[Story will be available on Radish] Prince Benedikt is on a mission to find his True Love, but more so, he has a duty to his kingdom to fulfill. As a prince of Stalvart, he must find his True Love by his twenty-first birthday. At twenty-one, he will...
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Benedikt woke after the most restful sleep he'd gotten in weeks. The sun was already shining when he poked his head out of his tent, and Moose slaved diligently over a breakfast of some sort. He wondered why no one had woken him for his turn on patrol, but he didn't mind too much.
He milled about the camp, helping Moose with the breakfast while he waited for the others. Grielle finally emerged from her own tent, her hair in a charming disarray from sleep. He'd kissed her. And his steadfast, talented, marvelously gifted captain had kissed him back. He hadn't planned to do it, but he certainly didn't regret it.
He'd been feeling something for her. That feeling begged to be addressed. It was on the tip of his tongue, aching to burst forth so much that he had to resist the urge to scream it across the campsite. That kiss had meant something to him, and he needed to know what it meant to her. He left the half-peeled potato he'd been working on with a bleary-eyed Berne and strode over to meet her, a grin stretching across his face.
Grielle breezed by him without so much as a glance, and his cheerful "good morning" lodged itself in his throat. Confused, he spun around and watched her take a seat beside Berne. Benedikt walked back to the fire and took a seat opposite her. Had he missed something? Every inch of him ached to have her look at him again, but her eyes seemed distant and cold, as if she saw right through him. He wondered what had happened between their kiss and now to make him so invisible to her.
As Reyn returned from the stream, several full wineskins slung over her shoulder, Yorick and Ludvig wandered in from patrol. They each found seats around the fire and accepted breakfast from Moose — after he was sure he'd properly seasoned the potatoes.
Grielle avoided his gaze through the entire meal, her eyes never straying from the bowl in her lap. Unable to look at the top of her head any longer, Benedikt stood and crossed the clearing to stand right in front of her.
"We need to talk," he said firmly.
"Absolutely," she replied with something that sounded like anger in her voice.
Benedikt headed into the woods away from camp, nerves turning his gut into knots; Grielle followed a few paces behind. Once they were out of earshot, Benedikt turned to face his icy captain. "Is everything okay?" he asked hesitantly. The look of indifference on her face terrified him to his very core. He reached for her hand, but she pulled it back out of his reach and clasped her hands behind her back.
"Everything is fine," she replied, giving him a look of mild confusion.
"Listen, there is something I have to tell you," he said. "I don't know what came over me last night, but I must tell you how I feel—"
"Stop," Grielle said. "Last night was a mistake. I'm sorry if I led you to think there was something between us when there wasn't." Her words were deliberate, almost forced. As if she had rehearsed them.
