Page 9 of Torin and His Oath (Torin and the Princess #2)

LEXI

T he shifting and rocking rhythm of the horse lulled me. Before I knew it, I had leaned back against Torin’s chest and fallen asleep in his arms again. I was flat exhausted.

A little while later when I woke up, I wasn’t startled. No drool, either. I just enjoyed the warmth and comfort of his arm as awareness settled in. Then I sat up straight so I wasn’t lounging on him any more.

“Good afternoon, Princess.”

“Good afternoon, Torin. Will we get there soon?” Ahead of us a cart creaked along, and to our right were a cluster of buildings.

“The village is just ahead, I daena ken if it has an inn, but there are a great many travelers about.”

I groaned, “Oh man, have we been passing fellow travelers while I was sleeping? That’s embarrassing.”

“While ye were snorin’, that is the embarrassin’ part. But it daena matter, they were more lookin’ at yer odd shoes.”

I glanced down at my rainboots, covered in bright flowers. “Yes, I suppose they did.”

“We will find ye some clothes. Skirts long enough tae cover them.”

I nodded. “Of course, we might be out of here by the end of the day.”

“Aye, I am hopeful.”

The horse plodded on, the other trailing quietly behind.

“Is Dude still in the pack?”

“Aye, he is sleepin’.”

“Is the inn going to be pet friendly?”

“What dost ye mean?”

“In the modern world some hotels don’t take pets, some do.”

He chuckled, low in his chest. “We winna ask, tis better tae let Dude introduce himself. People are generally wary of cats, but he can be verra persuasive.”

I laughed. “I’ve never carried him anywhere in a bag before, it’s wild that he’s just going along with it.”

“Anythin’ tae be near ye,” Torin said quietly.

I sighed. “That’s just… such a charming thing to say, do you always say charming things like that to people?”

He was silent for a moment, then said, “Nae.”

Hooves clattered ahead. Riders approaching. Torin lifted his chin. “All hail.”

The men drew up, rough and stinking of sweat and ale. They exchanged words I couldn’t follow. I kept my gaze down, heart thudding. This casual meet on a path in a long ago time felt dire, if I opened my mouth, I was sure I’d ruin everything.

There was a lot of talking and then grunts, and what almost sounded like curses as they turned their horses away. Torin watched them go, and only relaxed once they were well down the path.

As we began walking again, he kept glancing back to make sure they weren’t following. Then finally said, “The men tell me that the village ahead daena hae an inn, nor a shelter worth the name.”

I asked, “We have to go farther?”

He shifted in his seat, looking around. “I will ask at this croft.”

He nudged our horses off the path, crossing a field to a squat, low-roofed building and called out, “Hallo!” as he dismounted his horse.

A short, stocky farmer appeared, barely five feet tall, gnomish beside Torin.

They spoke in rapid words I couldn’t understand, so I watched body language and other cues.

The farmer spoke far more, gestured wildly, seemed to be arguing.

Torin’s replies were brief, firm. “Nae.” Then, “Nae,” a third time, “Nae.”

The farmer stalked off, waving his hand in disgust.

Torin turned back to me, placing one hand on the horse’s muzzle, the other steadying its flank, his face close to my waist. He spoke low, his voice a rumble only I could hear.

“The man says he’ll only offer us an outbuildin’.

” He stroked the horse’s neck. “I pressed him tae give us shelter inside. He agreed, but claims I must work his field, and wants ye in his kitchen.”

My eyes went wide. “What does that mean?”

“It means naethin’, I winna stand for it. He is mistaken.” He stroked down the back of the horse again, then said with a set jaw, “I ought tae check the vessel once more.”

He pulled the reins of the second horse close, wrapped all the reins around his wrist, and pulled the device from his sporran. I placed a hand on his shoulder and waited.

He turned the vessel over in his hand, tried twisting, shook it, and knocked it around. He scowled and shoved it back in his sporran. He raised his gaze to mine. “I hae a question for ye, be truthful, Princess.”

I pulled my hand back from his shoulder and nodded. “I will.”

“How far dost ye think ye can ride? I will avert my eyes, twould be good if ye checked yer… legs.” He held the horse steady and turned his head aside.

I pulled up the bottom of the wool plaid and checked. My thighs were bright red and raw. I dropped the hem and chewed my lip. “How much farther would we need to go?”

“Twill take two more hours tae the village with an inn.”

Torin broke into a wide yawn.

“You need sleep.”

“Aye, twill be difficult tae press on. We will be arrivin’ near dark. But I hae done difficult things afore. I will get us there, if ye can make the journey.”

“What happens if we stay here?”

“I will leave ye in the main house while I go help the farmer in the fields. Twill be tough work, aye. I am against it in principle as I am well above him in station, but I daena hold it against him. He needs the help. What I do hold against him is askin’ in the first place.

He ought tae give us the best room, and leave us be tae rest. Ye are a princess.

He canna set ye on the rushes with the swine. ”

“There are pigs in the house? ”

“Likely.”

I sighed. “So what you’re saying is that I would spend the afternoon by myself sitting on the floor of a medieval hovel with a pig for company —”

“Ye would nae be alone, ye would hae the farmer’s wife in there with ye,” he smirked, “and likely four tae twenty bairns.”

I looked over at the hovel, low and one room, a thatched roof. I had seen better chicken coops during a backyard-coop tour. “I would be inside there with all of that, while you are out, who knows where…? For hours ?”

He nodded quietly. “Aye.”

“Dammit, give me the balm, we’re going to the next town.”

“Ye can do it?”

“What if halfway I can’t?”

“We would hae tae stop, likely in the middle of nowhere.”

“Of course there might be another farm. We could strike an even better bargain or?—”

Torin shook his head. “Tis unlikely. We might hae tae sleep in the woods.”

I said, “Shush, Torin. I made up my mind. Onward.”

He handed me the balm and turned his face away.

“Don’t look, but also... hold me steady. Sorry for sounding like an ass while I put balm on my ass.”

His hands steadied my waist while I smeared more of the pungent paste all under my thighs. It stung like fire at first. I blew on it, wincing, and then relief washed over me.

It felt better, I would be able to do this. My long tunic was almost dry. It would do. This would be fine. I laughed under my breath, next stop: a hotel. Room service. A dip in the pool. Laundry service. Heaven.

Torin swung up behind me, adjusted my hips so I was settled firmly between his legs, and urged our horses back to the path.

“Need help staying awake? Want me to talk?”

He grunted. “Aye. Tell me of a marvel from yer time.”

“Well, I was just thinking about hotels. It’s like an inn, but... how many bedrooms do your inns usually have?”

“Bedchambers? I would say three?—”

“Three? Only three guests?”

“Och nae, many more. Each chamber has a few beds.”

I twisted to see his face. “Are you lying, Torin? You’d sleep with strangers? ”

“I told ye a tale of it the other night at supper!”

I faced forward again, shaking my head. “I didn’t really believe you. Strangers in the same room?”

“Strangers share a bed! The fortunate share a chamber, sleeping head-tae-toe with men and fleas. The less fortunate sleep in the tavern hall.”

I groaned. “That sucks, Torin. Is that what I’m to expect where we’re headed?”

“Nae, I will strive tae see ye better housed.”

“Good, thank you. Where I’m from, hotels are like big inns. Fifty rooms or more, all private. The beds are so soft, Torin. What kind of mattresses do your inns have?”

“Often a sack stuffed with straw.”

“Ours are so soft. And no fleas. Every room has a hot bath?—”

“Och, ye are describin’ paradise, nae fleas, beds soft as clouds? I can scarce believe such a place exists.”

“And sometimes,” I added, “you don’t even have to get up. You can ring a bell, and a waiter brings food right to your bed.”

Torin laughed. “Och, then ye must hae the fattest vermin livin’ in that room, with the crumbs droppin’ everywhere.”

“That’s the best part, Torin — we’ve figured out how to eat in bed without any vermin bothering us.”

He leaned forward to look at my face. “Tis true? Nae, that is sorcery. Such luxury must be for kings and queens, Princess.”

“Nope, anyone with money can stay there.”

“I will never understand yer world, but I would like tae sleep at least one night in such a place.”

“Next time you visit, if there is a next time, I’ll get you a hotel room so you can see for yourself.”

“As long as ye promise tae roust me out afore I grow as soft as the bed.” He fell quiet for a moment, then added, more seriously, “Even yer peasants hae such beds? Soft, vermin-free? Tis all over the world?”

I shook my head. “Not everywhere.”

He grunted. “Then ye invite envy. Ye are askin’ for enemies tae come against yer walls. Tis why a man canna sleep too many nights on down and silk, he must keep himself ready tae fight. Else there will be wars all the time.”

“Kinda,” I admitted. There have been a lot of wars. We’ve had two world wars, almost everyone fought.”

He was silent, thoughtful. Then said, “I would like tae hear that story next.”

I said, “Okay... where to begin?”

He asked, “What kings were involved?”

“It wasn’t kings, it was nations, millions of soldiers.”

Torin said, “Millions... what sort of number is that? Tis greater than ten thousand?”

I nodded. “Much greater. Think of ten thousand men, then another ten thousand, and another… until you can’t count anymore. That’s why we called it a World War.”

Torin was very quiet for a bit, then said, “Och, tis a wild tale, Princess. Did ye fight in it yerself?”

“No, that was before my time. But my grandfather fought in it. He would have been about our age — just a young man with a rifle, shipped across the ocean to France.”

“France, ye say? Scots hae long fought in France. Many a lad left our glens tae stand with the French against the English.”

I asked, “So Scotland and France were allies?”

“Aye, the Auld Alliance — twas forged in 1295, and still holds. Our Mary herself was sent tae France in the year 1548, just a lass of five, tae be raised for the Dauphin’s hand. She is the bond that keeps the alliance strong.”

He faltered, then his voice was very low. “Och… but I learned too much of her fate. I canna bear tae think on it.”

“I’m sorry you heard about her future.”

“I still believe I could go and lend my sword tae protect her.”

He was quiet then added, “Tis better tae fight with the French than bow tae the English. I pray the men of Scotland daena forget it. The English are ever lookin’ tae claim what inna theirs.”

“You really don’t like England, but I will say this, in this World War, England was our ally, they were allies with the French too.”

“Och, ye canna trust them, they are deceitful.” He asked, “When yer grandfather fought, was he all in armor?”

“Not armor. He wore a hard hat, a coat, thick boots. I’ll show you a photo of him if I ever get home... my grandmother said she took one look at him in uniform and almost swooned.”

We were quiet again, plodding down the road, then I said, “It’s weird to talk about my grandmother and grandfather now that you’ve told me they weren’t actually mine.”

He said, quietly, “Yer grandfather told ye stories from a war he fought, yer grandmother told ye stories about how handsome he was. I daena think ye ought tae think less of those stories just because I hae told ye that yer bloodline is royal. It daena change anythin’ — ye were their granddaughter, ye still hold their stories. ”

I nodded, blinking back a tear. “Yeah, I think that’s a good way to think of it. ‘I hold their stories.’”

“Aye. When I get ye home ye must show me a portrait of yer grandfather’s uniform.”

“Sounds good.”