The Nun and King

Chapter 33

*Cringes that it's been almost 2 years since my last update* I'm truly sorry it's taken me so long. This job has kept me very busy, I've had writers block, and in general lost my interest in writing. But thankfully some faithful readers asked more than once for an update and I couldn't keep holding off. SO, that being said, here is a new chapter! I hope you like it

The following day goes as the others. We make our way to Riverton and the landscape slowly changes from forest to small villages as we grow closer. We make a pit stop in one of them, grabbing more ale and food for our last night with the women. At night, we make camp in an open field with the lights of Riverton in the far distance—a dreaded reminder of what is to come in the morning. Torva asks why can't we just continue and arrive in the evening and even threatens to walk the rest of the way herself. When I tell her it's to keep up my promise of allowing her to braid my hair, her attitude quickly changes.

Per usual, Nik prepares our food we purchased and I sit cross-legged before Torva whose fingers move as she attempts to braid my black locks. "Ah!" I wince, grimacing at the pinching and pulling of my scalp.

"Don't be such a child," she condescends. "You've suffered through worse injuries—your missing fingers for example—and you've never cried as much as you have now."

Markus, Bastain, and all of the other women snicker at this and I scowl. "It's different," I state.

Uriah forces to hid his smile. "How is your hand anyhow?"

I hold up my injured hand, examining the pink flesh where my two fingers once was. I was finally able to take the bandages off earlier today. "Not so bad. Though at times it feels as if they are still there," I answer. "I'm not really looking forward learning how to grip a sword again, though."

"Well, hopefully once you are king you'll have no need of such things," Noel says matter-of-factly.

I raise my brows at the thought. Torva finishes my hair and I pull my hand back, feeling a short braid that ends just below the nape of my neck. "Well, how does it look?" I ask the others, turning my head for them to see. More laughter ensues and I turn back around. "Well?"

Bastain gives a nod of approval. "You look like a knock-off Gildainean," he says, earning a round of laughter from the men.

"What does he mean?" Claire asks, turning to me and I explain that it's a small kingdom in the east whose men wear their hair long and in braids. I then take the braid out and press on my sore head. "How do women wear their hair like this?" I wonder, making a mental note to give them more credit.

For supper, we eat pork loins and buttered bread and wash it down with elderberry ale. Nettle steals a swig before passing it to Markus. Torva makes sure to glower at her. As our evening dwells on, I try to avoid thinking about what is to come in the morning, but it seems like the more I think of it, the more it stews in my mind. I glance at Claire who sits next to me on my left. Her knee mere inches from my own. Time passes too quickly and the numbers around the fire slowly dwindle until it's just Claire and myself remaining. When we've run out of wood and the fire is jus embers, I make the decision to go to bed. Bidding her goodnight, I climb into my tent and hope that Claire will follow, but she does not.

I'm not sure how much sleep I get, but dawn soon approaches and I get dressed for the day. As we tear down camp and pack the horses, I pick up that the majority of the women seem in high spirits, save for Noel and Claire. Torva hums a hymn and makes quick work of rolling up her bedroll, even offering to help the men with their own belongings. It's clear she is excited to be arriving to Riverton this morning.

So, I make sure to take my time with my things and even find myself chewing more slowly on breakfast than I normally would. I know that I can't stop time, but I can at least try to prolong my goodbyes.