Chapter 31

D'Artagnan squatted and gently shook Aramis' shoulder. The fire continued to burn, sparks fluttered upward and disappeared within the branches that had started to gently sway as a breeze picked up. Smoke shifted, one minute it billowed upward and the next it sent ash and sparks toward the water. D'Artagnan had cooked and filled a beaten pewter plate with a finely roasted fish, covered with wild onions and garlic with a side of roasted mushrooms.

"Aramis?" d'Artagnan said and gently shook him again.

Aramis groaned, rubbed his face, and exhaled slowly. He wanted to sleep, allow his body the rest it demanded. He looked at d'Artagnan and then slowly rubbed his eyes.

"Eat," d'Artagnan said, "and then we need to be on our way. That," he shifted on his haunches and pointed to the dark clouds that promised heavy rains. "I've already seen several flashes of lightning and we shouldn't be in it. There's a small village about half a league from here. The horses have been saddled and are ready to ride."

Aramis swallowed and slowly shifted himself into a seated position. He took the plate and stared at the fish. He was hungry, but the idea of eating had him questioning his stomach's desire. With the plate grasped with one hand, he sat cross-legged and watched d'Artagnan finish packing their supplies. Lightning pierced the sky, its jagged edges danced and reflected off the water that had started to sway and ripple while the storm approached.

"What time is it?" Aramis asked. He pinched at the meat, took a deep breath, and then took a bite. He chewed slowly, testing the resolve of his stomach, and when he felt it rumble, he continued.

"By the position of the moon… it's after midnight," d'Artagnan said. He slipped his arms into his doublet, buttoned the front, and then strapped his weapons belt around his waist. The powder tin chimed, and his sword swayed. He placed his hands on his belt, looked at Aramis, and asked, "How do you feel?"

Aramis swallowed and thought about the question. He suddenly felt sorry for everyone he had ever asked that of. How was he supposed to feel? How did anyone feel after an episode of illness or injury? Tired, exhausted, empty. There was only so much the body could take and recovery took days, weeks, and sometimes months.

How did he feel?

"Remind me never to ask anyone that question ever again," Aramis said. "It's a stupid question."

A subtle smile appeared on d'Artagnan's lips. "Lethargic… maybe a little unsettled?"

"It's a stupid question," Aramis said again as he took another bite. "Ask me something that matters." He looked up with a shrug, and said around his food, "How did you sleep? How tired are you? Do you feel well enough to travel? Are you noticing any pains that you haven't experienced before? Are you chilled? Feverish? Thirsty? Hungry?"

"I get the point —"

"Is your vision clear? Do you have a headache?" Aramis raised his eyebrows. "Questions that matter."

"Do you want me to ask all of those or…?"

Aramis scrunched his face into an uncomfortable frown and said, "No… just remind me never to ask anyone how they feel? Especially a musketeer… they all have the same response —"

"I'm fine?" d'Artagnan asked with a smirk.

Aramis quirked his lips and nodded. "Don't laugh — you do it too." He mocked, took another bite of food, and then followed it down with a swig of water from his water bag.

"I won't ask you again how you're feeling, but I will say you're feeling better," d'Artagnan said. He stepped past Aramis and slapped his shoulder in a friendly gesture and walked to the horses. "I haven't heard you talk this much since you described Madame Raque's new bodice," he said over his shoulder as he untied the horses. "Something about the cut of it."

Aramis groaned and with his eyes closed, said, "Whalebones… who knew it could make such a difference?" He wiped his plate clean with the last remaining mushroom. "Much more supportive than reeds," he said and then heard d'Artagnan smirk. Aramis stood, stretched his back, and placed the plate on the boulder next to him. He picked up his bedroll, folded it, and then rolled it tightly against his thighs.

"That's what Constance says," d'Artagnan said with a hint of regret.

Aramis glanced toward d'Artagnan and walked toward his horse. "She'll come around," he said and tied his bedroll behind the cantle. He paused, took a deep breath, and winced when his muscles protested at the sudden moves. He rested his right arm across his saddle and waited for his body to adjust.

"Will she?" d'Artagnan asked. "She was unsettled the last time I saw her." He paused near his horse's flank when he secured the saddlebags. "I was…" he paused, "curt with her." He ran his hand along his horse's hip. "I called her a coward." He ran his hand over his face and winced. "It was foolish of me."

Aramis whistled quietly and scratched his jaw. He turned and leaned against his horse and looked over d'Artagnan's saddle toward him.

"She won't leave him," d'Artagnan said quietly. His voice was above a whisper and carried with it the feelings of a man in love with a woman he could not have.

Aramis knew the pain all too well. He exhaled slowly, and said, "She loves you… I know she does. But," he paused with a long sigh, "just because she does, does not mean she is willing to live her life as a whore."

D'Artagnan flashed angry eyes toward Aramis.

"She's married, d'Artagnan… and probably to a man she neither loves nor," Aramis shrugged, "likes. But she's locked into a contract she cannot escape… not without consequence." He rubbed his hand along the pommel and focused his eyes on the fine leather stitching. "She does not have the luxury of leaving him… and I doubt you would want her to live her life on the streets should something happen to you—"

"Of course not," d'Artagnan said. "But that doesn't mean we quit trying to find a way —"

"Don't assume she hasn't," Aramis replied. "She's a woman…" he slipped his foot into his stirrup and with a grunt, mounted, "and if I know anything about women," he looked at d'Artagnan in satisfaction, "it's that they're determined and exceptionally resourceful. Give her time and don't assume she's not working her way through this maze to be with you." He rubbed his brow and looked in the distance toward the storm. "I hope Athos and Porthos aren't riding through that."

D'Artagnan looked up and grabbed Aramis' plate and then shoved it into the saddlebag. "Me too," he said and mounted. "How are you?" He raised his hand and pointed his finger upward in acknowledgement. "Do you have the strength to ride half a league?"

Aramis shifted in his seat, licked his bottom lip, and nodded. "I'll let you know after we arrive."

D'Artagnan rolled his eyes and nudged his horse forward. "That's not the answer I was looking for."

"You asked the wrong question."