Hunger woke Melitta. She stretched, stiff from sleeping on the ground, but she'd been too tired to care. Judging by the light, it was mid-afternoon – she'd slept half the day. Not nearly long enough, but she was too hungry to stay asleep. What she wouldn't give for a plate of stew like she'd eaten last night. Or a chunk of roasted boar…
She'd killed the beast. King Erik had always made a point of offering the first morsel of meat to the hunter who landed the killing blow at hunt feasts. Those townspeople owed her that much. Ungrateful peasants.
"Sir George," she called, softly at first, then a little louder, until the cloak-shrouded form on the grass shifted.
"Mmph?"
"Sir George, perhaps we should seek out an inn, for a bed and a meal. Where are we headed next?"
George sat up and glared at her. "And pay for it with what? Do you have any money on you to pay for room and board? Mine is in my saddlebags, in the stable with the horse you insisted we leave behind."
Melitta's mouth dropped open. No money? No…meal?
"But they were going to kill us," she said.
George snorted. "So you say. But what do I have except your word for it? If you read minds so well, what am I thinking about now?" He closed his eyes and bared his teeth.
Melitta swallowed, then bit her lip to read his thoughts. "You're…you're thinking it's my fault we're out here with no money and no horses. If I'd trapped the boar properly, none of this would have happened." For a moment, her heart constricted in her chest. He was right. If the boar had stayed in the trap instead of escaping…
She'd heard the latch click shut.
Melitta jumped to her feet. "I shut that gate. You must have opened it when you leaned on it to throw your spear. Or the pig burst it open when it charged. At you. This isn't my fault. This is yours. And what kind of hero runs away, anyway? If you hadn't run, it wouldn't have chased you. You're a coward, Sir George. You don't deserve to be a knight!"
George winced. "I'm not."
"You are a coward! I saw you! I killed the beast, not you! You couldn't even stab it properly when you had it penned in the bakery!"
George rose. "I'm not a knight."
Melitta couldn't seem to find the words to respond. Finally, she managed to say, "What are you, then?"
"A hero who wants to slay a dragon."
Her mind whirled. "You mean you've never slayed a dragon before? What did you do, run away from that, too?"
George bowed his head. Melitta didn't need to read his mind to know what that meant.
"Coward! Lying, cheating coward! You said you wanted to train me to be a hero, when you wouldn't know a hero if one danced naked before you. I'm more of a hero than you'll ever be. At least I slayed that boar!"
"And a dozen with one blow before that, in case I forget," George muttered.
The taunt barely stung, coming from him.
"I demand you take me home," Melitta insisted.
George spread his arms wide. "I'm not stopping you."
Melitta set her hands on her hips. "A lady must have an escort. An armed escort. You might not be a knight, but I am the daughter of one. The daughter of a knight and his lady, and a lady of Queen Margareta's court, no less."
George's breath hissed out through his teeth. "A lady? Are you serious? A lady who ran away from court to chase dragons? I'm surprised we made it this far without your knightly father coming to drag you back home. He should be along before nightfall, if we're lucky."
"He's dead. He died defending the convent where I was born. He's a saint now," Melitta said.
George sketched a sweeping bow. "My condolences, then."
"My lady." Melitta said through gritted teeth.
"What?"
"My lady. You might not be a knight, or any kind of nobility, but you will address me properly," Melitta replied.
George unfastened a pouch from his belt and tossed it to her. "Well, then, my lady, how about you light a fire and start making us something to eat, while I go get some more firewood for tonight. Because if your saintly father isn't going to come riding in here on his heavenly steed, this is where we're camping. In case you didn't notice, we took the south road out of town, and no one else has passed this way all day. Unusual, given it's usually such a busy trade route between the town and the sea. The next inn is a day's ride, or several days on foot, but that's the least of our worries. This road is rumoured to be home to a particularly nasty band of bandits with considerable bounties on their heads. They may or may be giants, according to some of the stories."
"Giants." Melitta couldn't keep the disbelief out of her tone. "Everyone knows there's no such thing as giants."
"People say the same about dragons. Do you believe in those?"
Suddenly, Melitta wasn't sure. If George had lied about being a hero who could teach her things, had he lied about the dragon, too?
"Maybe?" she ventured.
He nodded slowly. "That's fair. Until I saw the beast with my own eyes, even I couldn't be sure. I may not be a knight, or any kind of hero of renown, but I swear I will kill that dragon. And if you stick with me, I'll show the beast to you."
Melitta curled her lip in disgust. "Why would I stick with you at all?"
George's smile was grim. "Bandits, remember? Even if they aren't giants, two against a band is better odds than one girl with a dagger."
Despite herself, Melitta shivered. She didn't want to admit it, but he was right. "Fine."
"I'll be back soon, then," he said, striding through the trees.
"Wait, where are you going?"
He stopped. "To get firewood, of course. While you start a fire and make the evening meal. Can you handle that, my lady? Or will you need servants to do it for you?"
"I was raised in a convent before my mother and I came to court. We all had chores to do. I'm not some useless princess, you know. In case you forgot, I killed that boar."
George inclined his head. "So you did. Maybe you can use your skills to catch us something smaller for supper." And with that, he vanished into the forest.
Melitta swallowed. Even if there were bandits on this road, it wasn't like they had anything to steal, she consoled herself as she set about finding some kindling for the fire.