Holding Hand

"Why is it not working? My magic?" she complained with her hazel eyes wide with confusion.

'How can such a rogue be so adorable?'

In Arlan's opinion, it was just a drunk talk and simply smiled at her cute tantrum.

"Spirits be damned, my magic, is it gone?" She started crying and there were even tears rolling down her cheeks. "My magic!" She glared at him. "You took my knife, now you took away my magic too. You sly robber! You evil thing! Give it back to me! Give it back!"

Arlan wanted to pinch her cheek but stopped himself. "I really should send you home. Where do you live?"

"I won't tell you. You will take my home away as well…'' This time, as she jabbed another finger in his direction, she completely lost her balance. When Arlan caught her body, she was already unconscious.

His two knights approached them. Rafal stepped forward. "Your Highness, let me carry the boy."

"I will handle him," Arlan said and held her closer. He was not willing to let his knights touch her.

"Kerry knows where he lives," Imbert remarked. "Give me a moment and we will send him back to his village."

Arlan looked at the face of unconscious women in his embrace. "No need. Get us a room in a decent inn."

It surprised Imbert and Rafal but they obeyed their master.

Rafal returned soon. "It's been arranged, Your Highness."

The tavern had a separate inn next door, and though it was neither large nor luxurious, the place was tidy and quiet.

Arlan carried Oriana in his arms and let his knights lead the way. The innkeeper greeted them and simply handed Rafal their keys. Rafal led them upstairs. "I have booked two single bed rooms adjacent to each other, Your Highness. That one is for this guy and this one's for you."

Arlan carried Oriana inside one room. Before closing the door, they heard their liege say, "Use the other room yourselves."

Rafal turned towards Imbert with shocked eyes, his expression puzzled but unable to voice his question. On the other hand, the older knight showed no reaction. He only patted Rafal's shoulder.

"Guard His Highness. I will be back."

Rafal saluted as he watched the Commander leave.

Good subordinates could guess their master's intentions and needs without them saying a word. Those drunkards who spoiled the Crown Prince's entertainment…Though Rafal wanted to deal with them himself, he was smart enough to know his commander wanted to go.

The room was clean and rather spacious. It had a single bed on the corner, a wooden chair and a small center table which had a pitcher of water.

Arlan gently placed the young woman on the bed and covered her with the quilt. He could not help but stare at her face, not because she was beautiful, but because the owner of this face had brought him a lot of pleasant surprises.

'I wonder what kind of life Shortie has lived so far. How can you be so interesting? How can a commoner girl be so smart and so skilled? To think you managed to hide your real self yet also live unrestrained among the people.

'You are even gutsy enough to blame a royal. Not sure, shall I call you brave or foolish?'

She reeked of alcohol, yet this strangely bold young woman was like a breeze of fresh air. Because of her antics tonight, she made him forget his nightmare. He felt at peace.

Arlan looked at her head which was covered in dark cloth. He knew it was hiding her long hair, and though he had the urge to remove it, he did not want Oriana to think he took advantage of her defenseless state. He simply eyed her baggy men's clothing before turning away.

'I wonder how she looks wearing a dress with her long hair flowing behind her.'

Arlan removed his outer coat and made himself comfortable on the only chair in the room. He leaned back, staring at the ceiling with his long legs stretched out on the center table.

He closed his eyes with a light smile on his lips.

Time passed by, and before he realized it, he woke up to someone's light mumbling. He did not notice when he drifted off to sleep, but it was a dreamless one.

Under the dim light of the bedside lamp, Arlan found the sleeping woman tossing about restlessly on the bed. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead, and her brows were creased as her hands covered her ears.

"Go…away…" she continued to mumble.

Arlan stood up and went to her. It didn't take him time to realize what was happening.

'She is having a nightmare.'

The prince sat at the edge of the bed, not sure whether he should wake her up or let her be. In the end, he reached out towards her arm, intending to wake her up.

As if sensing his hand, Oriana grabbed his hand with a tight grip.

Her hand was cold and her nails dug into his skin, but Arlan didn't mind it. What he noticed were the scars and calluses on her dainty hand. The rough life of a village girl living as a man. It was a telltale sign of how much hardships she had endured in life.

It was proof…that she survived them all.

Arlan let her tiny hand grab onto his. His other hand hesitantly moved to caress her head. Her current expression reminded him of a scared child, and this seemed to be the right thing to do in his opinion.

It took her several minutes to calm down but she still didn't let go of his hand. Arlan tried to pull his hand out but she seemed unwilling, as if it was something really important to her.

He sighed deeply.

'You are the one not letting go. Don't blame me, Shortie.'

Arlan made himself comfortable beside her, sitting on the bed with his back against the headboard, his hand still wrapped with hers.

His eyes soon felt heavy, and the prince fell into another dreamless sleep while holding hands with the village girl.