#tdbexcerpt

“Revenge will not bring Faro back,” he said carefully, yet with a firmness.

There had been a time when Robin had thought of it too. Of revenge. He still remembered clearly the day when his father had told him that Farold had been killed by a bandit. At first, there had been sadness. But as the days, weeks had passed, he felt the fury Freya spoke of. However, the man that had taken a part of their family, had never been identified and was never brought to justice.

Freya laughed bitterly. “That is an awful fate, isn't it? You long for revenge, but in the end nothing of that matters. In the end you are still alone, with a hole in your heart that can never be filled.”

“You are not alone, Freya, and you never were.”

“Yet the place beside me is still empty.” Her angered voice quaked for the first time, and when she finally glanced at him, tears shimmered in her brown eyes. “He would be a great, respected knight now. He would stand here with us and speak words of encouragement while all we do now is lament about things we can never have.”

“Yes,” Robin muttered as his thoughts trailed to the jovial days of his childhood with his cousin, “he was rather good at that.”

She smiled then, sadly, but curved an arm around his waist, and he laid his around her shoulder. “You're right,” she said. “I am not alone. But my heart still aches.”

“I know.” Gently, he pulled her a little closer. “Mine, too.”

Stomach churning viciously, I brushed my hands over my wide skirts. Heavy was the gown of beautiful gold and ivory brocade, and it was adorned with small pearls and embroidery upon the bodice. 

Some moons before, I had chosen the fabric myself. Then, I had not known how swiftly the days would pass. In admiration, I had ran my fingers across the soft fabric, thinking I still had enough time to prepare myself. What had I done the past moons? Why did time fool me so?

When I looked into the mirror, a poised young woman blinked at me. A princess who had flourished, who had learnt to lock away the insecure girl that sometimes raised her quivering voice. She was still there, still whispering, but I would not give in. No longer was I that girl. I couldn't be. Not when one day the fate of a country rested upon my shoulders.

Straightening my spine, I turned my head. Once again my handmaiden had outdone herself. She had braided strands of my ginger hair on the sides of my head, yet most of it spilled openly about my shoulders. Around my forehead rested a slim coronet made of gold and rubies. Roses and suns were wrought into it, representing both my mother’s and father’s family.

A knock on the door made me flinch. I swirled around, cleared my throat silently. “Come in.”

It was my cousin. Tilda entered with a smile and closed the door behind her. “How are you feeling?” she asked as she met me in the centre of the chamber.

I shrugged. “Not as anxious as I thought I would be, but I suppose that will change once I see them.”

“They are calling your name.”

“I wish they wouldn't,” said the frightened girl in me. My heartbeat quickened.

Tilda reached for my ringed hand and cradled it in both of hers. “I can't speak for you, but I will be there the entire time. All will be well.”

“Thank you,” I breathed and gave her a grateful smile.

She stepped back, tilted her head with pursed lips that quickly unfurled into a grin. “I must say, you do look splendid.”

Tilda herself looked beautiful with her elaborately weaved hair and clad in a blue gown with gold-embroidered roses upon the bodice. Although, it was less adorned than mine. Even my mother's gown was almost plain. After all, all eyes should be on me. I was the one the crowd awaited. It was my name they shouted. The crown princess. The Rising Sun.

Side by side and accompanied by five guards, we strode through a short corridor of the keep and into the sun-drenched hall where my parents and the royal council waited for us. Tilda's parents were there, too, as well as her brothers. They all looked at me with an anticipation I hoped I could fulfil.

Through the closed balcony doors rang the wild cheers, bashing almost like waves upon rocks. I felt faint. My heart fluttered like wings of startled birds.

Father approached me and planted a kiss upon my cheek. “Are you ready?” he asked lowly, leaving his warm, ensuring hand on my arm.

I drew in a deep breath until my lungs pinched, then looked into his vivid blue eyes which were not unlike mine. “I am,” I said with a placid voice and managed a smile as I lifted my chin.

I had to be ready. My people counted on me. And I had sworn myself that I would never disappoint them.

Even as he came closer still, did she not look at him. Dirt was smudged on her jaw and a dark, red stain caked her blue wool dress, just above her hip. Blood.

With his heart in his throat, he tied Taler's reins to a young tree and patted his neck. He crouched before the girl, making sure to keep enough distance. “Hello,” he said again. “Are you hurt?”

The girl's eyes jerked opened. They widened all the more as she glanced at him, stumbling backwards with fright distorting her face. Smeared blood shimmered on her light brown skin above her eyebrow. It did not seem to be her blood, however. Earlier tears had left streaks on her dirty cheeks. She couldn't be older than six years.

“I'm not going to hurt you, I promise,” he said. “I'm here to help you. Are you hurt?” Slowly, her face softened, but she shook her head. “Do you want to tell me your name?” She shook her head again. A smart girl, he thought, then brought his lips to curl into a little smile. Placing a hand upon his heart, he continued, “I am Sir Robin.”

“You are a knight?” she peeped then, tilting her head a little. Her dark eyes looked more curious than frightened now.

Relief made him sigh. “Yes, I am.”

“Can I see your sword?”

Puzzled, he said, “Of course,” and drew his blade in a wary motion. Not his own though, but the one Jivan had given him. He held it up on blade and hilt, and she reached a hand for it. “Be careful, it is very sharp.”

Despite his warning, an avid grin unfurled on her face, but she withdrew her hand. She was unaware of the horrors that could be done with a weapon like this. “You have two?”

He followed her gaze to his gelding's saddle where his tarnished blade hung. The pommel of a golden rose blinked in what little sunlight fell through the trees. “I do. It is rather dirty, I'm afraid.” It was not wholly a lie, after all.

“Can I see?”

Uneasiness made his heart beat faster. The girl's eyes followed his motion as he sheathed his blade. “It is best that you don't see it.”

She grimaced. “But my hands are dirty already. See?” She showed him her hands – little children's hands caked in mud and blood. What horrible thing happened to this poor girl?

“I have some water,” he said. “Do you want to come and clean them?” She nodded, stepped a little closer, and he was glad to have filled his waterskin in a clear stream not long ago.

Slowly, he dribbled the water over her hands while she rubbed them together. When the water was all spilled, dirt and blood still clung to her skin. She wiped them dry on her dress, causing the blue fabric to stain even more.

“Thank you,” she muttered shyly. “You're a good knight.” She brushed a strand of dark hair behind her ear, looked between him and Taler. “I'm Edda, Sir Knight.”

“It is a pleasure meeting you, Edda.” Robin kept his voice soft and calm. Whatever horrors she had seen, she must have forgotten, dispelled them from her innocent mind. “Can you tell me where your parents are? You shouldn't be walking around on your own.”

At once he regretted his question as her eyes widened, and she threw a skittish gaze over her shoulder. “You're a good knight?” she asked silently.

“I will protect you,” he vowed.

The girl looked at her feet, fists balled into her dress. Fright shrouded her little face, and it put fright into his heart too. “There were men,” she whispered. “Bad men. My papa said I should run. So I run.”

He swallowed hard. “That was a wise decision.”

The tip of Robin's nose was reddened and surely so was hers. His cheeks were tinted in a deeper shade too, the pale freckles had vanished entirely that speckled his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. But now, from the distance between them, she could not hope to see them anyway. When first she had noticed them some moons before, when golden sunlight had illuminated his face, she had felt a tingle deep inside her stomach, just like she felt in this very moment. Since then it was impossible for her to ignore them, even if they were but faint and most likely not noticeable to others. It made him even more beautiful.

A longing filled her skipping heart. A longing to be as close to him now so that she could see them, so that she could trace them lightly and draw a kiss from his soft lips. Just some weeks before she had finally found the courage to kiss him. It had been odd. She wasn't shy, knew what she wanted most, but the fear he could not feel the same for her, that he saw her merely as a good friend, had made her hesitant for so long. But that one bright autumn day in the forest when their breaths had been rapid with the exertion of their sparring session, it had felt right. So she had dared to come as close to him like she never had before. He had called it unwise. She knew he was right. Nevertheless, he had kissed her back as though it was what he had longed for for a long time too.

And nothing had changed between them thereafter. Only he no longer was just her friend, but her lover too. It was a relief.

“It wouldn't be the first time we nearly got lost,” said Robin, and with a sigh he added, “I should have taken my map with me.”

“I know where we are,” she assured him with a smile. Taking her mare's reins in one hand, she lifted her other to mark the towering mountains beside them. “As long as we keep the mountains to our right, we cannot get lost.”

It had been some time since last she had travelled so far north. Often she had accompanied Uncle Jarl when he had taken her brother Gerard up to the White Sea. But it wasn't the sea she wanted to show Robin. It was something else.

“If we don't return by nightfall, your father will hang me.”

Tilda couldn't help the chuckle that rose in her throat. “He might,” she quipped. “But I would never let that happen. I need you.” As she realised the words that had slipped from her lips, warmth rose into her frigid cheeks.

And Robin smiled. A smile so sweet and so warm, that put a glint into his beautiful brown eyes and that filled her heart with a gentle yet ardent heat. She would never tire of the way he smiled.

As they reached the top of the hill and the promised village appeared in the distance to their left, she felt a little relief. She knew the way, had walked it many times before, but it had been over a year since last she saw this village. Thin tendrils of smoke curled up from the chimneys to the sky of sheer clouds.

“We're almost there,” she said, then pointed to her left and past the village. “Herelon should be that way, I believe. But our destination lies over there.” She moved her outstretched finger to the forest of tall conifers that sprouted before the mighty mountains, whose caps were long garbed in snow.

“I do hope it is worth the frozen fingers and toes,” Robin replied, almost morosely, but when she glanced at him, a grin curled around his lips.

She answered with a grin of her own. “I promise you it is. You will like it, I'm certain of it.” Now that they were so close to their destination, excitement put a tingle in her stomach once more.

They entered the forest on a slender path that forced Robin to ride behind her. Pine needles and cones littered the ground, crunching faintly beneath the hooves of their horses. The sweet scent of the conifers was a pleasant welcoming, and Tilda inhaled slowly to fill both her nose and lungs with the clear air.

After a while they came upon a clearing that gave view upon the majestic mountains – and a large lake that stretched before them in utter tranquillity. Almost in its centre lay a small isle with a few trees reaching their evergreen tips to the sky. The sun hid behind pale blue-grey clouds now, but it did not dull the beauty of this place in any way. Robin halted his gelding beside her, and the mirth that she felt welling up mirrored upon his face.

“This is beautiful,” he said.

“It is, isn't it?” She glanced over the still water that rippled softy in the mild wind. In the distance near the isle, a few birds drew their circles.

They left their horses by the trees, and when they approached the lake in slow strides, pebbles scrunched beneath the soles of their boots. This was peace. This was freedom. With him and alone, without any lurking eyes, without fearing anyone could see them and tell her father.

Her eyes trailed from the lake to him, rested on his comely face for a while as a warmth bloomed inside of her. The lake and the mountains were not near as mesmerising to look at as he was. She tried to make out his freckles when he spoke in a low, soothing voice.

“I'm glad you have showed me to this place.” With a smile, he lowered his gaze to her. “We should come here more often.”

Tilda leaned closer, leaned against his chest and brushed her lips over his. His nose was icy against her skin, but his lips were so warm and welcomed hers with a gentle longing. She never knew her own longing could be as overwhelming as in this moment.

When they parted, he planted a last kiss on her forehead, then laid an arm around her, pulling her closer beneath his cloak.

“Would it not be lovely to build a little house beside the lake and stay here for all times?” she asked, clasping her arms tighter around his middle, breathing in his scent and savouring the warmth.

Robin glanced back to the trees. “You better begin to chop some wood then,” he said solemnly, but quickly a grin unfurled on his lips. When he slowly turned his head, his calm brown eyes found hers, truly looked into hers, and for a moment there was silence. A soothing silence that was filled with all the words they needn't to speak out loud. They knew. And it was the sweetest sensation she had ever felt. “It would be lovely,” he muttered then. “But I'm afraid, I'm a terrible cook and so are you.”

She gave a low hum. “We could learn,” she said, and she felt her skin prickle. From the cold or something else entirely, she could not say. “Together.”

He nodded. “Together, all will be well.”

“Yes. All will be well.”