I want to sincerely thank you for your comments and questions about this fic. Each notification that people are favoriting, following, giving kudos or leaving a comment just cements my determination.
I know I say this about all my fics, but this is fast becoming a favorite. And the next chapter was one of my favorites to write. This is a hard version of Emma for me to write. She is clearly more innocent than the abandoned and hurt Emma of Storybrooke, but she is still a wounded bird in this story too. So that balance is a struggle for me. I also am enjoying writing Killian struggle between his revenge and his growing feelings for a woman he would have to give that up for if he stood a chance. That will be the theme for a little while. My version of Regina as a dethroned queen is also different, as I usually avoid her or write her as strong and not needing anything. So I hope I am doing her justice here.
Killian had not spent much time aboard his ship since he had first met Emma, something not unnoticed by his crew. So late that night as he sat with three of his more trusted confidants, he could practically hear the chatter among the insignificant men in the other areas of the ship. Ignoring them, he drew in a deep breath and coated his tongue with the liquid fire of his flask. The taste of the rum did not change, a consistency that Killian valued in his life. He liked consistency, the never changing aspects of his life that he could count on without regard for anything else. Though he had heard many times never to drink alone, Killian saw no trouble with that vice. Alone you were not likely to say things, not likely to spill secrets or embarrass yourself with sloppiness of mind and tongue. So that was his intention when he returned to the Jolly Roger that night, hoping to find answers in the solitude of the room where he had spent more nights than humanly seemed possible. His men had other ideas.
Smee had already provided him a map, a detailed outlay of the way to get to the Dark One. The only thing crossing Killian's mind at that point was why they weren't already on their way. Well that and the needling voice that was wondering after Emma.
She had seemed so guarded after the revelation of his life. While she had not pushed him away, she had seemed almost nervous around him and jumped when he had offered his hand to her in way of saying good night. Then there was her brother, the spritely young thing with his big eyes and lopsided grin that somehow made Killian think of his own brother – long departed from the earth. The boy was a bundle of excitement, but more than that Killian could see a deep loyalty and love between the siblings despite their age difference.
"I know that all are anxious for us to go," the man at Killian's left said. He was a tall man, thin with a protruding nose that somehow reminded the pirate of a parrot. "But it isn't wise given the circumstances."
"And what circumstances would those be?" Killian asked, tipping the flask for more of the liquid. "I have little doubt that we can surely make this journey without an arsenal any larger than what we have."
"It's not the arsenal, sir," Smee answered, his glance to the other two men revealing his trepidation. "It is the other assets that have created a bit of a problem."
Leaving the flask on the table, Killian pinched the bridge of his nose and looked skyward for patience. "Will anyone just speak plainly about the issue? We have our men. We have our swords, pistols, and cannons too if needed. What the bloody hell do you think we're missing?" While described by most as a fair and impartial leader, Killian Jones was not a patient man when it came to such things. He expected his men to be at the ready and everything to be in place at a moment's notice.
"Our other assets – money – gold – we don't have much at this point. We don't even have adequate means to move the men into position so as to best…"
Killian groaned loudly, his hand running over his whiskered face with the intent of wiping away the blatant inadequacy he felt in that moment. The answer was as simple as deciding between not going after the Dark One and finding another means to fund their endeavor. "We should find some other means to a treasure," Killian told the men, as emotionlessly as if he had been delivering news of the weather. "There should be a caravan to rob or some poor sod to manipulate. Do I have to think of everything?"
Peters, the toucan nosed man with the gangly legs leaned forward. "We've been studying that, Captain," he said in a proud yet conspiratorial fashion. "A royal convoy is expected at the turn of the week, as it seems the King and Queen of Mist Haven have decided to do a bit of business in the village we are currently in. I dare say they rarely travel light, as they are departing from the estate of the King's father, probably carrying their weight in gold coin alone."
The other two men were nodding in solidarity and agreement as Killian rubbed his hand across his face. If Leo was to be believed at his word, that convoy was Emma's family. "I shall think about it," he said when the stares of the men became too inquisitive. "Leave me be."
Smee hung back from the others, licking his lips in anticipation. "Captain, I don't mean to upset you."
"Then don't."
"The men have noticed that you are taking less of an interest in the ship and their activities. Is there something the matter that we can help with, Captain? Some relic that you wish to possess? Some wench you have not been able to convince? I'm at a loss as to your needs right now, but I do wish to help."
"There's nothing for you to do at the moment but leave me be," the pirate answered darkly. "I have no business to share with you at the moment."
Smee's curt nod was accepted as he began to back away. "Will you be returning to the inn? The barmaid was asking about you. She might be…"
"I'll be staying here tonight," Killian answered, turning to look at the planked room. If he squinted he could see Liam standing there. "Alone."
His eyes falling shut, Killian dismissed the man without further conversation and made his way to his own quarters rather than the inn. It would feel good to feel the sway of the ship under him, rocking him to sleep as it had done since he was a child following his brother. There was no better lullaby than the creaking of the ship's boards, he told himself.
Stretching out on the bed that sat proudly in the corner of the room reserved for leaders, he stared at the carved boards above his head. The echo of Leo's words still haunted his memory, as did the concern on Emma's face when she returned from her tasks. He had not confronted her, though he mentally began to look for the clues and signs of her royal lineage. Both of them skittish and questioning, he had no desire to broach the subject in front of an audience of her brother and the Lucas women who were likely to be prowling about. So he had made his excuses and kissed the back of her hand, observing its softness in stark contrast to the women of the village. She was clearly not used to hard work, her hands bearing none of the callouses that were always present on those who made a living by their labor.
Why did it even matter, he thought rationally. She was a beautiful lass with a mysterious state about her. And he was a pirate. She had been accommodating to his attentions, but had clearly not welcomed them as he had hoped. She had barely let him touch her except in the rarest of moments, usually in such a way that he might assume she was pitying him. However, he had not quit trying. Even after she had looked at him with such pain at his dishonesty that he had felt the desire to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness.
The irony was that she seemed to harbor her own secret as to her identity, which could be just as harmful to him. It took very little to anger a royal when it came to propriety and decorum. He was calling her by her given name, something only the most brazen of fools would do. He had shared meals with her, teased her, come darn near trying to seduce her. The King would probably have his head for such familiarity with his daughter. Then there was the whole pirate title. He was quite sure that she was the daughter of the King who had come down hard against the pirating ways of men like Killian.
Killian knew better than to taunt a King, especially one has well-loved as David. Sure he and Snow had their detractors, those who were more prone to thoughts that they might be better suited for royalty. He could have nearly any woman he wanted from the barmaids he encountered to the daughters of some of his suppliers. And yet he laid there alone with the image of Emma in his head. He was a fool.
***AAA***
Red left before daybreak, her cloak fashioned over her shoulders and her dark hair peeking out from beneath the hood. Despite her age, Red had always preferred to wear her dark lochs down around her shoulders and back instead of in the tight styles that many of the more noble women wore. It wasn't all about the comfort for the dark haired beauty though. She wore her skirts a bit shorter and her bodices a bit tighter than most of the women of the village. Talk was frequent about her, especially when a woman caught her husband stealing a longing glance at the woman. But she was used to the talk.
Before leaving the cabin, she had seem Emma stirring about and watched sadly as the woman splashed a bit of water on herself before bundling herself up to go check on the chickens and eggs. Despite their different coloring, the young princess did remind Red of her dear friend. There was something about the softness of her movements and the determined cut of her jaw that were clearly from Snow.
"I don't think he will come back," Emma said with no sign of regret as she passed the dark haired woman. "He seemed quite ashamed of himself."
"He should be," Red agreed, eying the woman carefully. "But I do believe you are wrong. He'll be by to call upon you. I don't think he can help himself."
"He's not a concern," Emma said. "My parents will arrive soon and all will go back to the way it was. He's been very kind to me, but he is not aware of my family. I doubt that he would extend that kindness if he knew."
Red nodded, seeing the logic in Emma's thoughts. "Does that upset you?"
"No," the princess answered quickly. "I'm not upset."
Blaming her lack of an answer on Leo waking, Red kissed Emma's cheek before departing. The unsaid words hung in the air like a thick smoke. Thankfully Emma was busy bustling about the cabin with more domestic chores that she attempted to do quietly since Granny was supposed to be sleeping.
"My hearing isn't what it once was, but it's better than most people," Granny said as she emerged from the larger of the two bedrooms. She gave Leo a quick and sideways hug as she shuffled over to the fireplace to inspect the pot that Emma had been nursing. Declaring it adequate, she wound her way to inspect the milk that Emma had garnered from the goats and the rising dough for baking. "You're proving your mettle, your highness."
Emma flushed at the title and the compliment both, as she knew that Granny meant them both in a teasing way. While the tasks that the Lucas women performed with relative ease still seemed new and cumbersome to the young princess, she had to admit that she enjoyed seeing the culmination of her efforts. It felt worthwhile to do something with a tangible result, a thought she shared with Granny as she helped complete some of the mending that had been piling up for a few weeks.
"You do have some talent with a needle," the woman said as she held up the apron that Red had somehow torn a few days before. "If your course was not already laid out for you, I'd say it would serve you well."
"Needlework is an appropriate activity for a young lady in my position," Emma said in a mockingly haughty way. Then she frowned at her own sardonic response. "My parents have sought out opportunities for me so that I don't have to be a worthless little thing that waits to inherit the throne for my future husband to run."
"Your mother has the advantage of having lived as she did at your age," Granny commented. "I'm sure that influenced her. And your father did not always live as a gentleman either."
"It makes them more able to relate to their subjects," Emma said, repeating the often used phrase she had heard. "But sometimes that lack of pressure is a different kind of expectation all its own. They tell me that I don't have to marry someone of my own station, as it is more important to find love than political connection. But how should they expect that when I am only around those who would seek out an alliance with our kingdom by way of marrying me? They tell me that I don't have to attend court or complete finishing classes, but I see their disappointment when I don't."
The older woman looked like the picture of a grandmother with her knitting in her lap and the chair rocking to and fro in front of the fire. "Much is expected of you, Emma," she said in one of the kindest voices that Emma had ever heard her use. "I can't say that it is fair, but it is how life has treated you. I know that you bear the weight of expectations with a heavy heart. You fear disappointing your parents and your kingdom, but, my dear, that is not the greatest challenge. You must learn to live so as not to disappoint yourself."
Emma smiled sadly, wadding up her latest task back into the basket and stretching. "I should check on Leo. He's outside right now gathering kindling for the fire, but I hate to leave him alone for long."
The older woman nodded absently. "Carry the basket out with you and check on the eggs? Some should be laid by now."
***AAA***
Killian listened as the three men from the night before gave updates on the plans, each expressing opinions about the route the royal caravan would take and how best to position the men for the siege. In truth he was only half listening as the morning sun shone through the windows and illuminated the table.
"We'll get the Dark One," Smee assured, eliciting the cheers of the other two men. "This will just be good practice for us. And it will certainly be great retribution against a king who aims to stamp us out."
There was no love for any royal from Killian Jones, whose brother's death could be traced back to a king. He had done all he could to ignore the ruling parties for as long as he could remember, fighting back only when necessary. Though King David's edicts against pirates had not actually placed a bounty on his head, Killian had felt the pressure mounting as people saw him as a possible means to a better life. "I have not given the order for this," Killian said with a hint of anger in his voice. "Do not collect our men until I…"
"The time is growing near," Peters warned, his head bobbing as though he was agreeing with some unseen and unheard entity. "We don't have much time…"
"Then I will hasten my decision," Killian said by way of dismissal. He was tired of talking about the caravan attack as though it was a nameless and faceless siege. It wasn't faceless to him though he had no direct recollection of the countenance of either the king or queen. He could picture Emma clearly, her beautiful features marring the plan that he would have just a week ago jumped at for simply the challenge of it.
The fact that he was calling her by her first name did not escape his sharp mind. Such familiarity could land him in far more trouble than any other crime. A future queen was almost a nameless article, guarded by soldiers and referred to in titles that took away her identity. Yet Emma was this warm creature with qualities that made him want to continue to get to know her. To reconcile the two seemed impossible.
***AAA***
The egg shells were smooth in her hand as she carefully placed each in her basket, the restless sounds of the birds around her. The scent of the hay and straw in the small hut that had been constructed as the keeping space for the chickens tickled her nose. She wrinkled it in an attempt to keep from sneezing.
"The Widow Lucas said I might find you here," Killian said, his voice light as he aimed not to startle her. To his surprise she didn't jump.
"Killian," she said, her voice giving away the surprise she did feel at his appearance. "I thought you'd stay in town today."
"I may have become accustomed to seeing you," he answered somewhat more fondly than he meant to say it. "I wished to speak to you, but last night did not seem the time." He stepped forward into the structure, reaching out his hand to grab one of the eggs she had missed. The delicate way that he placed it in her basket seemed at odds with the dangerous pirate's reputation.
"Thank you," she said, dipping her head in his direction. "What did you wish to say to me?"
His expression looked pained as she placed a cloth over the eggs and set them aside to replenish some of the straw. "Your brother is a talkative lad," he began. "He wanted to tell me of how he got the name of Leopold." Giving just enough pause to see if she reacted, he wet his lips to continue. "Your grandfather was King Leopold of Mist Haven. I believe he died before you were born."
She did not look up from her work, patting down the fresh straw with her hands as though it was the most interesting of tasks. "He and my grandmother Ava ruled for many years. She died before him and he followed some years later, leaving the throne to his wife." She recited it as though she was speaking of text from a history book.
"And now your parents," he added.
She nodded only once, stopping herself from turning toward him. "They came to power not long before I was born. So I suppose that answers your question."
"Aye, it does." He watched her for a moment longer, mesmerized by her slight movements and her unassuming grace. "I suppose I should have guessed. You are too much of a lady to have been like the others."
That statement made her turn to him finally, her eyes showing a silent plea for understanding. "I suppose that is a compliment."
He half smiled. "I feel as though I should bow to you. Or at least I should offer you an apology, your highness. I have been quite familiar with you and did not realize my faux pas. I hope that you can forgive my transgression."
Her eyes closed briefly and her mouth grew tighter. "No apology needed. I told you to call me Emma, which you did with my permission. I can see no other liberties that you took without my condoning it."
"Be that as it may, I doubt that anyone else would think that it was proper for me to even be here alone with you. I must say, you are different than any royal I have ever met. I should hope that you keep that about yourself."
From his way of speaking she realized his intention and swallowed back the feelings bubbling inside her. It had only been days since they had met, hardly enough time for them even to know each other thoroughly. His departure should not hurt, but in some way it did. "You have been very kind to me, Killian," she said with her chin tilted up to show her strength.
"It was of no hardship for me," he said, avoiding her name or any affectionate nickname that might seem out of place. "I hope that I made your time here easier."
The sounds of the morning grew louder in her ears as she gathered the basket back over her arm and headed out of the coop into the yard. "I won't keep you," she said as he followed. "I'm sure that you have much to do."
"Your highness, I…"
"Don't," she said, offering her sad smile. "I much prefer it when you call me Emma, despite what others might think. And I much preferred it before you knew of my title."
He stopped in his walking, but she took another few steps before she noticed and spun to face him. "I think I better than anyone can understand your reasons for hiding your true self from me. We've both been less than candid with each other about it."
She readjusted the basket though it was in no danger of slipping. "Would you have continued to even speak to me if you had known? Especially in light of your own secret? Granny and Red warned that I might be in more danger if I had let you know, but that wasn't the reason for my deception. You did not treat me as a princess. You treated me as someone who was on level with everyone. It was a refreshing change and I thank you for that. I liked that you weren't bowing to me or guarding your words so that you might win favor with my father."
"It must be quite exhausting to be treated that way." The edge to Killian's voice sounded almost sardonic, though his eyes remained soft and kind. "But I am glad you know that I would not have hurt you no matter your royal claim. I only wished to get to know you."
The light breeze that seemed so cold after the sunset lifted her hair as it rustled through the newly forming leaves. Maybe it was that gentle caress that made her a little more bold. "And now you don't?"
"Emma, I…" He stopped realizing he had called her by her name again, the two syllables falling from his lips with an ease that should not have been there. She grinned at the sound. "Not to sound obtuse, but what is it that you wish of me?"
She held her breath, blinking against the first thought that came to her mind. "I wish to know better you as well. Our time is certainly limited, but I have enjoyed your stories. I trust that you might have more."
Scratching the tip of his finger at the soft spot where his jaw and neck met, Killian nodded thoughtfully. "A pirate is usually chockfull of tales of the sea. If you wish to be entertained with them, I am in no position to deny that."
***AAA***
Granny did not seem that surprised that Killian stayed on after the conversation that she may have overheard through an open window. Her stern demeanor was still evident even when she had Leo set an extra place at the table that Killian stared at in wonder.
"Did you think that I would have you eat in the yard with the pigs and goats?" she asked, her skirts swishing as she moved toward the cellar. Killian hurried ahead of her to open the door and to fetch what she was after before she made the trek. When he returned Emma grinned.
"I think she might like you."
The pirate looked astounded. "The Widow Lucas?"
"She has not tossed you out," Emma pointed out to him. "And she has invited you to sit at her table."
"For pulling weeds in her garden. Nothing more." She noticed then that his confidence was not as deep seated as he liked to let on. He seemed quite unsure when someone complimented him, gave him credit or otherwise were positive toward him in some way.
"Perhaps," Emma said, looking for her brother who had run off again. Leo had excitedly asked Killian to sit next to him, telling Emma and Granny both very loudly that the pirate was there as his friend.
The lunch was quite simple in terms of food, but Leo kept the group entertained with his chatter that neglected the rules of proper behavior. Children, according to most homes of substance at that time, had pointed out that children should be seen and not heard. But the three adults around the Lucas table could not help laughing at the precocious boy. When Leo began to describe his sister's nightly habits of sneaking into the library, Killian laughed so hard at the imitation that he began to choke.
"Perhaps it is drinking something other than rum that has you flustered." Granny scolded him in jest. "That goat's milk seems too strong for you."
Emma couldn't resist the smile as Killian took another gulp of the sweet white liquid and declared it the finest that he had ever had to the great amusement of the older woman. "I have been meaning to add more of it to my diet," he answered.
As was her custom, Granny was the one to declare the meal over, pushing back from the table with a soulful groan. "I believe it is time for my afternoon nap," she declared, her hands busily unknotting her hair and letting it fall in silvery waves around her. "What are your plans for the afternoon, Emma?"
The blonde woman was attempting to wipe up some of the spilled food her brother had left behind when she realized the question was directed at her. "Red told me to work in the garden spot for a bit. I will start on some of the tilling."
Granny's face scrunched in denial of this task. "You will surely hit the rocks with your tools," she sneered. "I would rather sleep in peace."
Killian watched the exchange thoughtfully, his own mind racing through the possibilities. He knew that Smee and the other men were awaiting his directives and that he should make his way back to town. However, he seemed unable to fully abandon the princess who had so sweetly asked him to stay. "I noticed that some of the wild berries were beginning to grow on the path to the north," he suddenly said to the widowed woman. It had been years since he had noticed such things and was unsure why he was paying attention now. "If they would permit me, I could escort Emma and Leo on an expedition to bring some back. They might make for a good dessert."
"You know about berries?" Emma asked, her question obvious though she did not comment on his status as a pirate. "I thought you would not be as much use on land."
"Though it might feel that way at times, I have not always been at sea."
Granny swept up her skirts into her fisted hands and nodded. "I think that it sounds like a fine idea." Her eyes darkened and her voice became deeper as she looked at Killian. "And I trust, Captain that I shall not have to hunt you down should Emma and Leo come to any harm?" She was not feigning her fierceness though Emma could certainly see the weariness in her eyes.
"I promise, milady, I will watch out for them both as if they were my own."
***AAA***
Regina threw the dress toward the trunk, ignoring the fact that two handmaidens had to dive for it to retrieve the heavy fabric that melted to the floor. Her movements were hurried and still graceful as she combed through the tall wardrobe for those items she would need. Her voice was frantic as she shouted orders at them.
"Regina, what is the matter?" Robin asked, entering the room in fast stride around the bed to where his wife was standing. "The staff are all in an uproar that you are packing to leave? Did you plan to tell me?"
The man who most had viewed only a few years earlier as a common thief stood in the former queen's dressing chamber with his hands bracing her shoulders. He'd been away for a few days on a scouting mission of sorts, looking for word on the family his first wife had left behind when she had elected to marry him. As Robin's son grew, he realized that family connection was more important than he could have ever imagined. They had never met their grandson and though he harbored some resentment, Robin had realized he was reluctant to allow young Roland to grow up without that connection. To come home to find his second wife packing and the staff talking of abandoning what had been a royal castle had taken Robin by surprise.
"I wasn't leaving you," she said, her expression still angry but her tone laced with fear and doubt. "I have to protect Henry."
Regina jerked away from his touch, turning to the large beveled glass windows. She hoped that he would understand with those five words, as Robin had on more than one occasion told her that it was his most important duty was to Roland and her son Henry. "What has happened?"
She closed her eyes, falling back against the wall as he surmised their need for privacy correctly. Dismissing the help, he turned back to her and said her name a little louder this time. "Regina, tell me what is wrong."
"He's coming for him," Regina said, her voice barely heard over the heaviness of her breath. "He's going to take him away."
"Who?"
While Robin stepped closer to his wife, Regina wrenched herself away again, beginning to pace across the room. "I can't say his name. I can't risk summoning him. But he will take Henry from me. He'll..It's not safe here. He's never going to let it be safe for us."
"You're not making any sense." Robin his hand up his face and through his light colored hair. "Talk to me. Tell me what is the matter."
"The Dark One," Regina said, her hands shaking and shoulders slumping forward. "He's coming for Henry. He warned me."
Robin reached for her again, hoping to pull her into a comforting embrace that would at least bring out a sensible explanation. She would not have it, seeming to not seek out his touch. "Why would he have claim to your son? Did you make a deal with him? Regina? What did you do?"
The dark haired woman's eyes were just has chocolate brown, even with the tears falling from them. "I…Henry is not mine," she said with a sad sigh of resignation. "The Dark One helped me to find him, to become his mother, but I did not carry him within me. He's not truly my son."
"Regina," Robin said in what she interpreted as an admonishment. "You're raising another woman's son? You are doing that with Roland. Why would you not tell me?" He looked in the direction of the nursery where the two boys slept and played. Their blood different, the two were being raised as brothers would be. One of the things that Robin had loved most about Regina was her willingness to take on that role with Roland, whose mother was dead and father lost in his attempts to parent alone.
"I wanted to be a mother. I wanted something and someone in my life who was mine and not…I asked the Dark One to make it possible and he brought me this beautiful baby boy who I love as much as if he could be mine truly. And now he wants me to pay."
***AAA***
Emma watched Killian showing her young brother which berries were safe to pick and which should be skipped. There was no doubt that the man's knowledge was impressive and very surprising. When he approached her as she picked a few of her own, he frowned with deep lines along his forehead. "I don't believe you need my assistance."
She dropped a few of the berries into the lined basket and smiled up at him. "My mother," she explained. "For a while she lived as a bandit. Such knowledge was required of her for that time. She taught me on our walks when I was a child."
"I have heard tales of that time in her life," Killian said, racking his brain for the stories he had forgotten. "She met the Lucas women then."
Emma nodded affirmatively as she noted her brother digging into the berries in the basket that he had been carrying. "I'm afraid my brother may eat your bounty before we return."
Killian chuckled, looking at Leo as though the boy might in fact be a spy before reaching into his pocket. There he pulled out a handkerchief that was filled with a rounded pile of the red and pink berries. Dumping them into Emma's basket, he smiled conspiratorially at her and with whispered tone told her that he was prepared for such an event. "Perhaps you will be so kind as to be the keeper."
The trio continued on for a bit until Emma's basket became heavy and Leo's nearly empty. It was then that Killian suggested a rest, finding Emma a log to sit upon as he and Leo pulled up patches of the newly green grass instead. "I'll miss this," she said as her brother could no longer sit still and went in search of a treasure that Killian had said he was sure was buried nearby. Emma could see the young boy darting between the trees and calling out the clues he was sure he was finding.
"What will you miss?" Killian asked. He was still reluctant to call her by her name, but at least not calling her by her title. "Surely not the berries."
"This," she said, spreading a hand out to gesture around. "I rarely leave the palace and when I do it is with guards, chaperones, and assistants. One can hardly think for herself with all those voices offering advice – solicited or not."
He tilted his head and for a moment she thought he might ridicule her for pushing away such luxury when so many were in desperate need. He didn't. "Aye," he said slowly. "Living on a ship is not a place for privacy either. Other than my own cabin, I find myself plagued with the voices and opinions of others. It does wear on the soul to be responsible for the happiness of others." His dimples seemed deeper than they usually sat as he smiled. "Though I do believe you may have the greater responsibility of pleasing a kingdom when I must only consider the men on my ship."
"It is not a contest," Emma said.
He wrapped his arms over his folded knees, still looking at her with his head tilted to the side. "And other than the quiet and solitude, is there anything else you might miss?"
"I will miss Granny and Red," Emma admitted. "My mother's letter arrived by bird this morning and said we will be making haste for the castle. I always miss them when I am away. When I was a child I swore I would run away and live with Red and Granny in their cabin. I could imagine nothing so lovely as that freedom." She reached into the basket and under the cloth to pull out the folded parchment. "My mother is a beautiful writer. Most people treasure her letters."
He noted the sadness in her voice. "And you, my dear?"
"I look for the hidden meaning." Placing the still folded paper between her fingers, she held it out to him. "I am sure she means more than she writes."
He accepted it reluctantly, not unfolding the letter in front of her as she stood and walked toward the line of trees and called to her brother who did not immediately answer. Turning quickly to look back at him, her skirts rustled and swayed with the movement. "Do you write letters, Killian?"
He was staring hard at the folded paper in his hand, so hard he almost didn't hear her. "I have not in many years unless they were necessary."
She nodded slowly, trying to piece together her next statement. "I have fallen into the habit of it myself. I write to my friends in Arrendale, the Queen Elsa and her sister Princess Anna. We have become all the closer for the correspondence. So when we see each other it is as though we just continue the conversation we have been writing."
If he caught her hint, he showed no indication. "I'm afraid that living at sea as much as I do, I have not found such correspondence to be very reliable."
Emma seemed undeterred, calling out for her brother again. "My mother has trained birds to deliver her letters. Much faster and far less risk than the post that can take so long. Perhaps…" She dropped off as her brother came back into view, the knees of his pants covered in dirt and his hands as well.
"If I was to write to you, would you care to read my letters, Emma?" He sounded as nervous as a schoolboy asking a young lass the same question. "Or would you throw them in the fire with others from unrequited admirers?"
She pushed back the long blonde hair over her shoulder and smiled shyly at him. "I would probably keep them close to me and respond as quickly as my fingers would find the words to reply."