The Robber Knight's Love

01. Revelation of Wrath

Anno Domini 1234

Reuben heard the light footsteps of a girl hurrying up the castle stairs and breathed a sigh of relief. He would recognize that patter of slender feet among a thousand others, and never had he been so glad to hear it.

Ayla! She was alive!

He threw a glance out of the window of his tower bedchamber. Outside the castle of Luntberg, the valley was swarming with mercenaries. Their torches glinted evilly in the night, their triumphant cries carried up all the way to the castle. They had won a victory, all right. But Ayla had brought her people to safety. The Margrave's men hadn't gotten to her, and she was safe.

And she was hurrying back to him. Surely a good sign, considering he had told her that he loved her less than an hour ago.

He heard her run along the corridor and almost involuntarily started towards the door himself, past the old knight, Sir Isenbard, who still hadn't woken from his unnatural sleep. Outside, she appeared to pause before the door for a moment—then thrust it open.

There she stood: a slim, white figure, golden hair tumbling down to her waist, eyes blazing like sapphires, even in the dim light of the lonely oil lamp that illuminated the room. She was just as lovely as ever. Reuben felt his heart swell with his love for her—and she apparently felt exactly the same. For the moment, she caught sight of him, her cheeks flushed the most adorable shade of red, and she rushed towards him, raising her arm as if to embrace him.

Reuben smiled. There was nothing that he wanted more than to feel her arms around him.

"Ayla," he said. "Oh, Ayla, I'm so glad you're..."

It was only then he noticed that her arm was aimed slightly too high for an embrace. It was also moving a bit too forcefully for such a tender purpose. In fact, if he hadn't known better, he would have said she was aiming for his face.

SMACK!

Reuben blinked down at her in surprise, while his hands went up to his cheek where she had hit him with all the force her slender arm could muster. Curious. Was this how all women reacted to a declaration of love?

The courtly love ballads he had heard the minstrels sing at the court of the Emperor had never mentioned anything about slaps on the face. Kisses and tender caresses, yes, but slaps on the face? Definitely not.

Well, he had been alone on the road for years, during which time the established customs of romance might have changed.

Ayla glared up at Reuben in a none too romantic manner and hissed, "Where's Eleanor?!"

Reuben frowned. Besides omitting the slaps, the love ballads had also never mentioned nonsensical babbling, either. Eleanor?

"Who is Eleanor?" Reuben asked, bewildered. "I don't know any Eleanor."

"Really? Well, I suppose you weren't properly introduced. Eleanor is the name of my mare. The horse you stole from me a couple of weeks ago, when you robbed me and abandoned me in the forest!"

Ice flooded through Reuben's chest. No. No, no, no...

The customs of romance hadn't been turned upside down since he had last checked, nor had Ayla suddenly gone insane. The truth was far worse.

She had discovered his secret.

*~*~**~*~*

Ayla could see comprehension and truth flicker in his eyes for one single moment. He concealed it well, but she had been looking for it, hoping against hope she wouldn't see it, hoping against hope her suspicions would prove false.