13
I want your silent parts, the parts the birds love
I know there's such a place
I had my back turned, you didn't realise I'm lonely
Say hello, say hello to the angels.

"Where are we meeting with him?"
"Separated from the mob still lounging in your great hall," he answered tonelessly, "The dwarves and the best of the soldiers are watching them whilst we arrange matters."

"You still don't trust them?"
"Why would I? You must remember the day they arrived, princess."

I did remember, vaguely, and I flinched away from what he was really trying to say. That these men had always been an army of darkness, and had come to Ravenna's aid through their own greed; the people I sheltered weren't worthy of my food or medicine.

Though it struck me with conviction, I didn't regret helping them. Perhaps they had become a force of evil for a reason.
Perhaps this would change their minds, if only a few individuals.

The huntsman was leading me into the eastern arms of the castle, far from my central chambers that sat directly above the hall. I only hazily remembered this area – I hadn't had much need to venture there before. It was where Father had gone to do his official business, often with Duke Hammond himself, and the lower-ranking Counts who controlled the rest of the lands under them.

As if reading my thoughts, my friend glanced over his shoulder at me. "Hammond says that the Counts and Squires have been informed of this – they may ask to meet with you soon, if they have anything significant to say about it."

"Will they?"
"It will depend on where those men go. As you said – logically they must have come from somewhere. But they do not talk, least of all about their home. Perhaps Payne will open up to you. You have a way with people."

"That's his name? Their leader?" I asked, though the more burning question was How do I have a way with people?
"The High Constable, yes. Apparently he doesn't have a first name." he said, with a hint of ironic humour.

The idea made him sound inhuman, untouchable. Likely the way he wanted to be perceived.
"Is he very intimidating?"
The huntsman laughed, a rumbling hearty genuine laugh.

"Not as intimidating as I will look when I recover my axe, and take up position beside you." his brows contracted for just a second, "The Duke's son will be on your other side. You'll be quite safe."

A large, rough, hot hand swooped down to squeeze mine, just for an instant.

"Thank you." I muttered, ducking my head to hide my consternation and pleasure, "You do too much for me."
"Nobody could do enough for their future Queen."
"But even before you knew who I was…"

This was a terrible time to try and express anything vaguely emotional to him, but the words were out of my mouth, and with every new syllable I felt as though I had to go deeper, I had to let him know. Each word left a hunger, a new thought unsaid, each more significant and heavy than the last. It was important that he knew. I had never really thanked him or acknowledged our – our connection? Was that the best way to put it?

"You've – always been there. You've never given up on me."
"You have a very selective memory, princess." he paused to rotate his body and smile dotingly on my naïve praise.

I pulled up short, and his closeness and beauty once again threatened me.
But then I laughed, at myself. I was being sentimental and silly.

"I do, yes. Maybe I am too grateful." I teased him, "Maybe I should be more wary."
"Wary?"
"If you managed to run away from me once, and if matters become too strained here…" I realised there was a genuine pang of paranoia in my voice, in my gut.

He had begun to walk again, but now he swung around and planted himself fully in my path, all hints of mockery completely evaporating. His intense frown made his eyes more piercing than ever. I somehow felt as though I had said something heinous, offended him deeply.

"I would never abandon you." he stated, solidly, in that thundering wild accent, "Never doubt that."
"I don't."

I wasn't lying; how could I doubt his earnest expression, even if I'd doubted seconds ago?

"What makes you so sure of yourself, anyway?" I tried to infuse a little light-heartedness back into the conversation as we paced on. We must have been nearing the meeting place by now; my stomach knotted.

He was silent for a moment, long enough to make me anxious. To teeter over the edge of doubt again.

"It isn't an option for me." he replied gruffly, finally, "Leaving here. I am a different person now, because of – this journey. I came to a certain realisation. Not long ago."
"What realisation?" I was piqued now, genuinely distracted from the impending interview. The way he held back suggested so many different possibilities.

He might have been trying to tell me something.
Or maybe he preferred me to stay out of his personal business – which was likely more complex and secret than I had the right to know about.

It struck me that there was a lot about the huntsman that I didn't know yet.
Like his life story. His whole life, before he had been sent to capture me.

And now was not the right time or place to be contemplating it.

"Now isn't the time." he growled, as though reading my mind again, "We're here."
I started. I didn't feel ready. I didn't even have a speech prepared.

The doorway yawned at me like the mouth of a monster.
I could face down a troll, but I wasn't sure that I could handle this with so much gusto.

"Why wasn't I born a peasant?" I breathed, utterly transfixed with trepidation.

He gave me a little playful nudge in the back, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Because who would be here, then, to save us?"