Throughout the speech, Tristan had been looking over the men from his seat, watching each of them. She'd tried to catch his eye, but he'd skipped over her and was now refusing to pay her any attention, even though he knew she was watching him. She could tell he was tense, and had been for days.
She'd been sent to his room her fourth night there, and since then he hadn't spoken to her or so much as acknowledged her presence. It annoyed her because she knew he'd liked being around her, and in all honesty she missed talking to him, which was strange because she'd only conversed with him for three days. Maybe he just needed time to digest what she'd said to him, or maybe he'd decided that anyone who spoke to him like an equal didn't deserve to be in his presence. Rory chewed on the insides of her cheeks as she watched him, his gaze still dancing over the men. She could still feel his breath on her cheek and the heat from his body. Perhaps he didn't want to be around her because she refused to sleep with him and that was what he'd been after all along.
Rory was pulled from her musings when the men began clapping loudly before pulling out their chairs and sitting. She looked around, not having noticed that Logan was finished with his speech. Forgoing the applause, she simply pulled out her seat and joined the men already digging into the numerous dishes placed before them. Although she was starving, she couldn't get her thoughts off of him and couldn't help herself from stealing another glance. He was sitting still, all the men at the head table had been throughout Logan's speech. The polished ground it rested on was raised up two feet from the rest of the dining hall. She glanced around, knowing that this was the hall for informal entertaining. The first, grander dinning hall had one long table rather than a raised platform and three tables. Besides, it was for entertaining other monarchs, where you didn't want to offend anyone by putting them below you.
His seat was in the middle, Max Medina to his right and General Huntzburger to his left. The table also contained the heads of the military, including Logan. At the lower level where their table was situated, there was another table identical to theirs with the old guard, including both the king and queen's personal guard. The queen's guard was something she hadn't been aware of until she began training. The king had his personal guard of forty to fifty men, they were not only his guard, but the protectors of all the royal family. After each king was married and his wife was coronated, the couple would choose eight of the men to be the queen's personal guard. The sole purpose of those eight men was to protect the queen. Not the heir, not the king, but the queen. At first she would have thought that this was a position men would feel degraded them and insulted their abilities, but according to the men it was the highest honor a personal guard could receive. Especially if the king married for love. If a king married for love then he would generally choose the best eight men to be in his wife's guard.
Rory had yet to spot the queen in her two weeks stay, but she knew that Tristan wasn't close to his mother. She watched him at the front table, leaning slightly to the right as Max spoke quietly into his ear. He was listening intently, focusing on the tabletop. Rory couldn't help but admire his strong jawline, the veins in his temple flexing as his teeth ground slightly. Would he choose the eight best men in his guard? She decided he would, whether he loved his wife or not. He would choose the best for the simple fact that his wife would carry his children, and she knew that he would love his children.
Rory suddenly realized that rather than tanned skin, her mind was now processing blue. She blinked rapidly, pressing her lips together. He'd turned and was now staring at her, their gazes locked in eternal pools of azure and sapphire. He looked surprised, as if he'd just felt her gaze on him and turned as soon as he became aware. Like he would never keep her waiting. She swallowed hard, clenching her hands under the table, willing herself to break contact, but he refused to let her. His uncle leaned over and muttered something to him. He didn't break contact with her immediately, but his eyes visibly hardened, his mind slowly beginning to creak once more into action. She saw his lips move in response, his eyes still with hers. The general said something else and Tristan turned to look at him, breaking the spell.
Rory slumped back in her seat, strangely drained. She flexed her hands, trying to get blood to flow through them. "You alright, Leigh?" A voice beside her surprised her out of her stupor.
"Hmm?" she turned to face Callum, his dusty blonde hair sweeping into his eyes as he licked the chicken bone he'd just cleaned.
"You okay? You're kind of out of it. And you're not eating. I'd have thought you'd be on your second plate by now."
She was still shaken up, but forced a light laugh and hit him playfully on the arm, "Pass me the turkey."
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During their lunch break the next day, Rory was sitting on the grass with Nick, Dorian, and Callum, discussing the king's upcoming birthday and guessing at when his friends would arrive. Well, they were guessing. She honestly couldn't care less about his friends but, as always, as soon as his name was mentioned she was pulled back into her thoughts of him. She still wasn't quite sure where they stood. It was impossible for her to decide if she hated him or not. There was just something about him that was so different when they were alone.
"Leigh."
Her gaze rose up as someone spoke her name, "Yes?"
It was one of the guards, "The king wants to see you." The three boys she was with exchanged unsteady glances, but she stood and followed the man without looking back at her friends. She followed him up to the castle and through one of the back doors they used, thinking back. Two nights after her encounter with Tristan, she'd given one of the maids his robe and told them to return it to him. The woman had shot her a dirty look, but remained silent. The next day when he'd come to watch their practice, his eyes hadn't left her the whole time. Of course she'd refused to respond or pay him any attention, and that was the last time he looked at her.
Before she realized it the guard had brought her to Tristan's study and the door was being opened, the guard allowing her to walk inside before closing it sharply. She stood awkwardly, looking around. Tristan was seated at his desk, chewing on the insides of his cheeks as he read a sheet of parchment on his desk. Rory didn't move; he obviously knew she was there, but wasn't done reading. She didn't step further inside like she had last time. Instead she was still, biting her bottom lip. What did he want now?
Tristan looked up at her, as if having read her thoughts. He leaned back in his chair, nodding towards one in front of his desk, "Sit." It was an invitation more so than a command, but with everything that had happened in the past weeks, she didn't know how to take it and silently obeyed, resting her hands in her lap. He eyed her emotionlessly, chewing on the insides of his cheeks. "I've been considering your situation over the past few days, trying to decide what to do about your position in my guard." Tristan paused and her eyes narrowed slightly, uncertain of what he was talking about. "I've decided you won't fight. The king's guard is no place for a woman, especially a child."
Rory's jaw dropped slightly, her eyes narrowing further. She wouldn't be in the guard? What was the point of even bringing her here in the first place? "What?"
"You won't fight."
She shook her head in disbelief, "Is this because I wouldn't sleep with you?"
The muscles in Tristan's jaw clenched and she saw his anger flare, "This has nothing to do with our personal feelings towards each other." his eyes were hard, his gaze relentless and dangerously empty as he regarded her. "I was raised to protect women with my life and regard them above myself. Because of this I could never knowingly put you in danger, simply because my conscience would not allow it. It's a value my father instilled in me until his death- you might say it was one of his convictions."
She stared at him, pressing her lips together. His eyes had never left her and she had the strange sensation that he was looking into her and through her all at the same time, his unwavering gaze piercing every inch of her until she was unfolded and lying exposed before him. It unnerved her to no end, and she subconsciously crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to block him from her mind, "So then I can go home?"
Tristan chewed on the insides of his cheeks, watching her silently. He'd planned to say yes. He'd planned to get her away from his as quickly as possible, because honestly, he didn't trust himself around her. He didn't trust her. The things her eyes did to him. . . .it was a bad idea to keep her around. But for some reason he couldn't bring himself to say it. Suddenly hearing her say it made it more real, made it palpable. She would be gone. The one fresh breath of air in his whole stagnant life would be shut out. And he couldn't bring himself to do it. He hated her, oh yes he hated her. Honestly wished he'd never met her. He cursed his uncle for bringing her here, for forcing him to feel something. In the short time he'd been with her and bantered, he'd felt something in him stir that he hadn't felt in years. He knew all this and still wished she'd just disappear, but for some reason he heard himself answer in a different way than he planned, "No."
She shook her head, obviously upset, "What? Why not?"
He leaned forward on his desk, looking her in the eye, "You're the best of all of them. I need you here to help them train."
Rory shook her head, "You have the best soldiers in the country in your guard, why do you need me-"
He cut her off, "Leigh, you training with them will help, if only to push them harder so that they won't be beat by you." She bit her insides of her cheeks, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned back in the chair, refusing to look at him. "It will only be for a few months."
She sighed heavily, crossing her arms tighter, it wasn't like he was giving he a choice. She couldn't just tell the king that she didn't feel like doing what he asked of her. Finally her gaze fell back on him, "Will I stay with the men?"
He shook his head slowly, "No. You'll stay in the main part of the castle. Anna, the maid who you met a few weeks ago will be your personal lady-" she opened her mouth to protest, but he ignored her, "-you'll be expected to attend certain events, nothing too painful."
She watched him, her head tilted slightly, "What kind of events?"
Tristan shrugged, "Banquets, festivals, that sort of thing."
Her mouth opened slightly as she slowly nodded, uncertain of what to say. "Okay." she whispered slowly, "Can I go now?"
He nodded before looking down at his desk, continuing his work. Rory stood and made her way to the door, shooting him a last glance before exiting, but he didn't look up. "Should I go back to them now?" she asked, standing in the doorway.
Tristan still didn't spare her a glance, "No. They're only conditioning today. Brad is at the end of the hall. He'll escort you to your room."
She nodded, stepping out and closing the door behind her, leaning against the cool wood as her legs shook slightly, gripping the doorknob for support. She couldn't believe she was staying.
Tristan looked up as the door clicked closed, swearing under his breath. What had possessed him to do that? He didn't want her here. He couldn't handle her here.
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Rory sat on her new bed, amazed at the way it felt. She hadn't slept on a real mattress since she was eight. Anna was flitting around the room, explaining the customs of the court to her new charge, but Rory wasn't listening. Instead her mind was with the men training outside. What would Nick, Callum, and Dorian say? They were probably going insane with worry as it was.
"Ready?"
Rory glanced over at Anna, "Hmm?"
"Are you ready?" the old woman asked, picking up a large jar from the sun bathed windowsill.
Rory's nose wrinkled as she stared at the thick amber liquid sliding slowly in the glass, "What is that?"
Anna took a light, thin piece of smooth wood from her pocket and several large cloth strips,
"Wax. Take off your skirt."
Her eyes widened as she jumped to her feet, still on the bed, "Why?"
She sighed impatiently, "So I can wax your legs, dearie. Haven't you been listening?"
"No."
The old woman rolled her eyes, "Young people." she looked at Rory, "Now take off that pretty little skirt and let me see your legs."
"Why? All my skirts go to my ankles-"
She was cut off, "Yes, your skirts do, but it's custom. The king won't like rough legs-"
Her eyes widened, "The king? What does he have to do with this?"
"It's custom. His highness would much rather you be smooth. It's nothing personal, darling. Just the way it is." she grabbed Rory's ankle and pulled her down.
She fell in a very unladylike way and scampered quickly to the other side of the bed, her anger rising. Was this what he'd planned? Was this the reason he'd wanted her to stay? "What in the world are you talking about? When will the king ever be around my legs?"
Anna looked up at Rory, shocked, "Well I'm sure I don't know, Miss Danes. That's up to him."
She shook her head, dodging the old hands as they grabbed for her. "You have it all wrong. I'm here to help train the men. Tristan and I won't-" she stopped, grunting as Anna finally grabbed her hand. "Let me go!"
"No. I'm sorry Miss Danes. I have my duties to make you acceptable for the king and I can't skimp on my work." she forced Rory into a straight backed chair, but the girl was up as soon as Anna's hands left her.
"You are not going to wax my legs." her skin tingled just at the thought of the pain that would be in store if the old woman got a hold of her.
"Miss Danes, if you don't cooperate with me now I'll have to bring someone in to hold you down."
Rory shook her head, moving farther away from her, "Well if this is for the king then why didn't you do it the night I was sent to his room?"
"I didn't have time. The redness and swelling wouldn't have gone down by the time you got to him." she motioned to the chair, "Now have a seat."
Rory stared at her, unwavering, "No." She sighed, shaking her head before opening the door and leaning out into the hall. A moment later, a large, extremely unfeminine looking woman walked into the room. Rory's eyes widened as the woman came closer and she cringed as she was dragged to the chair, the woman holding her on her lap. "Let go!" she yelled, kicking at Anna as she grabbed one of her ankles and pushed up her skirt.
"Leigh, I don't want to hurt you. This will be much easier if you stay still." she said, dipping the stick into the wax.
"No!" Rory screamed, then groaned as the warm wax was smeared in a thick line down the front of her leg.
"Relax." Anna said soothingly, smoothing a strip of cloth over the amber line.
"Well that seems to be proving just a little difficult-"
"Here-" the large woman cut her off, shoving a strip of leather into her hand, "-bite on that."
Rory whimpered lightly, but obliged, holding it between her teeth. "I"m going to count to three, alright?" Anna asked, gripping the end of the cloth in her hand. "One. . . .two. . . " and she tore it off, the ripping sound accompanied by Rory's muffled scream.
"What the hell!" she yelled, spitting out the leather, "You said you would count to three!"
"Yes, well then you would have been dreading it. Wasn't that so much better?" Rory gave her a dirty look and tried to yank her leg away, but Anna's grip was like iron. "Na, ah, ah. None of that now. We have to finish." She dipped the stick back into the wax.
"Wait." Rory groaned, her head falling back.
"Yes?"
"Can I have the leather back?" the old woman smiled and picked it up off the floor, handing it to the brunette. Rory looked up at the woman who was currently holding her captive, "And will you go away?"
"Will you behave if she does?" Anna asked, smoothing another dollop of wax onto her leg.
Rory sighed, closing her eyes, "Do I really have a choice?"
Anna grinned, looking at the woman, "Thank you, Alice. You can go." Rory breathed a sigh of relief as the woman released her and left the room. "Now," she looked down at Anna, who was laying another strip on Rory's leg, "I'm not going to lie to you this time. I won't say I'm going to count to-" and she ripped the strip off, smiling as Rory swore.
Rory sat on the bed an hour later, pressing her hands flatly to her red, irritated legs. Anna had left several minutes ago, saying that she'd be back with some cream to help with the stinging. Luckily she'd been able to convince her to stop with the legs. . . . .well, her legs and underarms. Rory didn't know what she was going to do when Anna decided that other areas needed waxing. There would be no way to hide her crest. The door opened and Rory looked up, glaring at Anna. The woman just rolled her eyes, "Save it sweetie. I'm not going to melt anytime soon."
"Mmm." was all she came out with as Anna began smoothing the cream onto her legs.
"I'll need to get you ready. You're dining with the king tonight."
Rory turned to look at her, "What?"
"The king. You'll be dinging with him tonight."
"And who else?"
Anna shrugged, "I think the head of the military will be there. Max Medina probably." She began on the next leg, "We'll have to put you in something casual, but nice. We took your sizes and had a wardrobe made. I'll let you help pick out the dress if you'd like, but you'll need a bath."
Rory sighed, looking out the window at the woods right next to the castle. What had she gotten herself into?
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Rory sat at the table, unable to breathe. She and Tristan were less than three feet from each other and he hadn't so much as looked at her all night. Everyone else was polite and cordial, but he refused to acknowledge her. They were in one of the informal dinning rooms at a short rectangular table. There were six places: the king at the head, herself to his right, Logan to her right, General Huntzburger at the foot, Max Medina across from Logan, and Ronald, the head of the king's old guard, across from her.
They were asking her what kind of training she'd had and they were curious as to how Carlton Dreeden was doing. But Tristan just...ignored her, and when he did finally stoop so low as to grace her with a look, it was through her, not at her. As if the chair was unoccupied, he seemed able to pretend she wasn't there. And for some reason it made her stomach drop. The other four men were being perfectly civil, surprisingly so, in fact. Finally Tristan's uncle pulled him into the conversation and he was forced to admit she was there. Although, while listening to their conversation, she'd been entertaining herself with a small wooden ball she'd found on the table. It was part of the centerpiece, but had fall off sometime in the course of the meal and she was now rolling it between her fingers under the table.
"So Leigh, who do you usually practice with? Nicholas?" Max asked.
She looked up at him, "No, actually. Nicholas and I had never gone against each other before the recruiters came. I practice with my cousin mainly, whenever I can convince him to." she answered, taking a sip of the wine in front of her.
"He doesn't like the sword?" Mitchum asked.
Rory smiled, "He doesn't like losing." The four men at the table other than Tristan laughed, and Rory grinned, taking another drink.
"So Rory, when do you turn eighteen?" Ronald asked, taking a sip from his own glass.
"Three weeks." she answered.
"Mmm, your birthday isn't too far behind Tristan's."
She glanced over at the blonde next to her. "Seven weeks." he said without looking at her.
Rory nodded, chewing on the insides of her cheeks. So Nick had been way off. "That reminds me. Is everyone still coming?" Max asked.
Tristan shook his head, "I don't know. I didn't invite them. They all got together and decided they'd come."
Rory snickered into her glass, glancing over as she heard Logan do the same. He smirked at her and took a swig of his drink. Rory chewed on the insides of her cheeks, setting her glass down. Upon feeling Tristan's eyes burning through the side of her head, she turned to face him. He was staring at her with a sour look, obviously not finding her amusing, "Is there something in your throat?"
Logan smirked, wiping his mouth with his napkin to hide it. Rory looked Tristan square in the eye, slightly put out by his cold shoulder, "No your highness, nothing." But lord, how she would have let him have it if these other men weren't in the room.
He stared at her, his gaze empty but burning at the same time. He slowly glanced at Logan and then back to Rory, his face unreadable.
"Well, I think I'll get to sleep." Ronald said, standing up to excuse himself, "The men have a long day tomorrow." he glanced over at her, "Leigh, will you be joining us tomorrow?"
She swallowed, unable to break her gaze from Tristan's, "Yes, sir." she blink, turning to face him, "I will."
He nodded, "Will you be going on the run, or do you want to train when they get back?"
"I'll go on the run."
He smiled, "Someone will be sent to wake you."
Rory smiled at him, nodding, "Thank you Ronald."
"I think I'll be heading up as well." Mitchum said, pushing his chair out, "I have to travel to Gildren tomorrow and speak with Gerald about this Celt problem we've been having." Rory watched him scoot his chair back in. Gerald Manda was the head of Gildren's military, and the Celts were the people on the other side of the mountain range that ran along the western side of Gildren and Hartford. The Celtic men that lived in the mountains had been taking the women on the outskirts of Gildren and Hartford. "We've both increased the number of soldiers in that area in the past month, but we've been trying to decide if a joint effort would be more effective." Max also stood, excusing himself from the group and the three men made their exit.
Rory looked over at Tristan as her mind went back to her second day in the castle, when she'd read the document on his desk about the outer villages asking for help. So he hadn't been lying when he said he'd give the protection. He glanced at her, having felt her steady gaze and his eyebrows arched slightly, giving nothing away. Rory sighed, turning to the blonde on her other side, "I'm sorry, we haven't exactly been properly introduced. You're Logan?" she asking, having caught his name earlier.
He smiled at her and nodded, holing out his hand, "Yes, Huntzburger. And you're Leigh Danes."
She took his hand, and he kissed the top of hers gently, "Yes. And you're about to become the general's second in command, aren't you?" resting her hands in her lap, she completely turned away from Tristan, giving him the ever lovely view of her backless cream colored evening dress.
"I am." he smirked over her shoulder, looking at Tristan, "It pays to have family in high positions." Tristan tore his gaze away from her back to look at his cousin, shaking his head lightly with an amused look. Logan's gaze fell back to the girl in front of him, "Gets you noticed easier."
"Your father?"she asked.
He laughed lightly, nodding, "My father. And Tristan."
"Oh, that's right. You two are related." she nodded slowly, "How, exactly?" she asked.
"Cousins." Logan nodded towards Tristan, "The late king was my mother's oldest brother." Rory nodded slowly, thinking. "So, what about you? Your family?"
"My father owns the pub in Stars Hollow and my mother paints." she smiled, chewing on the insides of her cheeks to force down the bout of homesickness that was threatening to come up, "My cousin Jess lives with us." she shrugged.
"And how old is Jess?" Logan asked.
"Nineteen."
"Are you close?"
She nodded, smiling, "We've lived together since I was eight. He's my best friend."
He nodded politely, "Well it's good that you're close with your cousin."
"What about you two?" she asked, motioning towards the silent king.
"What about us?"
"Are you close? Because some cousins aren't close. I mean, Jess and I are as close and anyone cane be, but on the other hand some family doesn't get along. Like these two women that live in my town. Their mothers were sisters and they grew up in the same house, but now they can't stand to even be in the same room together. I mean, they go silent. They don't look at each other, they don't speak to each other. Their children and husbands can't even stand each other, and the strangest thing is, nothing even happened." she shook her head, "No one can figure out what went wrong. I mean, I suppose they may have just gotten tired of each other, but my lord..."
Logan laughed lightly, grinning at her rambling, "We're definitely more like you and Jess than the other two."
"Ahh!" Rory grinned, resting her elbows on the table and lacing her fingers, resting her chin on top of her hands and leaning towards him, "So Logan, what do you do as the king's cousin and closest confidant?" she asked in exaggerated interest.
He grinned, obviously amused, and sighed, "Well, mostly, I lay around all day." he grinned, "Of course, that's only lately. Usually I'm involved in the military, but for the past few weeks all I've done is work as his personal slave to make sure he's happy and entertained."
"Oh?" she asked, smiling.
Logan nodded, "A terribly degrading task."
"I'm sure. How do you go about it?" Tristan watched their sarcastic exchange, amused. He didn't like that she was ignoring him, but didn't mind the view of her naked back: the pale, untouched expanse of skin shifting smoothly as her shoulders moved with her body each time she leaned forward in playful interest. And now that she was leaning completely forward, the dress was strained tight against her back, giving an ever-tempting view of her lower body.
Logan sighed again, shaking his head, "Well, you know, he's terribly tricky to keep happy, but mostly I just keep him well fed and. . . .ahem-" he cleared his throat, "-you know, biblically content."
"Biblically?" she asked.
Tristan's eyes widened behind her back and he shook his head rigorously, trying to get his cousin's attention. Logan saw him and his eyes narrowed slightly, but he continued, "Biblically, yes, you know-" Tristan traced his index finger across his throat, silently begging him to cease and desist, but Logan still went on, "I keep him entertained with a constant string of women powdered and sent to his room." Tristan closed his eyes, swearing quietly and resting his forehead in his hand.
Rory's mouth opened to retort, but nothing came out. She sat, completely still as her mind flashed back to the night she'd been sent to Tristan's room. He'd been leaning back in his chair, looking her up and down shamelessly when she'd demanded to know why she was there. He'd smirked, rubbed his chin and answered. "I said something to a friend and guess it was taken literally." The muscles in her jaw flexed unintentionally as she turned in her chair to face the man behind her and just stared. His eyebrow arched fractionally and a small smirk quirked the side of his mouth, but he remained silent. "A friend?"
He nodded slowly, his smirk not leaving, "A friend."
She glared, shaking her head lightly before standing up, pushing her chair out forcefully and shooting a glare at each of the cousins. "I think I'll make my way to bed as well. I need to wake up early tomorrow." and with that she made her way out of the dinning room.
Logan's mouth opened uncertainly, still staring at the chair she'd been occupying. His eyes narrowed in question as he tore his gaze away to see his cousin, "What just happened?"
Tristan was staring at the doorway, his smirk gone as he shook his head, "You sent her to keep me biblically happy, recall?"
Logan's mouth formed into a perfect 'O' as he nodded slowly, silent for a moment. "So then you two...?"
Tristan glanced over at his cousin before rolling his eyes, "No."
His eyes widened, "Are you serious? You mean I went through all that trouble and you didn't even-"
Tristan cut him off, laughing lightly, "Yes, I made you go through all the trouble of telling Brad to have her brought to me."
Logan sighed, watching the doorway longingly, "Dear Lord you disappoint me, Dugrey."
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Rory strode down the corridor to her room, shaking her head in disbelief. Tristan she would have expected something like that from. But Logan had seemed so nice. . . .so funny. She shook her head to clear it. What he hadn't struck her as was they type of person to treat a woman like a piece of meat. She rolled the small wooden ball in her hands, chewing on the insides of her cheeks. And Tristan hadn't even told her. He'd just sat there and watched her talk to his cousin, knowing full well how angry she would have been had she known.
A frustrated scream escaped her throat as she threw the walnut-sized ball. It disappeared around the corner, followed instantly by a surprised yell and the sound of a basket being dropped. Her eyes widened as she quickly rounded the corner to spot a boy with curly brown hair rubbing his arm, looking around to see what had hit him. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry." she bent down to pick up the overturned basket.
"Did you throw that?" he asked, squatting down to begin picking up the laundry that littered the ground around him.
"Yeah." she smiled up at him sheepishly, "I'm sorry I had no idea you were over here."
He shook his head, picking up the ball as a low whistle escaped his lips, "Now may I say you have one hell of an arm on you." she laughed, blushing lightly. "I'm serious. If that had hit me in the head I'd be knocked out." he held it out to her.
She smiled, taking it from him, "Thank you." she slipped it into her pocket and continued tossing the clothes into the basket.
"I'm Martin." he made a face, holding out his hand, "Well, Marty, but you know, being proper and all in the castle."
Rory grinned, taking his hand, "Leigh."
He nodded, "Nice to meet you."
"I really am sorry about that."
He shook his head, "It wasn't intentional. Nothing to be forgiven of."
She nodded, standing up, "So you do laundry?"
"What?" he asked, obviously confused as he stood as well. She nodded towards the basket under his arm. "Ahh." he laughed, shaking his head, "No. I work in the kitchen. A friend of mine does laundry, but she's caught a cold and is too weak to carry it today."
Rory nodded, "I see." she turned towards her room, "Well it was nice meeting you Marty-"
He cut her off, "If you don't mind me asking-" She stopped and turned to face him. "-how it is that a girl comes by an arm like that?"
"Oh," she glanced out the window, "I'm a swordsman." his eyebrow arched as he looked her up and down. "Well, a swords-woman, I guess."
He nodded slowly, his face not changing, "A swords-woman?"
Her jaw tightened, "Yes, a swords-woman." she turned to go to her room, but he caught up with her, stopping her.
"No, I didn't mean to offend you, it's just. . . ." he trailed off, "You don't look the type." he glanced around the hall, "I mean, how did you even come to be here?"
Rory turned to him, "You know how the king wanted a new guard?"
"Yes."
"And he looked in the villages and towns?"
Marty nodded, suddenly remembering the rumor, "There was one girl, wasn't there? I heard that somewhere."
"Yes."
"Well why are you here?"
Her eyes narrowed, "What?"
"What I mean is, why are you in the castle and not with the men?"
Rory shrugged, "The king has decided he doesn't want a woman in his guard." she rolled her eyes, "Apparently he doesn't want to put me in danger or something like that."
Marty's eyebrow arched, "And he hasn't sent you home?"
She shook her head, "No. He says he still wants me to help train the men, although I have no idea what I can do. I'm seventeen and female. They won't listen to me."
"It doesn't seem very likely."
She sighed, shrugging again, "Well, I have to get to bed. Early day tomorrow."
He nodded, switching the basket to his other arm as he started down the hall, "Sleep well."
Rory smiled, "Thank you." she opened her door, "It was nice meeting you."
He turned to face her walking backwards, "You too." he nodded towards her, "I'll see you around, Leigh."
She nodded as well, "See you around."
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A/N: Just to calm any fears, don't worry. Even though there was Logan and Marty interaction in this chapter, it's a trory. The only pairing I can stand, so the only one I will ever write. That's it. Great author's note, I know. Just to calm any fears cause I know some people will get worried, but you guys know me. Die hard trory.