Page 62 of Pippa of Lauramore
“We’ll be gone for days, Pippa. There is no way you can come. You must stay here,” Archer argues.
He’s right. There’s no way I can leave for that long. I hate logic.
“I’ll meet you here tomorrow at dawn,” Archer says to Galinor.
It’s moving too fast, and I have no way to fight it.
Galinor finally agrees. Tomorrow at dawn they will both disappear into the mountains, and I have no idea if either of them will come back.
“Pippa,why are you angry with me?” Archer asks.
It’s been a long, quiet ride home. I’m not mad at him, not exactly. I’m worried. I’m frustrated. I wish the dragon hunt could have been taken out of the tournament completely.
We’re not far from the palace now. The sun has set, and the world is turning gray. But we’re not so late I should find trouble when I return.
“I’m not angry,” I finally answer.
Archer guides his mare off the trail, avoiding a fallen log in the road. “I have to do this. Let’s suppose Galinor were to find a way to obtain the treasure and return alive and move on to win the tournament. He would marry you, and you would be struck down with everyone else he cares for.” He glances over. “Without the treasure, he is likely to lose the tournament.”
“You don’t have to do this for me.”
“I do.”
The men at the tents have begun their nightly routine. The smell of roasting meat and wood fires is in the air. I’m starving, and my stomach growls at the smell. There are others besides the competitors’ entourages. Many visitors and entertainers have come from far kingdoms to see the first marriage tournament since the end of the Dragon War. They camp together in groups, sharing large fires. They sound merry, and their laughter travels to us.
We’ve left the forest and are once again on the main road. A band of men on foot is in front of us, and Archer calls his greetings and alerts them we are passing. They move to the side, giving us courteous nods.
“Why, you are the fair princess!” a man with light hair and a pale complexion says with a grand bow.
He has an accent I don’t recognize. Where is he from? There are three of them, and they all wear roughly-woven working clothes. Perhaps they’re merchants, come to sell their wares at the festivals scattered amid the tournament’s events.
“Are you just arriving?” Archer asks, glancing back at the road we’ve just traveled.
They have no horses, no wagon, and no bags.
The same fair man, apparently their spokesman, answers, “No, Master Archer, we heard the king allows hunting in his forest, and we were trying to find a grouse or rabbit for dinner.”
“King Ewan does allow hunting, but you must obtain his permission and a permit first,” Archer answers.
“Yes, sir. We did.” The man holds up the official document, which has been folded and stuffed in his money purse.
“Very well. Enjoy your evening.” Archer motions for me to move on, and then he follows. Once we’re out of earshot, he turns to face me. “Either they’re bad hunters, or they’re lying. You can trip over a grouse and land on a rabbit in the forest.”
I laugh at him. “Why would they lie? You always think the worst.”
He glances back to the campfires behind us. “You’re probably right.”
The courtyard is quiet when we arrive back at the stables. Most of the villagers are in their cozy little cottages, enjoying their dinners, and those in the palace will be eating shortly. Archer usually takes care of his own horse, but tonight he hands his mare to a stable boy. I do the same.
I should go in now, but instead, I follow Archer to the armory, with the excuse I need to put away my bow. We both know he could take it for me, but he doesn’t argue. The guards nod, and I’m careful to close the door behind us. I hand my bow and quiver to Archer, and he turns to hang it. I set my hand on his shoulder, and his muscles tense under my palm.
He turns around and slides his hands around my waist, drawing me close. It’s comfortable against him, like we’ve been this free with our affection for months instead of hours.
“We can’t make a habit of this, you know,” he says, his voice deep.
“How could we? You’re leaving tomorrow.”
He frowns.
