Benedikt gasped as Grielle drew back her hand and brought it swiftly to Henrik's face to strike his cheek. With equal speed, Henrik grabbed her wrist and stopped her short.

"Still the same girl, I see." He chuckled amiably, though it seemed forced and insincere.

Grielle bristled with anger, her lips peeling back into a snarl. Her other fist trembled at her side as if she had to hold herself back. She and her Liberators may have avoided violence whenever possible, but she was certainly capable of inflicting harm when needed. Benedikt had seen it for himself at Osgarden.

Instead of using her fists, she chose some choice words for Henrik and let loose a string of curses so foul it would have made a sailor blush. "...and then you just left me to the ogres, you good-for-nothing son-of-a-harpy. I would have died if Ludvig hadn't stumbled across me!" Grielle's shouts carried throughout the hall, drawing the attention of everyone within earshot.

The Liberators watched with rapt attention. Benedikt took a cautious step back to stay out of her line of fire. Yet, the more she yelled, the more King Henrik seemed amused.

King Henrik released Grielle's wrist once she had fixed her mouth into a hard line. "Are you done yelling at me?" he asked.

The muscles in Grielle's jaw pulsed, but she remained silent.

"I'm sorry I fled from the ogres and left you to fend for yourself. I knew you were tough enough to survive, and here you are. As beautiful as when I left you a year ago." Though his words conveyed a sense of regret, the dancing smirk in his eyes suggested otherwise.

Benedikt held his breath, fully expecting Grielle to deliver King Henrik a very deserving blow, but instead, she sighed. "I accept the apology, but that doesn't mean I will ever trust you again. As soon as I leave this city, I fully intend to never return."

"Fine, but it is against the core of my nature to be inhospitable. I'm offering you a place to spend the night. Rest up, eat, and leave once I have replenished your supplies. I also can't help but notice Prince Benedikt carries a sword that wasn't made for him. I'll have my blacksmith forge him one." King Henrik turned to Benedikt now.

Benedikt felt the chill of a glare from Grielle. He knew she wanted him to refuse, but he also knew how much the people of Andor valued hospitality. For the sake of diplomacy, he had to agree. He didn't need to start a feud with Andor before he even started his regency.

He drew himself up to his full height — what little there was. "I cannot refuse such a generous offer from our neighbors to the south. I am in dire need of a new sword as this one is far too short for me."

King Henrik clasped his hands together. "Excellent! I shall have a feast prepared for tonight." He snapped his fingers and servants appeared as if from thin air. "Show our guests to the best rooms."

The king and the prince exchanged bows before Henrik quit the room. Henrik knew better than to address Grielle again.

~

The air was thick with tension as wary servants escorted their silent guests to their chambers. Moose and Berne were given their own room, Ludvig and Yorick another, and Reyn and Grielle a third. They escorted Benedikt to the fourth and final bedchamber at the end of the hall.

He guessed by the room's lushness that it was reserved for the most important guests. A massive canopy bed sat in the center of the squared room upon a patchwork of beautiful woven rugs. Tile mosaics, similar to those of the main hall, covered the walls.

As soon as the servants closed his chamber door, it swung open again, the ancient wood crashing against the wall. Benedikt jumped back as Grielle stormed into his room and slammed the door behind her. He stumbled on the edge of one of the rugs as he tried to back up from the charging captain.

"What were you thinking? What in the name of the gods made you think it would be a good idea to tell Henrik that we were with you?" Her voice sputtered with unrestrained anger.

Benedikt held up his hands in defense and backpedaled around to the other side of the bed. "How was I supposed to know that he knew you? These are the kind of things you are supposed to tell me!" he protested, willing to share the blame but not accept all of the fault. He couldn't help but feel her anger was a little undeserved.

Grielle rounded the corner of the bed, picked up a cylindrical pillow and chucked it at him. "It's common sense that if you hire mercenaries, you don't just go around telling people! We are not unanimously liked in Floryndal!"

Benedikt dodged another flying pillow, which bounced soundlessly off the mosaic behind his head. "Wait! Wait! I thought you didn't like to be called mercenaries?"

"We aren't, but you know well what we do."
"But he wasn't a client. He knew you. You!" He thought if he could distract her, it might forestall any other objects getting thrown his way.

"Yes! And had I known he had assumed the throne of Andor and wasn't still off hunting dragons I wouldn't have even let us near the palace. Especially not if I knew that you would blab about us to the first person who asked." Grielle's voice rose in exasperation with each word. Rather than calming as they talked, she seemed to only be growing more and more irate.

"Really? This is all my fault? If we are waltzing into a city that could possibly be ruled by someone you carry a homicidal rage for, you don't think that might be something worth mentioning?" Benedikt tried to keep large pieces of furniture between them but had little success.

Grielle tossed another pillow at Benedikt, but softer this time. He caught it and watched as her anger seemed to settle.

"I—I never loved him," she whispered. Her voice cracked on the words.

"What?"

"Remember the man I told you about on the ship?"

He hadn't forgotten their conversation. "Yeah?"

"Well, that's Henrik."

Benedikt paused, his eyes locked on Grielle's, unsure of whether to make any movement. "I don't think I look anything like him, except for perhaps our dark hair," he remarked.

Grielle snorted out a laugh. "I can't believe you don't see it. You could be twins."

Benedikt straightened. "He's too tall to be my twin."

A small grin broke across Grielle's face, but it vanished just as quickly. It didn't matter to Benedikt. She had a lovely scowl. He was starting like it more than her infrequent smiles.

"In any case," he said, "I think King Henrik already knew you were with me. He mentioned he had guards at the dock who alerted him to our arrival. Then our conversation almost immediately turned to my traveling companions."

Grielle pressed steady fingers to her temples as if to rub away an unseen pain. "That seems like something Henrik would do."

"No more throwing pillows?" Benedikt took a hesitant step towards her.

"I'm sorry about that." Grielle's cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "My anger was misplaced, but something about you brings everything from my past to the surface. I don't like being compromised."

Benedikt chuckled. "Funny. You seem to have a similar effect on me." Everything about her caught him off guard, but he craved it.

In the dim light of his room, Benedikt watched Grielle turn over something in her mind. For a brief moment, an undeniable look of curiosity washed over her normally stony features. Benedikt felt it too, but out of duty to his quest he broke the silence. "No more secrets. Promise?" He held out his hand.

Grielle shook it. "I promise."

The feeling of his fingers around hers sent a flame sputtering through Benedikt's chest.

"No more secrets," she said.

***

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