Sacred

Chapter 2

   He gasped and practically plummeted to his knees, bowing so fast that his forehead suddenly banged on the floor. He winced, but kept it down, obviously scared to look up again.

   She sighed and shook her head. "Stand. I hate it when people do that."

   He paused before stumbling back to his feet and shuffling his feet awkwardly on the floor. "I'm sorry. I've only bowed before a royal once and that had been when I was three. Dad always told me I should never stand in a royals presence, especially if I'm taller than them. I guess he knew how tall I'd get."

   He chuckled nervously, but it fell flat as she slipped her cloak off to expose her dress. She had to blush as well as she placed it to the side. Her black cotton dress was soaked and clung to her body, showing the curve of her breasts and hips along with her lithe torso. The low neckline exposed a little too much of her chest, but it had been the only dress that would've stayed out of sight.

   She glanced at him and he had looked away nicely, making sure he didn't show his blush that she could see on the bit of cheek still in her eyesight. She had to admit. He was adorable with that bashful nature and gentle grey eyes.

   She looked around, searching for a spot to sit in. "Do you have anything to eat or drink? I'm a bit famished." He jumped and turned back around, not able to keep his eyes from straying down her body.

   When he got control of himself, he nodded and stuttered. "Uh…yeah…ummm…sure. You can uhh…sit over there and…rest. I'll fix you some tea. Is that fine?"

   She nodded and sat on the chair he had regarded. It was exceptionally comfortable and a little overstuffed, but compared to the stiff chairs in the castle of Cloiten, it was heavenly. She almost liked the dusty smell. As she took a tentative sniff of it, she recognized the smell. It had been the whiff of cloves that had emanated out of the door when the guy had stepped into it.

   She sighed and leaned back into it, letting the warmth from the fireplace seep into her muscles. She opened up here eyes and glanced over at where the man was putting tea leaves in a kettle. He set it onto the stove and lit it, but as he stood, his head hit the cupboard above him. He grunted, but it didn't seem to faze him. She figured he was used to it, judging from how he avoided it as he bent again. She studied him closely as he turned and pulled a ball of dough closer from the counter to his right.

   He wore simple clothes that would be found on a farmer. Leather pants and a plain blue button up shirt made of cotton. His boots were rather worn and as he walked towards a bucket of water in the corner, she saw massive holes in the bottoms. His hair was unkempt and a little dirty, but it was a charming thatch of brunette locks. Despite the worried look in his eyes, he was attractive and the tentative nature was adorable. His stutter was cute also, which she didn't understand.

   "How do you like your tea? Hot, cold, sweet, unsweet…or would you just prefer coffee? I have that too."

   She jumped and glanced over, seeing him standing there with two cups of tea on a tray made of dented pewter. The tea threatened to spill out as his hands trembled on the tray.

   She actually smiled. "Tea is fine. I like it hot and I like a lot of sugar." He nodded and brought it over, sitting in the chair opposite her and putting the tray on the coffee table. He reached over with his lengthy arms and grabbed a pewter bowl that held a mound of sugar cubes. She reached in and grabbed up three of them, but paused when he winced.

   "Is something wrong?" She asked.

   He paused and shook his head, pushing the bowl closer. "No…it's nothing. Just…my father says we shouldn't use more than two at a time. It's a poor folk thing. You can have as much as you want though. Honest. Go ahead." She sighed and plopped them down into the tea, but not before putting one back in the bowl.

   He whimpered and tenderly pulled the bowl back. "But…I thought…"

   "No. I was being greedy with someone else's possessions." She relaxed back and stirred her tea with the spoon on the plate. He was about to argue when she took a sip of her tea and moaned happily as its warmth coursed through her.

   It tasted so much better than the tea boiled by her personal maids. It was richer and stronger than the drink the maids gave her. As she remembered her home in Cloiten, she couldn't help but remember the wonderful peace she had felt whenever someone did something for her, but she also remembered the disgust she felt when she saw her betrothed.

   Abel Brahm was the son of the king in Shemfield down in the south, but despite the noble blood in his veins, he was a wreck. Oily blonde hair that ran down to his shoulder blades in wild ugly curls, green eyes that reminded her of dying plants, and a face that reminded her of a donkey. He surely didn't look like a royal. She was about to reminisce further when a knock came at the door.