Chapter Twelve
Bellebryn
“Sweets, wake up.”
I shifted physically but in my unconscious I executed a lazy br**ststroke toward consciousness, decided I liked the warm, safe waters I was in, gave up and floated.
Tor’s deep voice again penetrated my slumber. “Cora, we’re almost home.”
That got my attention and my eyes fluttered open.
I was turned fully to the side in Tor’s saddle, snug between his legs and up against his chest, my cheek pressed deep, his arm cradling me, my arm cradling a recuperating Aggie.
I tipped my head back, sliding my cheek against his chest, saw the underside of his strong, stubbled jaw tilt down and his beautiful light blue eyes hit mine.
“Hey,” I whispered.
“Hullo, sleepy,” he whispered back.
My stomach melted.
Mm.
I gave him a small smile. He returned a gorgeous one.
My stomach melted more.
Mm.
“We’re nearly there?” I asked and he jerked his chin slightly up and replied, “Turn and see.”
I started to turn, thinking that I wished we weren’t nearly to his castle.
It had taken not three days to get there, but four.
This was because we stopped at a large village with a veterinarian who looked at Aggie, did his best to set Aggie’s wing, gave us some medicinal herbal drops, a kind of rudimentary eye dropper we could use to give Aggie water and some tiny balls made of suet and crushed seeds that we could give Aggie to eat.
Even with this, Aggie had not made a turn for the better until that morning. He took his drops, he took his water, he gamely swallowed down the suet balls but he hovered at death’s door until that very morning when we woke to see him hopping around and chirping, partly, but not fully, back to his old self.
It had also taken us four days because Tor stopped in other villages and a small town. He did this so we could eat in pubs or, when we were in the town, a surprisingly rather cosmopolitan café that had great pastries. He also did this in the evenings so we could rent rooms in inns in order to have a soft bed to sleep in at night and, major bonus, hot baths (heavenly).
And in the town, he bought me another outfit. It was much the same as the first except the material was of better quality. The skirt and vest were pale blue with beautiful turquoise, silver and green embroidery around the hem of the skirt and all over vest and a flowy cream top that had intricate lace around the bottom of the sleeves. The petticoats were cream and dripped at the bottom with the same lace that adorned the sleeves of the blouse. And the satin slippers were green but had blue bows at the toes the color of the dress.
The whole ensemble was awesome.
The dressmaker, thrilled beyond belief to be outfitting who she thought was the future queen, upon hearing (from me, I was being chatty) that we were roughing it, also gave me a comb made out of bone, a brush that looked basic but its bristles were firm and felt freaking great on my scalp and turquoise satin ribbon to use in my hair, all at no charge. I thanked her with a hug and kiss on the cheek which bought me a short lecture later on princess behavior from Tor but I didn’t care. I was thrilled beyond belief to be able to comb my hair, it was nice to have something to hold it away from my face and the ribbon looked great threaded through my dark locks so if I wanted to hug someone because they did me a kindness, I was a princess and I felt I should be able to.
Sometimes when we were in these towns and villages, Tor would not take us to a pub for lunch or dinner but would buy cheese, bread and fruit and then we’d stop on the way by a lake, a stream or in a wildflower-filled field and we’d have a picnic.
On the third day, it hit me what he was doing.
He was taking his time. Allowing me to chat with townsfolk, window shop, smell the flowers, taste the foods and drink in the landscape.
He was giving me his world.
And in return he didn’t ask for a single kiss. He didn’t make me pay the debt I owed him for saving Aggie. Nothing.
We slept in the same bed every night, I woke in his arms every morning and I spent nearly every waking minute with him (except when I was bathing or trying on my new outfit). Even as future king, he was not a man who shied away from public affection, often brushing his lips against mine (in public and not), taking my hand, guiding me with his fingers at the small of my back, standing with his arm about my waist.