Page 48 of Arrows and Gems
“Yes,” Cap murmured, “So woe-filled they haven’t even set a sentry.”
A dark form suddenly appeared in front of them, spooking Farrell. Cap whipped out his bow, but then the figure spoke. “State your name and purpose in these parts.”
Cap lowered his bow while Jean-haut released an exasperated breath. “You know who we are, Laurent. You heard us talking.”
“I heard Cap complain that I wasn’t doing my job,” Laurent replied with a hint of amusement. “He clearly wanted to be challenged.”
“Thank you, Laurent,” Cap said gravely. “Your dedication is admirable.”
Laurent walked ahead of them into camp. “No need to butter me up, Cap. I’ll share my venison either way.”
As he always did on his return, Cap scanned the group around the campfire. He checked each familiar face, reassuring himself that they were all there and well.
“Where’s Margit?” he asked as he swung down from the saddle. “I assume Tucker is watching the other approach, but she isn’t cleared for guard duty.”
“Guard duty?” Laurent scoffed. “I should think not.” Gesturing to the far end of camp, he said, “She left the circle a little while after the singing started. Don’t worry, I’ve been keeping an eye on her so she can’t run off.”
Unlikely given her ankle, but Cap appreciated the vigilance.
He gave the young man a nod. “Thank you, Laurent.”
After caring for their horses, Jean-haut headed for the fire, but Cap hesitated. Margit sat on the ground with her back against a tree trunk, her knees pulled up to her chest. It was hard to tell in the dying light, but he thought her forehead was resting on her knees.
It was a very lonely position.
“Are you coming?”
Pulling his gaze from her, he saw that he’d lagged behind. Jean-haut was watching him with an expectant expression.
Cap looked across the clearing again. “In a minute. I want to check on Margit.”
“Need to make sure she isn’t plotting our ruin?” the forester joked.
“No.” He waved a hand toward the fire. “Go on; learn some new songs for the next time we see Marielle. You know how she talks about listening to her singing cousin.”
Jean-haut sighed. “From the way she talks, I doubt I can measure up. But singing for his lady worked for Prince Axel, right?”
“I’ve heard him make that claim.” Cap shrugged. “But Marielle brought back some interesting tales about how he managed to marry a miller’s daughter.”
“But it can’t hurt, right?” Jean-haut asked, eyeing the grouparound the campfire with speculation.
“I wouldn’t recommend it for Laurent.” One corner of Cap’s mouth twitched up. “But you have a better voice than he does.”
“He would need more than a good voice to catch my sister’s attention.” Jean-haut raised his eyebrows at him, but Cap just stared back. He didn’t know what the young man lacked.
Shaking his head, Jean-haut turned toward the fire. “I’ll let you proceed with your wooing then, and I’ll prepare for mine.”
“I’m not—” Cap began in exasperation, but his friend was already gone. “Wooing,” he finished with a sigh.
He fingered the fletching on his arrows. Friends could be incredibly annoying sometimes.
Margit didn’t look up when Cap stopped in front of her. Adjusting his sword and quiver, he settled onto the ground by her side, then leaned back to enjoy the music. It wasn’t loud enough to cover the sound of his approach, so she must know he was there. Unless she was asleep?
“Go away, Rouge,” Margit mumbled after a moment. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Was her voice muffled from her knees? Or from unshed tears?
“That’s fine. Do you mind if I stay?”
