Chapter 23

Cold droplets pelt my face as we make our way through the winding forest to the Bulgins. With one hand I tug my hood around me but it does little to relieve the rain. "Well this is about as useless as tits on a bull," I mutter to myself.

"Out of curiosity, how much further do you think it is?" Markus asks loudly next to me. His dark hair sticks to his face and he blinks hard. Lightning strikes somewhere in the distance and his horse rears on it's hind legs in a panic. With a few comforting words he gets the beast to calm down enough to continue.

Channing flanks me on my other side and I look at him, motioning for us to wait. I'd rather not waste any time but I don't want to endanger them any further than I have to. "I'd say another two miles," I answer, wiping my face free of rain water. It's been about forty minutes' since we left and we probably have another half hour before we see any sign of the Bulgin's camp. Another bolt of lightning strikes, this time within view. "Do you wish to turn back?" I ask. With how hard the wind is blowing it's a wonder a branch hasn't fallen down on one of us, let alone being fried to a crisp.

Markus gives his head a quick shake followed by Channing who must have read my lips. "We want to come," he insists.

Giving a small smile, I nod my head and click my teeth urging us forward down the path. After a few minutes I notice that in the mud lay fresh tracks from both men and horses as puddles have not quite filled their depths. My eyes quickly survey the surrounding area for any sign of the scouts, scanning every tree as quickly as I can. A flicker of movement in my peripheral vision causes me to jerk my head to the left and I see an archer step out from behind a mature pine. Channing immediately notchs his own bow in response.

"Shadrach," I say as I recognize his dark features.

"Thomas," he greets, his arrow still trained on me. Six other men then emerge from adjacent trees, all with bows and arrows while scabbards are fastened to their waists.

Markus rests a hand on the hilt of his blade, ready to unsheathe it at any moment. He looks at me side-eyed awaiting for a command.

"Thomas as in the prince?" one of the Bulgin men asks Shadrach. He's slender and has a mask covering the majority of his face, only revealing his pale eyes and the beginning of his nose.

"Aye," Shadrach replies, his gaze still fixed on my own.

"Tell me, your grace," another chimes in, spitting the title as if it were a slur. He's larger than the rest and has a considerable gut hidden beneath his cloak. "How stupid do you have to be not only travel with two saplings such as these as your only protection," he says pointing with his thumb to Channing and Markus, "but to think that you can slip through our borders unnoticed? We already have your brother--now you're just making it easier for us." This earns a round of laughter from his comrades.

Clenching my jaw, I tilt my head slightly. "Is Bulga really that desperate for soldiers that they'll scrounge up any old cow like yourself? I bet you probably can't even swing a sword without getting winded," I counter. "Much less bed your sister-cousin if the rumors ring true." There have been a fair amount of stories about the country of Bulga, the main one being that there are many gray areas on who they choose to bring to their bed chambers and that many are inbred. "Or would it just be his sister?" I ask curiously looking at Markus he smirks.

The heavy man steps forward pulling back his bowstring further. "I'll take an eye for that one, pretty boy," he spits.

Shadrach raises a hand, forcing the man to lower the tip. "Enough Henri. I know you didn't come here to swap insults. What is your business Prince Thomas?"

"It's King Thomas," Markus corrects.

Resting one hand on the horn of my saddle, I wick away more rain from my eyes. "I've come to speak with Lugos. I trust you will escort us if you do not trust us being in your lands?"

Shadrach shares a look with the pale eyed Bulgin and gives a nod. "Aye, though you'll have to be bound."

Henri pulls down his face revealing skin covered in spots and a bulbous nose. He jerks it towards Shad, causing it to jiggle comically. "I say we kill the two that look alike and take the prince as prisoner! We'd have victory by morning!" Another Bulgin nods in agreement.

"I said that is enough Henri. We will let Lugos decide," Shadrah says, annoyed. "Bind them," he then orders.

"Is that really necessary?" I ask, watching as some of the men lower their weapons and go to fetch rope from their horses. "We were already coming willingly long before you lot showed up."

Shadrach gives me a shrug, slinging his bow on his back. Channing does the same next to me, eyeing the Bulgins with distrust. "You know how things are, Thomas." Sighing, I nod. I can't say I approve, if push comes to shove I'd prefer to be able to defend myself. I wait for Markus to quickly sign to his brother what is happening and try not to grin at his audible hatred for the Bulgins.

We are instructed to hold out our hands and we do. Henri volunteers to bind me and I roll my eyes as he huffs and puffs over his knot. When he makes sure it's uncomfortably tight, he gives it one final jerk, cutting off my circulation. "It's too tight," I say evenly, glaring at him.

"Cry about it," he says, walking away. I watch as his horse protests when he climbs back on and have to refrain from making another joke. Once our weapons are confiscated, they fasten our horses' bridles to a Bulgin's saddle and we slowly begin to make our way to their camp. As we do, I try my best to loosen the rope around my wrists, even take to using my teeth. None of the men say anything, perhaps they trust me enough not to escape.

After doing what I can, I rest my bounds in front of me and lower my head to avoid the rain hitting my face. My body rocks with each step my horse takes and with nothing else to do, I think of Rory which then leads to memories of my father. I wonder if he is in the afterlife that Claire speaks of and I try to picture him there. Based on her teachings, I'm sure she believes that he now calls hell his new home. Images of him screaming as flames lick his body come to the forefront of my mind and I push them away. Silent tears are shed and are thankfully disguised.

Another half hour passes when a low horn is sounded, signaling our arrival. Looking up, I am surprised to see how similar their camp is to our own. Sawed trees make a large wall serving as a fortress. Men man the perimeter holding torches still alight, their faces concerned when they notice they have prisoners. When we get to the gate, Shadrach exchanges a few brief words and we are let through. Inside are thousands of lean-to's that serve as shelters for the Bulgins. I can't imagine they provide much safety in this weather. Many men huddle around large canopy tents that serve as whatever makeshift building they have deemed it. They drink, they laugh, and they eat. As we venture deeper into the camp, I see a familiar wagon and narrow my eyes as Helen and her courteous entertain the men. Many dance naked on their tables while others are perched in laps.

Helen, who stands away from the mass of men and sips on her ale, notices me. She is surprised at first but after glancing down at my wrists she leers.

Grunting, I look away only for us to stop a few feet ahead.

"Alright, Thomas, you're up. I'll take the other two to a separate holding cell while you and Lugos speak."

Markus and I exchange a concerned look. "Give me your word they will remain unharmed," I demand, looking at Shadrach.

He presses his full lips together and nods. "You've my word that they will be unharmed--unless ordered otherwise."

Seeing that his offer is good enough, I carefully dismount and hear an audible squelch as my boots land in the mud. Henri leads Markus and Channing away while Shadrach motions for me to follow. As we make our way through the camp, I'm greeted with sneers and insults as recognition sets in. Someone even tosses a full tankard of ale which narrowly misses my head, though soaking my already wet shirt with it's contents. Shadrach only offers an apologetic look.

"I don't remember you being treated so poorly while you were in my men's company," I say, narrowing my eyes as a glob of spit finds it's way to my cheek. Tilting my head, I wipe it off on my shoulder.

"They have their own free will, as did your men. I do apologize for what it's worth, though," he says over his shoulder to me. He continues leading me to a finely crafted tent large enough to be considered a small home. Four guards stand at it's entrance, eyeing the two of us suspiciously. They are fully armored and I internally roll my eyes at the thought of having four men guard my own lodgings every night.

"Pri-" Shadrach starts, "King Thomas of Paevia requests an audience with General Lugos."Without saying a word, one of guards steps aside pulling back the heavy flap with him. Shadrach then enters and I follow at his heels.

The warmth of his small fire is what I notice first which causes goosebumps to cover my flesh. A large wooden table sits in the middle while an assortment of food is plated atop, steaming. To the far left is a bed covered with furs. Underneath is Lugos who holds a naked woman close to his bare chest. He blinks his dark eyes at me before they shift to something behind me.

"Thomas?" I hear Rory's voice call out. Jerking my head, I see a large iron cage sitting in the far right. Inside is my brother, still dressed in the same clothing I last saw him in the day before. He's dirty and covered in dried blood, but appears relatively okay.

"Rory," I greet, feeling a relieved smile etch onto my face.

Shadrach clears his throat, stepping forward. "King Thomas has reques-" he begins, but is cut off by Lugos.

"Leave us," he commands. Shadrach gives him a curt bow and turns on his heel, exiting. The woman that lies with him appears annoyed and stands up unashamed of her naked body. I take her in before Claire comes to mind and I avert my eyes as she walks over to her silk robe that is draped over a chair at the table. She slips her pale arms through the sleeves and pulls out her blond hair before leaving the tent as well.

Lugos gives his head a shake and sits up, tossing his legs out of bed. Realizing he too is naked, I turn my focus towards the fire and wait for him to dress. "I have to admit I expected you to sneak in and attempt to break your brother out, not waltz into my camp on your own accord," I hear him say as he slips on a pair of trousers. He makes his way towards the table and sits down, gesturing for me to take the other.

With my bound hands, I grip the back and pull it out before taking a seat. "The thought crossed my mind. Do you mind?" I ask, raising my hands. As I do, I take this moment to get a good look at him. It had been a few years since our last encounter at the ball where his sister was first formally promised to me. He had always been an above average looking man, with a sharp square jawline, a straight roman nose, unblemished skin complimented by straight black hair that he keeps pulled back. He stares back with his wideset chestnut eyes, his thin lips pressed together debating if cutting my bounds is a good idea. He has aged some as crow's feet corner his eyes and a few gray hairs intertwin in his manicured beard.

"Don't trust him Tom," Rory hisses from my right.

Grabbing a knife on the table, he leans forward and saws through the rope. Letting it fall onto the wooden surface of the table, I massage my wrists.

"Eat," Lugos demands as he leans forward and grabs a large turkey leg taking a bite of the hot meat. "It's not every day I get to eat before a king," he says, emphasizing the title.

"Do you not eat with your uncle?" I ask, refraining from the delectable meal in front of me. A large bowl of stew with carrots beacons to me as does the turkey and what appears to be rolls. I don't know how they manage to eat so fine during wartime, perhaps it's only Lugos that does? Regardless, I refuse to break bread with my enemy. Cold droplets of water drips from locks of hair and lands on my shoulders. I feel some strands stuck to my face and quickly wipe them away, watching the Bulgin before me closely.

Lugos swallows before answering. "Sometimes," is all he says. He stares blankly at me, waiting for me to say what I've come to say.

"When was the last time my brother ate?" I ask, glancing over to Rory who glares at Lugos. His face is slightly bruised and I notice his lip is busted and has started to scab.

He rolls his eyes and takes a tankard of ale, sipping. "Believe it or not he has refused to eat what we gave him," he says evenly.

"That's because one of your men pissed on the slop you tried to offer!" Rory shouts, gripping the iron cage.

Lugos smirks, shrugging his broad shoulders. Narrowing my eyes at him, I cross my arms over my chest. "I'm just going to get to the point. I've come to settle on a day so we can end this bloody war and to get my brother back," I say.

He chuckles and takes another drag of ale. "And why would I do that? Why not just kill you both here and now and be done with it?" he asks me rhetorically.

"Because you and I both know my men would still fight, especially when you've given them two martywes. Besides, there is still Crispin you'd have to contend with," I reply.

"Ah yes," Lugos says. "The youngest Carlyle prince. Speaking of which, you have my condolences. Pity your father died," he says, clicking his teeth while shaking his head. I say nothing and minutes pass by as I watch him eat in silence. When he finishes his dinner, he licks his fingers clean and lets out a belch. "Alright," he begins, leaning back in his chair. "I'll release you and your brother. I'm no fool. I'm aware that even though you lack the numbers Bulga has you make up for in skill and the last thing I want to do is add fuel to the fire."

Slightly taken aback as to how easy it was to get him to agree, I offer a nod.

"I do have one condition though," he says, raising his index finger. Thunder rolls in the distance sounding further away than before. Perhaps the storm is filling at its end.

"Of course you do," I mutter. "What?" I glance at Rory who gives me a knowing look but says nothing.

Lugos offers a coy smile and shrugs. "Apologize."

Jerking my head back, I shake my head in confusion. "For?"

"That will become apparent in due time. Meanwhile, let's settle on a day to end this," he replies, tossing back the last of his ale.

I'm uneasy but seeing as I have no other choice but to wait and find out what it is I need to apologize for, I play along. "Alright," I say. "Have you made all the preparations needed?"

He picks up a pitcher and pours himself another tankard. "Aye. And you?"

I give a curt nod. "Aye."

He tosses back his cup, drinking deeply. Ale trickles down his beard, falling onto his bare chest. Raising a brow, I wonder if he always drinks this much. "You don't plan on showing up drunk, do you?" I mock, smirking. This causes him to laugh genuinely.

"I'm sure the killing would be easier on the mind," he says, pointing to his temple. Our faces turn sullen and I nod, agreeing.

"Indeed it would," I say monotonically. Regardless of us being enemies, neither enjoys the fact that we will be taking lives of the other's countrymen.

"How many women do you think you have widowed? How many children have you left fatherless?" he asks, pouring another. "I can't say I could even take a guess." He takes a long drink before sitting down the metal tankard down roughly, causing some of its contents to spill.

"None of that matters now, does it?" I ask, pushing all thoughts of the death I have caused from my mind.

"In two days' time, we meet at noon when the sun is at its highest peak in the field to the east," he suggests. "You know of it?" he asks and I nod. "Unless you want to send three of our best warriors to fight. Less men need to die that way," he adds. I can't tell if he is serious or not, but if we weren't why even ask? He does have a point and the offer is tempting, but I cannot allow it.

"As much faith I have in my men, I don't think it would be fair to put the fate of Paevia on three shoulders," I reply evenly.

His eyes narrow though he lets out a sigh, nodding. "Fine. Two day's time it is."

Just then I hear someone enter the tent behind me, clearing their throat. It's female and I assume it belongs to the woman from earlier. "Ah, there you are. I knew you'd find your way here sooner or later," Lugos says, standing up. "I'd introduce you two but I believe you've already met," he says, looking down at me with a smug expression.

Raising a brow, I turn around and recognize the woman immediately. After all, she was once my bride-to-be. "Samantha?" I say surprised. She looks relatively the same as the last time I saw her–dull blonde hair, top-heavy lips, and a broad pixie nose. She had always been rather homely which is one of the shallow reasons I couldn't marry the girl. She's gangly, but underneath her fine dress is a bump and I can only assume she is with child. One her ring finger is a simple golden band encrusted with an emerald.

"Thomas," she purrs, looking me over with her eyes set too closely together.

"I'll give you two time to speak," Lugos says, walking over to his bedside table. He retrieves a set of keys and makes his way over to Rory, shoving the correct key into the lock. "Out you go," he says, ordering Rory out. Rory stands up easily towering over the Bulgin and brushes himself off before exiting the cage. "I'll have your men waiting for you at the front gates."

Without tearing my eyes from Samantha, I give a nod. "Make sure you feed my brother. Something that isn't soaked with piss," I mutter. Lugos says nothing and shoves Rory out before following suit leaving the two of us alone.

"Still as handsome as ever," she says, placing a hand on my shoulder as she passes by. She takes a seat in the adjacent chair next to me and scoots a few inches closer to me to face me. We sit in silence as I rake my brain for what to say. An apology is owed, that much I know but how to start? What do I say? "Sorry I didn't want to marry you, you were too boring and not attractive enough?" Of course not.

Sighing, I run a hand through my hair. "Samantha I-" I begin, but she cuts me off with a wave of her hand.

"Do you know how many nights I cried over you Thomas? How many days I starved myself because I didn't have the will to eat? How many times I had to tell myself not to jump off of the balcony in my bedroom?" she asks, her eyes filling with tears. "You remember the one, right?" I do. Her family had thrown a ball for us to get to know each other better and drunkenly, I had allowed her to sneak me into her room. We were a mess by the end of the night and didn't know our arse from our elbow and had explored each other's bodies in many locations of her quarters, her balcony being one of them. I'm not proud of myself for sleeping with her, but I've always had a hard time getting close to a woman without

"I loved you," she says, folding her arms over her chest and allowing them to rest on her swollen belly.

At this I give my head a shake. "No you didn't. You couldn't have. We only had met each other two times, this being the third," I state. The first was when her family came to Paevia and we were first introduced briefly.

"You know nothing of love! None of you Paevian princes do!" she shouts, standing to her feet. I raise a brow and glance at the tent's entrance to see if an escape will soon be needed. "Look at me!" she yess, pointing to her tear-filled eyes. "Do you think I'd cry over someone I didn't love?" she asks quietly.

In all honesty: yes. Women cry for numerous of reasons, especially when with child but I wasn't about to tell her that. Sighing, I decide to try and deescalate the situation. "I truly am sorry Samantha," I offer. "I was dealing with issues of my own and I couldn't marry you."

Her blonde brows furrow together and she takes her seat. "Why not? Not pretty enough like your other whores? Not smart enough? Funny enough?" she asks. She then gives me a smirk. "Perhaps you prefer redheads like the one you keep at your camp?"

Clenching my jaw I do my best not to take her bait. "I couldn't marry you because I didn't want to marry anyone, Samantha. The issue was not with you," I lie.

She rolls her eyes and gives her head a shake. "I may not be the brightest, but I'm smart enough to know that you weren't attracted to me, you would never gaze at me the way you would at other women around us. You had to get drunk to even share my bed."

I try to rack my brain for the right words to say but come up with nothing. She speaks the truth.

"I made a bet with Lugos that after this war, if you win that is, that you will try and bring that red-headed brat back with you to Paevia--perhaps even try and wed her. Rory too with his blonde trollop," she spits. "Well you can bet that I'll make sure those two will never live to see the nightfall if Bulgia is victorious."

Frowning, I narrow my eyes at her. "Why? They have done nothing to you," I state.

She wipes her tears away with the back of one hand. "They are everything that I am not," she says, her voice cracking. Truly I feel sorry for the girl and hate that I have made her feel such a way. If I would have just married her like I said I would have this war would have never have happened. Men wouldn't have to lose their lives because of me. I should have just taken the cards I was dealt and tried to have the best life I could have, regardless if that meant a loveless marriage.

As if reading my mind, she rubs a hand on her stomach and glares at me. "This child could have been ours, Thomas. I could have made you happy, you just needed to give me a chance. But instead, you have signed death warrants for thousands and thousands of men," she states. There is a stinging in my eyes as her words act like a dagger to the heart. "You could've had grandchildren and would of had the ability to promise them a life of ease. But now, the fate of you spreading your seed will be determined in a few days time." Forcing myself to look away, I blink away any moisture and try to push out the thoughts she has caused to stir.

"In case you were wondering, I found a lord to marry me. He's twice my age but he is kind to me and he finds me beautiful. That is all I wanted," she says softly. "So go. Be with your red haired woman. Kiss the parts of her you haven't explored yet because you aren't promised a future with her or whoever you finally decide to settle with."

I run my tongue over the ridges of my teeth, refusing to meet her eye. I know she must be grinning from ear to ear as she watches me struggle to head her words. When I'm about to offer one final apology she speaks up, breaking the silence. "Get out of my sight."

Without another word I gain my feet and swiftly leave the tent making my way to the gates. The Bulgins do not spit at me or shout insults this time, perhaps because their leader watches them somewhere in the distance. In moments I am able to make out Markus, Channing, and Rory at the gate mounted on their horses. They study me with careful eyes still uneasy. Lugos is nowhere in sight to which I'm thankful--I do not have the energy to share any final words with him. Remaining silent I take the reins wrapped around my saddle horn and hoist myself up, placing my mud covered boots in the leather stirrups. With a click of my teeth I urge my mare forward and head back to camp, not bothering to make sure the others follow.