"Catherine?"
Her name echoed faintly off the stone walls of the foyer, and Catherine stood after she had put on her other slipper, turning her head to look in the direction of her father's voice. He was standing a few feet behind her, and for the first time, Catherine realized just how much he seemed to have aged since she had left. The lines in his face were less like faint grooves, now, and more like valleys in parched earth. The bags under his eyes were much more prominent; heavy and dark with stress. She had never really thought of her father as an old man, but since she had returned, she had noticed an air of woebegone hopelessness about him that, even after two weeks of her presence, still hung over him like a grey veil. He was euphoric about her return, of course--the moment she had shown up at his door, he had pushed the knights aside and embraced her, weeping, for what seemed like hours--but she couldn't help but wonder if the prospect of her death had chiseled off a little piece of him, worn some important part of him away. His eyes were a bit wide and his expression was uncertain, and she knitted her eyebrows together in worry.
"What is it?" she asked softly, and he looked down at the floor, running his fingers through his long, dark brown hair.
"You aren't going out alone, are you?" he finally asked. Catherine frowned.
"Richard and I told you," she said patiently, "that I didn't escape. The dragon let me go--it was a matter of honor. There's nothing to be so worried about."
"You don't
know
why he did it," he choked out. "It could have been a trick..."
"Don't be silly," she chided, but his expression hardened.
"I'll call one of the guards to accompany you."
"Father, I really don't think--"
"You'll be guarded, and that's that," he snapped. "It isn't proper for a duchess to wander without supervision." Catherine looked away to hide an involuntary roll of her eyes while her father turned on his heel and stormed out of the foyer in a swish of fabric, presumably to find a guard to follow her. With a sigh, she sank down onto a chair by the large, heavy wooden door, rubbing her temple. It was irrational of her to be frustrated by his paranoia, she knew that much. With patience, he would probably return to his normal, rational self in about a month. But it was hard to put up with his fretting about Adeon, and sometimes she wanted nothing more than to break open and tell him the entire story.
She heard footsteps coming from the other end of the hallway and glanced up, locking eyes with Eugene. Tall and gruff with dark hair, plentiful scars, and a permanent layer of stubble on his chin, he was one of her father's more favored guards, although she had never cared for him much. "Am I allowed to leave, then?" she asked dryly, and he shrugged, a corner of his mouth curling in annoyance.
"I don't see why you want to go out so badly, anyway," he replied in a raspy voice. "It's cold out there. And don't you have servants to do your shopping for you?"
"I get restless if I stay indoors for too long," she retorted, more than a little annoyed. "Don't you?" She reached for one of the door handles, but Eugene reached past her and pulled it open, standing aside and gesturing for her to pass through it.
"I wouldn't know," he said wryly, and she ignored him, walking briskly out the door and past him. She heard the door shut loudly as he closed it behind them, and Catherine spent the rest of the walk to the marketplace trying to pretend he wasn't there.
The marketplace was a riot of activity, even in the chill of a December afternoon. The air was thick with the smells of pastries, roasting meat and spilled ale, and although the crowds were a little more sparse than usual, the streets were still thick with people. Catherine pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and clutched it closer to her body, repressing a shiver.
"You cold?" grunted Eugene, unfastening the thick black sheepskin mantle from his shoulders, and Catherine shook her head. She promptly felt him drape it over her shoulders, and she scowled up at him.
"I said I was fine," she insisted, and he rolled his eyes.
"Don't think your father would appreciate it if you caught a cold under my watch," he said curtly. With a sigh, she hooked the clasps together and fluffed her hair over it. It was still warm from his body heat, and it reminded her of the nights she had spent curled up with Adeon, which was something she was trying hard not to think about. The past two weeks had passed sluggishly while she languished in the haze of waiting, and the worst part was, she wasn't even sure if she would ever see him again. Perhaps he had dismissed her and simply left. And, after everything that had happened to him, she often wondered if that was what she deserved.
A rather large woman with shoulder-length blonde hair suddenly began to approach them, brandishing a handful of tiny glass bottles, and Eugene halted her in her tracks by pressing a gauntleted hand firmly against the woman's prominent stomach. She looked affronted for a moment, but, after seeing the anger in Eugene's disposition, presented them with a beaming smile.
"Would...would the lady care for some perfume?" she asked uncertainly, and Eugene eyed her with disdain.
"The lady doesn't need you hassling her," he growled, and Catherine narrowed her eyes angrily as the woman shuffled away,
"She didn't mean any harm," she began, but Eugene silenced her with a dark look.
"Do you know the state your father was in while you were gone?" he snapped, suddenly incensed. "A right mess, he was. And instead of trying to keep him happy, here you are whining about going for little walks. He's probably still worried sick that you're going to vanish right out from under him again. But what do you care?" Catherine stared up at him in shock and indignation as he spoke, and he glowered at her. "Have some respect for the poor man and let me do my damned job, at least," he grunted, meeting her wide eyes challengingly. She looked away, suddenly feeling foolish.
"I didn't 'vanish,'" she muttered reproachfully. "Everyone in the kingdom gave me up like winnings for a bet they lost."
"Just do your blasted shopping so we can get back."
Catherine gave him an ugly look and resumed her walking. The wares of the shops were colorful and inviting, and she trained her gaze on them instead of looking at him. She could feel his attention falter as they passed a busy pub, however, and she smiled grimly. "Go ahead," she said dully, and he looked down at her.
"What?"
"You can go have a pint if you'd like. I won't tell."
