The group left immediately riding out of the south gate of Perivin. Maric took the lead as he was the only one who knew where their final destination would be, but, even when Rose pressed him, he could not say it was nothing more than a feeling. Rose could tell it was more than that by the way his lips pressed flat and how his face paled even under this dark tan. Maric was hurting, and he was hurting more and more the farther south they traveled. Despite what Maric thought, Rose was worried and glad to have Alistair and even Odette in their party now. She suspected that whatever they faced next would be much more terrifying than the basilisks.

Odette rode alongside Maric, while Rose rode with Alistair several paces behind. Maric glanced over his shoulder every few minutes and locked eyes with Rose, before turning abruptly away. This seemed to amuse Alistair endlessly.

“He keeps a close eye on you,” Alistair began, “I would too if you were my wife.” He leaned in close to her. “More than just an eye.”

Rose ignored the remark. “How long have you known Maric?”

“About three years,” Alistair replied, sitting back down on his saddle.

“After his accident then?”

“After he lost his memory, you mean? Yes, it was afterwards. We met in a small town called Bredon at the house of a, well, a lady we both had a close acquaintance with. He seemed familiar to me, like I had met him before in some place at some other time. We talked much of the night and he told me that he was tasked with killing an ogre in the area, one that had killed two children within the past fortnight. We found the beast two nights later in a cave alongside a rocky mountain and brought its head back to the mayor and was rewarded with a few gold coins from the town’s coffer and another night at,” Alistair began coughing, “well, all I shall say was we were well rewarded for our troubles. We found that we worked well together.”

“And you have been with him ever since?”

“More or less. We separated at times. But, our paths often crossed. We parted last in the beginning of summer. I did not expect to see him so soon, and, of course, with a wife.”

“I don’t believe he did either,” Rose muttered under her breath.

“Excuse me?”

“What about her?” Rose stuck out her chin to Odette, who was sidling up to Maric and speaking to him in low tones.

“Odette? I discovered Maric and her together cozed up in an inn, much like how I found you this morning. She’s a half-breed.”

Rose’s eyes widened in surprise. “She’s fey?”

Alistair nodded. “Partly so, I believe on her father’s side, which is unusual. It is typically the fey women who sleep with mortal men and run off with his seed in their belly so they can raise their child in their world.” Rose found herself blushing. “Odette was different. Her human mother raised her and she has never been beyond the veil.”

Rose was astounded. She knew that Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather were of the fey themselves but she knew no others.

“Who is she to Maric?” Rose asked, though she feared the answer.

“Oh, they were lovers. Up until a few months ago, and before yourself of course. But, I would not worry, milady, Maric will not succumb to her charms as he has many times before. You are quite safe in trusting him.”

“Even though he spent the night in a brothel?”

Alistair shrugged and said no more but smiled at Rose.

***

Maric looked over his shoulder again to see Alistair talking animatedly with Rose. Rose, in turn, damn her, smiled and laughed in return and began speaking just as enthusiastically. Both of their eyes fell on Maric’s before turning away and talking some more. He wanted to know what they were talking about, and he felt a chill down his spine that it was most likely about him. He forced his eyes forward.

“Who is she? You didn’t answer me before.”

Maric looked over at Odette, who had been riding silently beside him until that moment. She had watched him warily over the past few hours, as if unsure how to broach the topic of Rose. This was unusual with her as Odette was typically all lightning and thunder, her anger easily sparked.

“Her name is Rose. She is a traveling bard.” Odette sniffed at that. She disdained women who were not trained as fighters as she was. She particularly detested women who married and let their husbands dictate their lives for them.

“And you married her?”

“Yes,” Maric lied. He did not know why he kept it up if only to irk Alistair. Though, Alistair seemed more pleased than anything else. It certainly did not deter him from flirting shamelessly with Rose. And, it didn’t prevent Rose from flirting back at him. A tinkling of laughter drifted up from behind him and Maric turned again to see Rose smiling broadly at something Alistair said.

“If she is your wife, she may not be yours for much longer,” Odette said with a toothy smile. “You know how women are around Alistair.”

Maric only knew all too well. Maric had his fair share of women. It came easily to him, but he did not have Alistair’s fair face or his lineage. While women invited Maric into their bed because he exuded an aura of danger, which meant a promising coupling, women invited Alistair because he looked like an angel and he was rich as Palti. While Maric left women well pleased, Alistair left broken hearts and dreams. One could do worse than being the wife of the duke’s son and a king’s cousin.

The only female that seemed immune to Alistair’s charms was Odette herself. She seemed to prefer him, though Maric did not know why. They destroyed many a room with their lovemaking whenever they met on the road. Odette was a fierce lover and Maric wondered how many scars on his back were from her and not from his nightmares.

Maric cleared his throat and his thoughts and, as if Odette could read his mind, she reached out to him and placed a hand on his thigh. Her green eyes looked up to him, sparkling with mischief. “I would love to become reacquainted. It’s been too long, far too long.” Her lips turned up sensually and her eyes grew heavy and hooded.

There was a soft cough behind them. “Maric, dear, I was wondering where we will be stopping for the night,” Rose said, sidling up to Maric’s other side. She arched her eyebrow when she saw Odette’s hand on Maric’s thigh, but Odette, the nerve of the woman, did not withdraw it immediately. Instead, she looked at Rose as if she would tear her face off.

“There is a farmhouse not far from here. I know the couple who lives there.”

***

Maric knew that they would be passing close to the Boucher’s farm. Originally, he did not intend to stop, the driving urgency to head south propelling him forward, but when Rose came upon him and Odette, her face pinched with annoyance with Odette before turning to him and smiling- a true, genuine smile, the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

He suddenly had the urge to introduce Rose to the Bouchers and his only family to this woman who he was still struggling to understand his feelings for. If he quieted his mind for a moment, he was astounded to learn that how he felt for Rose was more than just lust. He truly enjoyed her companionship, her laughter and the lightness he felt around her. There was a sense of rightness. Of belonging.

***

The others followed Maric through the woods down a beaten path until the trees broke free around them and they saw a small farmhouse in the valley below. From the top of the hillside, Rose could see the dotted white specks of sheep ambling along the opposite hill. Three cows and one steer were corralled in a distant field, while two horses, a matching pair of large draft horses grazed nearby. They were surrounded by wheat and barley fields.

“What do you think?” Maric asked Rose. She turned to see a fleeting smile on his face.

“It is absolutely lovely.”

“Do you think you could live in a place like this?”

“I often dream of a place like this, a home to call my own.” She smiled up at Maric and was surprised to see him smiling back at her in return, his eyes watching her carefully.

He nodded at her response. “Let’s go down. I want you to meet the only family I know.”

A sense of calm passed over Maric as he led Clover down a dirt path towards the farmhouse. A woman stood just outside the door and when they got close enough she let out of a shout of excitement and began waving wildly. It was good to be home.

The throbbing in his head seemed to ease the closer they got to the farmhouse. Rose looked about her with a smile on her face, as if she could truly be content living here, perhaps, Maric thought, with him.

Two children broke free from the house running towards Maric. He jumped off Clover and was tackled by a boy and girl.

“Maric! You’re home!” the girl smiled up at him. Her younger brother clutched onto one of Maric’s legs and whooped in joy.

“I’m home. How have you been Lina, Hugo?”

“We helped papa bring in the harvest this year,” Lina said, her smile wide and revealing a row of missing teeth. Hugo looked up at Maric with an identical smile before looking around Maric’s legs and gasping out.

“You brought friends!” Hugo detached himself from Maric and walked boldly towards Odette and reached out to touch her hand. Odette flinched away with a frown on her face.

Maric laughed. “Let me introduce you all. This is Lina,” Maric said, indicating to the girl who hid shyly behind Maric’s hand. “And this is Hugo.”

Hugo called out. “And, we’re Maric’s brother and sister.”

Rose knelt down by Lina and reached out her hand. Lina took it hesitantly and Rose gave it a soft shake. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lina. Are you happy to have your brother home?”

“Yes, it has been a long time.”

“I was home last only two months ago,” Maric said. “It wasn’t too long, was it?”

“Yes, it was,” Lina scowled up at him. “But, it does not matter. You are home now. Are you home to stay?”

“Only for the night. I am sorry, but we will make it worth our while.” Lina huffed and stalked off towards Hugo, who was chatting animatedly with Alistair. Alistair was showing Hugo his horse, Regent. Maric gave Rose a wry smile. “She is hard to please.”

“She just misses you,” Rose replied. “They both love you.”

Maric snorted, watching as Lina latched onto Odette as the woman sidled away from the girl with a look of mild panic in her eyes. Hugo took the reins of Clover and Daffodil and was leading them both to the stable, with Alistair and Odette following behind. Maric held out his hand. “I would like to introduce you to the rest of my family.”

Rose placed her hand into his and to her surprise, he laced his fingers with hers and led her to the farmhouse where a man now stood joining the woman.

“Maric, what a lovely surprise,” the woman said. The man beamed at them both. She looked over at Rose curiously.

“Rose, this is Pierre and Margot. They saved my life.” Rose opened her mouth, but Maric continued. “You can ask them all the questions you want later. Pierre, Margot, this is Rose, my wife.”

Margot let out a high-pitched shriek of glee before throwing herself into Maric and hugging him tightly. She then turned to Rose and pulled her into a hug just as tight and long as the one she gave him.

“Congratulations, my boy,” Pierre said, slapping Maric on the back.

“Please, please come in,” Margot said, looping her arm into Rose’s and patting her hand. “There is so much you need to tell us. I knew Maric would find his true love one day. No one deserves it more.”

Rose shot Maric a sharp glance before they all went inside the house.

***

Rose took another handful of peas and began to shell them. The simple act of doing so was soothing, it reminded her of when she lived in the cottage with Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather. There was a sense of peace in doing something as simple as cooking. Rose often cooked for her aunts, or the fairies as she now knew them, typically simple yet filling recipes like the one they were making now. Margot was busy cutting up some potatoes and carrots beside her.

“How long have you and Maric been married?” Margot asked, placing the vegetables aside and began mixing flour and water to make dough for the chicken pies she planned for dinner.

“Not long,” Rose said. Though it was not a lie, not really, Rose felt a stab of guilt. What was Maric thinking when he told them that they were husband and wife? Why would he lie to the people he loved most? And, it was obvious that he loved the Bouchers.

Rose looked out the window to see that the sun was just above the tops of the trees. It will be dark in another hour or two, but the pies will be ready before then. She could see Alistair brushing down the horses and leading them, one by one, to the field to graze. Odette was walking briskly with Lina and Hugo dogging her steps. By their expressions, Rose could tell that the children were asking her questions, especially after Alistair let it slip that Odette was half-fey. Odette was doing her best to outpace them. Maric and Pierre had gone off to slaughter the chickens, but they were gone for far longer than the task would have required of them. Rose assumed that Pierre was asking Maric the same questions that Margot was asking her now.

“Where did you meet?”

“In Pine Hollow,” Rose hesitated. She certainly wasn’t going to tell Margot that she was disguised as a man at the time. “I was performing at the local tavern.” Margot raised an eyebrow in question. “I play the lute and sing.”

“A musician! How lovely! If you don’t mind, will you play for us tonight?”

“Of course.”

“I am so happy that Maric has found you. Was it love at first sight?”

Rose blushed. It was certainly not love, not from Rose’s end anyways, but something more carnal. “Not love, no, but there was… an attraction.”

“He is a handsome boy,” Margot nodded.

Rose cleared her throat and changed the topic. “Maric told me that you rescued him.”

“Yes, that was,” Margot looked off into the distance as if thinking, “about four years ago this past spring. Pierre and the children were the ones that found him. They had gone fishing for the day, having finished all the chores early. He wanted to teach Lina and Hugo how to fish, even though they were only three at the time.” She smiled. “I suspected that they spent more time in the water than out of it.”

“They had fished for an hour in a nearby pond with not much luck, so they moved to the river. It was there that they found Maric washed up on the bank. Pierre sent the children home immediately. He didn’t know then if he had found a man or a body.” Margot pounded the dough with her fists, before smoothing it out and grabbing a roller. “After seeing to the children, I took one of the horses and the cart down to Pierre. I had my kit with me.” Margot stilled, her hands laying flat in the dough. Her eyes filled with tears. “He was such a frightful sight. Nothing but skin and bones. He was half the size he is now. And, when we turned him over and saw his back… I was certain he was dead. But, Pierre was the one to tell me that there was a heartbeat, very faint. We rushed him home. It took him weeks to wake.”

“You both saved his life.”

“We only did what was right.” Margot wiped away a tear from her cheek and gave Rose a trembling smile. “For weeks, I worried that he would die, that he would give up fighting. Every night he thrashed as if in pain. Then the fever came and all I could do was to keep him cool. But, you are with him now. You do love him right?”

Rose bit her lip. “Yes, I think I do.”

“Good. He has no one else, besides us, of course. He cannot remember his past.”

“The nightmares. I believe that they show what had happened to him.”

Margot nodded. “Yes, he was plagued with them even when he was here, especially during the first few months after we found him. He never told us what they showed, and we had no right in asking him. They must be painful.”

Rose was certain that Maric’s nightmares would reveal to him his past, his true identity. But, his reluctance to speak about them, perhaps to even think about them, did not help. At times, she wondered if he ever wanted to know and return to his old life. Rose peered out the window and saw Maric laughing with Pierre. She was stunned. The laughter completely transformed him and for a fleeting second, he looked familiar. Her heart seemed to skip a beat.

Maybe I am in love, Rose thought. She smiled to herself, almost with relief. She did not think she could love another man besides Philip. It tore her heart in two when she learned that Philip had married another, that he did not seek her out, or wait for her to return. But, Maric, she thought as she watched him begin walking towards the house, she knew would come for her. Rose didn’t know why, but he would.

Maric looked up at that moment and Rose inhaled sharply as he smiled at her.

***

“Who is the lass?” Pierre asked as he plucked the feathers expertly off the chicken he just slaughtered.

“Rose?”

“Yes, your wife. Don’t avoid the question. I am sure Margot is interrogating her now as we speak.”

Maric sighed, unsure how much he wanted to reveal to Pierre. Pierre, who stepped in as a surrogate father despite only being ten years older than Maric himself, had saved his life. And, more so, had put a roof over his head whenever he needed one. He gave Maric a home to return to when Maric didn’t even know if he had a home elsewhere. “She is bard, a rather good one. I met her a few days ago in Pine Hollow.”

“A few days? Isn’t that a bit fast?”

“I don’t know how to explain it, but I know she is the one.” Maric touched his chest. “I feel it in here.”

Pierre gave him a sly smile. “You are in love then? I am glad for it and I know Margot will be as well. We had secretly hoped this for you, that you will begin to build new memories with a family of your own. Not that you are not part of ours,” he quickly added. “But, a man needs his own family to care for as much as a woman needs her own husband, children, and household. The love between a man and his wife, it is special. You get to choose who you want to be with not who you are born to.”

Maric handed Pierre another chicken to pluck. Maric often wondered what his life was like before he lost his memory. He must have had a father and mother, perhaps farmers like Pierre and Margot, and even brothers and sisters. Did he also have a wife out there, one who was worrying over him? Or, even children? His heart told him no, despite it being a real possibility at his age. It was as if he was waiting his whole life for Rose. He just wished he could give her himself completely, his memories, his past, his whole being.

Maric let his mind touch on his most recent nightmare. He felt a pang in his head as he probed the dream, or was it a memory?

In the most recent nightmare, he found himself outside his cell being led down the corridor by two guards, goblins. They were short in stature, only coming up to Maric’s waist, but they were wiry with muscle and in the time Maric had been imprisoned, he had lost all of his. One held a spear that he used to poke Maric in the back whenever he faltered, and the other a long knife that could have been a sword for something of its height. They both grinned up at him in delight as if what was to come next was a real treat.

Maric, hands bound in front of him with a fresh rope, stumbled forward until they came to a stone staircase that spiraled upwards.

“Go on now,” the goblin with the spear said, poking Maric in the rear with the sharp end of the spear. It wasn’t hard enough to draw blood, but the shock of pain propelled Maric forward and up the steps. The stairway was too narrow for all of them to stand side-by-side, so the two goblins fell behind him. Maric began to climb.

He woke before he reached the top of the tower. Whatever was there throbbed with a green, nauseating energy, that had Maric falling against the walls to keep up his strength. Once, he fell backwards knocking the goblins over and they tumbled down two flights of steps before stopping. Instead of getting angry, the goblins cackled wildly as if it was some great trick, before pushing Maric to his feet. They seemed to wait in delight for him to fall again.

The climb went on for hours, or it seemed to. Maric sweated profusely, his tongue swollen, and the stairway blurred before him. He thought he would die there.

And then, he passed a window and the breeze cooled his face. He looked out and saw that he was several stories above the ground. The goblins running back and forth outside looked like ants. He was in an abandoned castle, one that looked familiar. Below him was a rushing river and Maric imagined what it would be like to dip into its cold water.

“Keep climbing!” The goblin smacked him across the face. Maric could taste the sharp, coppery warmth of blood in his mouth and spat it out onto the floor. The goblins cackled again. With a deep breath, Maric pushed off the wall, away from the window, and began climbing again. To his relief or horror, in a few steps he came to a large wooden door. A light escaped from the cracks casting everything around him, including himself, in a yellowish green. Maric felt sick to his stomach, but there was nothing to heave up. He hadn’t eaten or drank anything in days.

One of the goblins pushed Maric aside and banged his small fist against the door.

“Come in,” a low voice purred.

Maric blinked his eyes quickly to force the memory of the dream away. His head was pounding again.

“… is a lovely lass,” Pierre said. “And, Margot seems to have taken a shine to her.” Pierre nodded to the open window and Maric could see the two women laughing. Margot was rolling out some dough while Rose was shelling peas. Rose was wearing one of Margot’s canvas aprons, and had her sleeves rolled up. She looked completely at ease, as this was all familiar to her. Maric felt his chest grow warm and the headache begin to fade. Rose glanced up from the bowl of peas in front of her and caught Maric’s eye. She blushed becomingly before looking away.

“She will make you a good wife,” Pierre said standing, holding up the chickens. “Let’s bring this in.”

***

Rose and Margot looked up when Maric and Pierre entered the house. Pierre held four plump chickens in his hands and passed them over to Margot. Rose sat frozen in her chair as Maric smiled at her, leaned in, and kissed her on the lips. She blushed and looked up to see Margot and Pierre smiling back at them.

“Ah, young love,” Pierre sighed. “Remember those days?” Margot slapped his hand gently, which was making its way down to her rump.

“Why don’t you take Rose and give her a tour of the farm?” Margot said. “Pierre can help me with the rest.”

After taking off her apron and handing it back to Margot, Rose followed Maric out the front door. It was a beautiful afternoon, the sun was just on it’s way down from the sky, bathing an orange glow across the fields. Maric began walking towards a small pond at the edge of the property and Rose followed. A family of ducks paddled across the water, and when they saw Rose approach, the ducklings swam up to the edge. Rose laughed and knelt down, petting one of the ducklings on the soft, downy feathers on its head. The father and mother duck watched on indulgently.

“You have a way with animals,” Maric said.

“I always have,” Rose said standing back up. The duckling squawked out in protest, but soon rejoined its family. “I grew up in a cottage in the woods. Many of my friends were the animals that lived in the surrounding forest.”

“There weren’t any children your age?”

“In the village nearby, but,” Rose hesitated. How much should she tell Maric? “I wasn’t allowed to go there. There were some bad… people after me when I was a child. I was kept hidden away from the world. I wasn’t allowed to talk to strangers.” Rose smiled wryly. As a child, she always knew there was a wider world beyond the woods. She longed to go there, but the farthest she ever reached under Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather’s care was to Oar’s Rest, the small village just outside the woods where her aunts bought most of their supplies. Once she was old enough, Rose often snuck out of the cottage and followed one aunt or another to the village, making sure she kept a safe enough distance to avoid any detection. Fauna was the easiest one to follow, as she often walked slow as if through a dream. Merryweather was the worst, as she cast suspicious looks over her shoulder constantly in the hour long walk. Flora caught Rose once when she was ten, was so flabbergasted that she rushed Rose home immediately and sent her to her room. Rose only stayed inside for an hour before sneaking back out the window. Her aunts found her two hours later taking a nap in a field of sunflowers. They didn’t have the heart to punish her anymore.

“It must have been lonely.”

“It was, but I learned to appreciate the quiet and stillness of the woods. When I first moved to the city, the constant noise was alarming. It took me weeks to be able to fall asleep at night.” Even in the middle of the night in her room in the castle high above the street below, Rose could hear the merchants making their deliveries, farmers coming in to sell their produce at the market, and the constant soft footsteps of servants walking up and down the halls. For being Sleeping Beauty, those nights left Rose pale with large dark circles under her eyes.

“And the people who were after you?”

“They were stopped. It was then that I was able to return home.”

“The home you ran away from.”

“Yes.”

Maric leaned back against a tree, taking Rose in. She stared right back at him unwilling to break the gaze. “You are an interesting woman, Rose. I will grant you that.”

“And you’re not? Not a woman, mind you, but your story.” Maric let out a dry laugh. Rose continued, “Just the fact that you cannot remember is interesting in itself. Do you not wonder who you were before you lost your memory?”

“Constantly,” Maric sighed. “Or, I did before. Used to drive myself mad trying to find someone, anyone who remembered me. I’ve traveled all over this kingdom and others for the past several years and not one soul recognizes me. It was as if I appeared out of nowhere four years ago. After a while, I stopped searching for my past and focused on the here and now.” He pushed off the tree and closed the distance between them. “Rose… after this is all done-” He reached over with his hand and brushed his fingers against her cheek. She tilted her head until he was cupping her cheek in his palm.

“I told you they were here.” Rose turned abruptly to see Alistair and Odette walking down the path towards them. Odette scowled at Rose before smiling at Maric. Lina and Hugo followed closely on Alistair’s heels, chattering loudly about the new horses.

“Papa promised me a pony for my next birthday,” Lina said.

“Me too!”

“No, he said you were too young still.” Hugo’s face began to scrunch up and redden with the familiar look of a tantrum. Rose went to him and scooped him up in her arms.

“Maybe not your next birthday, but when you are Lina’s age now. Also, I am sure your sister will let you ride her pony whenever you wish.” Lina nodded. The boy’s face began to smooth out but for a moment there Rose wasn’t sure she had diverted his tantrum after all. Maric took Hugo from Rose’s arm and threw him up over his shoulder. The boy squealed in delight.

“I’ll be your pony until then,” Maric said, galloping off down the path with Lina chasing them. Laughter filled the air. Odette took one long look at Rose before following Maric leaving Alistair and Rose alone at the edge of the pond.

“Well, I never thought I would ever see a sight such as that,” Alistair grumbled, shaking his head. “Tis a shame. A warrior like Maric cut down. You’ve domesticated him.”

“No, not I,” she said, watching Maric and Hugo gallop across one of the fields towards the grazing horses. Clover looked up curiously. “This is who he was all along.”

Alistair grunted again and held out his arm, indicating for Rose to go ahead of him, as they headed back to the house.

***

Rose helped Margot set the table for dinner. The table only had enough seats for five as the Bouchers rarely had company. The children ate on the floor on a blanket spread out by Rose, while Pierre stood by the counter to eat. The rest sat at the table.

“Where will we be heading?” Alistair asked Maric as he passed around a plate of chicken pie that Margot made earlier. They drank from mugs filled with red wine from a bottle Pierre dug out.

“A little further south from here.”

“What are you feeling?” The table fell silent waiting for Maric to respond. Only the sound of Lina and Hugo chattering brightly about Alistair’s helmet, which Hugo was wearing over his head at the moment.

“Just an ache in my head,” Maric said.

“It is more than that,” Margot said. “I haven’t seen you worse since we found you by the river. Granted, you do look much better than you did then, you’re not all skin and bones, but,” Margot reached over and held his face between her hands and brought her face close, her eyes scanning his face, “you haven’t been sleeping.”

Rose knew Maric hadn’t, not well at least. Last night, Maric spent the night at the brothel instead of at the inn with her, not that she was going to volunteer that information out loud. The night before that he had collapsed, succumbing to some kind of attack. And, the night even before that, he had stayed up and cared for her after the basilisk attack. The last night of good sleep he had may have been when he slept at Fabienne’s, but even then Maric had admitted to her that the nightmares had begun that night. It’s been five nights of disturbed sleep or none at all. How much more could he handle before collapsing entirely from exhaustion?

“Your nightmares,” Rose whispered. Everyone turned to her. “Are they related to what is happening down south?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“What do you see in them?” Odette asked, her hand reaching across the table for Maric’s. She

seemed genuinely concerned. He took her hand, held it for a moment, before releasing it and turning to Rose.

“There is a witch, a sorceress, I think. She wants something, someone. She wants me to tell her, but I can’t. I don’t know the person she is talking about.” Maric paused. “She is amassing an army.”

Pierre inhaled sharply. “Then you must tell the king.”

Maric shook his head. “They are just dreams. At least, they are until I see this castle with my own eyes.”

“You need proof before you can approach the king,” Rose said. “I will come with you.”

“As will I,” Alistair added. “Tomorrow then?”

“How much farther?” Odette asked.

“Maybe another day or so of hard riding. The feeling is getting stronger.”

“You mean more painful,” Margot said, her hand resting on Maric’s shoulder. She stood and began clearing the plates. “You will all need your rest. It will be a long couple of days of riding.” Everyone stood and Rose helped Margot clear the table. Maric was talking quietly to others by the fire. Their faces were filled with concern. It seemed like everyone was taking Maric’s nightmares seriously. Even Alistair’s face, which usually looked as if it was a moment away from laughter, was grim. Had Maric been right before? Why did the others believe him? Why did she?

Lina walked up to Rose and tugged at her sleeve. In her arms was Rose’s lute.“Will you play for us?” Lina asked, her smile wide. The others stopped talking and looked up.

“Maybe it is a good idea,” Maric said. “Something soothing to help us sleep.” Rose nodded and took her lute from Lina’s hands and sat down near the fire. The others crowded around her, except Odette who stood apart from the group leaning against the far wall. She watched Rose carefully under hooded eyes.

“Is there anything you would like me to play?”

“Sleeping Beauty,” Maric said, his eyes holding Rose’s. “Play Sleeping Beauty.”

***

Maric saw Rose’s eyes fill with alarm before she looked away quickly. Her fingers trembled as they strummed the lute, but she took in a deep breath and began to play. As the song filled the room and washed over Maric, he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. It was the night he first heard this song that the nightmares began again. He knew it was this song that seemed to cause a crack into his memories, his past. He just didn’t know why.

Maric opened his eyes and saw that everyone was watching Rose play solemnly. Margot held a handkerchief up to her eyes as tears flowed freely. Even Odette frowned with sadness.

The song was new to Maric, well it was the night he first heard it in Pine Hollow, but the story was not. Every town he passed through, every tavern, people had their theories about where Sleeping Beauty, the Princess of Liyonne, disappeared off to. Murdered by mercenaries? Did she run away with a secret lover? Kidnapped by a fairy prince?

Or, was she somewhere closer by? Maric thought. Maybe, she never disappeared at all.

The last notes of the song faded away before Margot and the children began to applaud enthusiastically. Rose blushed and set her lute aside. “You have a real gift,” Pierre said.

“Thank you for playing for us,” Margot added, standing up and hugging Rose tightly. “Please take good care of him.” Before Rose was able to respond, Margot released her quickly and hurried off to get the children ready for bed.

“Our room is at the end of the hall,” Maric said as he placed his hand on the small of her back. Rose turned and looked up at him, surprised.

“Our room?”

Maric only smiled.

***

The room at the end of the hallway was small like the other rooms. There was a single bed in the corner, one just large enough for a single person. Against the wall was a small table with a basin of cold water and a clean cloth. A single candle burnt near the basin, casting a soft glow. The sun had set over dinner and all Rose could see out the window was the darkness of night.

“This was my room when I lived here,” Maric said. Rose turned to see him leaning against the doorframe.

“I’m not comfortable lying to your family.”

“That we are married?”

Rose nodded. “I don’t want to hurt them. They are good people. And, they obviously care about you.”

Maric stepped into the room and held Rose’s hands in his own. “Don’t worry about them. They love you. I…” He looked away suddenly, his lips pressed flat. Rose’s breath caught in her throat. He turned to face her again, his eyes hard and serious. “Would it make you uncomfortable if I slept in here with you? Otherwise, I can sleep outside on the floor with Alistair.”

Rose slowly shook her head. “No, you can stay.”

Maric smiled widely and tilted his chin to the basin. “I will leave you to clean up.” He closed the door behind her.

Rose quickly approached the basin and undressed. She washed her face and then wiped the day’s sweat and grime away until she felt clean and refreshed. Then, she reached into her pack and withdrew the nightgown she wore the night in Perivin and drew it over her head. She was pulling together the laces when the door opened again and Maric stepped in closing the door behind him. He took a few steps towards and took the laces out of her hands and gently tied them together. Rose looked up to find Maric’s face only inches from hers and she inhaled sharply and took a step back. Her nerves felt raw.

“If you do not wish me to stay,” Maric said as Rose retreated to the bed.

“No, I want you.” Rose almost choked on the boldness of her words. “Come to bed with me.”

Maric smiled and began undressing while Rose dove under the covers. She brought the quilt up to her chin as she watched Maric undress. Maric slowly removed his leather vest and pulled his shirt free from his trousers. Bare chested, he washed himself quickly. Rose bit back the gasp when she saw his naked back. The scars rose up out of his skin and glistened angrily in the candlelight.

“I am sorry that the sight disturbs you so much. I can leave my shirt on.”

“No, come here.”

Maric sat down at the edge of the bed. Rose dropped the quilt and moved to sit behind him. She traced her fingers along the scars. There was no beauty in them, only pain. Maric’s breathing became more shallow. She leaned in close and brushed her lips against his back and she felt Maric’s body tense underneath them. She kissed his back lightly, tracing each scar.

Maric turned, his hand catching Rose’s face and he leaned over and kissed her. It was soft and light, his lips barely touching hers, until Rose pushed up into him and fell into his arms. He held her, his arms tight around her waist while her arms wrapped around his neck. Maric’s tongue licked the crease in her lips until she parted them. Rose moaned when his tongue touched hers and he deepened the kiss between them.

One of Maric’s hands pulled up Rose’s nightgown over her head while the other held her as they fell back into the bed. Rose wondered if it would always be like this with Maric, her body on fire, always aching for his touch.

Suddenly, Rose felt Maric shift off of her as the door slammed open. Alistair stood in the doorway.

“Maric! Come quick!” Rose looked around Maric to see Alistair in a state of half dress as if he had suddenly thrown on his own clothes. He was in the motion of pulling on his armor. Behind him, the room glowed a bright orange and Rose wondered if it was dawn. But, dawn was hours off yet.

Alistair mustered one word: “Fire.”