To Odelle (3)

From the edge of his vision, Mikael caught a glimpse of Talon, who appeared to be busy, probably preparing to partake with others in the upcoming group hunt.

A sigh of relief escaped Mikael's lips as he was thankful that Talon hadn't seen the moment when Nicolaus had kissed him. It would have been incredibly awkward if someone whom he considered a sibling had caught him in such a… compromising situation.

Mikael looked back at the knights and noticed them trading their swords for bows and arrows, gearing up for the hunt. Yet, amid the commotion, Mikael's eyes found their way toward Nicolaus.

He stood among the group, every inch of his appearance befitting a proficient archer. A quiver, nestled within were arrows, was strapped to his back with its leather strap across his chest, and, in his hands, a longbow stood ready.

Mikael's curiosity got the better of him, and he found himself studying Nicolaus closely. With a focused expression, Nicolaus raised his recurve brow. His calloused fingers drew back the bowstring, feeling the tension as it stretched toward its limit.

The bow responded to his touch as if it were an extension of his body. His arms moved fluidly as he pulled the bowstring closer to his chest. As the bowstring reached its zenith, he paused, his eyes narrowing in focus.

Moments later, he carefully reset the bowstring and lowered the bow. Nicolaus turned back over his shoulder and met Mikael's gaze.

Caught in the act of unabashedly staring, Mikael flinched slightly. He quickly darted his eyes away and retreated to his curiosity.

As he feigned being occupied, wandering his gaze across the campsite, Mikael heard approaching footsteps, growing closer with each heartbeat.

Nicolaus closed the distance between them. His voice was a commanding whisper that held Mikael's attention when he instructed, "See Cade or your maid. I'll be back soon."

Then, with a subtle nod, he redirected Mikael toward the camp before leaving. As the group of knights ventured deeper into the forest, Nicolaus led the way.

Mikael's watchful gaze clung to them, an unspoken wish for their safety, until the foliage swallowed their figures, obscuring them from view.

While some pursued the hunt, other knights remained stationed at the campsite to stand guard to protect the resting grounds.

When he could no longer see the figures from the forest, Mikael began to search around for Beth. He combed through every corner of the campsite, hoping to find her amidst the bustling preparation for the upcoming dinner feast.

But he found no trace of her soul despite his thorough search. It was as if she had vanished into thin air.

Instead, Mikael stumbled upon Cade, who was engrossed in meal preparations. The mouthwatering scent of food being cooked filled the air. The camp bustled with the servants chopping vegetables and tending to the evening meal that resonated throughout the encampment.

Feeling out of place amidst the whirlwind of preparation, Mikael decided to make his way back to his tent. As he traversed the campgrounds, he received respectful nods and greetings from those he passed.

When he finally arrived at his tent, Mikael drew back the flaps and went inside. A lantern hanging from a wood dimly lit the humble sanctuary.

He settled himself on the bed, contemplating the idea of a short nap after the journey. Seizing the opportunity for privacy, he began shedding his shoes, allowing his feet to breathe freely after being confined within them for so long.

He wiggled his toes and stretched them out. He had never been entirely comfortable with the shoes and would need more time to adapt.

Next, his fingers deftly unfastened the accessories that adorned his ears and neck. As he removed each piece of jewelry on him, the jewels sparkled in the dim light of the tent as he set them aside.

When he was about to recline on the bed, the sound of rustling tent flaps reached his ears. His senses perked up, immediately assuming Beth was returning to the tent.

"Beth–" Mikael began, swiveling his body toward the tent's entrance, but he saw an unexpected sight. It wasn't Beth who stood there but a very familiar maid.

Mikael realized he had made a mistake and hastily cleared his throat, his eyes widening in panic. He became frantic at the thought of her distinguishing his mannish voice.

The maid entered the tent with a basin of warm water and a fresh towel. Accompanying her was a subtle scent of fragrant oils. "I thought you would enjoy a foot massage, my lady," she said, seemingly oblivious to Mikael's internal worry.

Mikael contemplated her offer for a moment, his thoughts in a whirlwind. The idea of a foot massage was undeniably tempting, especially when his feet were sore and weary.

Yet, he couldn't dismiss his lingering skepticism toward the maid that was rooted in her past behavior. The memory of her past behavior made Mikael doubt her. He couldn't help but harbor a nagging suspicion that motives might be concealed beneath her seemingly genuine offer.

Still, despite these reservations, a soothing massage was too tempting to resist. With a subtle nod and a cautious smile, he accepted her offer.

The maid approached him and placed the basin on the ground, positioning it within easy reach of Mikael's outstretched feet.

As the maid began to prepare for the massage, Mikael's thoughts wandered to Beth's whereabouts. 'Where's Beth?' he wondered, hoping she would return soon.

Meanwhile, the maid knelt gracefully before Mikael. She dipped a cloth into the warm water and gently washed his feet. The sensation of the soothing water, coupled with the towel's softness, brought ease to Mikael's weary feet.

Then, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small bottle of fragrant oil. She removed the cap, the fragrance wafting through the tent, and poured the right amount onto her palms.

Her nimble fingers started to massage Mikael's feet; each stroke melted away the tension in his muscles, and Mikael couldn't help but let out a small sigh of contentment.

He had been enduring the discomfort of his twin sister's high-heeled shoes. Each step had demanded careful and occasionally awkward stirs, exacting a toll on his feet.

The offer of a foot massage arrived just at the right time, almost like fate had reached out with a helping hand to give him a break precisely when he needed it the most.

As the maid worked her fingers, easing the tension and discomfort that plagued Mikael, he asked in a hushed tone, "By the way, what's your, cough, name?" His voice trembled slightly as he tried hard to keep up his act.

The maid looked up for a moment, which made Mikael a bit nervous. He hoped his voice hit the high pitch he was going for, and that the strain did not blow his cover. Anxiety bubbled up inside him as he waited for her to answer.