Chapter 9:
Sharing His Room
Trevus collects the cards back into a deck. With all the giggling and smiling at the other table, it’s evident that the three women are enamored with Marcellus and Giddius. The hot sun of the harvest season must have melted their brains. Both men are enjoying the attention that comes from being prestigious soldiers in a poor remote village.
Trevus stretches in his chair, but he doesn’t move from our table.
“You’re not going to join them?” I ask.
“I am babysitting,” he says.
“I think I’ll be fine.”
“I suspect that you would consider an early exit from this campaign to be
fine
as well,” he says.
I wouldn’t risk it now. Fetching Becky from the stables, mounting her reins, passing the watchman – there’s too many things that could go wrong. “You could watch me just fine from over there. What’s the real reason you chose to stay?”
Trevus looks at the other table. “All the maidens who held my heart only wished to wear my oban themselves. Being the spouse of the Captain of the Palace Guard lends weight to one’s words.”
“There are women who don’t care for soldiers. Some would even say uniforms make handsome men ugly as trolls.”
He chuckles. “I suspect a bitter experience has left such maidens biased.”
“If you’re so worried about being treated differently, why not just go to the market without the uniform?”
He smiles. “You have a romantic heart, Jade of Mephia.”
I did spend many days dreaming about being swept off my feet. In my imagination, I’d dress up in a disguise and sneak into the night dance at the bazaar. There I’d meet a dreamy boy, and we’d escape Antiock together. Other times I was a princess who’d have caught the infatuation of a brave young knight. He would rescue me from the tower, taking me to a land far away to live out the rest of our days in bliss.
Trevus takes another sip of ale. The fire has dried my clothes, and the low-roofed room keeps the warm air close. Each table of men and women is like its own little world, all bubbling with laughter. A lonely evening in my cell could never compare.
“Do you do this often?” I ask Trevus.
“Ventures are uncommon,” he says.
“No. I mean this.” I gesture around us. “When you’re back at your home.”
“Never,” Trevus says.
“Not even when you’re off duty?”
“I am here only for shelter. My residence in Lystra is well furnished.”
My eyebrows scrunch up. “You’re silly.”
He chuckles. “Am I?”
“You’re a free man. You could have great fun and company every evening.”
“And what leads you to the notion that those in taverns make good company?”
“Are you suggesting I’m not good company?” I wag my finger at him.
The corner of his lips tugs up. “Of course not.” He presses my finger back down on the table. I didn’t realize that I was still holding it up. “But you are not one to frequent taverns.”
“Oh, I will be,” I say. When I’m living free, I’ll never choose to spend an evening alone again.
“Are you certain?” he asks.
“I am only ever certain.”
He finds my response amusing. “Well, it is said that decisiveness is a desirable trait.”
Trevus finishes his drink and crosses to my side of the table. He reaches into the fire and takes a burning branch. My eyes stick to him. Nothing in his behavior should lead me to be suspicious, but years with castle guards has made my subconscious wary.
“Come,” Trevus says. With the burning stick in one hand, he picks up a saddlebag from under the table and heads to the door beside the bar.
I stand, and the whole world wobbles. My hands snap to the table to steady myself. So this is the effect of ale that men so desire. With great effort, I follow after Trevus, carefully placing each step. Men can keep it.
The barkeeper holds the door open for us. “Take any open room,” he says.
We climb up a set of wooden stairs. Trevus’s torch reveals a thin wooden hallway at the top. He tests the doors with his foot until one opens. After peeking inside to confirm that it’s empty, we enter.
The room has a washing basin, a couch chair and a large bed. I’m drawn to the window which overlooks the village. Rain patters on the glass, and strong winds howl outside like spirits trying to enter. I cover the creepy window with a curtain.
Trevus is kneeling by the fireplace, coaxing the flame from his torch. I press my palm into the bed, kneading the soft, wooly mattress. The material hugs my legs the moment I rest on it. After years sleeping with a coarse blanket on prickly hay, the thought of lying in this bed is so exciting that I may not be able to fall asleep.
The fire takes, and the room is bathed in orange light. Trevus stands to his full height again. His body casts a long shadow over me. We’re alone in here. He asked the barkeeper for three rooms – one for Marcellus, one for Giddius and one for us. Having my own room would mean Trevus wouldn’t be able to ‘babysit’. With the king being his father, he stands to lose the most if I were to slip away.
With his back turned, Trevus steps out of his boots and unbuttons his shirt. The washing basin only just reaches his hips. I should look away, but curiosity has me in its alluring claws. His oban shirt covers much more than mine, hiding his neck and his arms. He has lifted my weight with ease, so I know he’s strong.
The shirt slides off his shoulders. His back is built of lean muscle, with sharp ridges that define the base of his neck. His large arms and shoulders have been sculpted through combat, with years of slugging heavy weapons. A few small battle scars adorn his back, the lone imperfections on his skin. What I said in the tavern was true. He is a handsome man.
He washes with a cloth in the basin. I avert my gaze before I’m caught.
A moment later he steps in front of me. He’s still shirtless. I’m careful not to let my eyes linger on his perfect form. If he caught me, the shame may stop my heart.
A towel rests on his shoulders, and a thin silver chain with a round locket hangs from his neck. Perhaps he has more of a romantic heart than he lets on.
“Do you wish to wash?” he asks.
“Yea.” I nod.
He gestures for me to stand, and I do so. With a gentle tug, he twists me to face away from him. The sleeve on my right arm tightens as he picks at the knot.
It eventually comes loose. “That had far too many loops,” he says. I stay still as he works on the other knot.
Both knots come undone. “You may go,” he says.
I make my way to the washing basin. Pinching the sleeves between my knees, I pull my right hand free and then my left. The cool air is strange to my fingers. They’ve been wrapped up since we left the tower.
Trevus watches from the bed. His sheathed sword lays across his lap. He’s wary of the threat my bare hands pose. In his mind, if I were to touch him, I’d take the opportunity to place him in a deep sleep and steal his armament. What he doesn’t know is that I vowed to never use my connection on another person again. I’m useless to him.
I face the basin. Removing my shoes and shirt, I wash with the wet cloth. Peeking over my shoulder confirms his eyes are elsewhere. I take off my pants and finish washing as he did. After drying with the second towel, I get dressed in everything besides my boots.
I pull the sleeves up as much as I can. Without them there’d be a blade pointed in my direction. Trevus ties the sleeves around my elbows like before. Once he’s confident that my connection is suppressed, he places his sword out of the way beside the bed.
“’Tis time for rest,” he says.
I shoot under the bed covers before he has a chance to send me away. There’s no way I’ll be sleeping on the floor with this heavenly bed in the room.
His large form leans over me. He takes my right arm and ties it against the headboard.
“Really?” I grumble.
“Our venture is critical. It shall not be put at risk,” he says. “I must ensure you shall be here when I awake.”
Instead of taking the other side of the bed, he settles onto the couch beside the door. He rests his head on the cushioned backrest, and the silver chain glistens in the firelight. He even wears it to sleep. Whoever’s portrait is inside must be close to his heart.
“Whose picture do you keep in your locket?” I ask.
He cups it in his hand and clicks it open. “’Tis my mother, Elie.” His eyes study the portrait. “So I shall recognize her when we meet again.”
He snaps the locket closed without offering me a glance. He clearly misses her. The look in his eyes makes me wonder how long it’s been since they last spoke. I don’t have any memories of my own mother. All I know about her is that she named me after the color of my eyes. It has been easier to believe that my parents are dead than hold on to the hope of meeting them one day.
Propped up on my pillow, I watch Trevus’s chest rise and fall. His eyes are closed, and he has laid back as far as the couch allows. A castle guard would have never shared their bedroom with me. I was inferior, unworthy to partake in the privileges they enjoyed. Now, though I’m still a captive, Trevus gave me the bed. I don’t understand this man.
@NeonPixie97 the author is a very good writer and I love his work
She did grab the bed in a hurry 😂 good for her 😂 and good point!
Me too
😂
😂
Great question.
I love it – all the unique wording and descriptions. I feel like I’ve finally found a real book on these Apps!! It’s not over sexualized which is such a relief and is very refreshing. I didn’t think I’d find a book that is both interesting and pure on one of these apps. 😅
I suppose thats true for a woman who’s only company is those in uniform.
Indeed 😄
I hope she sleeps peacefully through the night.
partly
@rileysing it is showing up, though not too in your face.
@joonimari475 thanks, I try and make sure to read and keep up to date on such topics since I find them interesting
@joonimari475 I meant that you have a deep insight into complex issues
@Thegigl Thank you. In general, you are a complex human being, but your words are also interesting and completely true
@joonimari475 Yeah it’s definatly a complicated issue with lots of factors involved… I wasn’t saying your wrong but just trying to add nuance 🙂
@Thegigl I said mostly, I didn’t say 100% and everyone has their own opinion and these statistics are based on research. I respect your opinion and your words are absolutely correct.☺
@rileysing I would be wary of taking this at face value…
The behavior of someone depends on a lot of factors ranging from a person’s genetics, upbringing and environment.
Some people are more violent (there is a gene for violence that was found from a longitudinal study here in NZ)
Then of course culture plays a role. If a culture normalizes violence as a way to solve problems then domestic violence will be more common.
https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3108188/
https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3105117/#:~:text=Main%20findings&text=Those%20with%20the%20low%2Dactivity,and%20symptoms%20of%20conduct%20disorder.
Some interesting articles
My take is that he’d rather she actually sleep being in the bed than plotting escape, etc, being uncomfortable.
So if giving her the bed keeps her content, then so be it. Or perhaps he’s just a gentleman and sees her as a woman, so she should have the bed. I guess the two go hand in hand in a way
Was she so young when she was taken that she didn’t remember her or did she not see her much before she was kidnapped?
That’s auctally kinda sad… I hope she’s okay
Lmao, this is funny. I like that’s she confident in what she wants…
I love this power struggle that’s not even a real cause she wouldn’t do anything anyway…
But he doesn’t know that or trust her with it.
Well, that’s a unique way to describe an escape attempt
Psychological science says that most men whose mothers have been wronged treat women with kindness and gentleness. It was great as always, only one season was better than other seasons.
YOU UODATED
To be fair, you yoinked the bed, but, sleeping in comfort can be much more dangerous to someone’s ability to be aware of surroundings. As it can cause ones body to relax