Léofe paced Théodred's study, her nervousness making her hands sweat and her stomach turn. She wrung her skirt between her hands, waiting for the tromp of his boots from the corridor.
It did not come.
She wished she had stayed in the courtyard, but had been too upset to do so. The sight of her prince covered in black blood had nearly made her swoon—had he not been walking and shouting in obviously fine health, she just might have. She had scanned the remainder of the soldiers who had ridden in behind him, wondering if there had been a large skirmish, but the number of soldiers seemed undiminished. In fact, the company looked as if it had swelled, and a broad-shouldered man rather resembling Théodred had been by his side. But none of these things turned her into the anxious wreck that she was now: it was the prince's consuming, dark anger that frightened her. But she loved him too much to stay away, and she had run straight to his study so that she could be there when he arrived and discover what had happened.
Léofe collapsed by the fireplace on trembling knees, throwing several spare logs onto the fire to coax some heat into the chilly chamber. The door opened with a bang, and she started at the sight of Théodred slamming the door shut behind him. He did not look at her as she stood.
"Why are you here?" he asked, his voice surprisingly calm as he tore at the ties on his vambraces.
"I—I wanted to see you. You seem, er, unwell."
"I am fine." His tone was hard as steel.
"Was there a battle?" Léofe was not going to be deterred. He was not himself, and it distressed her to see him so upset.
"No. We found a small scouting party, is all. A mere half-dozen orcs and wildmen to be disposed of."
She processed this information, and then asked, slowly, "Only six? Surely you needn't have involved yourself."
He lifted off his leather armor, exposing the chainmail underneath. The armor fell to the floor, and he scowled. "And why is that?"
"You have over a hundred men. I very much doubt that you are required to involve yourself in every minor skirmish." Léofe felt they'd had this discussion before, or one very similar. It irked her to have to repeat herself; was he not in the habit of listening to her? He certainly ought to be.
Théodred glared at her, his hard gaze making her heart stutter. "I highly doubt that you have any right to decide that," he drawled, and he began to pull his chain coat over his head.
You are so stubborn! And stop being so stupid! Léofe wanted to say, but she bit her tongue. "I highly doubt that you value your life as much as you should," she said, lifting her chin in the air.
"I highly doubt that my life is the encompassing issue, when my country is on the brink of war with a deranged wizard."
"Then what is the issue?" she pressed. "Why do you insist on—"
"My father is dying!" he bellowed, throwing his mail to the ground. "My father and your king, I might add, is under the spell of a wizard and his vile counsellor, and every day my cousin is drawn further into his slimy clutches. How can you say that I am important, Léofe —how can you be so selfish?"
Her lips were trembling, but she did not lower her gaze. "And what if your father does die?" she snapped. "What then? Will your life still be so disposable? You are the only one that can take responsibility—"
He cut her short with a cruel laugh. "You have been spending too much time with Alfie!"
"It would not hurt you to spend more time with her! She is—" Léofe stopped herself, very nearly betraying the lady's secret.
Théodred did not respond for a moment, sitting in a chair to tug off his boots, which thumped to the floor. "You should not be here," he said. "Éomer is going to meet me after his nag is stabled, and he must depart again tonight. I would appreciate a measure of privacy with my cousin, Léofe, if you could please oblige."
It was clearly an order, and she simmered with resentment. His mood had now overcome her own, and she stomped from the room in a haze of anger, nearly colliding with a heavy, armored body that was just outside.
"Sorry, miss!" A rumbling voice said, and Léofe saw the face of the man she had seen with Théodred in the courtyard. His cousin then. She glowered at him before stalking away.
"Béma!" Éomer said, shutting the door behind him as he entered. "What a scowl that girl has!"
Théodred was hunched over, seemingly troubled by the wooden floors. "I have done her a disservice," he muttered, mostly to himself. "In fact I have very probably ruined her life."
"Ah, who is she exactly?" Éomer said, trying for cheeriness despite, well, everything. He did not like seeing his cousin so distraught.
"Léofe," Théodred said, her name a sigh. He rubbed the back of his neck, still not lifting his eyes from the ground.
"Béma—that was—?"
"Yes."
Éomer stared, torn between laughter and shock. "Did you—I mean to say, are you—?"
"She and I have an understanding, yes."
"Béma!"
Théodred looked up, looking intently at Éomer. "Please tell no one. I have endangered her enough already here; if word of this gets back to Edoras—"
"You can trust me!" Éomer said. "I doubt any of my men shall even notice, especially if you are at odds with her."
Théodred groaned, rubbing his forehead and smearing in some of the dirt from the road. "I do hate upsetting her."
"I doubt she likes to be upset by you. I nearly shriveled to ashes under her fiery gaze."
The prince glared at Éomer, who shrugged innocently. "I believe that Léofe is not one of our concerns to discuss," he said. "Might we move on? Time is precious."
"As you say. But I reserve the right to tease you later."
Théodred sighed heavily. "I expect nothing less. Did you bring the notes from Hama?"
.
.
Léofe hesitated, her fist hovering over the door to Théodred's study. Though she knew his cousin was long gone (having watched the marshal and his éored depart several hours earlier, much to Alfrida's relief), she remained unsure of whether she would be welcomed. Her own anger had ebbed somewhat, but had Théodred's? While she had seen him in a temper once before, she had not worsened it then.
She faltered. What if he did not wish to see her? No. She could not consider it. Though her mind wished to explore the very worst possibilities, she would not allow it to. She could not.
Léofe rapped softly on the door. No response came, and she gently lifted the latch to peek into the room.
Théodred was snoring in his chair, his arms folded and his head leaned against the back. He had taken the time to wash, and his hair was damp as it fell back, unrestrained and glinting golden in the dying firelight. Papers were strewn across the desk, and his armor was still lying where he had dropped it earlier. Béma, he really was upset! Never before had Léofe seen him anything other than meticulous.
She bit her lip, and then sidled into the room, closing the door softly behind her. He did not stir. She walked over to the cot in the corner, stripping it of its blanket. It was not very large, and she did her best to cover Théodred's unmoving form. He still did not wake. Léofe sighed. There was also a kettle, which she filled with clean water from the washstand and hung over the fire, intending to return after fetching some tea. If he was still angry with her, she could only hope that he did not see her . . .
A mumble sounded from the prince, and before Léofe could make her escape, he opened his eyes, looking around blearily before focusing on her with a start. His sudden movement made her jump back.
"Blast, Léofe!" he said. "You gave me a fright."
"It was returned!" she snapped, forgetting to be kind as she tried to calm her racing heart.
Théodred pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing out deeply as the blanket fell from his shoulders. "Léofe..." he began.
"I was on my way out," she interrupted. "I am sorry for intruding, I simply wished to—" She stopped here, suddenly unsure of what to say. Had she been so invasive towards Théodred's personal life before? She could not recall such an instance; there had always been a certain boundary between them, and she was apprehensive of how he would respond.
"Come sit," he said, holding out a hand to her. Her stream of thoughts ended, and she took his hand. To her surprise, Théodred tugged her to him and she half-fell into his lap. He wrapped the blanket around her, too, and his arms clasped her tightly around the waist. "I am sorry," he said. "I was a bastard. I may try to justify myself by blaming the skirmish, or my anxieties, or a hundred other things; but it cannot erase my unkindness. Nay, my brutality!" His eyes caught hers, and Léofe felt her heart stutter to see his anguish. "You deserve better than I, dear heart, but I must beg of you—do not leave me!"
"You were a bit of a brute," Léofe admitted, lifting her hand to trace the frown of his lips with her thumb. Béma, he was irresistible! "But I do forgive you. You have been patient with me; I am happy to return the favor."
He smiled, pulling her closer. "I have indeed been patient with you," he said, adopting a long-suffering expression. "You are a rather difficult woman to come to know. For the life of me I could not decide if you liked me or hated me, when we first met."
"Both," Léofe smiled. "It would be advisable not to think too much of it."
"What a war you have waged on my self-esteem!" Théodred said, lifting the end of one of her braids to tickle her nose. "At my advanced age I ought to be far more sure of myself, but alas!"
She bit her lip to keep from giggling, snuggling in closer. "Advanced age? You are acting as if you could be my grandfather," she teased.
He paused, and then repeated in a serious voice, "It would be advisable not to think too much of it." Léofe lifted her head, surprised to see the smile gone from Théodred's face. He coughed, and then said, avoiding her gaze, "I am nearly twice your age, dear girl. Though if you had not considered this an issue before now, perhaps I should not have spoken…"
She closed her eyes as she leaned her head back on his shoulder, listening to his steady breathing as she thought about his words. He still fingered the end of her plait, and her skin tingled. "It does not bother me," she said at last. "And it still would not if our roles were reversed."
Théodred lifted her chin, taking no pause before his lips descended on hers. Her arms travelled around his neck, keeping his close as he continued to press her body into his. Léofe felt her body shudder in waves of pure pleasure, and she could not stop the moan that escaped her. His fingers dug into her waist, and her breath heightened in a gasp. They broke apart, and she stared as he exhaled sharply, his features looking drawn and hungry.
"I do not recall the chamber being this warm," she said, feeling foolish as she touched her flushed cheeks, which were hot under her fingertips.
"You have only yourself to blame," he murmured, though he smiled.
Léofe tried to calm herself, wringing her hands together. How could he look so serene! She felt disconcerted and bothered from her head to her toes. "I think it is late," she said. "I ought to leave."
"Do you think so?"
"I—er, suppose that I do."
"Alfie does not keep you on a strict curfew?" Théodred's smile and warm gaze was making her fumble her words.
"No, certainly not!"
"Then stay."
"I could not."
"Not even to keep me company? I have a dreadfully long night of work ahead; I would appreciate your presence."
Léofe eyed him. "You wish me to stay the night with you?"
He traced her jawline with a long finger. "I wish you to stay with me forever."
She felt like melting. Though she was fairly certain he did not intend to sound so seductive, she felt half-ravished already from his heated gaze. And truthfully, the thought of...coupling with him made her feel nervous and shaky, and her cheeks flushed. He must have noticed, for a look of alarm passed on his face. "Léofe! I did not mean that. You wicked girl…" Théodred was laughing, and Léofe joined him after another moment of discomfort. "When we are married, dear heart," he said, and kissed her nose before depositing her on the ground, her legs thankfully no longer trembling. "Will you stay, then, even without any…"
"Yes," she said. "I will stay."