The moment Caspian steps into the inn, the sleepy tavern keeper’s face lights up.

  “My lord! What a sight it is to see your safe return!” The older man wipes his hands on his apron, gleaming as Caspian walks towards the bar. “You needn’t worry, my lord. The best room is yours, free of charge.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” He smiles at the man, his tone leaving no room for argument. He pulls a coin purse off his belt, putting it on the bar. “Can you bring up a bowl of hot water and some bread? Don’t rouse the kitchen staff.”

  The innkeeper hesitates, his hand hovering over the pouch, as if debating whether he should refuse or not. But then he meets Caspian’s gaze. Caspian raises his brow, daring the man to refuse, and the keeper smiles at Caspian, thankful.

  “As you wish, my lord.”

  He disappears into the back, returning moments ter with a simple meal. A pte of some cold meats, cheese and bread. Telling Caspian he’ll get his wife to bring up the hot water once it’s boiled. Caspian thanks the man, before taking the pte in one hand and turning back to me.“We’re going up.” This world really has no fvour. How simple chip spice would blow his poor medieval mind.

  I scowl at his frequent use of commands, but don’t argue. My exhaustion outweighing my stubbornness.

  Caspian moves to the stairs nearby. He walks up, navigating the narrow wooden staircase with silent ease. I follow reluctantly, every step up feeling heavier than the st, my eyes struggling to keep open. The warmth of the tavern below fades as we reach the first floor.

  Walking into the hallway, lined with thick wooden doors, each leading to a modest room, we walk to the st door.

  I don’t need him to say anything, it’s obvious. This is…our room.

  The realisation tightens in my chest, and I take a gulp, Caspian’s heat radiating from behind me. He shifts the pte in one hand, pushing the door open with the other. His gaze flicks from me to the room, telling me to enter with his eyes. I hesitate. Just for a second. But I swallow a breath and enter the room.

  The door shuts behind me, and my heart skips a beat. I don’t turn around to face his rge presence, anxiety building in me.

  The room is small, too small. It’s a modest space, with a single table and chair, a washbasin, and a bed pressed against the wall.

  One bed? Of course. Because fate clearly decided it’s not done toying with me.

  I am not sharing a bed with him.

  Is that what he wants? He wants to…My stomach twists, my safety becoming a concern as I put my situation into words. I am locked in a room with a man. A man twice the size of me. Twice the size!!

  However, Caspian doesn’t seem to care. He sets the pte of food down, then throws down his cloak and bag. He begins to fully remove his gauntlets from his arms. Once done, his hands then move to his sword belt, unbuckling it and setting it aside on the table. My breaths get heavy, scenarios rushing through my mind, each one worse than the other. He controls his every movement, as if this arrangement doesn’t bother him in the slightest, just as though he were carrying out another duty.

  Okay. Okay. Breathe. Either he’s about to sleep, or I’m about to scream…Possibly both.

  I awkwardly stand in the middle of the room, my arms tightening over my chest, nervous for whatever might happen next.

  “You take the bed,” Caspian says, voice ft, as he pulls the chair from the corner of the room. “I’ll rest here.” That’s it? I release a breath I didn’t even realise I was holding.

  I don’t argue. My nerves are wrong, and that’s all that matters.

  I gnce at the chair, it’s sturdy but nothing close to comfortable. Good. I stay still in the middle of the room, idling myself by watching my feet shuffle on the wood floor. I hear Caspian let out an exasperated sigh, walking over to the table. I peer up at him and watch as he breaks off a piece of bread from the pte and hands it to me.

  I stare at it with an awkward expression, clearly uncomfortable in this situation.

  “You need to eat.” He says calmly, trying to ease me.

  You first, mountain man…I’ve read fairy tales. Food is always a trap.

  Caspian exhales through his nose, clearly done with my defiance. With an annoyed expression, he puts the bread in his mouth and walks past me, pulling at the buckles of his outer armour. A knock suddenly cuts the silence, and Caspian walks to the door.

  “My lord, your hot water.” A beautiful older woman in old Greek attire, bancing a porcein bowl, enters, putting the bowl on the table.

  “Rest now, you’ve done more than enough.” The woman smiles at Caspian’s words, putting a hand to her heart as she bows to him. She leaves without another word, and Caspian closes the door behind her, moving back to the table. He takes off the rest of his armour, and that’s when I see it. His tunic sleeve is stained with a deep red, blood seeping through the fabric. My breath catches.

  Oh my…I thought Caspian had received a graze from the beast in the field. But the way the crimson spreads against the cloth…That’s no small wound.

  Caspian hears the involuntary gasp I let out.

  “Go to bed.” He commands, turning his head slightly in my direction.

  I swallow hard. I don’t want to listen to him, but his tone leaves me little choice. Without a word, I move to the bed. The mattress creaks slightly as I lower myself onto it, my muscles instantly rexing. I slip my shoes off and pce them beside the bed.

  Sure. Let me just tuck myself in and pretend that having a bleeding man in your room is a normal piece of furniture.

  I shuffle myself under the covers, keeping myself as close to the wall as possible. I turn to face the wall, curling my knees up, the need to sleep washing over me..

  The soft sound of fabric ruffling breaks my concentration. I slowly peel the covers away from my face and peek over my shoulder.

  Caspian stands by the table with his back turned from me, pulling his tunic over his head. Woah…I feel heat rise, and my breath catches at the sight before me. He might be an asshole, but I won't deny his physique...

  The dim candlelight flickers against his bare skin, revealing a mass of bck Celtic markings sprawled across his skin. The design is intricate and purposely pced to highlight the lines of his physique. The light adds to this by accentuating the ridges of his rge muscles. He shifts himself to assess his wound, my gaze following his hands as he does so, biting my lip upon seeing the extent of it.

  Three, long, deep gashes stretch along his side, dark with dried blood. As he moves, fresh crimson weeps from the torn flesh.

  Caspian doesn’t react to the injury, dipping the cloth into the water and holding it against his side.

  “Go to sleep, Genevieve.” I flinch from being caught, my face heating up, I pull the covers over my face and turn back to the wall. A dim, orange glow lights up the room for a moment.

  Magic…

  I hear cloth rustling once more, then the soft scrape of wood as Caspian moves into the chair.

  There's a long exhale, then silence. But I know he’s still awake, staring at me.

  I try to ignore his presence, my eyes growing heavier as my exhaustion multiplies. I close my eyes, letting sleep wash over me. Refusing to acknowledge Caspian’s stern eye watching over the room, so I don’t escape.

  cxxx{}::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>

  I wake up to silence. For a moment, I forget where I am, until I shift and the unfamiliar feel of the bnket reminds me. The tavern.

  Caspian.

  I snap my eyes open, turning my head to see if he’s woken up yet.

  He’s still there.

  His posture is rigid, his forearms resting on his knees, and his head tilted downwards. His sword pced against the chair for quick access.

  He looks asleep…

  Go! Go! Go! This is your opportunity to take!

  A curt smile spreads across my face. I slowly push the bnket off me and, with careful movements, I swing myself off the bed. Slipping my shoes one, I stand, avoiding the creaks in the floorboards. Still asleep…

  My heart pounds as I take a step towards the door. I suck in a breath as I try to walk past Caspian, my heartbeat hammering in my ears. I see the door handle within reach, I take another step-

  A hand appears in front of me.

  I freeze.

  Shit…

  My stomach drops as I slowly turn my head down to the broad hand blocking my path. I follow the arm to Caspian’s face. His head is still tilted downwards, but through his hair I can see his eyes sharp and alert, gring at me. He doesn’t look surprised however, he knows I was going to try this.

  “Where?” His voice is deep from waking up. “Exactly-” He slowly lifts his head, meeting my eyes, his gaze powerful with authority. “-do you think you’re going?”

  My mind draws a bnk, my ability to speak becomes a fumbling mess of ‘uhh’s and ‘well-’s. The air between us grows thick and heavy, and Caspian raises a brow to me, wanting an answer. I tsk’ in defeat, keeping my silence, and take a step back.

  This is just unfair.

  Caspian doesn’t press further, his eyes scan me from head to toe before looking away and getting up. Stretching as he walks to the table, he puts on his armour facing me. I don’t watch, keeping my gaze on the wall until he’s ready. He walks over to the chair, holding his cloak, and picks up his carved sword, putting it in his belt before walking to the door.

  “Let's eat.” He prompts me by holding the door open.

  We make it to the tavern’s main hall, filled with hums and quiet movements. A small popution of the vilge’s patrons fill the tiny hall, eating their breakfast and conversing about their trade. Entering the hall, the men in the room turn their gaze to Caspian. In an instant they all stand, saluting with a fist to their hearts. Caspian doesn’t react, instead walking to a free table and pulling a chair out for me before sitting in his own. He doesn’t tell me to follow, knowing he doesn’t need to. He knows I will. What other choice do I have?

  Walking to the table, I sit in the chair he pulled out for me.

  A man then walks up to Caspian, his fist to his heart.

  “My lord, by the Gods you’ve returned safely.” The man hesitates for a moment before continuing to speak. “Has there been any progression in the trade routes?”

  Caspian takes a breath, inclining his head towards the man, with an unreadable expression on his face. “No change.” For a brief moment, Caspian’s gaze darkens, something tense and unrelenting settling on his face.

  “I’m due elsewhere, my friend. I hope this will be the st time.” The vilger’s face scrunches, his jaw ticks, his anger seething below his expression.

  “That bastard king! He may want us to fucking wither, but we’ll hold strong!” His motives are strong, unshaken by the tyrant. He reassures Caspian that in his absence, his people can still live, not without strain, but live.

  “We might as well…Cut down the old sod.” The man mutters, enraged by the corruption of the rulers.

  Caspian puts a firm hand on the man’s arm, bringing him down to a more reasonable state.

  “Be careful, friend, your heart may speak true, but your words are treason.” The man seems hypnotised by Caspian’s words. Calming himself, he gives Caspian a reluctant nod. The fire in his eyes still burns, but he’s quick to realise that possibly everyone is affected by this. Perhaps even Caspian as well. Rash actions never lead to great things.

  I lose myself in thought at the exchange. The king cut off trade routes to Caspian’s county? Why? Why would you kill your own people? Even if it’s something to do with Caspian’s reputation, these are the king’s people too? It doesn’t make sense.

  The man salutes Caspian again before leaving the table. Caspian calls over a barmaid asking for food, and before too long she brings out two ptes of meats, cheese and bread. Is this just the standard meal choice? I hope my unfortunate life manages to kill me before these meals do.

  Caspian cuts into the bread, spreading the soft cheese over it with a knife. He watches me pick at the dull pte and exhales.

  “Eat.” He holds out the bread in front of me.

  I look up to him to just look back on my pte, to shuffle the bread in pce.

  “I’m not hungry,” I mutter.

  Caspian exhales through his nose, setting down the knife on the table. Turning his full attention onto me. “You didn’t eat st night either.” He tilts his head to get my gaze on him. “I don’t mean to have you starved.”

  He reaches over the table and pushes my pte closer to me.

  “Eat.” He says in a softer tone.

  I want to fight back, but my hunger overrules my attitude. I don’t take his offering, instead compiling my own basic meal. Caspian lets out a huff but continues to eat, not pressing the matter.

  We continue to eat in an awkward silence until heavy footsteps descend the stairs. It’s Sir Leiman and the other high command, already dressed and cloaks fastened. They don’t sit, instead they wait for us to finish.

  Caspian picks up a cloth and wipes his hands, putting it back on the table and stands in one fluid motion. He picks up his cloak and nods to his men.

  “It’s time to go.” He offers a hand for me to stand with, and I unconsciously take it, wiping my hands on my dress. My mind held on to the thoughts of the vilger with fury behind his eyes.

  And Caspian.

  Stoic and guarded. Hated by his king. Loved by his people.

  Why? What is the history here?

  The officers barely notice me, knowing I’m Caspian’s problem to deal with. A task. Nothing more.

  Unease settles in my chest again.

  Next stop, Caspian’s home…The pce where he’ll be keeping me.

  And maybe, finally, the pce I find out why.