CONTENT ADVISORY / TRIGGER WARNING
THIS NOVEL CONTAINS DEPICTIONS/STRONG IMPLICATIONS OF THE FOLLOWING THAT SOME READERS MAY FIND OFFENSIVE OR DISTURBING:
~ ALCOHOL
"I understand, Libelle."
"For now, you're just a stranger who has pointy, pointy horns," she smiled teasingly, then she tripped as her heel caught on a loose stone and fell forward. Eskil caught her with another laugh. This was the first time he had seen Libelle like this, and although she was a handful, she was comical and made them both chuckle.
She giggled again and steadied herself as a slightly more serious look washed over her face. "He seemed okay with everything I explained to him, and he understands why I am safe-guarding you and keeping my eye on you. Despite only seeing the priests during the pilgrimage, he totally respects the priests' decisions. He said that if I feel you're not a threat, then he won't treat you as one. He wants the war with the dragons to end just as much as I do."
Playfully growling, he lifted her head. "I'll have to have a word with my brother about that, I hope you know. I haven't been very happy with him for some time, and now there's this nonsense of being a priest of Uppsala? Hah!"
Libelle smiled at his teasing then covered her mouth as she had another fit of hiccups. She turned away from him with an embarrassed blush before speedily walking away. He watched as she disappeared into the crowd they had fled from minutes before, then she returned holding two leather bound pitchers. She stopped in front of him and handed one to him with a polite smile.
"It's best to keep drinking at this point I think. I am already...hic...done for." She took a drink. "Besides, it will help with my hiccups."
Eskil laughed, deciding to at least try the beverage. He held his breath, raised the pint to his mouth and took a large gulp. To his surprise, it actually tasted good. He looked back at her while she continued to smile at him.
"It's wine. You turned your nose up at ale, so I thought you may like this better."
He kissed her forehead, leading her by her hand to walk down the dark streets again.
"So tell me, my lady," he said, mocking her retainer. "I really am curious about whose aid you had in all of our battles, as well as in your discovery of this spell of yours."
"Theron," she hiccupped. "Oh, and Berodach."
He waited until two stumbling Nords passed by them. "I'll have to punish my insubordinate lieutenant, heh, Theron. I should have known it was him."
She playfully walked into him, barging at his shoulder. "Don't be mad. If it weren't for him, would we be here now?"
"I suppose not. I'd probably be still aiming for your head." He playfully nipped her neck when they passed through the shadows of a building. "Berodach? I feel as though I've heard that name, but I do not believe I have ever met him."
She sheepishly smiled, taking another drink. "I met him in the southern isles."
"The what? What in oblivion were you doing there?"
"I was...helping a friend."
He snorted and nearly spilled his drink. "Must have been a good friend to visit the southern isles for. Do you realize you could have been killed going there? Those lands are plagued beyond belief."
"Mmhmm."
"So who is this Berodach?"
"A dragon."
"I guessed that much."
She giggled, "You can meet him some day."
They turned another corner and realized they were approaching the crowded streets near the square, so they spun around and started to walk in the other direction.
"So, tell me about your grey-skinned manservant?"
Another giggle. "Gaalin? Oh my goodness, that's a short story."
She sighed, sitting down on a bench and plucking a mature branch of lavender from its plant. Twisting it between her fingers while chewing on her lip. Eskil sat beside her, resting his arm on the back of the stone bench as she leaned into his side.
"I met Gaalin around the time I first discovered I was a slayer. He was assigned as my retainer by the king here in Edinburgh, and I believe at the time he was around, hmmm, twenty-two years old? I was still barely sixteen...just a kid myself."
"How did a teenager find herself on a chopping block in Grimsby?"
She shrugged. "Wrong place, wrong time. Anyways, he's basically been by my side since then. He swore his allegiance to me and vowed to forever be by my side. He's almost thirty now, so he should be leaving to find a bride for himself soon. It's about time anyways."
Eskil snorted and took another gulp of the wine. "I don't believe that's all. He's quite the...um...character."
"Hmm, well, how do I explain it without upsetting you?" she asked. "In appearances, Gaalin is my servant. He's also my friend, a protector, and someone who takes good care of me. He kind of reminds me of a brother, at least, he's the only thing I have to compare to a brother. He's always been pushy when it comes to me, always wanting to be involved with whatever I am doing and wanting to go wherever I go. Sometimes it becomes an argument when I want to do something by myself.
"It's been a little over seven years since you first returned to these lands, and in those years I know he's gotten more attached to me. I think he sees me as more than a friend, and more than just his lord. I'm not sure, but sometimes...the way he stares at me, it's just something more than what a friend or ally would do."
Eskil stared down into his empty pint, realizing he had drunk the entire thing while listening to her. He took hers from her hands. "Believe me when I tell you that your suspicions are not wrong. Grey skin cares for you more than I am comfortable with."
She shrugged. "He will never act on his feelings though. He's too proud. He is my servant and friend; his pride is worth too much for him to act otherwise."
"Oh, I wonder about that," Eskil said under his breath, then realized he had said the words aloud.
"What do you mean by that?" Libelle asked, tilting her head to the side.
"Ah, um, well, he just seemed a bit...off to me."
She stared at him in confusion, seemingly oblivious to the situation involving her old friend. He shook his head. "Let's change the sub—"
Eskil's eyes widened and he quickly stood up, dropping the half full pint of wine as he rushed towards the shadows of a nearby house and emptied the contents of his stomach into a bush.