Mareen spent the next several days helping the man recover. She knew he was deeply hurt by the loss of his father, and had heard crying more than one night. But whenever she walked into the room, she was met by a smiling, flirting fool, rather then the grieving son she knew he was.

As his body healed, she heard him cry less, but the she knew his emotional injuries would take longer. She considered confronting him about it, but she could never quite bring herself to do it. Everyone grieves in their own way. He just needs time.

She continued to look in on him as she waited to be released back to the healer’s tent. But each day faced an increasingly incorrigible, and talkative patient. With him now able to sit up, and speak freely, it reached the point that he stopped flirting with her only when she threatened to leave him alone, or return him to the state she found him. Finally having enough of his bad lines for one morning, she headed for the door.

“I surrender,” he said as he held his hands up. “Please do not leave.”

She stopped in the doorway and glared at him in irritation.

Seeing the worry on his face she sighed, it is not as if I have anyone else to speak to. The soldier only gives orders, and the maids are too busy. Returning to sit at the desk she narrowed her eyes. “So no more of that goddess nonsense?”

He flinched and looked away and seemed to deflate. “If I … yes. I … I am sorry. I did not mean to offend you.”

“I am not offended, but it is a lot.” Mareen sighed. “If you want to talk, that is fine.”

He nodded and looked at his hands for a moment before slowly looking back up at her. “What do you want to talk about?”

How does this idiot manage to go from a flirting fool to a lost child so quickly? She nearly groaned, “How about something basic? Where are you from?”

“I was raised in Bearded Falls. It is almost halfway between the King’s city and Fae Port. How about you?” His seemed to be genuinely interested as he asked about her home.

“A nameless village about a day’s ride, west of the King’s City.” She smiled at him. “We are both a bit far from home.”

“Yes, and no.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “I grew up in the north, but as soon as I could, I ran away to my father’s home in the south.”

“You ran away to your father’s home?” She was confused, how does that happen?

He shrugged, “Yes, and I have not regretted it. My mother’s people were…” He seemed to struggle for the words before continuing. “I will just say that we did not get along. What about you? You are very far from home. How did that happen?’

The pain on his face as he spoke about his mother’s family made her feel she should be honest with him in return. “I did not get along with most of the villagers my age. After my parents,” she cleared her throat as she remembered them. “After I lost them, it got worse. I saw the recruiter and took the way out.”

Over the next few hours, they slowly got to know each other. She left for her own room having learned a bit about the man. Even if he could not keep his word. I have never met a man who could find so many ways to casually work in complements. She chuckled thinking of his expression when she pointed them out and mercilessly stopped each half formed attempt. He looked so ridiculous trying to excuse them away. What a fool...

…

[Prince’s POV]

Papers were stacked on the desk so thickly he could no longer see the wood of the desk. The scouts were reporting back on the Empire’s forces and the picture was not good. The Empire’s vanguard was licking its wounds, and was awaiting reinforcements. His father and the men with him had made the empire pay dearly for the victory, but it only bought a little time. Time, that was running out as he could all but see the sword coming for him. The reports closing line made that point abundantly clear. … If their pace holds the reinforcements will reach them within a couple weeks, and they will be able to assault Wall a week or two later. I cannot provide an accurate count, as there are too many men gathered.

He shoved the report aside and groaned at the seal on the letter beneath it. Another letter from the high priest arguing for peace.

The prince ran his hand down is face, as he considered the response he wanted to send the priest. I have read the Emperor’s proposals for surrendering. It is not a reasonable offer, or a way to prevent bloodshed. The Emperor wants to send his inquisitors running across the country purging anyone who is not as fanatical as they are. How many would they kill before they were done? A thousand? A hundred thousand? Head priest you and the Emperor can both go to hell if you think that is reasonable!

Leaning back in his chair, he picked up the letter and spun it at the fireplace. The letter sailed across the room only for it to bounce off the back of the fireplace and land in the ashes. He glared a the letter, taking no small joy when the small embers in the ashes caused it to catch fire. And if they approve of it, he can take the goddesses with him.

Turning from the burning letter he saw a note from Sir Golrich. The prince quickly opened it as he did not expect news from the man for some time. The knight’s note described the recovery of the messenger, and the healer who was tending to him.

Miraculous? His eyebrows rose as he read the word in the dour knight’s letter. I did not think he knew the word, much less that he would ever describe anything that way.

Perhaps I should see this miracle. He glanced back at in the fireplace, as charred pieces began to float away from the ruined letter. We certainly need one.