A knock suddenly resounded at the door. Rhones Lord knew who it was and remained unfazed, continuing his meal as if nothing had happened. The Queen, however, was not so composed. With a forceful shove, she pushed the man lying against her chest away and hastily grabbed a bedsheet and her nightgown to cover herself. "I told you, not now!" she snapped, her eyes blazing.

The knight silently rose from the bed to answer the door. The heavy wooden door creaked open just a sliver. "Blancheless," Rhones Lord said irritably, clearly displeased at being interrupted during his time with Claire. Yet, upon second thought, he recalled that he himself had ordered the maid to bring the drink, leaving him no grounds for complaint. Blancheless blinked nervously, her gaze timid as it met the knight's. "Sir Knight, this is the milk prepared by Archmage Hamilton. It contains sweetgrass and a hint of hibiscus, which aids in sleep..."

Rhones Lord responded dismissively, reaching for the tray. (Not that she'll need it anytime soon.) The thought of the creamy aroma crossed his mind again. "However..." Blancheless said as she handed over the tray, "Did I come too late? After all, both you and Her Majesty have already had your milk, haven't you?"

The knight flinched, nearly spilling the milk. "Ah, my apologies," she said, steadying the tray. "It's my fault, really, saying things I shouldn't." The knight could only stare at her in disbelief. Blancheless lowered her head, "In that case, I shall take my leave." After a courteous bow, she added playfully, "Next time, remember to wipe your mouth after sneaking a drink." She gestured to her lips. "Goodnight, Sir Rhones Lord."

The knight lingered at the door before finally closing it. (That girl... damn her!) He wiped the milky residue from his mouth, placing the silver tray on the table. (This could've been considered treason, yet she speaks of it so casually!)

The Queen remained curled up at the head of the bed. "She..."

"She knows."

"What do you mean!?" Rhones Lord asked in horror. "You mean Blancheless, your personal maid—she knows?"

"Yes. She knows. She knows everything."

"By Goria!" Rhones Lord clutched his head in dismay. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? How does she know?"

"I told her."

The knight stared at his lover in disbelief, trembling with rage. "What do you take our relationship for!? Just some idle gossip to share with a maid?" He rushed to the bed and gripped her shoulders. "If this gets out, we'll both lose our heads!"

"Then who am I supposed to tell?" Her eyes welled with tears again. "You? Or Salt? Should I tell him that I love his knight, Rhones Lord, and have been sleeping with him?"

The knight faltered. "Even so, you can't confide such matters to a maid! You know how they gossip—put them together for a moment, and they'll have the entire kingdom's affairs laid bare!"

"You understand nothing, Rhones Lord!" The Queen's voice cracked with fury. "I trust her! Something you clearly know nothing about! You don't trust me, just those witless automatons in their white armor. Never Claire Grace, who grew up with you, who shared your bed!"

The knight was stunned—she rarely used his full name. "Now I'm exhausted and need rest! Leave at once..." Before she could finish, a fit of coughing overtook her, followed by two quick sneezes. Her awkward vulnerability made Rhones Lord smile despite himself. "Why are you still here? Get out!" she snapped, biting her lip. The knight ignored her and walked to the balcony, closing the window. The cold wind was immediately blocked, warming the room. "I'll leave soon, Your Majesty," he said calmly. "First drink your sleep-inducing milk. Then I'll take the cup and tray and roll out faster than a bouncing ball."

Though faint, the Queen let out a small laugh. "Who told you to leave through the door?" She extended her slender arm toward the window. "I want you to leave through there."

"As you command, Your Majesty." He presented the tray, watching as she cradled the cup in both hands, her lips barely touching the rim. (Not a queen now, just a frightened child.) He thought, stroking her smooth back.

After her first small sip, she wrinkled her brow. (Too bitter?) the knight wondered. "No, just too sweet," the Queen said softly.

The hibiscus's potent sedative effects soon lulled Claire into deep slumber. Rhones Lord carefully cleaned her, dressed her in her nightgown, and tucked her into bed. By the time he finished, it was well past midnight. He picked up the tray to leave.

She caught his wrist.

He tried to pull away, but her grip was like a vise. He gazed at her peaceful profile.

With a resigned yet amused sigh, he set down the tray and returned to the bed.

Her grip remained firm, and he ceased resisting.

He leaned against the headboard, listening to her steady breathing.

He guarded her as she murmured in sleep. He guarded her as she tossed and turned. He guarded her as she wept.

He guarded her until dawn.

----------------------------------------

Night had settled deep over the camp, yet no one felt the pull of sleep. More accurately, not a soul in the camp felt drowsy, as wine and the willowy, graceful women kept the men's spirits high.

"Riftjaw Dragon, take out your Dwarf Queen," Carl said, playing a card showing the dragon with its blood-red maw and spear-like fangs. (Playing the dragon so soon?) Tyler studied his opponent's hand intently. (My Dwarf Queen was meant to draw out his heavy hitters, but he falls for such an obvious trap?) He examined the Riftjaw Dragon card again. "Brother, this is the genuine Riftjaw Dragon," Carl laughed. "You think I drew it myself?"

Tyler took a swig of beer, shaking his head to clear it. "If you could draw that well, I'd have found my path to fortune long ago." His finger traced across his cards before selecting one. "Titan Giant. Destroy your dragon and all non-flying forces in the front row." Tyler said, sweeping aside Carl's cards. "Ha, seems Lady Fortune smiles upon me tonight..."