The Young Maid of the Ophelia Household

Azalea Donovan.

Gavin hadn’t expected to see her again, much less like this.

He and Sam had found Azalea and her mother years ago near the outskirts of Ophelia territory, both battered and barely able to travel. Lord Ophelia had taken them into his household afterward, and over the years Gavin had occasionally seen and even trained the quiet little girl whenever their travels brought them back through the region.

That girl was gone now.

In her place sat a young woman across from him, with Sam’s head resting comfortably in Azalea’s lap while Azalea slowly combed her fingers through her light-blue hair.

Next to Gavin sat the apparent nobleman traveling with her.

Unfortunately, he had been talking almost nonstop.

“I truly cannot thank you enough for dealing with those ruffians,” the man in white said. “Your skill was remarkable. In fact, would you perhaps consider entering my service? You are clearly far more capable than the mercenaries I’ve employed, and I would feel considerably safer with someone of your ability nearby--”

“We refuse.”

The answer left Gavin before the man had even finished.

The man blinked. “But the compensation would be quite generous. Surely working under a noble household would be preferable to wandering from place to place?”

Gavin gave him a flat look. “Still no.”

The nobleman opened his mouth again, but Azalea cleared her throat before he could continue.

“Sir Raoul, Master has never been particularly interested in settling beneath anyone’s roof.” Her hand continued moving gently through Sam’s hair. “He and…his daughter prefer to travel and take whatever work suits them.”

Gavin caught the slight pause before his daughter.

Raoul stroked his chin. “You seem to hold him in rather high regard if you call him Master.”

Azalea’s expression remained composed. “They visited our home many times when I was younger. Both of them helped my mother and me when we had nowhere else to go. I simply haven’t forgotten what they did for us.”

That seemed to satisfy him.

For the moment.

Raoul leaned back before offering Gavin an apologetic smile. “Then forgive my persistence. I meant no disrespect.”

Gavin gave a small nod.

“It seems I owe the two of you even more gratitude than I realized.” Raoul glanced toward Azalea, his expression immediately brightening. “Had you not helped her all those years ago, I may never have had the fortune of asking for her hand.”

Gavin’s attention snapped to Azalea before he could stop himself.

Her hand stopped in Sam’s hair for the briefest moment.

Raoul continued, seemingly oblivious. “I doubt I could have found anyone else quite as beautiful.”

For a moment, Gavin simply stared. His brows rose despite himself, and whatever neutral expression he had been wearing slipped just enough to give him away.

Her hand?

As in marriage?

Azalea suddenly found something very interesting about Sam’s hair and refused to meet his eyes.

“What fortune that we happened to meet here,” Raoul continued. “The wedding will be held within the next few days, with a banquet the evening before. As friends of my beloved, I would be honored if you joined us.”

Gavin opened his mouth to answer, but Azalea spoke before he could.

“Before you decide, Master,” Azalea interrupted smoothly, finally looking at him. “Perhaps you should wait until your daughter wakes. It would only be fair to hear what she thinks.”

Gavin looked down at Sam.

She was sleeping peacefully through all of this, completely unaware that a childhood friend of hers was getting married and to a noble at that.

He could already imagine her response.

Probably several responses, actually. None of them polite.

He leaned back.

“Fine. We’ll wait until she wakes up.”

~~~

After arriving in Naveia, she and Gavin had parted ways with Azalea, Raoul, and the mercenaries near the center of town. Sam had barely been awake for most of it, still heavy from exhaustion and whatever little rest she’d managed to get in the carriage.

“Master, please don’t forget to tell Sam, okay?” Azalea had said before leaving.

Sam remembered blinking at her from beneath her hood, trying to make sense of the request through the fog in her head. Azalea had lingered beside the carriage with an odd look on her face, like there was something else she wanted to say.

Before Sam could figure out what, Azalea stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her neck.

Sam jolted awake.

“Wha—”

Half a dozen questions collided in her throat at once. She looked helplessly toward Gavin, only to find him watching with far too much amusement.

By the time Sam thought to return the hug, Azalea had already pulled away.

“Sorry. It’s just…” Her voice softened.

Sam finally got a proper look at her. Azalea’s red eyes were glassy, a thin sheen of tears gathered along the edges even as she tried to hold herself together.

“I’m really glad you’re okay.”

Then she looked toward Gavin, and the tears seemed to threaten a little more.

“Both of you.”

She bowed her head and climbed back into the carriage before either of them could say much more.

Sam stood there for a moment after the door shut, still trying to decide what exactly she was supposed to do with that.

That was strange. But maybe it was a valid reaction after not seeing them for years. Sam felt bad for not reacting in a similar way.

The mercenaries offered their thanks one last time before following after the carriage, leaving Sam and Gavin alone on the cobblestone road.

Naveia was louder than Boisclair by a ridiculous margin. People moved in and out of shops beneath rows of timber-framed buildings, their upper floors leaning slightly over the street while painted signs hung above open storefronts. Merchants called from stalls wedged between stone foundations, and the smell of bread, smoke, leather, and cooked meat seemed to fight for space in the air.

Sam pulled her hood a little lower.

Whatever Azalea had wanted Gavin to tell her could wait.

Still, as she followed him toward the tavern, she caught herself wondering about it anyway.

~~~

The tavern was warm and crowded, filled with the smell of roasted meat, fresh bread, and whatever had been simmering in the kitchen all afternoon. Sam had barely sat down before ordering enough food to make up for everything she had skipped earlier.

Gavin ordered a jug of ale with his meal, insisting good food was wasted without something to drink with it.

It was only after they had settled in that Gavin finally explained everything she had missed while unconscious in the carriage. The invitation, the banquet, and, more importantly, Azalea’s apparent engagement.

“Not interested,” Sam said, scooping another spoonful from her bowl.

“I figured you’d say that.”

“Then why are we still talking about it?”

Gavin took a drink from his mug instead of answering immediately. Sam narrowed her eyes. He had been ready to refuse the invitation earlier; she could tell from the way he described it. Now he had that look he got whenever he had started thinking too much about something.

“This is Azalea we’re talking about,” he said at last. “It wouldn’t hurt to consider it.”

Sam’s spoon stopped halfway to her mouth.

“We haven’t seen her in years, and she specifically asked me to tell you. Well, leaving without saying a word was kind of our fault but...”

Sam lowered the spoon and rested her cheek against one hand. “Are you even sure they’re actually getting married? Azalea never seemed like the type to leave the Ophelia household just because some nobleman asked nicely.”

Gavin’s brow furrowed. “Well, true but...”

“See. ”

He gave her a look before conceding, “Now that you mention it, they didn’t exactly act like the closest couple. Especially for two people about to get married.”

That earned her attention, though Sam kept stirring her soup as if it hadn’t.

“And Azalea isn’t even a noble,” she added. “She’s a maid in the Ophelia household. If he’s marrying her for status, he’s in for a surprise.”

“Who knows. Maybe the man really fell in love with her.”

Sam exhaled through her nose and studied him for a moment. There was a distance in his eyes that made her pause.

“You know,” she said, deciding to turn the conversation somewhere else, “you’re getting old. Maybe you should worry about your own marriage before involving yourself in someone else’s.”

Gavin nearly choked on his ale.

Sam hid her amusement behind another spoonful of soup.

“I’m not that old.”

“Your hair disagrees.”

His hand instinctively went toward the growing white streak through his dark hair.

Sam’s mouth twitched.

“My time for that has passed, kiddo,” Gavin said. “I’m more concerned about you. Keep treating everyone like they’re an inconvenience and no one’s going to put up with you.”

“Sounds peaceful,” her voice went monotone.

“I’m serious.”

Sam scoffed. “Who’d want someone branded a traitor anyway? People care more about their names, who they’re supposed to marry, and how much gal sits in their pockets.”

“Which is exactly why I think we should go.”

Sam stopped moving her hands.

She slowly looked up at him. 

“C'mon, Teach. What would even be the point of us going there?”

Gavin only shrugged. “It’s Azalea’s banquet, and I think we should go. You’re not so heartless that you’d skip a childhood friend’s big day, are you?”

Sam narrowed her eyes at him. “That somehow makes it better?”

“It makes it worth finding out what’s going on.” His gaze lingered on her. “You’ve been pretending not to care this whole time, but you want to go, don’t you?”

Sam stared at him for a moment, then lifted the bowl and drank the rest of the soup straight from it rather than answer.

Gavin sighed. “You could use the spoon.”

She set the empty bowl down. “I was finished.”

Sam stood.

“We’re not going.”

Gavin took another drink of his ale.

“We’ll see.”

Sam narrowed her eyes at him. She hated when he did that. Was she really that easy to read?