The river is sparkling in the sunlight. I take a dip and return to the shore frozen but energized. I search the nearby bushes for the fishing rod I left there, and then I get to work.

The fish doesn't bite at first, but after about an hour my luck changes, and within ten minutes there are three carps splashing in my dented tin bowl. They aren't too big, but they're something to begin with. We could cook them with asparagus, and even if it's not the kind of meal Hadrian dreams of, I'm sure he'll devour it all the same.

The thought of him makes that feeling reappear again—a warm, cozy sensation in my chest. It's good to know he'll be there when I come back, and we'll cook and eat and talk and probably make love again. 'I could get used to it', he said. So could I. I could get used to waking up and going to sleep with him tucked under my arm. With all the nobility and glitter stripped off, he's not so bad. We could stay here until everybody forgets about us, and then we could...what? Go someplace else? We'll still be recognizable—with my eye patch and his well-known appearance. Maybe we could get on a ship and leave for another kingdom? He wanted to see the world. I've never dreamed of that, but I guess I could do it with him—for him.

The sun stands high in the sky when I pick up the bowl, hide my fishing rod again and start on my way to the hut. The sunshine trickles down through the leafage, coloring the moss in bright shades of green. I walk slowly, looking under my feet in search for some mushrooms to complete the meal, listening to the breeze in the trees, and the tweeting of the birds.

Then, another sound comes—a horse's neigh.

I stop in my tracks, a cold sensation spreading all over me. A horse? The last time I saw horses in this forest was when the tax gatherers came to kill my parents and steal my brother.

A horse squeals again, and then another one.

I drop the bowl and run.

It feels like the trees are conspiring against me, every branch trying to grab me, to slap me in the face, every fallen tree threatening to send me tumbling to the ground. My progress feels infuriatingly slow, like running in a dream, escaping from some nightmare monsters. Except that now I'm not escaping but running towards them, hoping it's not too late.

The sounds are getting closer, more whining and nickering, until I don't know how much of what I hear is real and how much is amplified by my panic. It sounds like the forest is full of goddamn horses by the time I see a glimpse of the roof among the trees. I burst into the opening in front of the hut, and the nightmare becomes the reality.

There are horsemen in front of the hut—knights, judging by their clothes and the spears in their hands. I can't even count how many of them are there, since they keep moving, riding around in a rough circle, in the center of which I see Hadrian.

He's clenching my sword with both hands, ready to fight, his knees slightly bent, his eyes darting around. He's shifting constantly, prepared to meet the first blow wherever it might come from. It's useless, though—the riders are all around him, and if one of them decides to stab him in the back, nothing will prevent that. He's still barefoot and wearing the pants and the shirt I saw on him this morning that seem particularly dirty and ragged in contrast to the rich attires of the riders. He seems so small and helpless compared to them that my heart clenches. There's too many of them, and we only have one sword and, inside the hut, a dagger and a couple of rusty knives. Not nearly enough to make a stand.

I pick a thick stick from the ground, swing it like a club and run forward. The riders notice me and their circle breaks, some of the horses whining and backing away. I take a place back to back with Hadrian.

"Bruno," he breathes out. "So good to see you."

"Who are they?"

"I don't know. They just...came."

The relentless motion of the horsemen around us slows down and then they make way for a new rider. A tall knight enters the circle, his face mostly concealed by his iron headpiece. He stops his horse and towers above us, and with the sun in my eyes I can't quite make out his features. Yet he seems familiar, and the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me that whatever our previous encounter has been, it wasn't a pleasant one.

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