King Baudwin of Breoch is a broken man. Crushed in the height of war, crowned in the face of treason and turmoil, he fights to save his kingdom. Hoping to stave off rebellion, he reluctantly agrees to marry the daughter of his main opposition. But t...
As they entered the village of Aedon the locals stared. Rhiannon could hear their whispers. The Swamp Witch! The name probably should have offended her, but instead she had embraced it and made it her own. It helped to keep everyone at a distance, as they were wary of her. And rightly so. Unless they needed her help. Then they were ever so apologetic and respectful. Fools.
Ignoring the reaction her presence brought, she continued staring straight ahead, head held high. Among their peers, none of them would ever dare admit that they came to her for remedies for their ailments, asked her to mend their broken hearts or to brew a love potion to catch the attention of someone they desired. The first she could truly assist with, the latter two not so much.
When no one believed her as she said so, she started selling them love tonics, claiming they would help for both. She always cautioned them that it wasn't infallible, but there was something to say for the power of conviction. Her customers were usually satisfied with their results. That they were drinking murky swamp water never seemed to occur on them.
Her little business kept her from having to visit the village too often, as the villagers would bring her all sorts of things to barter for her services. Food, blankets, herbs. Even a little goat once. Unfortunately, one of the crocodiles had taken it one night. It had been such a good little goat.
The continued whispers reminded her exactly why she hated coming there. Their wariness. The stares. The attention. Especially the attention.
She'd settled in the swamps because she wanted little to do with the world. The last thing she needed was for the wrong person to recognise her. It was bad enough that her parents had somehow tracked her down. Maybe after this she would have to find a new spot to disappear.
The knight brought them to the only local inn, and he had barely halted the horse before Rhiannon slid off and walked away from him under the pretence of checking out the area. Slipping into the alleyway between the inn and another building, she leaned against its wall and took a few deep breaths.
Her skin was crawling from having sat so close to the knight for so long, and the scars on her back ached dully, reminding her of their existence. As if she could ever forget. The sharp crack of a whip echoed in her mind and she drew a quick, gulping breath.
"Lady Rhiannon?" The sound of Sir Baudwin's voice brought her back to the present. No one had used her title in such a long time. It was almost jarring to hear it.
She pushed away from the wall and met him outside the door to the inn. Having handed the horse over to a stable boy, the knight was giving her a curious look but didn't ask where she'd gone.
"It took us longer to get here than expected," he said. Because you insisted on walking. He didn't say that, but he might as well have. "Let's stay at this inn tonight, and then tomorrow we will start the ride to your home in Breoch."
It's not my home! She wanted to shout at him, but contained herself. Delen had not been her home for over ten years, and it had barely felt like home even while she lived there. It wasn't his fault. He was nothing but an errand boy, sent to fetch the prize that would give her parents the political influence they had always wanted.
"Fine." She swept past him to enter the inn.
The darker environment made her stop for a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim light. Scattered throughout a modest room were simple, wooden tables, and a wide bar on one side offered food and beverages. Only a handful of tables had customers, but the hum of conversation quieted as they realised who had just joined them.
Pretending not to notice, Rhiannon followed the knight to the bar and only half-listened as he got them rooms upstairs and arranged to have supper ready in a little while. She would have preferred to eat in her room, but she realised too late, after he had already made the arrangements.
After a quick inspection of their rooms—small, but clean—they returned downstairs for their food. During their brief absence the occupancy had at least doubled and they struggled to find a free table. Rhiannon was grateful when they found one in a corner, as she didn't appreciate the uncertain glances the other patrons were throwing them.
A young woman served them bowls of stew with freshly baked bread, and despite her aversion to being away from her safe hut, Rhiannon had to admit that the sweet smell made her hungry. She rarely had fresh bread as she was a terrible baker, and by the time anyone had brought some from the village it was always a little stale.
They ate in silence, and if the knight noticed the attention given to them, he didn't mention it.
"Why a swamp?"
Rhiannon looked up from the still-warm bread in her hand that she was enjoying. Sir Baudwin had finished his food and was eyeing her with some interest.
"Why not?"
A brief smile flashed across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "You must admit that most people do not choose to live in a swamp."
"It's not as bad as you might think." And it has much fewer people and much fewer questions.
"You mean it's not hot and humid, and it doesn't stink of rotten eggs?" His face remained serious, but his hazel eyes twinkled with suppressed mirth.
Rhiannon bit off another piece of her delicious bread to hide the fact that her mouth was twitching. After finishing, she pushed her empty bowl towards the middle of the table. "That's just the swamp gas. It's not constant. I barely notice it where I live."
"What about the mosquitoes the size of kittens?"
"Well, those you just have to deal with."
He smiled. He had a pleasant smile, but a pleasant smile meant nothing. She knew that from experience.
"You never did answer me."
She met his eyes for a moment. They seemed sincere, but she didn't know him. For all she knew he might enjoy kicking puppies and raiding villages when he wasn't fetching unwilling brides.
"I know," she said simply and stood up. She could feel his eyes still on her as she made her way towards the stairs to retire for the night.
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