Maric carried Jacques back to the farmhouse. The two remaining basilisks watched him balefully, but remained perched on top of the barn. Maric paid them no heed. If he didn’t dress Jacques’s wound, he would be at risk of getting an infection and dying. But, Maric only thought that to reassure himself. If Jacques was poisoned, he would be dead by morning.

Fear gripped his chest as Maric ran up the steps of the house and kicked loudly at the door. There was no response inside, and he hadn’t expected there would be one. Throwing the boy over one shoulder, Maric braced himself and threw his weight against the door. By the third time, the door smashed open with Maric and Jacques tumbling through.

The room stank of rancid, decaying flesh, and Maric turned to find, who he assumed was Samuel, hunched over dead on the far side of the room. His face was thin, starved, and his eyes wide and filled with fear as if trying to jump out of his skull.

Maric knew instantly that the old farmer had been trapped in his own house as the basilisks outside devoured each and every animal and farm hand until there was not a trace of them left. How Samuel escaped their notice, Maric didn’t know. But, it didn’t matter anyhow as Samuel probably soon realized his mistake of barricading himself inside his house.

Maric looked down at the empty jars littered about the room. Samuel had run out of food and water and starved to death.

Maric carried Jacques to the bed, which was surprisingly clean, though everything permeated with the smell of death. He tore the leg off of Jacques’s trousers and saw that the cut wasn’t as deep as he had thought. It wouldn’t need stitches. But, it was red and angry, and Maric feared the worse. He took his waterskin and washed the wound and tore strips of the bed sheet to bandage it. He leaned back to examine his handiwork. It was the best he could do for now.

Maric gingerly ran his hand up and down Jacques’s head and body to check for any broken bones. The basilisk had thrown the boy against a tree, and the sound of Jacques’s body crumbling against it still resounded loudly in Maric’s ears.

He started with the boy’s legs and feet, tugging Jacques’s boots free and throwing them aside, which, besides the large cut on his right thigh, both seemed uninjured. He ran his hands down the boy’s torso and chest. He debated about undressing the boy for a closer look, but the last thing he wanted was for Jacques’s to awaken and accuse him of more than he had the night before. Finding yourself naked in bed with another man was much more than stealing a kiss. Not that Maric was planning on either.

Jacques had a slim waist, much smaller than his loose tunic made him appear. Maric could almost span the entire width of it with his hands. And, his chest, Maric paused, something there didn’t feel quite right, but he ignored the niggling thought and moved on to the boy’s arms. He held the boy’s hands in his own. His fingers were long and tapered, the tips calloused from plucking at the lute strings. Maric smirked to himself. They were not broken. The boy will live to play on.

Lastly, Maric touched the boy’s head. He picked it up lightly and carefully checked the boy’s skull. There was a large lump on the back of his head, where Jacques hit the tree, and though tender to the touch, Maric didn’t think there would be any lasting damage besides one hell of a headache if the boy woke.

Maric looked down, his hands cradling each side of the boy’s face. Jacques’s eyes were closed, and though unconscious from the blow, the boy looked as if he was simply sleeping. There was no tension on his face, no twinge of pain. His face felt smooth and soft in Maric’s hands and upon closer inspection he decided that it was almost feminine. He ran a thumb across Jacques’s eyebrow, it was a light blond unlike the bright red of his hair. The boy’s nose was petite and lightly freckled, and the lips, well…

Maric tore his eyes away, his heart beating loudly against his ears. Why did this feel so familiar?

***

After leaving Jacques to rest, he killed the last two basilisks, which wasn’t easy as they refused to descend from the top of the barn. Maric climbed up after them only for them to jump off and escape into the woods. He spent the better part of the afternoon tracking each one and killing it before bringing their carcasses back to the clearing where their father fell. He gathered the rest of the carcasses from the farm and brought them to the clearing as well. Maric piled firewood and kindling on their bodies and lit them aflame. He would take no chances.

After the fire died down and left nothing but black ash behind, Maric returned to the farmhouse and buried Samuel under a lone apple tree near the edge of the property. In his opinion, it was the loveliest part of the property as it oversaw a small stream and he hoped Samuel would find peace there.

When he determined it was safe, Maric let Clover and Daffodil out of the barn to graze in the fields. The horses stepped out of the barn cautiously, but when Maric led them out into the warm sun, they shook off their anxiety and began to graze. Though, Maric noticed that they stayed close to one another, with Clover looking up every few minutes to check the surroundings. Clover, the stallion, was a large black horse with a dark mane. Daffodil, the mare, was smaller, and light brown, with a white stripe that ran down the center of her face. The way Clover hovered close to Daffodil and the way Daffodil nudged affectionately against Clover’s neck, Maric could tell that they were a matched pair. He watched them idly for a moment before leaving them to their grazing.

Maric was also able to retrieve his sword and Jacques’s knives, including the stiletto. He put the knives in the boy’s saddlebag, but kept the stiletto tucked into his own belt. He still had questions that needed to be answered.

Every few minutes, Maric returned to the farmhouse to check on Jacques’s condition. He still appeared like he was asleep. Maric worried about the poison that might be coursing through Jacques’s body, but there was nothing to be done but wait.

The house only consisted of one large room. A narrow bed, where Maric laid Jacques on, was in the top right corner of the room. Nearby was a fireplace, in which Maric set a small fire. Across the room was the kitchen, which consisted of a larger fireplace, where Maric had a small cauldron of soup boiling. He had hunted down a hare, one fat in preparation for its winter slumber, and dug out some potatoes and carrots from Samuel’s garden. Next to the kitchen was a small table with two seats, one, Maric presumed for Samuel, and one for a guest, if he ever had any. Maric sat in one chair himself and watched Jacques carefully from across the room.

Maric couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something odd about the boy. The stiletto knife surprised him. Jacques claimed to be a traveling bard, but was there more to his story? Was the boy hiding something? Maric pulled out the knife and held it out. It barely had any weight to it. Maric flicked it back and forth and it shined brightly in the firelight. It was easy to handle, quick, and silent as it cut through the air. Maric’s eyes fell on Jacques’s sleeping form.

Should he kill the boy now instead of waking up to find the point of this knife driven into his throat?

***

Rose woke with a groan as she reached up to clutch the back of her head. She groaned louder when she shifted and felt a thousand needles shoot up her arm. She bit down a scream. It felt as if every bone in her body was broken and winced as she slowly opened her eyes.

“You’re alive,” someone said. Rose blinked a few more times and thanked the gods that it was dark. Her head felt as if it was three times its true size.

“I wish I wasn’t,” she said, her voice cracking. The room filled with laughter. “What’s so funny?”

“You don’t know how close you were to death.”

Rose blinked a few more times and the room came into focus. They were in a house. From the bed in the corner of the room, she could see that a fire had died in the hearth not too long ago, the wood still burned brightly with embers. There was a faint smell of blood and decay in the air that caused her stomach to churn, but she gulped a few times and swallowed the rising nausea. “Maric?”

“Yes? That’s good that you remember me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You have a pretty nasty bump on your head when the basilisk slammed you against a tree.” Rose reached up again and touched the area gently. She instantly grimaced in pain. “You should be glad to be alive and with no broken bones.”

Rose suddenly sat up, her head swimming, and ran her hands down her chest. It was still flattened by the bandages. When she looked up, she saw Maric sitting on a chair across the room watching her curiously.

“My leg…”

“You can thank the basilisk for that. I thought you were poisoned. But, as you are awake now, you are not. You’re lucky, I’ll grant you that.”

Rose touched the bandage on her naked thigh. It was tight and clean and expertly done. Her trouser leg was missing. “You did this?” Maric nodded, half his face hidden in shadow. “What time is it? Or, I’m afraid to ask, what day is it?”

Maric smiled. “Same day, or night, I should say. I expect it’s after midnight. You’ve been asleep for about sixteen hours.”

“I feel like I slept none of it,” Rose said, falling back onto the bed. She winced when her head hit the pillow. With her eyes tightly closed, she said, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For saving my life.”

There was a silence from across the room. Rose opened her eyes slightly to watch Maric under her lashes. He was staring right back at her. “You should go home.”

“What?” Rose’s eyes snapped open.

“You were almost killed. This was what I warned you of. What if you were poisoned by the basilisk? What if you did break every bone in your body?”

“None of that happened,” she said, not in the mood to argue with him. Her head was still aching terribly. “Don’t think you can get rid of me that easily.”

“I could have left you there, you know, crumpled under that tree. You would have died then too. It was a cold night, and though there may not be any monsters in the woods any longer, there are other creatures that kill.”

“But, the thing is, you’re not a monster Maric. You would never have left me.” And Rose believed it too. Even as Maric frowned at her, she knew that he was a good person.

“I could have.”

“But, you didn’t.”

Maric snorted. “Go back to sleep.”

***

Cold metal bit into his wrists as he was pulled higher up the wall. He felt his shoulders stretch out until something seemed to pop and come loose. He clenched his teeth tightly holding back a scream. There was no point in wasting it now, there would be more pain coming.

“Where is she?” a deep, sultry voice called out behind him. He felt a hand caress his back, long nails digging into his skin. There was a hint of sensuality to the movement. If his shoulders weren’t screaming out in pain, Maric would have wondered if he was trapped in a brothel about to succumb to some form of exquisite seduction. “I can stop at any time. Just tell me where she is.”

Maric said nothing.

“Fine, have it your way.” He heard steps receding down a stone hallway.

“Now, it’s my turn,” a voice said coming out of the shadows. He heard something unravel and hit the ground with a sickening snap.

***

When Rose woke again, it was late in the morning. The warm sunlight filtered through the window and Rose laid there bewildered at the thought that she could have died. Everything felt so normal, so quiet. It was hard to believe that the farm was overrun with basilisks not one day ago.

Rose sat up to find the house empty. No, he didn’t, she thought, alarm coursing through her as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up slowly. The blood rushed to her head, causing it to pound, though not as bad as it did during the night.

Her leg still ached and her body was sore, but Rose carefully made it to the front door and opened it. Did he leave her? Was she wrong about him? Rose leaned heavily against the doorframe to catch her breath.

The sun blinded her for a moment. When a cloud passed over it, she saw Maric leaning forward against the fence watching Clover and Daffodil grazing together in the field. When he turned to her, Rose smiled. She walked down to him, her legs feeling steadier with each step.

“How are you feeling?”

She tilted her head, looking at him closely. His eyes were shadowed, and though there was no hint of any pain on his face. But, she felt a shift in him, a change. “Much better. Thank you again.” Maric just nodded.

“They look happy.” Daffodil was brushing up against Clover. Clover whinnied and nudged her back.

“It was a long day and night for them both. For you as well.” Rose swallowed, thinking of the night before. Maric must have carried her back from the forest and he certainly dressed her wound. The bandages on her chest were still in place when she woke again in the morning so she was fairly certain that he did not know her secret. The fact that he was still speaking to her now confirmed it. Rose smiled wryly to herself. He would be raging at her.

She could feel Maric’s eyes on her and the air charge around them and cleared her throat. “What is our plan now?”

“Our plan?”

“Don’t start with me. I’m not going anywhere except with you. That fight with a basilisk is not

enough for my song. One fight does not count as an epic.”

Maric held up his hand. “And, that you nearly died, that doesn’t count for anything?”

“As I said last night, I didn’t die. I’m not going to, not yet.” Rose frowned. If she had to fight Maric every inch of the way, she would. She didn’t know what it was, there was a sensation that she could not shake and every ounce in her being told her that being with him was simply right. They made a good team. Or, at least, she thought they did. He probably thought she was a liability.

“Then, we need to establish some ground rules.” Rose opened her mouth in protest, but Maric held up his hand again, his eyes rolling in exasperation. Rose snapped her mouth shut. “You will listen to me and follow my commands, especially during a fight. You were nearly killed and I don’t need your blood on my hands.”

“You would be dead if I didn’t intervene. The basilisk was about to kill you yesterday if I didn’t attack it.”

“First, you didn’t attack it, you ran at it screaming like a damned idiot and fell right on your face.”

“I distracted it.”

Maric gritted his teeth, his eyes flashing with anger. Rose didn’t notice until then that they were a soft brown, like the color of chocolate. Chocolates were her favorite, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.

“I am prepared to die. Are you?”

“I don’t plan on dying. Anyways, I feel great. I can handle any fight.” Rose didn’t feel great, but she felt better than she should have, thanks, she begrudgingly knew, to Maric’s care.

“Then, get your horse ready. We’re leaving.” Rose looked at him in shock as he headed into the field and began saddling up Clover.