Something With a Prince

Chapter Three: An Oak Between Friends

Tallethea

The problem wasn't the height of the branches. Even the leaves and bugs could be batted aside if they got in the way. No, it was the grip-less trunk that caused me the most strife.

I tilted my head back, taking in the enormity of the tree before me and the ledge I was supposed to be standing on. The longer I looked up the more peeved I grew. Despite hitting them together countless times, my boots were still mud-caked, meaning traction was not about to be my friend any time soon. I couldn't use the wall to brace myself because it was too far away, and I wasn't nearly that tall. So, I went to the next best thing.

Unhooking the blade from my ankle, and another small dagger from my belt, I stretched as high as I could before plunging the dagger into the trunk. It was painstaking, but soon enough I reached the first branch, and it was easy to climb from there on. Wind tested my balance and swept hair into my face as I planted my feet and adjusted my grip. Branches hidden by the shadows relentlessly scraped against my skin and tugged at my clothes like needy hands. The moonlight worked as my guide, along with the minimal light from the castle, and yet I still felt as if I was fumbling up a tree more than climbing it. Savory perfume of cooked meat and sweet wine itched my nose as I approached the window ledge. My stomach rumbled for the dinner I had been promised earlier, but it's of little consequence now.

I step onto the ledge, keeping low in case someone else is in the room. It was an awkwardly shaped space with lots of corners and a terrible draft from the door, but for some reason he preferred it to the hundreds of other plushy furnished rooms in the castle. There was a grand bed pushed to the other side of the room, like it was a second thought compared to the massive desk that sat near the center. Like always, it was overflowing with papers, and there were four empty bottles of ink lying on the ground. A fire blazed by the door, perfectly lighting the food spread upon the table. My stomach rumbled again.

When the coast is clear I tap my knuckle to the pane twice. Resting my legs, I sat on the chilly stone lip of the turret. A deep voice sounds from the other side and, in a moment's breath, he is at the window with a perplexed look.

Then an amused look.

Then he is laughing at me.

I smacked my hand against the window as hard as I could, my lips growing taut and thin. This sobered him up for a moment, though his eyes were still rife with humor, and with a sweeping motion, Arlyn unlatched the window.

It swung open and within milliseconds I was dropping into his room, pointer-finger ready for accusation. "I am going to kill you." My breath grew slim and impatient, "How could you do this to me?"

Arlyn was still smiling silently to himself as he walked over to take another drink of wine. There was a platter set out that had been picked through and from the delectable smell permeating around the room, I can only imagine it tasted wonderful. Certainly wasn't rabbit stew.

His shirt was untucked and hung loosely over dark pants as he strolled from one side of the room to the other and back again. He hadn't gone out of the castle today as his hair wasn't wet like it would usually be at this time. Then again, I wouldn't be surprised if those were the clothes he wore yesterday and he just forgot to change...or bathe... or both.

My eyes went to his face, and despite the small smile that could almost be considered teasing, there were visible signs of exhaustion...and a beard. When did he start growing a beard?

Age had darkened his curly hair from the light brown of his childhood to a shade closer to a roasted chestnut. If it were late summer, it would already be streaked with those familiar light strands. However, that light brown color was now only found in his eyes, which were so similar to a puppy's at times that it took all I had not to cave when he asked something of me. Arlyn always looked like a puppy to me. A big, loyal, silk-eared puppy with a contagious laugh (should you be lucky enough to get one out of him).