Kapitel 21: Chapter 20.
A year ago.
Master had placed Charlotte against Oliver during training again. And again, Charlotte had handed the young prince his ass.
"Enough!" Master shouted after Oliver landed on his bottom again. "We resume tomorrow." he dismissed them.
Oliver liked the drillmaster for placing him against Charlotte. Most of his fellow trainees let him win without a struggle, save Charlotte and Bradley. But Bradley was not as good a swordsman as Charlotte was, and he was displeasing to be around. She was the best of them, and he was nothing but proud of her.
Most of the other male trainees despised or were intimidated by her, but Oliver couldn't help but look at her with admiration. He loved losing to her. He would lose to her every time if he had a choice.
She offered him a hand to pull him to his feet.
"At this rate, I might as well be the prince around here." she teased.
He took her hand, pulling up and bumping against her. He did not move away. He was so close, he could feel her body heat. His body stirred as he realized they were breathing the same air.
"You could be the princess if you wanted," he teased back, still holding her hand. The lack of distance between them created a tension that made the joke lack humor.
Charlotte's breath caught, and her hand became clammy with sweat. He noticed and smiled mischievously. She moved away from him and pulled her hand away, avoiding his gaze and wiping her hand on her tunic. He had made her uncomfortable.
"It's that wicked sword of yours," he said clearing his throat and trying to erase the discomfort he had created.
"You are just a sour loser," she replied, smiling. "How would I get a sword better than what the king's swordsmith can make?"
He smiled at her, shrugging, glad the uncomfortable moment had passed. However, his heart, which ached for her, would not let his smile be genuine. The pain of her cold shoulder seeped into his smile.
"You never told me where you got it by the way," she said, as she inspected the blade of the sword against the rays of the setting sun.
He could tell she was still fascinated by it, despite having it almost all their lives. He smiled proudly.
"I made it myself." he teased.
"You were ten." she threw him a careless smile behind her and rolled her eyes, leading the way to the old vineyard where they always stayed until one of them had to leave.
Usually, it was him, as John, his guard fetched him for dinner with the king. He regretted having to leave her every day, feeling like he was always pulled away while they were on the edge of breaking the wall she had intentionally built between them. A wall he hoped to break one day. Maybe if one day they stayed in the vineyard long enough, the wall would crumble on its own.
The other trainees watched them curiously as they left. 'Let them.' Charlotte had said to him when the rumors of their relationship had started. 'They will never understand.'
'Understand what?' he had asked.
'That men and women can be friends without either of them wanting something from the other.' she had answered him in that careless way she spoke, not knowing that she had broken his heart into a million little pieces.
He suspected she had said that intentionally, noticing his swaying heart. She was too smart for her good.
He watched her walk in front of him now, wondering if she would ever let him love him in his way, or perhaps even let herself love him differently.
When he looked back, he noticed that John had not followed him. The guard had long given up playing hide and seek with the prince, after all, he knew where the prince would be if he was needed.
"Hurry up old man," she said, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. "I have something to show you."
"You are not supposed to insult your prince, Lady Charlotte." He joked.
She almost threw up. "Don't call me that. You are insulting all the Ladies in the world."
"I cannot hear you, My Lady."
She stopped and turned to him. With the most exaggerated bow he had ever seen, she said,
"Your Highness, I apologize if I have offended you. Would you like my head as the prize of my atonement?"
He laughed uncomfortably. Passing her and walking away.
"Hurry up, old woman," he said.
She was right behind him as they entered the old vineyard. She dropped her bag among the rubble and joined him on the half wall, facing the west, to watch the setting sun.
She sighed. A deep satisfied sigh that brought joy to his heart.
"I'll never get used to this view," she said, lifting her face to let the rays of the sun wash over her.
He found himself staring. Her hair, pulled back in a ponytail left her face at the mercy of the rays of the sun, washing her face golden. He traced her features with his eyes, her closed eyes, high cheekbones, her long nose, her beautiful full lips... his breath caught as his eyes lingered, his body leaning instinctively toward her, bleeding for contact.
He shook his head, wiping the thoughts from his head. Charlotte remained in her utopia, unaware of his pain and discomfort.
She seemed at peace. To his eyes, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He felt he could look at her for eternity and never grow bored.
He sighed, turning his face to the setting sun, which washed the sky in an array of colors you would only ever see in the evenings and early mornings. Even such beauty could not hold a torch to what Charlotte was.
They stayed there for a while, sitting in silence and soaking in the warmth of the sun, until it disappeared behind the mountains, and a chilly air replaced it. Her head rested on his shoulder, making his head swim. She hummed to a tune he had never heard before, and their legs swung together.
"You said you had something to show me," he reminded her.
She sat up suddenly, a cold feeling replacing the place where her head had been.
"I almost forgot!" she said, jumping down to get her bag. "Close your eyes," she instructed, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
He closed his eyes nonetheless, trusting her completely.
"Come down, and put your palms out."
He obeyed.
He heard her shuffling, then stopping in front of him.
"Open."
As Oliver opened his eyes, he realized what she was placing in his hands, but his reaction was too late, and his reflexes betrayed him.
The live rat landed on his eagerly waiting palms and as the ladylike squeal left his mouth and Charlotte burst into uncontrollable laughter, it took flight up his arm to his neck where he slapped it off long after it was gone.
His heart beating ferociously in his chest, he bent and placed his hands on his knees, taking a moment to calm down. He tried to ignore Charlotte's uncontrollable laughter but only found himself joining in, sending her a glare she did not take seriously.
"Oh. My. God!" she said between breaths, clutching at her chest in pain. "Your face! You look as red as a tomato."
"It's too dark for you to tell," he replied, annoyed, but not serious.
"I don't have to see it to know," she said, her laughter beginning again.
"Stop," he said, but he was smiling, watching her face light up with joy. And like her, he did not have to see her face to know.
She stopped laughing and placed a hand on his shoulder. He pretended to be annoyed, though the smile still played upon his lips.
"Sorry," she said. She too was smiling. "I didn't know you were afraid of rats!" she burst out laughing again.
Yet, he knew she knew he was afraid of rats. In fact, his irrational fear of the small rodents had been instilled upon him by her and Frederick, when they placed a dozen rodents in his bed when he was a child.
He had woken up screaming that day, and the event had left him traumatized, much to the delight of the two tricksters.
"I'm waiting for you to stop," he said, his voice amused.
"Sorry," she tried to be serious but failed.
She stopped laughing and stood up straight, taking in a deep breath to calm herself.
"Okay," she said, pulling a scroll from her back. "This is what I meant to give you."
Her demeanor was nervous as she handed him the scroll, which he realized was a folded canvas. He had rarely seen her nervous.
His heart skipped a beat as he rolled it out, slowly, watching her anxiety grow, and relishing in the sight.
"Wow." he breathed, as his eyes landed on the rolled-out canvas.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein