With Alfrida's unlooked-for friendship and the secret of Théodred's love tucked close to her heart, Léofe felt herself shedding weeks of misery and torment. More than weeks: even involved in the upkeep of the Hornburg from dawn until dark she still felt happier than she had for years, likely since her mama died. She fell, exhausted, into her bed each night smiling, and nightmares did not surround her.

One morning Léofe woke shivering, the heavy quilt on her bed providing little protection from a chill wind that hummed through the glass window in her bedchamber. She wrapped herself in the quilt anyway, walking to the window; nearly freezing off her toes in the process. It was not yet dawn, but it was greyer than normal, and flurries pressed against the glass briefly before melting. Léofe shuddered, and drew the heavy drapes across the window to shut out the wind better. She hopped back to her bed, trying to snuggle in to warm herself before her day began.

Alfrida later explained to her that the absence of snow, despite the approach of Yuletide, was causing much fear among those who had lived in the valley for many generations. Such disruptions of weather foretold the same disasters: famine, pestilence, and war. "Hardships cycle through the same pattern," the lady said. They were strolling along the Deeping Wall partly for the exercise, and partly to keep warm. "The year before I came to Helm's Deep, many young people died of a terrible plague. The elderly residents of the nearby villages are claiming impending war."

Léofe was keeping her arms crossed under her cloak, trying to keep the warmth close to her body. The idea of taking a walk to keep themselves warm seemed foolish now; she was sure she was colder now than she had been in the library, and being cold made her irritable. "Anyone with half a brain could predict war," she said. "Do these elders also know the victor?"

Alfrida pressed her lips together, trying not to smile. "Perhaps the weather does. Come, let us return to the indoors! Even copying the accounts cannot be as miserable as this! I am sure this is the coldest morning I have ever felt. How I wish Erk was here!"

Léofe's thoughts drifted to Théodred, who was at the mercy of the frigid cold on his patrol. He must be downright miserable, and she did not like that one bit. "A thought came to me," she said to Alfrida as they passed through the entrance into the living quarters. "The enemy attacks from the north, am I correct in guessing? Why is it that they campaign in the winter? Are they not affected by the weather?"

"They do attack from the north; as to your second question, it does indeed seem counterintuitive that they attack in all seasons. I suspect that the orcs " — Alfrida grimaced at the word — "Are either unaffected by chill, or are bewitched by some sorcery, or do as they are commanded regardless of their comfort. Those my guesses, based on what Erk has told me."

They sat together at a table close to the fire, which crackled cheerlessly. It did not seem to be helping the temperature at all. Here Léofe felt useless, but Alfrida had asked her assistance and so she had agreed. "I am hopeless at sums," Léofe said. "You would be better off asking another for help."

Alfrida glanced up. "Perhaps. But I promised Théodred I would keep an eye on you, and so I shall. Until I decide otherwise, that is. He thinks he has much more sway over my actions than he actually does."

Léofe frowned. "That is very high-handed of him."

"He is the way he is."

She considered for several moments to what extent she was offended by Théodred ordering his aunt to be her friend. It was flattering, but remarkably blind to either woman's feelings. He ought to be set straight. But Léofe tucked that thought away for later: she valued the lady's companionship too much to look too deeply into it. She stared into the fire, listening to the scratching of Alfrida's quill as she made marks in the accounts book. "Will you teach me to read?" Léofe blurted.

The scratching paused, and Alfrida looked up from her work, pondering. She was silent for a long moment, and Léofe thought that maybe she should have phrased her request more kindly. "Yes," the lady said at last. "I will."

"Thank you," Léofe said, feeling suddenly felt shyer than she had in a long time.

.

.

Léofe woke suddenly, blinking in the pitch black and wondering why her heart was hammering so. Dawn was still far off, and as she listened she heard nothing out of the ordinary. What had woken her?

"Léofe!" A hushed whisper from near the fireplace - and she nearly jumped from her skin. A poker scraped against the stone, and the orange glow of a fire began to flare from the smouldering embers, revealing the face of the intruder in a warm light.

"Théodred!" she hissed, sitting up and pulling the quilt to her neck. "What are you doing here? You are not due back until tomorrow!"

"We are only a half-day early. We had to cut the patrol short. There was…" His voice trailed off, and there was the sound of footsteps, and her bed sunk at her knees, where Théodred sat.

"What is it?" she asked, keeping her voice low. "And what possibly could have possessed you to come here? You could have been seen!"

"I had to see you," His voice was so faint she had to strain to hear. "We were attacked at dusk and lost over twenty men. We had not the strength to complete the patrol, so we returned early to replenish."

"Oh, no," Léofe murmured, her pulse still skittering from the fright; though with Théodred so near it was unlikely that she would be able to calm herself. "I am sorry for the loss. Was it very bad?"

"It was quite bad. One of the worst skirmishes I have been in," His trembling hand was roving over the quilt, searching for hers, and Léofe placed her hand on top of his, which he held it tightly. "It had been raining for days, and so we were stuck in the mud, and it was so dark — our scouts had their throats slit. There was no warning. The few of us to escape were lucky to do so," he paused briefly, his eyes lowered. "Allred was one of the scouts." His voice wavered heavily as he spoke. A lump formed in her throat. Allred dead! His poor family. Théodred dragged his gaze to meet hers, and she saw unshed tears.

"Why...why, Théodred!"

"Dear heart, I do not wish to be selfish, but I n-need you, so very b-badly."

Léofe lifted her arms to him, the quilt falling into her lap, and Théodred clung to her in a desperate embrace, his body shaking. How he had been able to hold himself together thus far was a mystery to her. She ran her fingers through his tangled hair, separating the knots as she crooned to him as she had often seen mothers do. His own hands were like vices on her back, and there they stayed until his gasps began to slow somewhat. She was not sure if she imagined it, but a new heat began to spread between them. Théodred's hands strayed to her waist, and he lifted his head from her shoulder.

"What is it?" she whispered, thrilled and afraid of the hunger she saw in his eyes. His mouth hung slightly open, and his breathing ragged. He stroked her face gently, before capturing her lips in a desperate kiss. She would have gasped, had there been any breath left in her body, for the passion with which he now devoured her. It was a marking kiss, and it seared her soul with flames and heat that spread the length of her body. A growl reverberated his throat, an animal sound that seemed to betray only a small measure of his desire, and Léofe's stomach flipped in delicious pleasure before she bit back a small cry.

He pulled back from her with a groan. "Béma, Léofe, you drive me wild."

"I...I am sorry, I did not know." Her lips still tingled, and she touched them gingerly with her fingertips. They felt completely ordinary, though she did not.

"I imagine you did not," her favorite half-smile lit his features. "Your innocence is a beautiful thing, dear one."

"Oh." Léofe decided she did not appreciate being termed as innocent, but if Théodred loved her for it, she could certainly rise above it. He picked up her hand and placed a tender kiss on her wrist, his lips lingering on her pulse. It was a decidedly small gesture, but her skin prickled. "Oh...my."

"I do apologize if I have lit a fire, darling," Théodred said, still holding her hand. "But I promise that I will not dishonor you."

"I know," she said. "You are too noble at times like this, I am afraid." For a moment she thought he might get angry, but his face cleared and he began to laugh loudly. She clapped her hand over his mouth. "Quiet!" she said. "If you are discovered…"

"I will not be discovered," he said, nuzzling his nose into her palm and kissing it. "I asked a close friend to stand guard nearby; he is to send anyone that comes near in the opposite direction."

"A very good friend," she murmured. "I cannot imagine that playing lookout while a prince makes love to a maid is very enjoyable."

Théodred grinned. "I did the same for Erk while he was courting Alfrida. Granted, I was only a lad of nineteen, but I am happy to demand repayment now."

"Erkenbrand! You asked him to stand guard while you came to me?"

"Indeed."

"Oooo!" Léofe pushed Théodred away, startling him into acquiescing. She threw her blankets off, and stood, pacing the floor in anger and disregarding her state of undress. "I thought our affection was to be a secret! And then you share it with a friend? He will tell his wife, surely, and she will another, and then soon enough all will know!"

"That is very unlikely," Théodred said, his voice mild and trying to catch her by the wrist as she passed him. "And for shame! You know that. Erk and Alfie are the most trustworthy people I know. They will keep our secret."

"And what if they do not? What might happen if they make an illusion, or someone happens to read their diary -"

"Also unlikely. They are both quite sensible, and I know in surety that they do not put their private thoughts to parchment."

"You have doubled the chance of spies finding out! I do not want your father to find out by malicious design, or to be labelled as a harlot, or -"

"Léofe! Be still!" Théodred had drawn himself to his full height, and bore down on her with an intensity that cowed her. He gripped each of her arms and lowered his head to look her in the eye. "You must trust me in this. I know you trust me in all other ways, and you must trust my friends as well."

Her lip was trembling. Though his voice was gentle, the steel in it was frightening, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "Now I feel as if you have been gloating like a youth, shaking hands in a tavern to celebrate bedding a stable maid."

He frowned. "You know I do not feel that way."

"I thought I knew you, Théodred. But...I am hurt."

He squeezed her arms tightly, inhaling deeply through his nose before releasing her. "I shall see you at breakfast, I imagine."

"Théodred, I -"

Her plea came too late, and the door shut behind his back with an ominous thud.

.

.

Léofe could only pick at her porridge. The sickening sense of dread that had settled on her after her encounter with Théodred was fraying her nerves dreadfully. What would he say when he saw her next? Would he remove his suit, no longer wishing to be with her? The sight of the glob of now cold porridge only made her sicker; she missed her papa's gruel.

"Mistress Léofe."

She looked up; Théodred was standing in front of her, very formally with his hands clasped behind his back. Her mouth almost fell open to see him so soon. She had imagined that he would avoid her.

"I was wondering if you might have a moment to inspect Brego. I think he may have taken a sprain during the skirmish yesterday."

She stood so suddenly that her chair scraped against the floor eerily. "I must see him at once!"

But when she burst through his stall door, Théodred keeping a more moderate pace behind her, the stallion only whinnied happily and blew his hot breath in her face. At the click of the lock, she turned her bewildered gaze from Brego to his master, who stood close behind her in the confined space.

"I had to speak to you alone, and at once," he whispered. "Please, pretend that you are checking Brego, in case anyone followed us."

"Very well," she snapped, and immediately began with his legs. "Where was this sprain, do you say?"

"Erm, left back leg." He crouched beside her, his voice quiet. "I am sorry for how I reacted earlier, Léofe. Your concerns were valid; my actions too hasty, and the guilt of having hurt you is wearing on me."

"His muscle is strained, is all," Léofe said in a carrying tone. "This particular leg has always been quite prone to it."

"And how quickly might it heal?" His eyes were hopeful.

"It depends on how soon you treat it. If you fetch the right medicine straightaway, and take him out only for light exercise twice a day, he should be back to normal in three days."

"Three days?" Now he was incredulous.

Léofe smiled. "It is always better to prevent the strain in the first place, sire."

Théodred's face cleared. "Minx!"

"Better a minx than a liar! Brego is perfectly fit," she whispered. "I never knew you could be so manipulative."

"I never hesitate when it comes to what I want. Sometimes the methods are admittedly irregular."

"Such as coming to my bedchamber in the middle of the night?"

"Yes, such as that," he smiled. "I do not regret it, if you are seeking to reprimand me for my improper behavior."

"I would never," she said, a blush reddening her features. "For my improper thoughts and desire that you would come again leave me in no position to deal justice."

"Your...you have…" His eyes, which had been a melting warm brown, now turned dark and dangerous in a way she did not quite understand. "You desire me?"

"Of course I do, don't be such a dunderhead," she said tartly. "I am not as ignorant as you think me to be. Why else would I allow your improper advances?"

He was hovering over her, seemly poised to pounce right then and right there, with Brego munching lazily on his hay within touching distance when the door to the stables was thrown open and a pair of loud voices carried their way.

"You are overly worried, sire," Léofe said loudly, and she stood, wishing her flush to disappear. "Brego is simply tired from the long journey. A few days of rest, and he should be fully fit once more."

"Thank you for your assessment, Mistress," Théodred responded in kind, also rising. "I shall be sure to coddle him until we ride again." He opened the door for her, the astonished faces of a pair of stable hands immediately visible.

"And when will you ride again?" she asked politely.

"Five days. We must send for reinforcements from the nearby villages."

"Ah. I see."

"Do you?" His flippant teasing was most unlike the staid prince he showed to the world. If he was not more careful, there would be more questions.

"Indeed," Léofe said, lifting her nose in the air. "Good day, sire." And with a frosty look, she turned around and walked out of stable. The urge to sway her hips a bit more than normal was irresistible, and she smiled into the grey sun, thinking of how tormented her Théodred must be.

.

.

The two men grappled, grunting as each tried to gain the upper hand by bracing themselves in the dirt of the training yard. Théodred was breathing heavily; he was terribly mismatched against Erkenbrand, but he did prefer to lose against his friend than wrestle an unknown Rider, who could very well be a spy and be hiding a knife in his boot.

There were some shuffles and murmurs, and blinking sweat from his eye, Théodred saw above Erk's shoulder that several women were crossing an open corridor that overlooked the match, and a few of them stopped to watch. Alfrida's lazy grin in the direction of her husband's bare torso was easily recognized, and with a jolt Théodred saw Léofe standing close to his aunt, bundled in a shawl against the cold and her own gaze travelling to the watching men that hovered around the fence.

"You must let me win," Théodred muttered to Erkenbrand, at once putting a fresh reserve of strength into their grapple. They broke apart, Erk looking as menacing as he normally did, though a flicker of curiosity was present in his blue eyes. The men circled one another, Théodred waiting for Erk to make the first move. The yard was quiet; only a soft sound of coins being exchanged reached them in the ring. They had switched places now, and Erkenbrand glanced upward. A quick smile, presumably to return Alfrida's, and then his attention returned to his opponent.

"So, that is the way of it," he murmured, for Théodred's ears only. "I must say your subtlety is slipping, what with last night. I was wondering if you would make your affection known."

"I make nothing known," Théodred said. "But I ask again that you let me win. Have I not been embarrassed enough, in our years of bouting?"

Erkenbrand's lips grew into a wolfish smile. "I am a sentimental man, princeling. I would throw the match so that you might gain favor in a maid's eyes, but never for your pride."

"Alfie is right about one thing, then," the prince said, getting ready to surge forward.

"And what is that?"

"You are a lout!"

Théodred's defeat of Erkenbrand was swift, though not so swift as to arouse suspicion. At least, Léofe did not suspect that Erkenbrand threw the match on purpose, and she felt very proud as the large man landed in the mud with Théodred standing triumphant at his side.

"My," Alfrida said mildly beside her. "Erk never loses. I wonder what has gotten into him."

"Never?" Léofe asked with interest.

"Not since his youth, I believe." Loud laughter was now coming from the center of the stunned yard, and Léofe watched as Théodred helped Erkenbrand to his feet, both of them apparently finding something very funny. Alfrida waved below, and the two men returned the gesture. And if Léofe was not mistaken, which she could very well be, Théodred's eyes lingered on her with a small smile.