelot, sharing stares. Vayle did not need to say it. Liam, Gallius and Rhoswen's older brother, was Marcellus' son; a love child.
"Where is Liam?" Arthur finally asked and Vayle's attention snapped to him. Her eyes were slightly wide and her mouth opened a bit, but nothing came out. Arthur took a step closer and placed on foot on a step of the platform. "Lady, I will ask again. Where is Liam?"
Vayle shook her head and closed her mouth. Gallius watched her. She was so… feeble, vulnerable, beaten. Just like Rhoswen. The women in his life, his family, were broken and all because of one man.
"I will show you." Gallius spoke up and looked to Arthur and Lancelot. Gallius walked down the few steps of the platform and headed for the door. Arthur looked to Lancelot and then back at Vayle, who sat crumbled in her chair crying softly. He and Lancelot followed after Gallius, who was striding away with purpose and conviction.
The doors to the Hall of Elders burst open and Gallius stormed out with Arthur and Lancelot behind him. Accalon stood from where he sat on a stone bench and watched, knowing that the meeting had not gone well. He hoped Gallius would look to him, but instead he just walked out of the building with Arthur and Lancelot at his heels.
Accalon rushed away and out onto the streets, heading to the furthest reach of the town. He spotted his destination and jogged through the open doors. There she was, standing beside a young man who sat in a chair with his back to her. She carefully looked over his wounds on his head and covered them with a thick salve. Her sleeves were pulled up and tied with leather straps and hair beginning to fall from its confinement.
"Lady Rhoswen!" Accalon called out and caused her to spin around. She stared at him, eyes wide from the distress she had heard in his voice.
"Accalon? What is it?" She asked as she moved closer, wiping the salve from her hands on a piece of cloth she had stuck between her dress and belt. Dagonet stood from where he knelt beside the elderly woman he had been tending to and walked to Rhoswen's side.
"Gallius." Accalon breathed out as he tried to catch his breath.
"He is with Arthur and Lancelot." Rhoswen placed a gentle hand on his arm and then noticed the state of his face. "What happened to you? Who did this to your face?"
"My lady, they are heading to the Necropolis." Accalon tried to explain as quickly as he could. "I suspect Gallius knows."
Rhoswen's face fell.
"Knows what?" Dagonet questioned and looked from Accalon to Rhoswen. She stared at Accalon a moment longer and then looked up at Dagonet.
"About Liam, Dagonet." She breathed out and looked to Dagonet with a face that expressed pain. Dagonet found his chest ached for her, heart wishing he could steal away her pain, protect her from it. He had not even realized that she had not called him sir. Just Dagonet. Just his name.
She was about to ask him to accompany her, but she did not need to. He gave her a single nod and motioned for her to lead the way. She ran out of the Healing House with Dagonet following behind her. His heavy footfalls were not lost on her as she streaked through town. She skidded to a stop when she caught sight of Marcellus and her father.
Dagonet came up beside her and saw the way she seethed with hard eyes. Dagonet stopped beside her and followed her harsh gaze to where Marcellus stood. He met her stare, but his held no anger, no contempt, just quiet resolve. It was an odd look for him, but Rhoswen did not care. She shook her head at him, silently vowing she would end his reign of terror and then tore off once more. Dagonet watched Rhoswen run, graceful and meaningfully. He then looked back to Marcellus. Their eyes set on one another, locking. Marcellus slowly turned his back on Dagonet and walked back inside the Main Hall with Gereon at his heels.
Gallius' pace was brisk, but not unyielding. The walk out of town was quiet and as they entered the woods, Arthur and Lancelot had a sinking feeling. They exchanged a look, that asked the other if what they felt was true. Gallius suddenly stopped at the edge of a clearing that was not a clearing at all. He took a deep breath and then continued forward until he stopped once more, taking a knee.
"This is Liam." Gallius nodded his head to the grave beside him. "Or what is left of him."
Lancelot looked from the grave to Arthur and then shook his head, turning away from Gallius. He strode a few steps away and looked around, realizing this was a cemetery. Arthur looked down on Liam's grave and then looked to Gallius, examining him.
Gallius played with a blade of grass and looked at the marker of the grave. It was a stone that had etchings in it done by himself. There were others, though, more remedial and childlike; Rhoswen's. A bunch of flowers sat before it, fresh and still full of life. Someone had been here recently.
"How did it happen?" Arthur asked as Lancelot walked behind the grave with arms crossed over his chest. Gallius looked down at the grass in his hand and then tossed it away. He stood and looked around at all the graves.
"Who do you think?" Gallius response was scornful. "He tried to pull our mother from the pyre. He got pierced in the back by Roman javelins and burned with her."
"Why would Marcellus kill his only son?" Lancelot questioned with doubt in his voice. He was not even trying to hide his disbelief.
"Because he didn't know Liam was his." Rhoswen spoke up and walked out into the cemetery with Dagonet at her side. She looked from Arthur to Lancelot and then lastly to her brother. She saw the sorrow, the confusion, the break.
"How did you know we were here?" Lancelot asked, looking from Rhoswen to Dagonet.
"Accalon." Dagonet replied and looked to Rhoswen, then turned back to Arthur. "We were at the Healing House when he found us."
"When did Marcellus figure it out?" Arthur turned to Rhoswen.
"He didn't. Not until someone told him." She explained and sighed heavily. She looked to her dead brother's grave. "Not until after Liam was already dead."
"Who told him?" Arthur questioned further. "How long have you known?"
He already guessed it was Vayle since Celyne was her sister and Liam her nephew. Rhoswen turned to him and shook her head with heavy eyes.
"Does it matter now? Liam is dead. My mother is dead. Yet, the man that killed them both and many others still draws breath." She replied, looking between him and Lancelot at his side. She crossed her arms over her chest, fingers curling around her arm. Gallius walked closer to her and stared down at her. She looked up with an apology in her eyes.
"Marcellus made it clear that by the next time we met, you have a betrothed in place. Within eight days." Arthur explained, seeing that the siblings wanted desperately to change the subject of their dead brother. "Did you know this?"
"Yes." Rhoswen breathed out as her eyes grew soft.
"Lady I cannot offer you my knights." Arthur began to explain, but she stopped him.
"Nor do I ask for one of them." Her words were soft, but they held a finality to them. She looked to Arthur and then to Gallius, shaking her head. "I cannot marry simply to save myself. Especially not if it is only to appease Marcellus. It would save my life, but my soul would perish and so would my people."
"Come now. Don't be so dramatic." Lancelot spoke up and moved up beside Arthur. His face held a mischievous smirk, but as Rhoswen looked to him she neither nodded nor shook her head. "To marry a knight is an honor most girls would be thrilled to receive."
"I am sure it is and perhaps, under other circumstances, I would be one of these girls. However, under these circumstances, I cannot marry any knight, whether he be honorable or not, in good conscience." Rhoswen stated as though it was simple.
"Marcellus will keep good on his promise." Lancelot tried to reason. He was unsure why he was trying to reason with her in the first place. Why did he care so much what happened to her or any one in town?
Rhoswen said nothing in response. She understood the weight of her decision fully and she was not about to change her mind.
"What do we do then?" Gallius finally broke free from his silence and looked to his sister. "If you refuse to marry, then what else can we do to spare you? Go to war with Marcellus and his merry band of misfits? Why can you not see reason, Rhoswen?"
"No, you will not go to war." She replied and looked around at them all. "You must do nothing."
"Nothing?" Gallius scoffed and stared at his sister incredulously. "You expect us to do nothing? Have you completely lost your mind?"
"Not nothing, Gallius, but if we cannot find another way please respect the decision I have made." Rhoswen watched as Gallius' demeanor changed. His face construed as he became angry.
"Never. I will burn the town to the ground if I must to ensure you are safe." Gallius stormed off into the woods and Arthur made to follow, but Rhoswen caught his arm.
"Let him go. He needs to be alone." Rhoswen released her hand from Arthur and let it fall limp at her side. She looked back at the three men and gave a sad smile. "Thank you for bringing him here."
"He brought us. He was bent on coming as soon as he had received the letter from Gereon." Arthur explained, understanding fully well why she was thanking them. It wasn't because he was here. It was because he was here now in time to say goodbye. "We will think of something, my lady."
Arthur moved closer and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Thank you. I appreciate you and your knights' diligence." She gave another sad smile as he and Lancelot departed into the woods. Rhoswen stared at Liam's grave for a long time, becoming lost to the rest of the world. She moved closer like a skittish cat and knelt before it, tucking the bottom of her dress neatly beneath her. She sat back on her heels and picked up the flowers, touching their petals gently. She looked back at Dagonet, who was stood back watching her intently. Tears sprung to her eyes as she thought about Liam and she smiled pathetically at the strong, silent knight.
"Forgive me. It seems that all I do is cry lately." Rhoswen wiped her cheeks free of the droplets that had fallen. She sniffled and looked to Dagonet again, who had begun to approach her slowly. He knelt beside her, fully facing the grave. She chewed on her bottom lip a moment and met his gaze. "Would you like to know him?"
"I would be honored." Dagonet replied gently, sensing that she wished to talk about her brother to someone. She turned back to the grave and set the flowers down, arranging them against the stone. He could feel the sadness radiate from her, could see it in the way her fingers traced her childish markings on the stone, hear it in her voice as she began to speak.
Dagonet watched as Rhoswen laughed at a memory of when they were children as she recounted it. He could hear the tone behind it; grief, regret, guilt. He reached out a hand and took hers tenderly. It was so small against his that was so large; so delicate and soft compared to calloused and aged. Rhoswen squeezed his hand firmly. She continued to talk about her fallen brother, the way he talked, the things he liked, the trouble they had gotten into, how much she looked up to him. It made Dagonet think of his own brother; Bors.
Dagonet listened intently to everything she said, but his eyes were focused on her face. Her eyes as they stared down at the grave marker, a vibrant blue that matched the seas of his home. Her cheeks that rose up, making her eyes squint as she smiled. Her lips, rosy and full as she spoke.
Dagonet tore his gaze from her and looked at the grave. He chastised himself and tried to compose, willing himself to think about where he was. A cemetery with a woman who was telling him about her deceased brother in a town where a mad man lived, actively trying to see her in a similar grave for crimes Dagonet seriously doubted she had committed alone if at all.
He realized that she had ceased talking. He looked to her, finding her gaze upon him. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes red, but no more tears fell. Had she asked him something? Rhoswen looked back at the marker and sighed heavily.
"Do you have any siblings, Sir Dagonet?" Rhoswen asked and looked back to him once more. Dagonet nodded his head.
"Bors." He replied and Rhoswen's expression became surprised. She had not realized or had even thought of that possibility. Dagonet looked back down at Liam's grave stone and knitted his eyebrows together in thought. "If Marcellus knew that Liam was his son, before everything had happened, what do you suspect he would have done?"
Rhoswen followed the knight's gaze and knitted her eyebrows as well. She had never thought about that before. Would Marcellus have been different? Would everything have been different? Would Liam and her mother still be alive?
"I suppose we shall never know." She answered honestly and shook her head again at the thought.
The two knelt there a while longer, hand in hand, until the sun grew low behind the trees. Rhoswen looked up at the sky, seeing it change from blue to orange and red above the tree tops. She made to move and realized her hand was stuck. She looked down and saw that it was instead trapped in a firm embrace. She looked to Dagonet and studied his face as she had done the last two days.
Strong brow, stern demeanor, beautiful eyes that almost glowed in the burning setting of the sun. Her eyes travelled over his neck to his chest, broad and muscular beneath his leather yellowed shirt. He knelt straight, back taunt and shoulders squared. He was quiet and reserved, which was so very unlike the other Sarmatian Knights. She wondered what went through his mind, what was he thinking? About his own brother? About all of his brothers? About the town? About her…?
"We should return to town." She announced suddenly and felt the grip on her hand subside. She stole her hand back and stood up, clasping her hands before her in an attempt to compose herself. Dagonet followed suit and nodded in agreement. Rhoswen took lead and Dagonet took up the rear, allowing her time to free herself from her thoughts. What did she care if he thought about her? She couldn't have him. He was a knight, an infamous knight, and she was about to be burned alive in several days.
She couldn't fall in love. Not now. It would ruin everything.