Ayla strode determinedly along the walkway. The guards down in the courtyard had told her that was where Isenbard was to be found, and she wanted a word with him. Turning around a corner, she saw him standing not far off, looking down into the valley, surrounded by a few guards. When he noticed her, he turned towards her and bowed.
“Ah, Milady. You’ve come just at the right time. I have something of importance to discuss with you.”
“So have I,” said Ayla. “Why is there a hole in the wall of my stable? And,” she added, sniffing and wrinkling her nose, “why do you smell of horse manure?”
“Because I haven't had time to wash it off yet, Milady,” Isenbard answered with another bow.
“Wait a minute! That's no answ—”
“Milady?” Isenbard interrupted her. “I shall be more than glad to discuss horse defecation with you at some later time. Now, however, there is something that urgently requires your attention.”
He pointed down into the valley. Distracted from her line of inquiry, Ayla looked to where he was pointing. It was a spot at the edge of the forest. There, men bearing the crest of Falkenstein were hacking away at trees. A fair number were already felled and lay on the ground. Other men were working on them, stripping off the bark and carving.
“What's this?” Ayla asked, frowning. “They're building more boats? That can't be. They're already across the river and have taken the bridge.”
“Boats aren't the only things you can build out of wood, Milady.”
She rolled her eyes. “I'm aware of that, uncle. But what, then?”
“I'm not entirely sure,” he admitted. “It looks like…” He paused, then shook his head. “No, but that wouldn't make any sense. I'm really not sure. I'm an old soldier, Milady. I am not very up to date regarding the latest war machinery.”
The sentence hung heavy in the air.
“What if there were somebody here who is?” Ayla dared to ask.
“Your merchant who is so knowledgeable about war?” Isenbard asked without taking his eyes off the soldiers at the edge of the forest.
“He isn't my merchant!”
Ayla wasn't sure, but she thought she saw a smile flit over Isenbard's normally so stern face. “Of course he isn’t. My mistake, Milady. I beg your pardon.”
“But…you were right. I was speaking of him,” admitted Ayla.
“I thought as much.”
“Do you know where he is?” she enquired.
“Celebrating his victory, most likely,” the old knight grumbled.
“What? What victory?” Ayla looked at him, perplexed, and he waved a hand.
“Nothing, Milady. No, I don't know where he is.”
“Me neither. You there!” Ayla waved to one of the guards who eagerly stepped towards her.
“Yes, Milady?”
“Go look for Reuben. Find him and bring him to me.”
The eagerness in the guard's expression vanished instantly. He took a step back. “I-I, Milady?”
“Yes, you.”
“A-alone?”
Ayla rolled her eyes. “You may take two other guards with you if you wish.”
Relief flooded the guard's face, and he bowed deeply. “Thank you very much, Milady. I shall fetch him instantly.”
He selected the two largest and most scary-looking of his companions and they hurried off toward the nearest tower. Ayla resumed her discussion with Isenbard, asking him questions about his head injury to make sure he was completely healed.
Not long afterwards, she heard footsteps approach from behind. She turned, and her mouth went dry.
There he came, striding along the battlements in full armor. The sun glinted dangerously on the red of metal and cloth, making it look like glistening, wet blood. His sword hung at his left, and a great helmet covered his face completely.
The red robber knight. He looked exactly the same as the day he had put his sword to her throat, robbed her, and left her stranded in the forest.
For a moment, Ayla wondered whether he not only looked the same, but was the same.
This was the first time Ayla had seen him in full armor. Well, except for the time he had come riding into the castle with half the enemy army on his heels—but she had been too anxious and angry back then to think much about his looks. Now, however, the sight of the figure she had feared and hated for weeks took her breath away.
It was very, very hard to remember that, underneath that coat of steel, was Reuben, the man for whom she entertained feelings that were the opposite of hate.
He came to a stop in front of her. “You called for me, Milady?”
His voice was exactly the same, too. Deep, mocking, and unbelievably arrogant. Only, maybe now there was an undertone to his voice that hadn't been there that first day. A tone of affection? A tone of…love?
He had said he loved her. But then, he had also said he was a merchant. Which, she thought as she surveyed his impressive, threatening figure, he absolutely, undoubtedly, evidently was not. If merchants had looked anything like he did at this moment, all markets would have to close down or the customers would run screaming.
“You sent for me?” he repeated, probably wondering why she was just standing there staring at him. To be honest, she was still trying to find the courage to speak to this dark specter of her past. Slowly, she took a step towards him.
“Take your helmet off, please.” Her voice was soft and hesitant—not as determined as she would have liked it to sound.
“My helmet?” He sounded confused, and that gave her confidence. This wasn't the red robber knight. He had never been confused, only bloodthirsty. This was Reuben. Or, rather, this was both of them. She needed them both now.
“Yes,” she confirmed, her voice more steady. “Your helmet.”
“All right.”
Unfastening the leather straps that held his helmet in place, he removed it and his face appeared, smiling down at her with that devilish smile she knew and loved.
“Better now?” he asked, as if he'd known exactly what she had been thinking.
“Much better.” She smiled back at him, feeling his smile warm her heart. It didn't seem to have the same effect on the guards, though. They edged away like they would from a grinning tiger.
“Come.”
Impulsively, Ayla reached out and took Reuben's hand. A perfectly natural thing, right? She wanted him to step up to a certain place on the wall, so she had to lead him there. There was nothing wrong with taking his hand. Besides, his hand felt very nice. Even through the leather of the gauntlet, it felt strong and good around hers. Something familiar to cling onto while she got used to his frightening looks.
Ayla led Reuben over to where Sir Isenbard was standing. Only then did she realize something:
somehow, Isenbard didn't seem surprised to see Reuben in full armor. Could he possibly…
She put the thought aside. There were more urgent matters at hand.
“Where were you?” she wanted to know.
Reuben squeezed her hand and gave her another smile that made her heartbeat quicken. “I was on my way to check something.”
“Check what?” she asked in a voice that sounded slightly breathy.
“Just a little theory of mine. Might not be anything.”
“Good, good…” Ayla's voice trailed off. Reuben had begun to stroke his thumb over the back of her hand in circles. The feeling was quite distracting. “Very, very good… “
“Milady?”
“Hmm?”
“You wished for my advice, I believe?”
Ayla blinked. The guards, Isenbard and Reuben were all looking at her. The latter with a slightly smug expression on her face. Flushing, Ayla tried to pull her hand from Reuben's, but he didn't let go. His smile widened.
“My advice?” he repeated, quirking an eyebrow, his thumb continuing to travel in circles over her bare skin. The fiend! He was doing that on purpose!
“Of course, your advice,” Ayla said in a crisp and business-like tone of voice. “If you would be so good as to look over there?”
Reuben gave an affected little bow. “Certainly, Milady.”
He followed Ayla's outstretched arm with his eyes, to where Falkeinstein’s men were still hacking away at the trees of the forest.
“Can you tell me what they are doing?” she demanded.