The Prince and the Witch

Chapter 8: Clean Slates

"Okay, that's it." Sorrel said breaking the uncomfortable silence. She threw her body weight to the side in an attempt to dismount fluidly but somewhere along the way, her foot got caught in the stirrups and she crashed onto the dirt below with a loud "oomph". With the steady pace they had been keeping, Rowen was already a good ten feet away before he slowed the little beast and turned to look at her.

Sorrel lay sprawled out on her back. Unfortunately, in her flurry to get to the ground, her spine had met with a disagreeably placed pebble. It was another discomfort in a rapidly growing list. Determined to not let it show under Rowen's incredulous expression she folded her arms beneath her head and smiled lazily like falling to the ground in an ungraceful whirl of skirts and limbs had been her exact intention.

"What in God's name?" He too dismounted, with an envy inducing ease and walked over to her. The little beasty instantly began digging into some grass as he peered down at her from his six foot something stupid frame. "You can't just throw yourself from a horse mid gallop! What were you thinking, you could have seriously hurt yourself?"

"Oh please, like you care." 

"I do care actually. As long as you remain the best, infact the only chance of healing my- the king." Rowen finished clumsily.

Brushing herself off, Sorrel ignored his outstretched had and stood unsteadily. After a long morning riding, she felt like an amateur sailor finding her sea legs. "And I didn't throw myself off." She replied ignoring his raised brow. "I made the decision that after four hours or so of riding that beast of an animal it was about time we stopped for lunch. You did bring lunch didn't you? I hope you realise that a condition of me gallivanting off to help you in some ridiculous quest was that you supply the food?"

Rowen sighed in exasperation and turned towards the saddle bags. "I'm going to pretend that I didn't just hear you call saving the King's life a ridiculous quest." He threw her a green apple that she gratefully accepted as she made her way  to perch on a small outcrop of rocks. A moan of pain escaped her before she could stop herself.

"So you did hurt yourself?" Rowen inquired from where he leaned against an oak tree, also eating an apple.

"Actually, it would be the past couple hours of bouncing up and down on the back of a horse that has me discovering parts of my backside I never knew existed." 

Rowen bit into his apple thoughtfully. "So you truly have never ridden a horse before?"

"No you imbecile, do you know how many defective love potions I would have to sell in order to even touch one of those things?"

"Ha! So you admit to selling false merchandise?"

"Apart from the love potions there's nothing false about them. Or do you need another sip to refresh your memory?"

"But the love potions, they are fake?" He continued undeterred.

"Well we all have to make a living somehow. Why do you care anyway? Things not working out so well for you back home? Can't find a girl desperate enough to marry you?" 

"Hardly, any more affection from those ladies and there would not be much of a man left for them to marry. Just a pile of shredded clothes." He said arrogantly, taking another bite. "I guess I just believe love isn't the kind of thing you can buy in a bottle."

"Love can be bought alright. Why else would I keep selling them?"

"You shouldn't hoodwink people like that you know, you are damaging real people's relationships."

"The way I see it, is if they are desperate enough to be buying love potions, their relationship is damaged beyond repair. Anyway enough of the high and mighty act, where are we going exactly? And how long do I have to tolerate your company?"