Adrian barely remembered the last time he had been to his father’s homeland. It was wetter than he was used to. The cold of the morning was to be expected but it was still nothing compared to Rostov or when they were at St. Peter’s. Actually, Adrian noted as he led Hugo to where his boat had crashed down river, it was rather pleasant. Of course, he had his bear-fur cloak on while Hugo was wearing a shirt with his sleeves pinned short.
The wreckage of the boat was unchanged from how he left it. Bits of splintered broken boards, water plunging in and out of it beneath the benches. His pack of clothes appeared and disappeared with the soft tide of the rushing brown water. His pack of jerked lamb and rice was beside it, completely submerged, and his armor beneath them. Good thing Draka has the vow of silence or the rest of his day would be taken by lectures and random, pointless chores. Thankfully, the keg of spirits from the tavern in Geneva was still intact. He hoped.
Hugo cocked a brow at it all, leading his horse and the wagon it pulled as close to the edge as he could. “I don’t know what I expected, but this wasn’t it. Is that all you have?”
Adrian stood beside him with a frown at it. There was more, lost somewhere further down the river. She had appeared out of nowhere. His pan, the kettle with the little paintings of naked women, and the tankard that Draka gave him in St. Peter’s, all had bruises to report when they were lost. She was fast and hit hard. Clearly, he should have paid better attention to the extra tarp at the keel, but why would he? This far from any city, he should have been safe. Then she leapt out of it, thwacked him with his own pan, kicked him, punched him, tried to stab him, hit him over the head with the kettle, and threw his box of books at him. At least she missed him with that heavy thing. Leave it to him to think that bringing his favorite books with him would be a good idea. Those, he might miss the most.
“The keg is yours,” Adrian said as he climbed over the debris and his own packs to it. He should have taken the cloak off first. It was treading in the knee-deep water.
“What’s in it?” Hugo joined him and maneuvered to the other side of the keg. They both bent and reached into the water to get their grips under it.
“Vodka,” Adrian said through the strain of lifting it. Together, they staggered out of the boat and set it in the wagon.
“I've heard that name before. I think Maud...the Princess uses it to wash her hands before stitching. What is it?” Hugo leapt into the wagon and tipped the barrel to rock it to the front.
Adrian smiled, “Not for that. Strong spirits. You drink it like schnapps, but not as much at a time or you’ll wake up somewhere you’ve never been with your arms around someone you’ve never met having done things you never knew you could do.”
“My kind of spirits,” Hugo laughed as he shoved the barrel into place.
“The Rus use it to keep warm,” Adrian plucked his pack of clothes from the water and held it up to let the water drain out of it. He threw it into the wagon. “You work for Draka? Are you his new ward or squire?”
“Don’t know, really,” Hugo answered with a shrug. He was crouched down on the wagon, his hand out for Adrian to put his pack in it. “Never been told. I just do what I can. Valmond gives me a gold whenever I ask, so I s’pose I’m one of the servant staff or the like.”
Adrian nodded, bending into the icy water to grab another of his packs of clothes. “Has he taught you anything about fighting yet?”
“A bit,” Hugo took that pack from him with a reach and shoved it next to the barrel. “Not much, really. Mostly, I take care of Vigora and run errands.”
Adrian eyed his armor plates through the lapping water with a grumbling. He should have been wearing them. His helmet was nowhere to be seen. He tried to think of where it went. Right, he reminded himself, it was how she introduced herself, by throwing his helmet into the back of his head. Just thinking about it made that lump start to feel sore again.
“What about you? What are you to the King?”
Adrian submerged most of himself in the water to grab the steel breastplate and lift it to one of the benches of the boat that wasn’t under water. He went for the backplate, “My father and mother were always busy with running the kingdoms, so they gave me as ward to him.”
“Like Maud?” Hugo jumped from the wagon and lifted up the breastplate. He set it on the wagon and came back to retrieve the next. Adrian was a little disappointed that he didn’t look impressed.
“Perhaps a bit, but no, not really,” Adrian handed him the backplate before fishing for the greaves and bundle of smaller bits and buckles for it all. His shield was gone, too. That, he knew Draka was going to give him an entire page of well-meaning degradation for. And chores. He didn’t look forward to chores. “More like you, except Draka was my guardian at the same time. Like a squire, but more.”
“Don’t understand any of that,” Hugo stacked the other plate on top of the last. “A squire is like a knight’s errand boy, right?”
Adrian might have found the bundle, but he left it to straighten and give Hugo a firm shake of his head. “No,” Adrian huffed, “A squire is training to be a knight. Not their errand boy.”
“So, you never ran errands for him? Cleaned his armor? Saddled Vigora?”
Adrian’s shoulders sank. “It’s a very important job. I also fought with him, held his shield,” which I lost because she hit me with it, “and other things.”
Hugo smiled, “You’re talking to common folk. That’s a respectable thing, even if it was just cleaning his armor and running errands.”
That made Adrian grin. He crouched into the water again to grab the other pieces to his armor.
“You actually fought in battles?” Hugo was knee deep in the water so he didn’t have to reach far to hand him what he pulled out. “I can’t imagine what that must be like. I saw the ruins of the battle in Strasbourg. They said it only lasted barely an hour, but the way it looked was as if the whole world had come down on them.”
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“Some battles are worse than others,” Adrian grabbed the last two packs and began making his way out of the wreckage. “I’ve always been lucky, but many of my friends weren’t.” He put his last pack of armor pieces on the wagon before setting his food bag between his feet. The rice was waterlogged and the jerked lamb was spongy mush. He dumped the pack. “I hate fighting.”
“Not very good at it, either, huh?” Hugo winked.
“No,” Adrian narrowed his eyes as he whipped the pack to dump it into the river. “Fighting hurts. Even if you win, it hurts. Plus, most men are reasonable once you talk to them.”
“Most, not all,” Hugo lifted a board from in the wagon to slide it into place as a gate over the back of it. “I want to be a fighter. I envy you for that, even if it does hurt, I’d be honored to fight beside the King.”
Something clinked on the side of the boat. Adrian’s ears perked. He rushed through the water and cheered as he scooped his tankard out. He came back to Hugo.
“We should check the vodka,” Adrian said with his most authoritative voice. “Make sure none of the water got into it.” Hugo beamed in agreement. They both climbed into the wagon. A pop of the seal and they lifted the top. The liquid inside was clear and rippling. He plunged the tankard into it.
“What does it taste like?” Hugo smelled the tankard with a squinched nose.
“No idea,” Adrian licked his lips. “But my father loved it.” He took a sip. Then handed it to Hugo, who did the same.
They both spat it over the side of the wagon and wiped their mouths in disgust.
“It tastes like lamp oil!” Adrian rubbed at his tongue.
“I think I just lost feeling in my teeth,” Hugo shook from a chill.
“I’m just going to…” Adrian replaced the top on the barrel. “Should have gotten wine instead.”
“Let me try it again,” Hugo took the tankard and a long drink. He swallowed one gulp and leaned over the wagon to let the rest drain out of his mouth. “I do feel warm.”
“Yeah?” Adrian reached. He took a long gulp. The heat filled his stomach. He decided that was enough for him. He handed it back to Hugo. As Hugo took another drink, “You and the Princess are cousins?”
Hugo’s face was twisted as if he had drunk from a tosspot, his eyes fixed on the tankard that was now nearly empty. He nodded. “On my mother’s side. Two years and a half apart. Why?”
“No reason,” Adrian took the tankard and drained the last of it. “Curious, really.”
Hugo was on the edge of the wagon, his face filling with a wide smile. “Curious?” Hugo met Adrian’s eyes. “About what?”
“About—well—her,” Adrian sat beside him. His head was becoming filled with air. He smiled. “She’s…I just…what do you know about her?”
Hugo laughed. “Everything, she’s my cousin. But what does it matter to you?”
Adrian shrugged. Because I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as her in my life. “I’m just curious about her.”
“Why?” Hugo was no longer laughing.
Adrian leaned a little. He didn’t want to get punched. He thought through what he wanted to say before finally saying, “She’s…different than any girl I’ve ever met. And Draka has adopted her, so that means something for me.”
“That makes sense, I s’pose,” Hugo turned away to lean on his lap. “Back in the spring, my family abandoned them, before…we wanted to push the King out of our village, get things back to the way it was. Maybe have a bit of land for when I got on the Ribbon Pole and get a wife.” He leaned to look Adrian in the eyes, though his never stayed still enough to focus, “We were going to do horrible things to him. We didn’t know he was our Prince or King. He was just some offlander who took one of the farms from us.
“We…did do horrible things. I ran from it when it all came to blows. There was no stopping them. Then, one day, I woke up and they were gone. Uncle Balor and Alden had died—Alden was her younger brother. I miss him. He was my best friend, though I think he preferred Samma to me. But that doesn’t matter—the King is the only reason they weren’t kicked from their farm so Balian could take it over by right. He dueled Balian for their honor and declared himself their protector. Now, she’s a Princess and my Aunt is the Regent.”
“In the spring?” Adrian blinked. “So, barely eight moons ago. You would think it was longer with the way they are together.”
“You’re telling me?” Hugo chuckled. “Have you seen them much together?”
“Just supper, a little. They seem like they’ve spent years together.”
Hugo nodded, “It’s far more mad than that. They have whole conversations in silence. Arguments, jokes, it’s odd to see. But, we cast them out, you see. She had no one else to go to. Aunt Aurie didn’t come out of the house for months after and Maud—well, she spent her time with the King. Every single day we saw her going back and forth to his house with foodstuffs and whatever else. When she came to market, she was always with him and Vigora would refuse to leave her side.”
Adrian listened, his heart aching for her. How hard it must have been for her. He only lost his father and sometimes that felt like it was impossible to bear. If he lost one of his brothers or sisters, too? He didn’t want to think of how that would feel.
“What we did was wrong, so I can’t blame her,” Hugo tossed something into the water that wasn’t big enough to splash. “I hope one day that she’ll forgive me for being one of them. Sometimes, I think she has but she gets this look on her face every so often and I know, deep down, she never will.”
“I didn’t mean to cause you such grief,” Adrian sighed at his prying.
“I’m the one who caused it,” Hugo sank into his hands. “Either way, tread lightly with them. They’re still mourning their loss. It’s like pricking a needle into a bear if you say the wrong thing. We’ve all learned to keep away from certain things to keep the peace. But you’ll see soon enough. There’s an air about the three of them when they enter the old village, and everyone feels it.”
“What sort of air?”
Hugo pushed himself from the wagon, “The sort that reminds us that we were lucky the King didn’t slaughter us for what we did and everyday since that he still hasn’t. We should be on our way back, it’s getting to be midday.”
Adrian nodded.
“Want to help me with the King’s stables when we get back?” Hugo asked before guiding his horse back onto the path through the forest.
“Of course!”
