The King’s Lover

Rose woke up to loud knocking. She winced as she slowly opened her eyes, wondering who could be bothering them so early in the morning. She sat upright on her makeshift bed.

She lifted her hand to rub her eyes but only ended up shivering. Rose swore—the fire might as well have gone out. There was only a little coal burning and no wood.

Her eyes widened in horror. She rubbed her palms together and rushed to her mother. Her lips looked more bluish than normal. Rose immediately panicked, and one glance around the room told her all she needed—her father was not home.

"Fat'er," she called, just to confirm, but she got no response.

"Maybe he went to get wood," she muttered aloud to herself.

She adjusted the covers over her mother, but she knew she would have to get the fire burning soon. Unfortunately, except her father had a stash of wood somewhere, the wood her father would bring would be green wood.

She had noticed there wasn't any wood in her room which also served as a store. Usually, her father stored more than enough for winter, and before she left there was still some stacked. There was no way her father would overlook something so important—it was his job—but it was clear he hadn't been able to do that this winter.

Rose swore again. They would have to manage with the green wood or dried twigs and smaller sticks. Green wood would smell terrible and smoke up the entire house, but at least it would still offer warmth, while twigs and small wood would not be enough. Though burning green wood might offer warmth Rose was worried about her mother staying in these conditions.

If things were fine, she would have had no issues going over to Ander or Emma to borrow some wood. They had done it for each other countless times before. Her father always had enough wood for winter.

The bang at the door made her jerk. She had completely forgotten someone was knocking and had been wrapped up in figuring out what to do about the cold.

Rose bit the inside of her cheeks and wrapped her arms around her body as she walked to the door to see who was calling at such an hour. It wasn't exactly too late—she realized she had overslept and wondered why her father hadn't woken her before heading out.

She pulled open the door and narrowed her eyes at two people she didn't immediately recognize. Her first instinct was to close the door, but that would have been rude, especially since the men stood outside with their hands full.

"Rose," a stern voice said. Neither of them seemed impressed to be outside in the snow, especially since Rose had taken so long to come to the door.

"Good day to you, sirs. I think you might be at the wrong house," Rose said but a part of her wished it was otherwise.

She looked from one to the other. They glared at her, but the more they looked, the more familiar they seemed.

"Nay, tha young knig't requested we bring tis. And do ye sleep like tha dead? We 'ave been knockin' since dawn," one of them said rudely.

Rose doubted the last part was true—her father would have seen them if they'd been here that early—but she couldn't dwell on it. She was too distracted by the man's first words.

"Lord Thomas?!" Rose yelled, her eyes bulging. "Lord Thomas asked you to bring this here?!" Her voice rose with each word.

There was a cart that left a trail at the entrance of her house. They had clearly drawn it here and used it to bring a load of items. The men held wood, and she could still see other things piled in the cart.

Something told her all this came from the baron. No wonder the young men looked familiar—they worked in the baron's mansion.

One of them scoffed. He was shorter, but more muscular, with a small scar across his lips. Both wore hats, and though they stared equally, the shorter one's glare was sharper.

"Move out of tha way," he said. "Unless ye want to take all tis in by yerself. Yer welcome to do tha."

Rose shook her head and slowly opened the door wider. She peeked out and saw some of her neighbors shuffling outside. She raised her hand in greeting, but they turned away.

Rose felt her heart squeezed but their actions couldn't dull her spirits. There was wood. She could cry. Did Thomas realize they didn't have enough? But to go so far as to ask the baron to give this to them… wasn't that too much?

She didn't have time to dwell on it. The men dropped the cut wood inside. This must have been from the baron's winter stock. Rose felt nervous about accepting it, but it would certainly be better than the green wood or whatever her father might return with.

The men were still carrying in the wood when Rose began setting some aside for the fireplace. There wasn't any time to waste, and with the door open it was only getting colder. She didn't want her mother's sleep disturbed.

Rose laid the wood diagonally and blew on the dying coals. She prayed it would be enough to catch, or else she'd have to find something quick to burn.

At last, the flame licked upward, first a faint orange glow, then sparks, then a fragile crackle of fire. Rose let out a long sigh of relief and rubbed her hands near the warmth.

The room wouldn't immediately start to get warm but as long as there was fire, they would be fine. She turned her head to look at the men just as she heard a loud sound.

The door had been shut loudly and a lot of items lingered by the front door. Woods were gathered together. The men had not done a decent job, they had just haphazardly tossed the wood. Rose didn't care, just having the wood was a miracle in itself.

Her gaze moved to the other pile and Rose could scarcely believe her eyes. The men hadn't only brought wood.

"Is that a coat?"