The Lost Knight (Volume IV) The Lost Prince

Chapter 33: Family Ties

It's a lot faster setting up the camp this time, considering it was just broken down. I'm not allowed to help, so I sit on a log and watch everyone try not to stare at me. I'm not sure how much more I can take. I need a break from people. Or life. Or everything.

"Since we'll be here a while," I say to no one. "I'm going hunting,"

I'm barely out of camp when Qince jogs up beside me. "You're not allowed to be alone. Boss's orders."

I shrug. "That's probably for the best." I think Solara's the boss he's referring to. Interesting that a Faerie would take orders from an Elf, but I think he's intimidated by her. "To be honest, I was afraid to wander too far, anyway."

Qince smiles. It's a great smile. He knows it too. I think even other Faeries would say he's good-looking. "Do you want me to ask you about how you feel, or do you want me to share some embarrassing Dathid stories?"

When his uncle isn't making him angry, Qince can be pretty charming. Or maybe it's the smile or just the face in general.  "I'd love to hear some Dathid stories, but those are his to tell," I say, hoping I don't sound too rude. He's the first person I've spoken to who's even remotely close to my age. I don't want to scare him off. 

"How about if I tell you embarrassing Qince stories?"

Now I'm smiling. His attempt at cheering me up is working. "Okay, but Qince is my friend, so nothing too shameful." He smiles again when I call him my friend. I don't know what I'm feeling, but it's like I want to lure a wild unicorn to eat out of my hand. 

"Maybe I can hear an embarrassing Agatha story?" 

"Oh, there's lots of those," I say with a laugh, which is weird because it wasn't funny. Qince has a way of making me feel better without feeling like I have to be in a better mood. But he also makes me nervous. Maybe I'm the wild unicorn.

We both stop talking. Should I tell a story, or should I wait for his? I didn't need to go hunting because we have enough food. I just wanted to get away from all the concerned faces, but now I want to hear his stories, but I don't know how to tell him that without sounding creepy. He's looking at me as if he expects me to say something. My brain won't work. I have nothing. No hunting. No stories. 

He chuckles when I look at my feet. His laugh makes my guts do something fluttery that makes me anxious. How do I get rid of him? Maybe I should just go back. But I don't want to. I wish I knew what to do.

"I have an idea," he says.

Why am I nodding?

He sweeps me off my feet, flies to the top of a large boulder, and sets me down. We're not high up. Maybe ten feet. I definitely could've climbed up here myself. "In the future, you should ask me before you pick me up."

He sits next to me. He's so close we're almost touching. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize. I won't do it again."

I don't trust my hand not to brush against his, so I wrap my arms around my legs and rest my head on my knees.

He tilts his head and looks at me. How'd he get even cuter? "How'd you do that?" He grabs his legs, but he can't bend enough to get his head to his knees.

I laugh at the attempt. His kilt rides up and exposes the rip in his leggings. "How's that healing?" I ask, but my voice cracks, and now I'm blushing.

"It's fine now." He pulls the hole open and shows me the dark, jagged wound.

"Your first scar, and it's a nice one," I say with a smile, so he doesn't feel self-conscious. Why is it so hot?

"Hmm. Do you have any scars?"