Loaded with more coin than George thought fair for capturing what were little more than angry horses, he and Melitta set off that evening in search of an inn where they could spend the night.
Yet as the sun began to sink, the largest settlement they encountered was a cluster of houses with not enough people to support an inn. One of the farmers offered space in his barn, and George was of half a mind to accept, but Melitta shook her head slightly, so he declined the offer. Instead, they bought food supplies for several days' travel and continued on their way.
By nightfall, George was ready to set up camp in the first clearing they saw beside the road. Melitta looked just as tired, so when he saw a likely spot, he called a halt. This time, she didn't argue.
They soon had a fire going, and Melitta demonstrated she was quite the expert at toasting bread and cheese.
"Where did you learn to do that?" George demanded over his third golden-brown morsel.
Melitta laughed. "In the convent, when I was a little girl. Mother loved to weave and sometimes grew quite distracted by whatever project she was working on. One of the older nuns used to toast bread and cheese for me, but she'd died of a summer fever, so I took out a toasting fork and tried to do it myself. I got burned a lot to start with, but then I got better. By the time Mother noticed, I was so good at it, I was allowed to make hers, too." She glanced at the sack of food. "Is there pork? Slices of cold roast pork or a smoked leg of ham crisp up quite nicely over a hot fire."
George dug out a joint of meat he couldn't identify in the firelight, and sliced some off for her. "If it's as good as what you do with cheese, my belly is ready to worship you and your cooking skills forever."
Melitta let out a decidedly unladylike snort. "You should see what Queen Margareta's cooks create for feast days. I can cook well enough not to starve, but they can roast meat so that it fair melts in your mouth. They can make cabbage fit for kings, and their dumplings…I used to eat so many dumplings it's a wonder I wasn't sick. I used to have competitions with the little princesses, to see who could eat the most dumplings. I was bigger, so I always won, but when the little prince joined in, he ate too many and he was sick all night. The queen forbade any more contests after that."
George's blood ran cold. One moment she was the girl of his dreams, and the next…so far out of reach his dreams were laughable. Melitta was raised with royalty, and she deserved a prince. Not him.
"It sounds so perfect," he said slowly, uncorking a skin of mead that had come with the food. He drank deeply, then passed it to Melitta. "If life in the castle was so good, why did you ever leave?"
She took a swig. "I think it was the princess's betrothal gown. She was to be betrothed to some neighbouring prince, and both of them younger than I am. I looked at the dress, and the court, and I realised that if I didn't do something, this was all my future would hold. Sewing dresses for the queen and her daughters. Watching them marry princes while I…" She sighed. "Mother offered to make a match for me. Any man I wanted at court, she said. Queen Margareta has always regarded me like one of her children, for she and Mother have been friends since I was a baby, so she would have made sure I married a man befitting my station. But when I looked at all the young noblemen, practising their archery or swordplay in the training grounds, I wanted none of them."
Melitta tipped the skin up, gulping down almost as much as George had. "It's the mind-reading, you see. It's a curse as much as it's a blessing. For all the couples who claim to be happily married, I know the truth. I know who is loved and who is not, who is terrible in the bedchamber and who is such a perfect lover anyone would swoon to be with them. I know everyone, inside and out, their secrets and their shames, and no one ever changes. I was trapped in a gilded cage from which I thought I should never get out…until that knight came. And then you, calling for those who wanted to be heroes. And you…you picked me. Out of all those boys who talked of nothing else for days, lining up to be considered for the apprenticeship…you picked me." She drank again, but spilled some of it down her tunic. Swearing, she tried to mop up the mess.
George couldn't tear his eyes away from the patch of skin showing at her belly. "What knight?" he asked, trying and failing to curb his jealousy.
"Sir…I think his name was Sir Chase. Highly skilled at archery. But not so skilled at diplomacy. He offended the queen and she banished him from her court. I never saw him but the once. It was what he said that stuck with me, though. He said a hero was more than a sword. More than his weapons and armour and skill on the battlefield. That his wit and honour were worth more than anything. And that to a true hero, every woman was equal to a queen when it came to who was worth saving."
Melitta tugged her tunic down and for the first time, George saw the dark stains across it. The cloth was torn, too, with the worst stains creeping from the ragged edges.
"Is that blood?" he demanded, reaching for the hem of her tunic.
Melitta glanced down. "Probably. I should wash. I'd intended to order some hot water so that I might bathe properly once we reached an inn, but – "
"Is that your blood?"
"I imagine so. Neither of the unicorns was bleeding."
George jumped to his feet and paced around the fire. "We should have stopped at that hamlet, where you could have received aid. We should have used some of that holy water to heal you. If I'd known you were hurt…My lady, please forgive me. Let me see what I can do to help."
"There's no need," Melitta said, yanking up the hem of her tunic so that her belly was bared. "Look, the cuts have closed already. The graze is still a little raw, I'll allow, but by morning it will have healed, too."
George's mouth went dry. He shoved away the inappropriate thoughts that crowded into his head to really look at what she showed him. He traced the line that matched the rip across her tunic. How had she not been eviscerated? "When did this happen?"
"Today, when the second unicorn charged me. I didn't move fast enough, so her horn scraped a little skin off on her way past." Melitta shrugged. "It hurt at first, but then I forgot about it. The other beast needed healing more than I did." Down went the soft wool, covering her belly.
"Today." George shook his head. It wasn't possible. "Normal people don't heal that fast."
Melitta managed a smile. "Mind-reading isn't normal, either. My gifts were never particularly useful in the castle. Now…I don't mind them so much."
"But…how?"
"When I was younger, I fell ill. So ill my mother thought I would die. The queen found a witch who specialises in healing, and she tried her magic on me. She cast a spell so powerful she fainted for days afterwards, Mother said. When I awoke, I was healed completely. The sickness was gone, and it has not returned. It wasn't until a few weeks later, when I tripped on the stairs and barked my shin, that I realised what else had changed. Within hours, my skin had healed itself, so even I could barely see the damage the next morning. I have never known a day of illness since, and all the times I pricked my fingers while sewing became little more than a momentary nuisance."
George laughed bitterly. "I wish my fairy godmother had given me gifts like yours. Instead, I think too much, so I am slow to act. But she gifted me with fleet feet, so that when I am in danger, they will take me far and fast to save me, like a coward. She gave me an enchanted sword, too, but I lost that the same day. To a dragon."
Melitta headed for her saddlebags and rifled through them until she found a fresh tunic. She turned her back on George and tugged off the torn one. He stared at the fine curves of her shoulders, her back, her hips as they framed her bottom, wishing, longing for what he couldn't have, before she smoothed a fresh tunic over all that temptation.
She flung her cloak around her shoulders and returned to the fire. She sat beside George, reaching over to pat his knee. "You're not a coward, you know. You stood at my side and shot those giants, showing no fear. Why, you even chased one down. If you hadn't run from the boar or the unicorn, both of them might have killed you. You're the bravest hero I've ever met, for you faced all of those things with a maiden at your side. I'm no hero, I know that, though I try. I couldn't kill the unicorn yesterday and when that giant tackled me to the ground, he would have killed me for certain, if you hadn't shot him first. You may not be a knight, but you have the wits and honour to be one, if you wished it." Her eyes seemed to burn into his as they reflected the flames. "Return with me to Queen Margareta's court at Aros. Once I tell her all the things you have done, she will knight you, I am sure of it."
Her hand was warm on his, but George knew he could never accept what she offered. "I cannot. I ran from a dragon once, and my cowardice still haunts me. I will not rest until the dragon is dead, or I am."
Instead of turning away from him in disgust, Melitta's lovely eyes widened. "What happened?"
Swallowing back his shame, George told her. Every painful detail, from the first folly of wanting to face the dragon in the field to his final, ignominious defeat.
And when his voice died away, he found her head resting on his shoulder, for she was fast asleep.
Laughing quietly to himself, George gently laid her on the ground and wrapped her cloak around her. He supposed his story was boring to a girl who was the earthly embodiment of the goddess of war. He banked the fire and dug out his own cloak so that he might get some sleep, too.