Neither John nor I moved until Falco disappeared out of view. I could breathe again, but my ribs stung. John wanted to say something, and I shot a look, don’t. He opened the doors wider. Swallowing down the pain, I followed his lead. We slid inside the office and I closed the door, watching John sit in the chair.

He had a bucket of water and a clean cloth beside him. Sitting in a chair behind him, I dipped and rung out the rag. My hand paused, hovering over the burns of a cross I help make. Sections were raw as if no scab would form to cover the raw flesh underneath. A pungent smell threatened of infection building. Sighing, he tensed his shoulders. I jerked to move and stopped again, unsure if he would be ready. Leaning harder against the chair, John prepared himself and I began cleaning the markings.

“I don’t know which of us is the bigger moron.” Hissing from the wet cloth touching his charred skin, John broke the silence. “Do you have to scrub so hard?”

“It wouldn’t be this bad if you hadn’t been so careless.” My eyes fell to the blood-soaked shirt and coat. “You should have told me. When did it start bleeding again?”

The muscles in his back tensed, “On the walk here, we weren’t even halfway, when it started. You would have wanted to stop, or worse, convince me to turn around and wait another week. It should be healing better than this, don’t you think?”

“I think Bishop Marquis enjoyed pressing it too deep. You ruffled his feathers.” Ringing out the cloth, I placed it over the cross. “It’ll be less of a nuisance if we can keep it clean.”

“So, is that our horse out front?” He placed his chin on his forearms. “Does it have a name?”

“He has a name; Basque.” Digging into the satchel, I grabbed a few buzz buttons and dropped them in a mortar.

“Basque.” He echoed, “He’s got wit to him then.”

“Without a doubt.” Spitting into the bowl, I used the back of my knife to smash the ingredients together.

“Did you just spit into that?” John turned, glaring at me. “Are you going to rub spit on my back?”

Pausing, I looked to him and the bowl again. “Yes.”

“Ugh, it’s like living with Grandpa all over again.” John covered his face. “Got an infection? Let me chew on this root and spit it on there. Got a bee sting? Let me chew–”

“–on some tobacco and spit it on there.” Laughing, I kept working the ball-shaped buds into a mash, spitting again. “I got my share of that one after I made the mistake of not checking the tree before hitting it with the axe.”

“Ha! That’s exactly what I did!” We were both laughing now.

Shaking my head, I managed to make a paste. “Not sure how well this will work. Going to hit the worst areas first and work it in.”

“How'd you find out about the buzz buttons?” John’s back muscles twitched as I pulled away the wet cloth and dabbed the paste on an angry spot. “Grandpa?”

“No.” Each flourish and line of the branded cross felt rough and agonizing under my fingers. “I remember a maid had a toothache and carried some in her pocket. She thought it would be funny to let me try one.”

“What did it taste like?” With each touch, his muscles would tighten and release. “Though, I imagine your mouth went numb as hell, it’s working better than I expected.”

“You might as well chew on hay.” Digging out the last of the paste, I worked over the cross one last time, cursing Bishop Marquis, you’ll never touch John again. “My mouth was numb for hours, but taste was still there. Everything was salty. I don’t see how she could chew on them all day, but her tooth had to be pulled by the blacksmith in the end. She gave them to him for burns. It all just stuck with me. Never know if I might need to know that information.”

“I see.” His shoulders were relaxing, “And what’s in that jar?”

“A special blend by the herbalist, Madame Plasket.” Cracking open the jar, I cringed. “And it smells like horse piss.”

John covered his mouth and nose, “It might have horse piss in it.”

Another wave of laughter erupted between us.

The numbness made spreading the ointment easier on us both. It brought little reaction as I worked his back over, my fingers diving in and out of open flesh, desperate to relieve John’s pain. The way his spine dipped inward and back out were well-made from training. He hadn’t sat at a desk studying, but had done his share of sword practice. Lost in the task before me, my thumbs worked downward to the end of the cross at the top of his hip. I dipped my fingers into the vile smelling concoction and worked my way across his shoulders. The top of the cross rested just below the nape of his neck. John leaned into the pressure of my fingers, enjoying the way I massaged the ointment into his tense muscles. Heat rose in my cheeks and I froze.

Shit, I’m falling for him all over again, I pulled my fingers away, wide-eyed. I love him, but he’s a priest and I’m a, I was... I was over him, when he didn’t come back, I swore…

“Why’d you stop?” One blue eye looked over his shoulder and I spun away. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m finished.” Closing the jar, I shoved stuff back into the satchel to hide my flushed face. “It’s dark, we need to go.”

“Oh,” he stood stretching, “That feels much better. I can move easier.” His hand grabbed my shoulder and my heart sped up. “Dante, thank you.”

My eyes caught a fresh shirt on the desk. Grabbing it up, I threw it in his face. “Get dress, I’ll get the horse ready.”

By the time he pulled the cloth off his face, I had slipped out of the office door. Rubbing my jaw, I paced down the aisle in disbelief. Ribs throbbing, my face swollen, I was too overwhelmed by my revelation to care anymore. When I started this path, I hadn’t expected to feel so worked up around John. The way he carried himself, the confidence which grew in the most pivotal of moments was exciting and dangerous. He had been in pain all day, I knew it to some degree, but the stained shirt still laying across the other chair spoke volumes. The strength and will power he held was breathtaking, and I loved seeing it, being part of it, and I wanted more of it.

Basque lifted his head, snorting at me when I slipped out of the front doors. He shuffled his feet, ready to go. Much to my surprise, the church doors banged shut and John was locking them. Slung over one arm was the blood-soaked priest’s jacket, leaving nothing but the white blouse. The cotton was thin, spotting from the ointment, the cross visible even in the faint moonlight.

“Here,” He bumped pass me while shoving the jacket into my chest, eager to greet Basque. “He’s huge.”

“He’s a pain to saddle up, but well trained.” Basque nuzzled John’s hand, instant acceptance. “I’m jealous, I had to use sugar cubes.”

“I make friends easily, I suppose.” He rubbed down the horse’s neck and shoulder. “Tight muscled. He’s hungry for work, huh?”

“Yea.” Sighing, I realized we had one horse and two men. “I can walk back while you ride him.”

John turned with a frightened expression, eyebrows high, “I’ve never ridden a horse.”

“I find that hard to believe.” The jacket was sticky with blood, but I shoved it on top of everything inside the satchel. “Well, I guess you can sit up front and–”

His face twisted, “Did you forget about my back so quickly?”

Heat rose in my cheeks, making them throb from Falco's hits. I was thankful it would hide the blushing for now. “Are you going to be okay riding behind me?”

“As long as you don’t mind me holding onto you.” Scratching his jaw, John confessed, “I’d hate to fall off a horse this tall.”

Swallowing back my nerves, I placed a foot in the stirrup and launched myself onto the saddle. Sliding forward in the saddle, I slid my foot out of the stirrup. It took him some effort to get his foot into it. Gripping my arm, I pulled him up. He landed heavy on the saddle and Basque neighed, nipping at my leg in complaint. John looked pale and dizzy looking at how far off the ground we sat. Shuffling closer, he slid his arms under mine, gripping upward onto my shoulders.

“I find it hard to believe you’ve never been on a horse.” Chills waved over my skin, his body pressed against mine and the strength in his arms stirring emotions. I’m going to die of a heart attack if my heartbeat doesn’t slow down. I feel like a young girl fawning over her crush.

“I never said I haven’t been on one.” He corrected, “I was a small child, and the horse wasn’t this big. How can you relax, my legs hurt because he’s so wide.”

“Who said I was relaxed?” My heart was pounding and Basque’s heavy trot made John press firmer against my back. He’s so warm; I can’t say I’m not happy about this circumstance.

“You were meant to ride a horse.” John was mumbling, his forehead resting between my shoulder blades. “You belong up high, you deserve to be seen.”

“I think I’m definitely above everyone in this saddle, John.” I was dodging what I knew he meant. He means as a Prince. How much did the carpenter tell him?

Nodding to the guards, they gave us more than enough space to ride through the gate. It was hard to gauge if Basque intimidated them or if they had been informed whom the priest’s servant had been; the lost prince of Glensdale.

The carpenter remembered me, the same with the herbalist and even Duke Chapman. Then, the way John addressed and shielded me from Falco. Our conversations filled with carefully chosen words. No one had been fooled by my new appearance, but I’m too afraid to ask John how much he has figured out. He must know by now who I am, but does he know of my past? That once Falco and I were lovers long before I entered his life on the farm?

Fingers gripped my shoulders tighter, the city fading behind us on the road. John nuzzled my back, his cheekbone pressing against my spine. My entire body was on fire from the spinning thoughts of desire.

This is torture. If I could, I would give him all of me, but being his sword and shield will have to be enough. I can’t be the reason he strays from his path. The way he looks at me, it just reminds me of the day he left.

It didn’t take long before we were deep in the woods. John was pressing his weight ever harder onto me. His hands slid off my shoulders and gripped my shirt. Knuckles dug into my chest and abdomen while the muscles in his arms tensed to keep hold. Shifting in the saddle, I tried to coax him to move them elsewhere, my ribs tender from Falco. Basque high stepped over a fallen tree and John’s hands landed heavy onto my upper thighs. My back straightened, face hot, and his hands gripping. I moaned escaped my lips before I uttered words.

“J-john?” His head was sliding across my back, “Shit, he’s falling!”

Dropping the reins, I gripped his wrists and lugged him forward. His face smashed between my shoulders and sent him in a startle. John’s arms jerked upward, returning to their first position of gripping my shoulders. Fingers dug in, leaving my muscles aching under the strength they carried, and I swallowed back the arousal building against my will.

“Did I fall asleep?” The tension in his body made him feel like a brick wall behind me.

“You started to fall.” I inhaled, unable to voice my feelings or reveal the new discomfort building sparked by the moment. “We’re almost home.”

“Are you feeling ok?” John relaxed again, his grip softening. “You're burning up, and sweaty.”

At least he can’t see my face or the front of my pants. “I’ll be ok. Ribs are tender and I still need to take care of Basque.”

“I can help y–”

“You need rest.” I shifted in the saddle, agonizing as I rolled my shoulders. “You’ve never cared for a horse, I have. Leave it to me. There will be plenty of time to teach you later.”

John let out a heavy sigh. His hands slid away from my shoulders, gliding across my body like hot silk and I cursed under my breath. John’s hands rested on my hips, and a million jaded thoughts longed to have his hands fall and grip me once more. To explore more of what my body had to offer. This is nothing like when I was with Falco. The way I want him to touch me, kiss me, lay with me.

We broke through the tree and Basque halted hard. John slid forward and we both stiffened. I hadn’t been alone in my agony. In an instant, John dismounted and into the cabin before I could react further. Covering my face, the heat of my want should have been steaming into the cool night air. Basque flicked an ear and nuzzled my leg, ready to be unsaddled.

“I’m so glad it’s dark out.” After the throbbing subsided, I hopped off Basque and tied him to one of the porch posts. “I don’t have much grass, but we’ll bring the wagon tomorrow and bring back hay and feed.”

Walking over to the water pump, I filled the larger bucket with water for him. He slurped it down, swatting his tail with glee. Making it inside the cabin, I found John passed out, laying diagonal across his bed. He was on his belly, the door still open to his room. Closing it, I went to the far corner, pass the fireplace where I slid a chest off to the side to reveal the cellar door. It creaked as I tilted it up and climbed down the ladder into the dark abyss below. Every time I came down there, I marveled over how long it must have taken the old man to build and dig it all out. It was large and long, not entirely under the house.

The old farmer had prepped it so he could hide. In the farthest section was an assortment of weaponry and armor which I wasn’t sure John knew about. Regardless, I was after some old sweet potatoes in a basket by the ladder. You couldn’t see the entirety from there, even with a lantern. The shelves obscured and shrunk the initial impression. Slide between a few rows of jars and dried good, the room was wide and open.

Prepare yourself to fight anywhere. Echoes of the past nipped at me as I left. Go nowhere without a sword.

I had made that mistake. If I had a sword, I could have taken Falco down and freed every one of his stigma. Pulling out my knife, I cubed the two sweet potatoes out on a tin plate. It wasn’t much, but Basque was enamored with the new treat I had provided. Content he would be fine till morning, I ventured back inside. Bringing a lantern into my room, I dropped the satchel on the floor and pulled off my shirt. Purple and blue splotches painted one side of my body. Falco had an inhuman –no, indaemon amount of strength. Cursing under my breath, I pressed to gauge the extent of my injury. I’m lucky, none seem to be broken. It had hurt like hell with each hard jar of Basque’s canter, but all I could think is how John had held his own pain and where he placed his hands.

Laying back, I covered my face. Thoughts of hands gripping my thighs rushed back. I held my breath. Falco had even seen through me before I had allowed myself to consider the fact the tension between us was simply the fact, I love John. To make matters worse, Falco wanted me and John. To him, I was the prince he could dominate over, and John was the play thing to punish me with at every turn.

I can’t let him do this; I won’t let him do this. If he thought I would submit to him like I’d done so long ago, he’s wrong. I’m not that person anymore.