And so we continue... a quick note for anyone who is interested, this fic will follow both the theatrical and extended editions of the film. There are some scenes that differ (depending on which one you watch) but I liked certain elements from both. If you've never seen the extended edition, I'd highly recommend it.
Additionally, I did what I could to fix what I considered 'the time problem'. What, you may ask, is the time problem? Well, the entire film supposedly takes place over what looks to be 4 days, give or take. However considering the amount of travel they do north of the wall and then the lead up to the battle, this seems highly unlikely. Also the seasons go from what appears to be winter to summer to spring in a heartbeat which again, is unlikely.
So I've stretched things out a bit to make the timeline make more sense and also just because.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE CHARACTERS OR PLOT LINES AS DEPICTED IN THE 2004 FILM 'KING ARTHUR' BY ANTOINE FUQUA. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION DEDICATED TO THE HARD WORK AND EFFORT PUT FORWARD BY THOSE WHO WORKED ON THE FILM. THE ONLY CHARACTER I OWN IS CHARLOTTE.
With surprising ease, the large man hoisted me onto his horse and swung me behind him, ignoring my slight gasp. Grasping the man's waist as lightly as I could, I attempted to get balanced. I had never ridden a horse before, and I cursed the way that my flimsy Roman dress did little to hide my muddy legs.
I had never been modest about my body before, but living in Rome had quickly taught me the dangers of showing a bit too much skin.
Pulling the dress down as far as I could, I caught the gaze of the blonde man who regarded my legs with bemused interest. Tensing, I shifted closer to the tall scarred man in front of me and ducked my head.
Sensing I was settled, the tall man clicked softly to his horse and set off after Arthur at a quick pace. I startled and gripped his fur tunic tighter, ignoring how awkward I felt. Pressed up against him, the man seemed unperturbed.
The rest of the men joined and soon the group, myself included, were thundering ahead of the much smaller convoy. The wind whipped around me and I scooted further so that I was hidden behind the tall man's bulk, avoiding the mist as best I could.
I was freezing but did not want to draw any attention to myself.
After an hour or so of riding, Arthur turned his mount to a small hill. The rest of his men followed and I could make out the rest of the Romans a few leagues back. Reaching the top of the hill, the men pulled their horses to a stop.
Peering around the large man cautiously, I felt my eyes widen at the sight. A large wall spread out in front of us, with men striding across the top of the dark stone walls. Flags whipped in the wind above the wall and I could make out what looked to be a large wooden entrance nearly 20ft tall.
Following the length of the wall, I couldn't see the end and wondered how I had never seen this before on my trips to England as a child. How could such a structure simply disappear?
Made of thick stone slabs, the wall towered over the low green hills and forest. The tall man shifted on his mount so that I could see the wall better and I didn't even notice the motion.
"Well, now that we're free men, I'm gonna drink till I can't piss straight," Bors announced to the group. My head spun so quickly that my muddy hair made a low slapping noise against my back. Staring at the bold man, I couldn't believe what he had said.
With Arthur right next to him, these men seemed way too bold in how they spoke with their Commander. How did he dare speak that way without fear of being beaten?
Turning my wide eyes to Arthur, I found shock hit me once again at the small smile pulling up at his lips. He was amused.
This was all definitely a change.
"You do that every night," The blonde responded calmly back to the bald man with a straight face.
Bors, unbothered, continued. "I never could piss straight. Too much of myself to handle…down there."
The rest of the men groaned in what could only be fond exasperation while I felt my cheeks flared red. Even my limited Latin I caught his insinuation and gauging by the way his grinned deepened at my expression, I wondered if it was partly to see my reaction. Catching my eye, Bors grinned happily at my embarrassed face before I could duck away.
"Well it's a problem. No really, it is. It's like…"
I fought a slight smile that tugged at my lips as the group all finished his sentenced, even Arthur joining in as they all laughed. Looking at each of the men, I felt my curiosity and confusion grow.
Who are these men? How can they be so casual with each other, and their commander?
Whilst still chuckling, Arthur led his men back down the hill and rejoined the convoy. Setting themselves up so that they led the way, they eased their mounts into an easy walk. The walls of the fort loomed ahead and I found myself doing my best to peer around the man in front of me to see better.
"I take it you have never seen Hadrian's Wall before."
Guilty at being caught, I stiffened. Keeping my head turned down, I cast a sideways look at the man who rode beside us. It was the younger man, with the dark curls and deep frown.
Deciding it would be better to speak than ignore him, I kept my voice quiet. "No, I've never seen it before."
"Are you not from Britain then?" He asked, his eyes watching me steadily. I shook my head, a part of me wondering how I would ever find the words to explain where I was truly from. I refused to look at the young knight directly however he seemed unbothered.
The young man pressed again. "Then, you are a Roman."
I shook my head again. "No, I'm not Roman."
"Then where do you hail that would have you travelling with the Romans for such a distance?"
Pausing, I considered my words. "It's difficult to explain."
Snorting, the handsome man with the two swords moved his mount closer on our other side. I cast a small look over.
Eyeing me suspiciously, the handsome man tilted his head to the side. "Are you purposely trying to be difficult?" He asked. "Or are you always this mysterious?"
The younger man regarded me with equal suspicion and continued his line of questioning. It suddenly felt much less like innocent questions as it did an inquisition.
"What is your name?"
"Charlotte," I answered, refusing to give the Roman name I had been given once I had entered the villa. Marcia felt wrong and I hated the sound of it. I didn't think it would matter what these men called me. I was a prisoner after all.
"An interesting name," The handsome one intoned, watching me carefully. "And definitely not a Roman one."
I did not know how to respond so I stayed quiet however the pressure of their stares caused me to speak again.
"I'm from a land to the west…" I tried again, shifting uncomfortably under there hard looks. "My grasp of the language isn't very strong. I don't know the words for it."
Sometimes my lack of Latin ability had its uses. I could not begin to count the number of times I had faked not understanding to avoid questions about me. It had worked mostly given that few cared much about a slave, however given the looks both men were regarding me with, I knew my usual ploy would not work.
I almost wished for the anonymity I had so usually resented back in Rome.
"I was taken in by a man in Rome but then was… sold into slavery? I don't know if that's right. But now I am here."
Both men seemed appeased by the answer and let the conversation drop.
Shifting once more on the horse, I took in my surroundings to avoid the looks the men were giving me. The younger man urged his horse ahead, leaving me and the handsome man behind to speak with the others further ahead.
Shooting the handsome man a quick look, I could see that he was not watching me anymore. Instead, he seemed in thought, his dark eyes trailing after a row of soldiers marching towards the fort.
A few farmers and soldiers littered the large field in front of the fort, making me wonder if there were farms somewhere nearby. I could see some cows and sheep as well grazing in the distance, and a large tree that rose in the middle of the field. The sun was finally coming out and I let out a silent sigh of thanks that the mist was finally being pushed back.
I still felt wet and cold, but the slight sunlight warmed me immensely.
The man in front of me shifted slightly to gaze back at me, causing me to immediately stiffen. Putting a soft expression on his face, he nodded. "My name is Dagonet. You have no cause to fear me, Charlotte."
Staring back at him, I fumbled for a response. He seemed kind, much kinder than I had expected and it felt at odds with how I had been treated the last year.
Nodding back, I focused on not immediately ducking my head as I had been taught by the Romans and instead met his eyes with my own. It seemed wrong to not acknowledge his kindness, despite my own instincts screaming at me to show deference.
"Thank you, Dagonet. Your kindness is… I'm thankful."
Dagonet nodded again before turning back around on his horse. I stared at his back for a moment, contemplating.
A man of few words, to be sure, I thought to myself, though glad he was not pushing me to speak. Dagonet urged his horse closer to the other men and I could begin to hear partly their conversation. Bors' voice carried easily as he chatted with the blonde man.
Not catching the beginning, I could make out that Bors was discussing his children. "I have, I think, a dozen children."
"Eleven." The blonde corrected easily, staring at Bors in concealed amusement. Bors shrugged and I could feel Dagonet chuckle quietly in front of me.
"You listen," Bors said, pointing at the blonde. "When the Romans leave here, we'll have the run of all this place."
I started at this. The Romans were leaving? Then why did the Bishop come all this way?
Before I could dwell on this revelation, Bors continued.
"I'll be governor in my own village and Dagonet will be my personal guard. And royal ass-kisser. Won't you Dag?"
Dagonet didn't respond, however Bors seemed unsurprised by the man's silence.
The blonde man sighed and looked back at Bors, mentioning something about a woman. I did not understand much, though I could gather that Sarmatian must be a people of some kind.
Maybe that is who these men are? Though I have never heard of a Sarmatian before. It must no longer exist when I'm from.
Bors snorted. "A beautiful Sarmatian woman? Why do you think we left in the first place?" He then mooed loudly and all the men chuckled again. Satisfied at his joke, he turned to the handsome man who had ridden up beside him.
"What about you, Lancelot? What are your plans for home?"
Staring back at the men in front of Dagonet and myself, I watched as Lancelot smirked and explained how he would be staying with Gawain and his wife.
The blonde, most likely Gawain, glared good naturedly at the man but muttered under his breath.
A hawk's cry broke my muddled thoughts as it swooped above us. Staring up at the bird, I blinked as it circled us. The others seemed unbothered by its presence and continued to chat amiably.
After a few circles, the hawk flew down into the waiting arm of the man I had seen the least of. I realized it was the man who had raced off at the end of the battle. Slightly ahead of where Dagonet was, I could only faintly make out dark braids and dark armour.
Muttering softly to the bird, the man with the braids ignored the rest until Gawain called out. "I often wonder Tristan, what will you do once you are free?"
Tristan ignored Gawain and continued to feed the hawk perched on his arm. Gawain muttered something to the youngest man and the young man grinned in response.
Nearly upon the fort, a voice suddenly called out from above. "Open the gates!"
Dagonet kicked his horse onwards and we picked up the pace, my hands once more fumbling with his tunic to hold on. My legs, after weeks of walking, felt sore at the awkward way they gripped the horse and I struggled to keep a good hold.
The large wooden gates of the fort eased open with a groan and the men raced in, following Arthur. The horses clattered along a stone path before we entered a small town. My eyes skimmed over the low stone buildings as they flashed by, my eyes unable to focus on anything. People rushed by and I could faintly see the flash of Roman red as we hurried through the streets.
Arthur easily maneuvered through the tight streets before he led the group through another set of iron gates. I had no time to take in my surroundings as we dashed through the gates. My focus was primarily on staying atop the horse as with each turn, I felt my body slide from side to side.
The Bishop's wagon rumbled after us as we entered a small courtyard beyond the iron gates. I nearly groaned in relief as Dagonet finally eased his horse to a halt.
Dagonet slid off his tall horse with practiced ease. Before I could make a move to slide off myself, a pair of large hands gripped me firmly by the waist and hoisted me down.
Dropping me beside him, I stumbled slightly as my feet touched the ground. My legs felt like jelly and I reached out unconsciously to steady myself. Dagonet caught me easily and righted me back up.
"Thank you," I breathed automatically, steadying myself so that I no longer felt like falling. Shifting my feet so that they were wider set, I waited for my legs to stay settled. More secure, I shifted away from Dagonet's touch. The man let me go easily, his attention captured by the Bishop who had exited the wagon.
The Bishop glanced around the small courtyard sharply. I could see the way he took in the new surroundings, and I shifted so that I was obscured slightly by Dagonet's large form. Perhaps if the Bishop did not notice me, he would forget about me.
A large group of woman and children watched us from outside the iron gates. Dirty and in rough clothing, I recognized that there were likely no wealthy patrons in this northern fort. Only farmers and local people.
A young girl caught my stare as she gaped at me from the gate. Dark brown hair hung limply around her shoulders and her blue eyes shone from under a small layer of grit.
By the mix of horror and curiosity on her face, I immediately wondered how horrible I must look for her to look so shocked. My hands unconsciously went up to my hair and I grimaced at the layer of mud that clung to the strains.
"Bishop, please, my quarters have been made available to you," Arthur's voice rang out, drawing my attention away from the mud that seemed to coat every inch of me.
"Oh yes…" The Bishop said, his voice tired. "I must rest."
He moved to enter the small building before pausing, his head suddenly coming up. Turning around, I felt my stomach tighten as the Bishop's cool gaze found mine.
Obviously I was not as forgettable as I had hoped.
"Marcia," he called, using my Latin name. I stiffened immediately but knew that I had to step forward. Moving beyond Dagonet, my only concession was that my legs no longer shook. I kept my head down and my face void of any emotion as I had been trained and waited on the Bishop.
Turning back to Arthur, the Bishop gestured at me. "I would request that this woman be placed in your prison. She is a stowaway and a convict that we caught while travelling here."
I stayed quiet while Arthur shifted his stare to me. The silence stretched for a moment and I resisted the urge to look up. Tightly fisting my hands, I waited for Arthur's command to lock me up.
Arthur spoke quietly to the Bishop, his tone curious.
"And what crime had she done?"
"She fled the service of her household which happened to be that of a good friend of mine in Rome. She has caused trouble before I am afraid to say. This is not her first offense so I feel obliged to enforce a punishment in my friend's name."
"She will be dealt with accordingly then," Arthur answered promptly. I felt my body cool instantly. Despite his genial attitude with his men, it seemed that kindness only went so far.
I was not surprised; he was a Roman after all. I shouldn't have expected anything different.
"Dagonet," Arthur called, "I place her in your charge for now. You may distribute punishment as you see fit."
I found my eyes flicking up, unable to hide my apprehension. Despite his words there was something in his tone that I could not place. It was not unkind- if anything, there was a hint of deflection.
Arthur's green eyes met mine for only a second before he turned away.
While I tried to decipher the odd look in his eyes, Dagonet spoke up from beside me.
"Yes, Arthur."
Satisfied, the Bishop turned and entered the building with Horton who followed closely behind him. Arthur followed the Bishop, his red cloak flashing behind him.
Staring after the Roman Commander, I risked a look at Dagonet who had been nothing but kind since he stopped Quintus. Though I doubted he was cruel, I knew that he had to obey his Commander.
Watching me steadily for a moment, Dagonet tilted his head to the side and gestured forward. "Come," he said.
Without grabbing me, he began to stride off. Realizing I was to follow, I debated for a moment before catching the eye of Gawain. The blonde man nodded at me gently. It was not a cruel look or one of someone watching another march off to their death. Instead it looked as if he was trying to say it was alright.
Appreciating the small show of kindness, I decided I would rather follow the tall man than risk disobeying the Bishop.
Dagonet had led me for a few minutes through the corridors of the small building connected to the courtyard before coming up to a small wooden door. Pushing it open slightly, he motioned for me to enter. I walked in calmly, hoping that my instinct to run was merely the side effects of the battle before. I had been instilled with the rules and decorum required by a slave that it came second nature, however I still felt a slight jitteriness that I was unused to.
I reasoned it was the effects of the adrenaline wearing off and tried to ignore how exhausted I suddenly felt. I could sleep in prison, I grimly noted. I wondered if Dagonet could provide a blanket.
The thought was strangely comforting.
However instead of a cold room with chains and whatever else my mind could conjure as being a Roman prison, I was surprised to see instead it was a small bedroom.
A small cot complete with a trunk sat pushed against the far left wall, with a washbasin in the middle. A small window lay opposite the cot and I could see there were no bars or locks. If someone wanted to hop through the window – they could.
Eyeing the tiny room in suspicion, I immediately stiffened. Staring at the bed, I took a tentative step away from the man at my side however Dagonet merely shook his head.
"You may rest here for the night. Alone. I will have Vanora fetch you some water for bathing and something to eat."
"Is this the prison?" I asked, my eyes flicking around the room nervously. I still felt a sliver of fear despite the innocuous room. Perhaps it was a strange way to lull prisoners into a false state of security?
"No."
His simple answer irked me. Despite the ingrained need to remain docile, the exhaustion and fear that filled me drew another emotion to the forefront.
I turned fully to look at the man and drew myself up to my full height. I was much taller than most of the Roman women I had seen so I was not short. He still towered over me.
"Then why? Why bring me here?"
"Arthur tasked me with your charge. You need rest."
"But why?" I asked again, my voice showing my exhaustion. "Will I be brought to the prison afterwards?"
"No."
Again he answered curtly. I gritted my teeth and surveyed the room in further confusion.
Dagonet regarded me with compassion before gesturing to the cot. "Rest. We will speak more later."
And with that, he had strode out of the room and left me to my confused thoughts.
I sat upon the cot almost immediately after ensuring the door was closed. I found with a shock that there was a lock on the inside and without questioning how surreal this all way, secured the lock.
Sitting on the cot, I stared at the room in utter confusion. Was he helping me? Was he toying with me instead? Why bring me here?
With a sigh, I lay back against the soft straw cot and rest an arm over my eyes. My brain had buzzed with the events of the day however despite the warring within my mind, I fell asleep almost immediately.
It was only about an hour or so later that I found I was awoken by a steady series of firm knocks. A woman's voice sounded from the other side and in my bewildered state at being woken up, I unconsciously opened the door without thinking.
A sturdy red-headed woman strode past me without a word. I practically jumped aside to avoid her and stared as she began fussing around the room. I stood awkwardly at the door, blinking away the sleep still fogging my mind.
Who is she?
Seeing my confusion, the woman put her hands on her hips.
"Well don't stand there all day. I've let you sleep long enough, and you smell worse than the horses. Come on then. Shut the door."
Instinctively I followed her instructions, my mind still trying to catch up. However the woman moved quickly as she gripped my arm and tugged me into the middle of the small room where the large washbasin sat. I could see that the woman had brought a large bucket into the room. There was steam rising from the bucket and I blinked again in confusion.
Without wasting a moment, the woman began pulling at my dress, clucking in disapproval. I made a sound of protest but she continued on.
"Well this is entirely ruined. What did you do, go for a swim in a bog? I shall have to find you something better. My word, look at you. So thin!" She grasped my hips and made a sort of disapproving hum, twisting me from side to side.
"You've got no meat on your bones. But you're not lacking height, that's for sure. Why you'd put some men to shame with those legs."
Gasping, I struggled to keep the flimsy fabric on from the handsy woman. "Wait a minute…" I stuttered.
Yet she easily tugged the fabric off and left me standing completely nude, my cheeks no doubt bright red at this point. While Romans were very comfortable with nudity, the way in which this woman moved was practically clinical. It reminded me of the nurses in the ward I had once worked.
Her blue eyes scanned every inch of me without a flicker of interest. Just calculation.
"Oh, I have seen my fair share of naked woman. Don't get all huffy. Though I've never one so thin… What have you been eating? Have you had anything today?"
Startled and exposed, I answered her honestly as I tried to cover myself. "I don't remember…"
Huffing, she shook her head. "Roman pigs. Well after we get you cleaned up, I'll bring you down to the kitchen. But first, let's get this mud off of you. You smell awful. In you go!"
Pushing me towards the washbasin, I cautiously took a step in. Instantly, the woman poured the bucket of warm in and I nearly moaned at the warmth.
The washbasin was no larger than a coffee table, but after months of eating little, I was easily able to sit in the basin with my knees bent. The warmth felt absolutely heavenly, and I let out a sigh.
The woman chuckled in response but immediately began helping me as she scrubbed my body with a hard bar of soap she pulled from her pocket. It smelt earthy and scratched, but at the same time I marvelled at the clean scent that wafted around me.
In any other situation, I would have blushed at the way the woman left no spot untouched but the care in which she took and the warmth of the water brought tears to my eyes. It had been a long time since I had felt something other than aggression in another's touch.
While scrubbing my left shoulder with a small bar of soap, I noticed her suddenly hesitate. I could feel her hands still and it took me a moment to realize what she was seeing. I opened my eyes and shifted slightly, ducking my left shoulder into the water.
At her unanswered question, I spoke quietly. "It's means I run away. My master gave me the mark after I tried to run away the first time."
The woman paused, digesting the information before she clucked in sympathy. "What's your name?"
"Charlotte," I said. "What's yours?"
She smiled in return and patted my non-branded shoulder. "Vanora. Do you have any family? Here in Britain? Or Rome?"
"No...not anymore. It's just me."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Vanora said quietly. Pulling slightly at my hair, she clucked again at the dirt caught in my tangled locks before she renewed her scrubbing with more vigor.
By the time the water had cooled, Vanora seemed pleased with the overall result. Pulling me out of the now brackish water, she wrapped me in a long cloak and bundled me onto the cot.
"I will go fetch you something to wear so just you wait here. I'll have to see if we have anything that is long enough for you – you are much taller than most of the women here."
Staring down at myself, I shrugged, used to people commenting on my height.
I was only slightly taller than average in the 21st century at 5'10. However it seemed that genes and good food had made me significantly taller than those in the Roman world.
I stood nearly eye-to-eye with most of the Roman men which seemed to unsettle them, earning me curious and sometime hostile looks. My old master hated it, and he used to have me set at a distance away from him when guests were over. I realized after a while it was that he was afraid I would dwarf him.
"My family was tall..." I said in defense, but Vanora waved a hand.
"Well, nothing to do about that. It is what it is. I'll throw out your old dress and get you something better. Nothing to save here I'm afraid."
Handing me a small wooden comb, she hurried off back into the corridor. I stared down at the small object in my hand and suddenly I jumped up from the cot.
"Wait!"
Vanora paused, startled as I hurried over to her. Still bundled in the blanket, I desperately grabbed at the dirty fabric in his arms. I felt around until I pulled the tiny wooden idol from the secret pocket. Feeling the familiar weight against my hand, I let out a breath.
Seeing the way I clutched the object to my chest, Vanora said nothing. She instead regarded me with a long look before moving back out to the hall, leaving me alone.
By the time she had returned, I had managed to get most of the knots out of my damp hair using the comb she had given me. My idol sat on my lap.
With no mirror in the room, I couldn't tell what I looked like but I suspected despite being cleaner, I will still a sight.
My hair, normally cut short around my chin, was well past my shoulders now. The white-blonde colour shone slightly in the candlelight and I played with the ends. It had been a while since I had seen my hair its natural colour and I wondered if I had ever noticed how light it was. I used to dye it brown so as to disguise the shocking colour however it seemed that the dye had finally washed away.
Clucking at the sight of me sitting on the bed, Vanora drew my attention back to her.
"Well, you finally look like a woman again. I wasn't sure if it was possible."
Smiling at me, she took in my appearance as she made her way over. "Still too skinny, but not bad. You have wide hips which is good."
"Err…thank you," I muttered, flushing at the compliment. Vanora handed me a small bundle of clothes and placed a pair of shoes on the cot.
"Now, let's see if these fit. Gwendolyn had some clothes to spare as her daughter was just wed but I think they should be around your size. She was a large woman but we can tuck in any parts that are too big."
"Thank you… for this," I said, once again naked in front of her as she helped me into a white underdress. The underdress was rough but clean. "I don't know how to thank you...or pay you."
"Hush, child," Vanora clucked, securing the underdress in place. "Dagonet never makes requests, so it was hard to say no. Arms up!"
Holding my arms up as requested, she lowered a dark reddish brown dress over my head. It was much thicker than the dresses I was used to wearing in Rome and obviously Vanora was not lying when she said that Gwendolyn's daughter was a big woman.
Billowing around me, I found a small chuckle escape my lips at the sight. I looked liked I was drowning in it. Vanora joined in as she took in the mountain of fabric around me.
"You look like you are wearing a ship's sail," she jested, peering around me to gauge how to fix the dress. "I didn't realize how big it would be on you."
"I'd rather wear a sail than nothing at all," I admitted after quickly putting the words together in my mind, earning another chuckle from the fiery woman. Grabbing a belt from the cot, Vanora somehow managed to knot and fold the fabric so it was no longer a large mass around me. It was luckily the close to the right length for me so it hung just around my calves.
"Well, that should hold it. I can perhaps have one of the girls take it in for you tomorrow but it'll do for now. Now lets get that hair tied up."
"I can do my hair…" I said but Vanora hushed me once more, seating herself behind me. "I do this all the time. Let me. I need to take you to the kitchens so the sooner I do this, the quicker you can have something to eat."
Not giving me an inch to argue, the woman had two portions of my hair closest to my face tied back into braid, leaving the rest to be free. Satisfied with her work, she helped me into a pair of leather shoes and a dark brown cloak, before leading me out of the room.
I hesitated at the doorway and resisted her strong hold. "Dagonet said I was to stay here…"
The urge to obey flickered through me however the red-headed woman just shook her head.
"Dagonet wanted me to get you settled and I'll keep you hidden in the back. No men enter the kitchen, least be the Romans so you'll be safe. Besides," she gave me an obvious once over. "I'm not sure anyone would recognize you. You look like a whole new woman."
I glanced down at myself and tried to see what she could see. Despite the clean clothes, I knew I still looked every inch a slave. Seeing my continued hesitation, Vanora raised a brow.
"Now, are you hungry?"
As if on que, my stomach rumbled. Biting my lip, I nodded curtly. "Yes."
"Good girl," Vanora said, patting my arm. "That's the spirit. Now, come along."