The days were still hot, regardless of the cold of the nights and mornings. Sometimes, they were cooler than others, like yesterday, for example. With the little bit of the drizzle before Draka took Maud to stalk the deer she missed in the woods near their camp, it made the day just cool enough that she bundled herself up to look like a half starved bear cub, but the day before that he was worried that she might remove enough of her coverings to make those prying eyes of that scoundrel Karl see more than he should ever see. Draka looked over his shoulder at the man. Karl’s eyes were predictably fixed on Maud’s back. He took in a deep breath to sooth his need to break that nose of his.

  They were nearing one of the smaller hamlets, a village that made Talkro look like a small city when he had first arrived in comparison. A few scattered thatched wooden houses with smoke rising from them across a wide open field, a tall stone-set windmill with sails spinning on a hill, and a small chapel that also acted as a tavern. It wasn’t unusual for a chapel to provide beer, Draka knew, since monks tended to be the heartiest of drinkers.

  Being celibate often created a double-edged habit among the Diocese. A common joke was that monks and priests spend their nights in the pub and their mornings in confession. The Paladinate’s most heated complaints against them tended to center around that particular requirement of their leadership. But they do make excellent spirits, Draka couldn’t take that away from them. And, he has yet to see a drunken monk—he has seen a priest or two get completely obliterated by drunkenness, but only after they survived from following Paladins into a fray against demons and no one would ever fault them for it. Friars, on the other hand…Draka smiled to himself about that. He wondered if that was the most common reason they lost their way from being priests, since most of them still taught the ways of the Church as they did the scripture.

  Draka glanced at Maud. She was looking at the road ahead of them. Still hasn’t said a word since their hunt. He gets shot in the face and she’s the one angry at him. He wasn’t sure why she was angry at him. She was definitely angry though. There was no doubt about that in his mind. He had been going over their conversations during the hunting trip the entire ride and nothing came to mind. At least she was still riding beside him. The vow of silence has its advantages, he supposed, since he would have asked by now otherwise. That was something he had learned from it. Let things lie where they lay. And it has been the most difficult lesson he has ever had to learn.

  The wagon behind them was pulled by two oxen and driven by Raphael, who whipped the long reins in his hand every so often for them to keep pace. The oxen would moo at him and bump each other. The wagon was heaping with the elk. Samma walked beside it with his spear, one hand on the rail as if he were supporting it from falling over. On the other side was Greshon’s boy, Andre, who was nearly as tall as the highest peak of the heap.

  Hugo was on his horse behind the wagon, riding beside Olaf. Draka liked Hugo. He was a good lad. Always put himself in the way of problems and Vigora liked him. Karl was riding on the opposite side of the wagon, keeping only a few paces behind Maud, with dirty hands and clothes but a clean face. A clean face. Draka tried not to show how that made his blood boil. He looked back to the road ahead of him.

  “I wish we had more room on the wagon,” Karl chuckled. Draka caught Maud’s whipping glare at him with a proud grin of his own. He didn’t have to look for himself. He could hear Karl’s gulp of shame.

  “I might be able to make room for a barrel or two,” Raphael called over his shoulder. Then, toward Draka, “With his majesty’s permission.”

  There were cries from the Talkro boys, begging that Draka agree, and Draka looked to Maud with a raised brow. Maud only huffed at him and turned away with a lift of her chin. No doubt, she was beyond angry. Might as well, now. There was no escaping it anyway. Draka nodded and motioned for Hugo. The boys cheered and climbed onto the wagon to shift the elk carcasses to fit as many barrels as they could.

  “Men,” Maud scoffed.

  Ahead of them, the monks were already lining the side of the road between their chapel and the tavern that was adjacent to it, ready to greet their king for a second time this week. The first time, five days ago, they had given them each a night’s feast and a barrel of mead, which was considered to be the best any of them—except Draka and Olaf—had ever had.

  “I think we can fit three barrels,” Hugo said after he rode his brown palmetto to near Draka. His horse knew better than to get too close to Vigora. She liked Hugo, not his horse.

  Another gaping glare from Maud. You’re really encouraging this? It said.

  Draka shrugged at her. Why not? His replied.

  Her glare hardened. Because I don’t approve, that’s why! It answered.

  Draka dug out the coins he was sure was enough after he counted them with a glance and handed them to Hugo. Hugo galloped off to the monks. Draka flicked his brows at Maud with another shrug and shake of his head.

  You’re already mad at me, what difference will this make? Was what it told her. Then, he looked over his shoulder at them and back at her. Another shrug. They like me for it. Which I also like. A glare at Karl, who was smiling. Except him.

  Maud pressed her lips together, thinning them angrily. She shook her head with a growl of frustration. You are unbelievable.

  Draka shrugged, his hands questioningly wide. I don’t know why you’re mad at me. Now you have a reason I understand that makes everyone else happy. Win-win.

  Their argument had not stopped the caravan. They were still approaching where Hugo had stepped off his horse to negotiate with the monks for the barrels they were rolling from the outside access to their cellars. Maud let Rosemary steer herself and crossed her arms at Draka with a roll of her eyes.

  That is not a win-win, Draka. Maud indicated by shaking her head.

  It makes sense to me, Draka’s shrug told her. The blue flecks in her green eyes flared with her fury as the cheeks of her heart-shaped face reddened with rage. His grin instantly faded. He might have crossed into the realm of bland stews. He tried to reach for her hand with a heartfelt, I’m sorry for whatever I said that made you so angry.

  Maud shook her head at him and made her horse trot to get ahead of his. A part of him could see the steam rising from her hide gambeson. Thank the heavens she isn’t a barbarian, or she might have shot him in the face with one of the actual arrows she had in the quiver slung on the side of her saddle.

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  Draka blinked after her, gaping with even more confusion than before. He huffed in disappointment at himself. Broth and bread, that was going to be the future of his meals. Maybe he still had a pouch of salt left in the house when he gets home. If not, Valmond can fetch some, the man always likes being sent on errands. He rarely has anything for the man to do.

  They waited for the barrels to be loaded onto the back of the wagon before continuing on. Another long bout of silence hung between Draka and Maud, filled by chatter between the others of the party, often with laughter and small quips.

  Samma and Chase were both hopeful for the coming Ribbon Dance. Draka slowed Vigora’s stride to listen to their discussions. He didn’t want it to be obvious. Maybe he can get some insight as to why Maud was so upset about it. Something about a husband. If only she would go back to not wanting one from among the men here. He knew which one she wanted. He’d rather leap into a compost heap and eat from it.

  “That first kiss seals it,” Andre said. “You wait until their lips touch yours and you just…like this with your tongue.” He stuck his tongue out as far as he could and wiggled it, making the other Talkro boys laugh while covering their faces. Samma and Raphael, being the youngest, were the ones who blushed and laughed the loudest.

  Chase shook his head at him with a slap of his hand, “If it’s Senna, you’ll end up with her tongue in your mouth first!”

  More laughter.

  Draka tightened. Pagan garbage. He might have to outlaw this Ribbon Dance somehow. Riots or no, this sounds like debauchery.

  “You stick your tongue in Anita’s mouth, my father’ll cut it out before you say your vows,” Hugo warned with an eye that made silence fall over them. Draka didn’t look, only straightened his back with pride. “It may not be a sacred or religious ceremony, but it might as well be. They’re selecting their husbands for life and fighting for your worth as their men. You should honor that by respecting them in return when they win.”

  “You might want to take a breath once in a while,” Andre called in answer. “I’m sure the air is fuller away from the King’s arse.”

  Everyone laughed. Even Draka had to tuck his chin not to snicker. They had a point. Hugo was helping a bit too often. Not that he minded, but it was far more common than anyone else, even if you included those who were posted to positions where it was required of them.

  “I mean it,” Hugo growled. “Anita’s going to be fighting hard for one of you and whoever it is she gets better be worth it or they’ll be thumped into paying their price, believe you me. So, keep your tongues in your mouths and your fingers where they can be seen during the Claimer’s Dance after. No one likes a husband on a crutch at his wedding.”

  Draka’s eyes widened in approval. If it were his sister, he’d have said much the same.

  He heard Karl say, “Good man.” Draka harumphed at that.

  “How would Hugo handle the Pole Kiss, then?” Samma asked. The others echoed.

  “With a peck and a whispered, ‘No, my virginity is too fragile,’” Andre mocked. A few of them laughed. Draka distinctly noticed that Samma and Raphael didn’t join in that time.

  “I would accept it,” Draka looked back to see Hugo straighten in his saddle proudly. “Whoever it is, she will have fought and wanted me more than any other. So, I will prove to her that I am worth that and more for the rest of my life.”

  He had the broad shoulders and muscular build of his father, Greg Vorner, who had married Aurie’s sister, Leticia—Leta. The heart-shaped face and dark hair with green eyes matched Maud almost perfectly, but with a touch of masculine squareness to them. If he didn’t know better, he’d think they were twins instead of cousins, they looked so similar. And they were only two years apart. There was also the fact that Hugo stood nearly a head taller than Draka, which made him a giant in comparison to Maud, too. So, there was that.

  “Spoken like a true knight,” Karl said with the kind of pride that made Draka roll his eyes.

  “Like an idiot,” Chase threw something from in the wagon at Hugo that made him crouch from it. “You really believe that? They practice for years how to beat each other at it, you moron! It isn’t like they’re competing because we’re worth something in their heads. We’re worth something in their pockets.”

  “How much work will they have to do until the first babe is old enough to do it for them,” Raphael said with a whip of the reins. “Pa always said, you have as many as you can the first years. That way, you can retire early and rest with some energy left in your bones. And, your wife stops nagging you sooner.”

  Draka turned toward Maud. The distance between them was getting wider. She was getting further and further ahead. Was she listening to all this? This? This is what the Ribbon Dance was?

  Andre climbed onto the wagon to ruffle Raphael’s hair as he called out, “This man’s going to have a bloodbath during his Ribbon Dance. We’ll see limbs and teeth being reattached by the clerics!”

  Why? Draka looked across their faces with his hands out at them.

  “Cause he’s the wealthiest, other than you, your majesty,” Andre answered, bowing his head and lowering his eyes from him. “His wife will be able to afford help in the house. The rest of us, we won’t even have a house of our own, really. Well, most of us only have land under the lake.”

  Draka took in a breath and nodded sadly. He had forgotten about that. All of them had once been from landowning farmers but were now the sons of fishermen living in houses on his lands. He let them live without rent, considering the circumstances, but that didn’t take away the fact that they were destitute otherwise. Well, at least he knew what he was going to give as wedding gifts now. It wouldn’t be much, but it would be something for these boys to start their lives with.

  Andre plopped himself on the wagon bench beside Raphael, “See, they don’t care about the man on the pole, really. We’re their meals, see. Meals and roofs. What we get is what we get. No say in it. They’re the ones who know who’s who. We get blindfolded and tied to the bloody pole until one of them is left with a ribbon hooked to it and kisses us…then, they take off the blindfold and we get to see who practiced the most. Or, who everyone decided was going to be left. I saw what happened with Tuck.”

  For some reason all the Talkro boys began laughing hysterically, even Hugo.

  It was Hugo who tried to explain between guffaws, “None of them wanted him because all he does is drink and sing. So…when he was on the pole…all the unmarried…took up the ribbons…and…the last one…throw hers down…Fanny!”

  “She fled to Parisia before they even got married,” Andre nearly fell off the wagon from laughing so hard. His face was turning blue, he couldn’t catch his breath.

  Draka was horrified by the idea.

  “Tuck wrote a song about it,” Chase stopped laughing just long enough to say. “He called it,” he cleared his throat, “‘To the Woman Who Stole My Beer.’” Another roar of laughter.

  This time, even Draka joined in. Maud’s cackle made him turn frontward in his saddle to see her rocking back and forth. She turned back, shaking her head with a wide open-mouthed smile at them all, eyes twinkling.

  “Will you be dancing the ribbon, Princess?” Raphael asked her.

  Maud gave Draka a sly grin. Part of him caught that it wasn’t only aimed in his direction. She shrugged her shoulders. “I just might.”

  Draka narrowed his eyes. Over my dead body, you will.