***Nathaniel Derrington***

My eyes narrow on Lorrick's receding back until he disappears over a small hill.

"I don't trust him," I say.

"You hardly trust anyone," Devon replies under his breath.

"And that's kept me alive," I snap. "Listen. He just - there's something off about him, I swear to the fucking Gods. And he -"

-has my fucking sword.

"Nathaniel..." Devon starts as I go after Lorrick, his tone light and cautious. The way you would talk to an animal. A dog. "We all know that sometimes your emotions get the best of you, but -"

"Fuck off."

Connie skids to a stop a few feet in front of me. "I'll go and get 'im. Why don't y'all just focus on packing?"

I look back and forth between them. They're ganging up on me. Fucking hell.

"Fine," I reply, stepping back with a sweeping bow. "Retrieve my sword, won't you, Ser Copper?" I bat my eyelashes, but then I remember that he can't see my face under the hood.

"Bye, Connie," says Queen Rose, sending him off cheerfully. Connie doesn't turn around to wave, but I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and say he didn't hear her.

I turn back to Devon, but he still won't look back at me. Confrontation is the only real way to get past passive aggressive bullshit, so I punch him in the jaw.

"Nathaniel, no," says the Queen as Devon stumbles back, eyes wide in shock.

"Forgive me, your Grace," I apologize. "He was being a bitch."

And then I tilt my chin and wait.

I wait for him to grow a fucking pair and deck me. I would let him, too. Wouldn't dodge, wouldn't duck, first shot free, then we could beat the living snot out of each other and finally get it out of our systems, whatever we couldn't get out in words.

But he doesn't. He just presses his palm against his cheek and gapes at me, which is a shame, because a fight would be kind of hot.

The Queen places a hand on Devon's shoulders. He flinches and smacks it away.

"Don't touch me, you-"

"What the fuck is your problem?" I hiss, taking a step forward. For the first time he holds his ground.

"What's my problem?" A trickle of blood dribbles from his lip. "What is my problem?" he repeats, the blood gaining momentum and dropping from his chin. I have to force myself to look back into his eyes.

"Yeah," I reply. And now it's out there, now we're finally having this damned conversation. "All I've been doing is watching our backs and you've been a real cunt to me about it, you know that?"

He stares at me like I'm crazy.

"Nathaniel," he says, very slowly. "You kill people."

Now it's my turn stare at him.

"Well, no shit," I reply, just as slowly. "It's my job."

"No, it's not," he yells. Although he won't swing his fists at me, there's a punch to his tone. None of his usual bitchy, condescending shit. "Your job is to protect people. That's your job. Your-" he wipes the blood off his chin. "-your fucking job."

"Listen. Buddy. Pal. It would be fantastic," I say, "really fucking fantastic, you know, if the world was a beautiful, happy place where everyone said please and thank you and lived on rainbows. But it's not. People lie and steal and kill. Because that's the world we live in, people like you - people that are too pretty and good for throwing punches - need people like me." I tap a gloved finger on my chest. "People that are paid to get their hands dirty so yours don't have too. Without people like me to do my job, your pretty little world would be turned upside down. Don't judge me for doing what you need me to do. You don't have the right."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, and for a sweet fucking second I think I got through to his thick bookworm head.

Instead, he shakes his head.

"No. You're wrong," Devon replies. "I do have that right."

I raise my eyebrows, but the hood stops him from seeing the the disbelief on my face. So I have to put it all in my tone. "Really, now? Do tell what gives your royal ass the right to sit on your high fucking horse."

He opens his mouth, but stops. I start to think it's because he doesn't have the reason to back himself up, I start to smirk, but then he looks at me without the self-righteous cock to his chin, no, there's something else in his expression that's holding him back. He has the words, all right, but something's stopping him, he's slipping back to his cautious self. Maybe I need to punch him again?

"You like it," he says quietly.

"What?" I reply.

"You like hurting people behind the excuse of protecting us," he states. "Like Lorrick said. Like all those... people in Robin's Nest. Killing. You don't just kill to protect, or because you have to. You do it because you like it."

I burst out laughing.

He steps back, eyes wide, so I stop. Or try to, at least. It's hard because, well, because it's just too funny. Because - what the fuck? Why are people so damned scared of everything?

"Dude, holy shit, stop," I say between breaths. "You're - you're the one killing me now. You really are. Stop it."

He doesn't say anything, just keeps backing away.

"I'm serious. Relax," I continue. I hold my hands up to remind him that I'm not armed or anything. Because that bitch Lorrick has your sword, shouldn't have let him dick around with it for so long. I ignore the thought and take a gentle step forward. "Look, just because-"

"Don't," Devon states tensely.

"Don't what?" I ask.

"Don't get any closer."

I shrug and let my hands fall to my sides.

"Okay. Fine. Didn't know your personal bubble was that big," I say jokingly.

His jaw stays locked, his body tense.

"Aw, look at that," Marigold says, her head cocking from behind Devon. "He's scared of you."

"No, he's not," I tell her. She raises her eyebrows at me. "He's not," I repeat. "We're just messing around."

She skips out of the way as Devon takes another step back.

"Nope," she says. "You're deeefinitely freaking him out."

"Nathaniel, who are you talking to?" Devon asks.

"A mutual friend," I answer.

He takes another step back.

"Bzzt. Wrong answer," Marigold says, crossing her eyes.

I ignore her.

"Listen, Devon. Just - just relax, okay?" I say. "Everything's fine. Just relax."

"That's right, Mr. Whittle! No one is going to hurt you. Especially not us!" says the Queen, proudly. "We're your friends."

Devon just stares at the Queen, disbelieving that someone of her status would deign herself to be his equal. And then, I don't know why, but that finally jerks it out of him, a single beat of breathy laughter.

Devon is as surprised by it as the rest of us and instinctively locks his jaw and turns away. He can't really stop it, though, the laughter, it keeps pushing out of his lips until his shoulders are shaking with the effort of reigning it in.

Marigold glances at me, at Devon, then back at me and the grin slowly creeping across my face.

I just can't believe that Devon finally got it. Well, maybe he doesn't really, not yet, not with how he's trying to hide it, to suppress it between lips and fingers, but he's got a taste for it now, the invincibility granted by a good sense of humor.

I'm about to congratulate him for finally, finally letting loose when the beautiful moment is all fucked up by a scream that pierces his laugh like an arrow.

"Oh, dear," says the Queen.

We all run like mad for the ferry.

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A/N: Oh hey, so... Guess who's sorry for disapprearing for months at a time again? Haha aha ha

2017 Hiatus over. I got a decent number of questionably edited chapters written out so I guess I'll go back to updating on Fridays. I've gone back and fiddled with a few details here and there for the plot and some general editing, but nothing too big.

A special thank you to the crickets and the tumbleweed and whoever else that is still here despite my hideous track record.