Preparation

Roland made his way back into the camp, doing his best to keep his face from reflecting the intense feelings that resulted from his encounter with Gwen.

Finn was well, and asking for help to find him! He smothered a smile in a frown as he walked through camp on the way back to his tent. He needed to change before dinner with Titania. The woman would doubtlessly have questions about his first scouting mission, and he had a lot of emotion to hide.

He needed to not talk about his encounter with Riley, not reveal that he'd managed to out the Rhone spy at the helm of Klain, not talk about Gabe or the way he'd helped the boy escape to safety with the Fae who were now apparently friends with the woman he loved... his secrets were amassing, and quickly.

And Titania was not a stupid woman. She would find these things out sooner or later and act accordingly. He just hoped he could put off the discovery long enough to make a difference.

In the privacy of his tent as he prepared himself for dinner, he allowed himself a brief moment of letting his restraint slip. A huge grin split his face as thoughts of Serafina invaded him. He closed his eyes and relived their kiss, the way her hand fit into his as they walked, the way her cheeks filled with color when he complimented her.

He sighed, pulling on a new tunic. He wanted to be with her so badly, but Gwen was right, his place for now was here. He just hoped he could manage to get through it all relatively unscathed, and save others in the process.

Satisfied with his appearance, with effort he pulled his face into a neutral but pleasant expression before making his way to Titania's door.

As the tent flap was opened to allow him to enter, he took in the low table set with four place settings, Titania sitting at the head of the table, and frowned. Next to his ageless grandmother on one side was Duncan, and on the other was Brenna, the dark-haired woman from the dance.

Roland took in a deep breath near the door before coming to sit at his place between her and his father, across from Titania. He wanted one last taste of fresh air in case she was wearing that intoxicating perfume once again.

He sniffed the air tentatively and found, to his dismay, the peculiar scent was back. He smiled at Titania and made a brief apology for if he'd been late, since he was the last to arrive.

"Nonsense, Derek! You are precisely on time. I was taking the opportunity to catch up with Brenna, since she'd caught your eye during your celebration feast." She smiled as if she'd discovered some hidden romantic secret.

Roland smiled blandly but did not reply. The less he spoke, the shallower the breaths he could take. Hopefully that would help him avoid the deeper effects of whatever magical perfume Titania had bestowed upon the girl.

On the one hand, he was incredibly irritated by her strongly scented presence at his meal. On the other, he had to worry less about revealing any of his secrets, since Titania would not question him about military matters or things that were too personal in front of this girl.

The conversation primarily revolved around her anyway, so any variation from Roland's normal mood would likely be attributed to her company. For this, he was grateful in a measure.

The meal dragged on, and Roland hinted that he was very tired after the day of running, which was true, and intended to retire to bed early. Brenna smiled at him with her midnight black eyes implying a brazen willingness to join him, despite her coy and demure pretense.

Roland cringed, though with the effect of the perfume muddying his thoughts, it came out as more of a grin, encouraging Brenna to lean closer to him.

"I'm sure your training is completely exhausting," She purred at him. "How wise and brave you are to prepare for the coming war so thoroughly."

"It's nothing," He said shortly, leaning away to take a drink of his water. Every time she spoke the scent got stronger. He had begun to suspect it was her breath, rather than a perfume, that held the smell.

He had been offered wine, but had declined, saying he had greater need of water after a long day. He was having a difficult enough time keeping his head as it was. Though Titania put up a modicum of protest about his drink choice, she did not seem overly perturbed by it.

Roland looked to Duncan for support as the evening continued. The older man said nothing, drinking from his own cup while eyeing the girl who was leaning seductively toward his only son. Roland's eyes turned pleading, both at him and briefly at Titania, but he realized too late that what he was pleading for in this situation could be easily misunderstood.

"Derek should turn in early tonight. He's worked very hard all day, and there is a fresh batch of sparring matches tomorrow." Duncan finally caught Roland's hint.

"Yes, we wouldn't want to exhaust him. I am quite worn out as well. Derek, perhaps you could walk Brenna back to her tent before you retire? We wouldn't want to be rude to her." Titania framed it as a suggestion, but her eyes made clear that it was a command.

"Of course," Roland saw no way out of the debacle. He did not know where Brenna lived, and it was entirely probable she would take him on a route through the woods and... he didn't know quite what would happen if he got too large a dose of her smell, but he didn't want to find out.

A forced wedding to save her imagined honor seemed within the realm of Titania's schemes. He would need to be as careful as he could be and hope that would be enough.

"Don't keep him out too late," Titania chided, "We march for war within the week and need him to be in the best of shape."

"I wouldn't dare, Your Majesty," Brenna stood and curtsied deeply.

Roland froze. Within the week? He stood and managed a stiff bow, and in his distraction missed how Duncan's simultaneous rising had moved a cushion behind his left foot. Roland turned on his heel for the door and was taken by surprise by the unexpected obstacle.

The toe of his boot snagged on the edge of the cushion, throwing off his balance just enough to make him wobble. Seeing his lack of balance, Duncan's arm shot out to steady him, but Roland's tilting was already overcompensating.

He crashed to the ground of the tent, twisting his ankle in the process. He gasped in pain and grabbed it.

"Derek!" Duncan reproved him. "How terribly clumsy! We've been over several times how you need to pay constant attention to your surroundings!"

Shocked at the reproach, Roland sat on the floor in silence with his mouth open. Brenna was surprised as well, looking to Titania for further instructions. The older woman's mouth pinched into a thin line, and her eyes cut toward her son.

"Prince Duncan, pray do not embarrass your son in this way in front of others."

Roland struggled to his feet, but favored his twisted ankle with a limp.

"Derek, please go to your tent and prepare for sleep. I will bring you some tea shortly for your injury. Brenna, you may go, one of the guards will see you back. Duncan, please remain here so that we may speak."

Everyone except Duncan dispersed, following the queen's instructions. Roland refrained from giving Duncan a grateful look, as he was sure his father was already in store for a dressing-down and didn't want to make it worse with an obvious display of relief.

He was incredibly thankful that his father's quick thinking saved him from Brenna's clutches, at least for now. He limped out of the tent and turned for his own.

From the dark, Brenna grabbed his arm.

"I'm sorry for how the evening ended," She looked up at him through her thick eyelashes. "Do you need help preparing for bed? I would hate for you to injure yourself further."

She leaned close and the air became heavily laden with that intoxicating scent. He had been in the middle of taking a deep breath of the clean air outside the tent. Instead, his head swam and his thoughts ground to a stop.

"I..." He had no other words to offer in reply. His mind was lost in the fog.

"You must be stunned from your fall, I will help you," Brenna took his arm as if to steady him, and aimed him toward his tent. Roland nodded. There was nothing else to be said, and her words were perfectly innocent and logical.

He was hurt. He needed help, and she would help him. How kind of her. She was beautiful and helpful. He allowed the woman to walk him back to his tent.