Tabitha paced the length of the creek, chewing incessantly on the inside of her cheek. She'd sent Ellias off into a neighboring town to send word and warning to his contacts inside of the castle of their imminent arrival, but he'd sworn he'd return before three hours had passed. Those three hours had passed four hours ago. Her mind spun with the thousands of possibilities that could make the warlock could be so late to meet back up, but she seemed to droll on the worst of them: that he'd been captured, injured, or was currently lying dead somewhere.

"I'm sure he's just off being Ellias somewhere. You know how he is--he can't steer clear of a conversation with a stranger if his life depended on it," Laurel tried to soothe behind her as she knelt by the creek bed. Her small figure was hunched over the water, both her hands nimbly working out a stain in the chilled creek that she'd gotten in her dark blue cloak at some point in the journey. Tabitha swallowed her crude reply, reminding herself that the girl was only trying to help ease her worries. She watched Laurel slowly ease the color of the stain instead.

"I can go into town to look for him if he doesn't come back soon," Dacre offered, his eyes glued to Tabitha's to watch for her reaction. She had woken up this morning and was worried to see him shivering, his hair still dark and damp from a quick dip in the water that he'd taken while the rest had been asleep. His body's quaking had only gotten worse throughout the day, despite his best attempts to hide it.

Tabitha met his gaze and shook her head before loosing a large sigh and walking over to the saddle bags that she already had packed and prepared for their departure that was supposed to happen hours before. Unbuckling it and opening the top, she pulled out the thick, woolen blanket that the witch typically slept on then the other that she allowed for Dacre to sleep on as well. She pulled them both into her arms, walking back over to meet Dacre where he stood.

"Here," she offered, holding out the arm with the two blankets draped over it. Dacre cast the blankets a exasperated look before turning his curious gaze back on her. She shoved it further at him, her right eyebrow high on her face as she silently dared him to argue. A small pang of relief flooded her system when he silently took them from her, wrapping them around his large shoulders and finding a nearby fallen log to sit on. She sat next to him, ensuring that there was at least six inches of distance between the two. Disappointment filled Dacre's features when he noticed the gap, but he quickly covered it up with a look of indifference. "You don't need to go into town like this. You need to stay here and rest or you'll risk getting even mores sick than you already are."

Dacre scoffed slightly, an incredulous look taking over his countenance as he gazed at the witch sitting next to him. She felt more than saw his pale green eyes roam to the Mark on her face, but unlike every other human who looked at it, his scent didn't give off a hint of disgust at the sight. Instead, she thought it smelled a little like amazement and wonder. Her face flushed slightly at the notion. "If I didn't know any better, little red," Tabitha sucked in a quick inhale at his sarcastic usage of Ellias' nickname for her, her face flushing even brighter than her Mark. Little red, indeed, she thought bitterly when his face lit up at the sight of her flustered. His eyes were alight with amusement when he continued. "I'd say that you were worried about me."

The laugh that Dacre released at the sight of her deep scowl was light and airy, something that she'd pay her soul to hear everyday for the rest of her life. She shook her head slightly to loose the dumb idea from her system, knowing that it was simply impossible. I am a red witch, she reminded herself over and over, willing her mind to forget the mischievous eyes of Dacre's that had seared themselves into her brain. "Of course I worry about you, you fool," her voice was low and gruff, as if she was speaking more to herself than mine.

A jolt of shock touched every nerve ending in the witch's body when Dacre's eyes pulled back to meet her own straight on. His eyes were wide, green irises surrounded by a sea of thick, brown lashes, and his mouth was slightly agape as he stared right back at her. A small pit of desire stirred in the witch at the man before her, his handsome features even more alluring after her many nights of no sleep. Surely that's the reason I'm feeling this way, her mind desperately tried to convince herself. I'm just delirious from lack of sleep.

Despite her mind's many attempts to explain why she was feeling the way she was feeling, her was unable to draw her eyes away from his. His hold on her was too strong for her to deny anymore, despite the fact that she knew all too well just how any interaction between them would end. He tilted in infinitesimally, his own arousal filling the air surrounding them as his lips hovered a mere five inches from hers and his gaze fell into a hooded state as he regarded the witch in front of him. Tabitha nearly choked on the thick scent of his lust, yet she still wanted to inhale it until it was the only thing in her body.

A small cough jerked both of them out of their trance, Dacre and Tabitha both yanked away from the hold that they were previously in. Laurel's curious gaze found theirs, and Tabitha saw a small amount of disapproval hidden in the girl's steel-gray eyes and light frown as she looked at Dacre. Tabitha dropped her lips into a frown of her own and sent Laurel a silent challenge, daring the girl to say anything to Dacre about his poor choice of whom to be attracted to. She was surprised when the girl simply turned a calm gaze back on her and said with the smallest hint of amusement filling her tone, "Ellias is coming into the clearing. I suggest the puppy dog eyes get put away if you want to keep them in your head, Dacre."

Dacre bristled slightly beside Tabitha, obviously uncomfortable at having been caught. She thought he was going to bite back a remark, but a quick glance at the man sitting beside her confirmed that he was going to do no such thing. He stared blankly at the ground in front of them, his bottom lip drawn between his two rows of teeth as he nibbled slightly. She couldn't explain why she was so relieved to find that there was no embarrassment in his features at what Laurel had witnessed, but she was.

"Who is Dacre making puppy dog eyes at, exactly?" Ellias spoke from behind them, a slight frown tugging on his handsome face with his eyebrows creased together. Tabitha saw his eyes flash slightly with jealousy at her close proximity to Dacre before returning to meet hers. Her mouth was open, ready to chew him out for his tardiness, but the dismal expression she found housed in his dark eyes made her quickly shut his mouth. He nodded at her slightly and she stood, following him back out into the surrounding wooded area and away from two prying sets of human ears. Tabitha heard Dacre mutter behind her in annoyance but she didn't slow her stride any. She knew that Ellias had some bad news to report to her, and it wasn't something that she wanted to happen in front of an audience.

===================

Dacre watched Tabitha's retreating figure, her lithe legs moving quickly to where Ellias had just turned and was walking away. He bristled slightly at the idea of the two of them being alone, but he repressed his urge to bite Ellias' head off. If his countenance was correct, it meant that something bad had happened and Dacre knew that he shouldn't get involved.

His body temperature was already beginning to rise with the help of the two woolen blankets that Tabitha had handed over to him. His body's shivering eased slightly, barely there anymore, when Laurel stalked over to him and sat by him on the log, draping her arm over the back of his shoulders and rubbing slow circles on his bicep with her warm hand. Dacre tried to toss her a feeble smile, but the look on her face told him that it probably resembled a grimace more than anything.

"So," she huffed out a deep breath, obviously uncomfortable broaching the subject but going through with it anyway, "is there anything you'd like to discuss?" The surety of her voice told him that she had one specific thing she wanted to discuss, but she wanted him to bring it up. This was her way of comforting him when his mother died. His thoughts flickered back to his mother's bright brown eyes and warm smile, and a sharp pain wrenched his heart before he was able to move him mind away.

"Nope," his voice was gruff with the small sickness that was ailing him, but he was unable to meet Laurel's piercing eyes. He simply stared at the ground in front of them, instead. Wishing that she'd take her arm off of his shoulder.

"You like the witch." Her tone was matter-of-fact, more of an accusation than anything. Dacre tore his gaze from the ground and met her eyes, a small frown on his face.

He tried to muster as much confidence in his tone for his reply to turn Laurel away from the idea, but it sounded more like an admission of guilt the way that it came out. "Of course not. You know nothing of what I feel."

"Then tell me," she pleaded. Laurel pried herself away from his side and cast a worried glance in the direction that Tabitha and Ellias headed off, obviously not wanting their conversation to be overheard by inhuman ears. When she turned back, Dacre was shocked to find real fear housed in her gaze. "We used to be best friends. There wasn't a single thing we didn't tell each other growing up. You were the only person I told about Merida."

Dacre's mind wandered to the short, wild black-haired girl that Laurel had her first crush on when they were both 12 years old. Merida was sweet to Dacre, but she always held Laurel in a light that was unmistakably higher than all else. Dacre held Laurel when she cried a week after their first kiss when Merida's father had caught wind of his daughter's romance and whisked her across the kingdom. They hadn't even been able to say goodbye.

"There's nothing to tell," he half stated, half begged. This wasn't a conversation that he wanted to be having. In all truthfulness, he didn't know what he felt for the witch. So many things had changed lately that none of the typical ways he regarded her felt right anymore. Everything was a blur, to put it honestly. And he didn't know what to make of the mess that had become his life.

Sympathy filled Laurel's countenance as she regarded her life-long friend next to her. Dacre tensed up in anticipation of what she was going to say next, sending his own look in the direction that Tabitha had left. His wary eyes found no sign of the witch within hearing distance, but he knew that her hearing reach was far longer than his was. He just hoped that she was out of range if Laurel planned to survive the night.

"I don't need to tell you how wrong this is--whatever is going on between the two of you." Laurel's voice was quiet but firm. Her gray eyes held him in a trance, even as his anger flared at her words. He bit his lip to keep from retorting. "You know what she is and what she does. Who's to say that once all of this is done and she has her sister back, she won't kill the both of us and run off with Ellias to live happily ever after?"

Dacre snarled slightly at her accusation. She backed away a few inches but held his gaze. He knew that she wasn't backing down because she was worried about where he would end up after all of this was said and done, but this knowledge didn't help to assuage the white-hot rage that pumped through his veins. "She just wouldn't. I know that she wouldn't."

"No, you don't, Dacre." She crossed her arms over her chest at this. "You don't know her at all. You don't know what all she's capable of. I mean, when we were kids and we would hear about this witch younger than us that was slaughtering dozens of the King's men, we were terrified. What has changed since then? If anything, we should be more scared. She's had nothing but time over the years to hone her skill," Laurel spit the word out like it disgusted her to say it.

"If you're so worried about dying at her hand," Dacre argued, his voice rough with emotion and the sickness that plagued him, "then leave. No one asked you here. We'll find another way to move Bexley through the city safely." He knew that his words would sting, but that was the intended effect. The satisfaction that he was expecting when a hurt look flashed across the small girl's face didn't come. In its place, a thick layer of pity sat instead.

"I can't do that." An unspeakable sadness filled her eyes, but Dacre couldn't quite place what caused it. If this had been a year or two before, he would have begged her to tell him what was troubling her so deeply. Now he just clamped his mouth shut and drew his gaze away, refusing to meet her eyes again as the anger simmered inside of him. "I'm just worried about you, Dacre. What would your mother say if she could see you now?"

Dacre shot his eyes to hers as his heart stopped dead in his chest at her last words. If the look on Laurel's face was any indication, then she regretted the question immediately after she said it. There was a grimace on her lips where a slight smile used to always be. Dacre drew in a deep breath, ready to rip her a new one for using the memory of his dead mother against him when he was interrupted by the sound of a snapping twig behind them.

Tabitha emerged from the woods with Ellias hot on her heels, her simmering blue eyes landing on Laurel's hunched form next to him. She was the quietest moving predator that he'd ever met, so Dacre knew that Ellias had purposely stepped on the twig to alert the two of them to their presence. Laurel's face blushed bright red with the knowledge that Tabitha had probably heard every word she'd said. Dacre began to rise off the log and was going to walk toward the two, but a quick shake of Tabitha's head dissipated the idea quickly.

"We have some bad news," was all that Ellias said to break the awkward silence. He kept casting a weary glance between Tabitha's barely-contained rage-filled eyes and Laurel's downcast gaze. Dacre absentmindedly rubbed the back of his neck, his own face blushing at the tangible tension that thickened the air around them. He wondered if Tabitha and Ellias had heard him defending her. Judging by the quick looks of contempt that the warlock was sending his way, he knew that they had.

Tabitha's anger was quickly replaced by an uncaring look as she regarded Dacre. She rolled her shoulders backward, the golden embroidery on the hood of her cloak reflecting the sunlight back at them, and loudly cleared her throat before speaking. "There was an uprising in the King's city that reached the castle. Some of the King's guards turned on him in the revolt."

"That's a good thing, right? If the Kingdom has been turned over to a new ruler, then surely they won't care to keep your sister prisoner for the same reasons that my father did." The look of grief on Ellias' face after Dacre said this was enough to tell him exactly what happened, but Ellias spoke anyway.

"It's not under a new ruler. All of those involved in the revolt are dead. Hundreds of people were slaughtered in the uprising."

A chill ran up Dacre's spine as his mind raced with the friends he made during his time at the castle. A pair of twins that worked with him in the guard were two of the sweetest people he'd ever met, and he'd always suspected that they were rebel sympathizers. His stomach churned at the idea that their heads were now on stakes outside of the castle walls that they'd sworn to defend. Dacre felt bile rise in his throat.

"Okay," Dacre breathed, willing the pain etching itself into his gut to calm down with the news that he'd just heard. Laurel went completely still next to him beside a feeble sob that she let out when Ellias has confirmed that they all were dead. "How does this impact our rescue?"

Tabitha stepped forward and met Dacre's stare, and it shook him to the core to find that she was genuinely upset with the news. The most composed woman he'd ever met in his life was beginning to crumble, piece by piece, under the pressure of their rescue. It made Dacre want to strangle his father himself and watch as the light drained from his cruel face and never return. Another cold chill crept its way up and down his back at the thought, but it was more of a gruesome anticipation than anything else.

"All of Ellias' contacts inside of the castle are now either dead or in hiding," she confirmed. Her voice was as cool as it'd ever been, but her pained blue irises spoke of a different story. He wanted nothing more than to cross the distance between them and take her into his arms, stroking the red Mark on her face with his hand until all of the problems fell away around them. He crossed him arms to himself instead and willed the thought out of his mind. "I'm basically going to have to go in blind with no help on the inside. The chances of me being caught have now skyrocketed."

"No," he spoke before he realized what he was doing. Dacre jumped off the log and took a step forward then abruptly stopped himself. Ellias bristled behind Tabitha but said nothing, despite the annoyance that was evident on his face. Dacre didn't even notice when the wool blankets slid off of his shoulders and heaped on the dirt surrounding his feet. Tabitha's gaze turned to a worried expression as she took in the quake that continued to wrack his body. He continued without acknowledging this. "You aren't going in alone. I'm going in with you."