Ladies, Lords, & Liars

Chapter Ten: The Foxhole Glade and an Unexpected Encounter

   There were a couple of instances when a particularly nasty thorn would snag at Aeric as he passed, and he was almost positive that the worst of them had caused his ear to bleed, but then his crawling was over. He had been getting worried that his need for a calm, quiet space to be alone had driven him completely mad, and he was crawling into a rabbit warren, but his idea didn't seem quite so crazy now as he stood up and brushed the damp leaf mold away from his knees.

   He found himself in exactly the sort of place he had expected. It was completely enclosed, from what he could see, except for the little fox-hole entrance that he'd stumbled upon.

    There was a thin patch of thorns that covered something wooden, and he guessed it might have been a gate before the cove had been forgotten some long while past.

   The ground was covered in moss, which was spongey and damp. His feet sank a couple of inches into it with each step.

   In the middle of the moss was a shallow dip in the ground, bubbling out a steady stream of water that led nowhere and seemed to just disappear into thin air. The moss was probably absorbing it.

   It wasn't exactly the refuge that he'd been planning on, but it did have a small stone bench at the opposite end which would be just fine for sitting on. And it was peaceful, a very welcome change from the squealing girls he'd been with all day.

   He brushed himself off again before gingerly touching a hand to his ear to discover that it was, in fact, bleeding. He then made his way over to the bench—so small that he guessed it might have been originally intended to be used only by children—and he took a seat. Moss and grime crowded the lines of the carving, so he had no idea what image was inscribed upon the little chair.

    The roses were growing so close upon the clearing at this point that if he leaned back to any extent, he would get a back-full of thorns. But other than that, the seat proved perfect.

   The bubbling of the tiny spring in the middle of the mossy area melted away the stress, and he found that his headache was melting away with it. This was perfect, despite the toil to get in, and the way his feet sank into the water-logged plant matter.

   It was perfect until he heard rustling. Rustling in the tunnel, to be precise.

   The first thought that came to mind was the fox that had probably formed the tunnel in the first place. Would it attack him when it found him invading on its peaceful little grove?

   He stayed locked in place, his eyes glued on the tunnel, ready to get up and run or fight as soon as a threat appeared.

   But what appeared was far from a threat. It was a person, one of the gardeners, wearing an olive-green uniform.

   Then he realized that it was a woman, and when she pushed her way through the last bit of thorns and stood up, he saw that it was the very same gardener woman that he'd tripped over on his first venture into the garden. The only difference was that she'd tucked all of her messy hair into a hat that matched her uniform, perching like a chubby hen upon her head. She still wasn't wearing any gloves, and he still found that just as odd as the last time.

   As soon as she looked up, he could tell her eyes went straight to him, and it occurred to him that she might as well be as bad as a vicious fox, if not worse. He had no clue what she would do, and from what he knew of her, she might as well be just as wild as an animal.

   She blinked once, a blank look on her face, before she stood up. She took a step closer to where he was sitting, then looked back at the tunnel she'd just vacated.

   "How... how in hell's winter did you fit through there?" she let out the tiniest laugh, bubbling up in a similar manner to the spring, not three feet away. "I thought it was nearly too big!" she laughed again, but her expression hardly matched the sound. A quizzical sort of frustration dominated her features.

   "Uh-" the sound touched his ear and he instantly snapped his mouth shut, realizing almost a second too late that, despite his constant self-reminding, he'd been very close to speaking in his native accent once again. "Maybe I'm not a big as you thought."

   Her mouth curved up. "You sure seemed large enough when you barreled over me last time we met."

   "If it makes it any less confusing, I seem to be a bit more scratched up than you are." He touched his stinging ear, almost without thinking about it.

   "That's true... very true..." her eyes narrowed as she studied him. "But your shoulders...." She shook her head.

   "What about them?" he suddenly felt uncomfortable as her eyes raked over him once again.

   "They're wide. Wider than mine, anyways. And I always thought that I could barely fit." She glanced once more at the opening that was hardly more than a shadow at his angle.

   "I remind you again that I'm bleeding, and you're not, miss."

   "Don't call me miss, your highness, if you please." She curtsied as if she'd only just realized that he was royalty.

   "Then what am I supposed to call you? I don't know your name." he crossed his arms.

   "You never asked for it, if you recall." She crossed her arms as well, and he thought it was almost a mocking gesture.

   "I had other things on my mind. So I'm asking now, what is your name? Unless you want me to return the favor and start calling you your highness." He intended the words as a joke, but for a second, some unknown but certainly unpleasant emotion flashed across her face.

    "Please don't." the grimace disappeared quickly, but not quickly enough for it to go unnoticed "Call me Ryall."

   "Okay, then. Ryall it is." He nodded.

   "Thank you, your highness."

   "If I call you Ryall, then you have to call me by my name too." it would have to be his fake name, but it would be much better than such a high and mighty title

   "A small price to pay." She smiled ever-so-slightly again.

   "Then it's settled." He gave a short nod.

   "Indeed, but now I'm afraid I must ask, why are you here? I thought I was the only person that knew about this place."

   "I heard the water, and then I found the little opening. I must have been crazy to actually go through, but it looks like everything worked out in the end."

   She rolled her eyes at him, but he could see the traces of a smile that she was trying to hide from him. "Isn't there some princely thing you should be doing... Kellen?"

   He had to force himself not to wince upon hearing the name, but it was his own fault anyway, so he just had to deal with it. "Nothing that I know of, so I'll try to avoid that nothing for as long as I can manage."

   "I see." She nodded. "I can understand. The court life isn't exactly a pleasant one, I'm afraid."

   "And you know this, how?" he cocked an eyebrow. Were the gardeners ever even in the palace? He wouldn't have assumed so.

   "A more important issue that I must bring up: why isn't your hair the fabled fiery orange of the Rindenglade royal family?"

   The question was so unexpected that he was left completely speechless, his mind blank of any of his previously thought-out lies.

   It took him a moment to regain his composure.

   "I was told to keep it a secret." It was a flimsy defense, and it wasn't anything near the lie he'd thought up, but he didn't think he could pull off such a falsehood on such short notice.

   "I can keep secrets very well, Kellen." She took a step closer, raising one eyebrow.

   "To what secrets are you referring?" he retorted, if only to give himself a bit more time to fixate the wording properly so that it seemed genuine.

   "I wouldn't tell you. They're secrets." She rolled her eyes.

   "Fair enough." He gave a shrug, trying to appear as unbothered as he could, which wasn't at all how he felt inside. His heart was starting to beat faster as he realized that she wasn't going to give this particular issue up anytime soon.