The Fairest Beauty

She stood next to him and pulled his right hand over her shoulder, wrapping her arm around his back. “While I appreciate your worry, let’s get you back to bed.”

 

 

He let her lead him. He sat down, and she swooped his legs up and onto the bed, surprising him with her strength.

 

“I’m not helpless, Sophie,” he teased, still happy to see her smiling. As she bent over him to pull up the covers, he caught a whiff of a different smell, like flowers, as if she’d taken a bath with the petals from a sun-kissed meadow.

 

His head began to spin again, this time for a different reason.

 

“So you’re better?” She was still bending over him, and she laid her small hand on his forehead. “Your fever is gone! Praise God.” She clasped her hand reverently to her chest as she gazed into his eyes.

 

She abruptly straightened and went to fetch the tray of food.

 

Bartel had propped Gabe’s pillows so he could sit up in bed. Sophie set the tray across his lap. “I made it all myself,” she said proudly, affecting a breezy, informal air.

 

“You’re saving my life,” Gabe said, picking up a piece of bread and taking a bite. “I was about to starve to death.”

 

She giggled. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. Our hosts downstairs have very good manners and will insist you not gobble your food.”

 

“Well, they’re not here now, and this is the best food I’ve tasted … ever.” He took a huge bite of fried apple pie. The filling was just the perfect balance of tart and sweet, wonderful spices melding with the apple flavor.

 

“Sophie, you are a wonderful cook,” he said between bites.

 

She beamed at him, so he continued complimenting her.

 

“Is this Lombardy custard?”

 

She nodded.

 

“It’s so much better than our cook’s at home that I almost didn’t recognize it.”

 

She smiled more and even blushed, making her perfect, pale complexion light up with pink. She was so pretty he stopped eating to stare at her.

 

She looked around, as though looking for something to do, but there was little of anything in the bare room. Finally, she started straightening the covers at the foot of his bed.

 

He finished eating. She filled his cup from the flask on the small table beside him.

 

“Thank you.” His fingers brushed hers as he took it from her, making his heart quicken.

 

He drank the wine even as his eyes drank the sight of her in from over the rim of the cup. He had been telling himself that she would be better off marrying Valten, that Valten was the blessed one, the one with the wealth and the power. But Valten had not seen where she came from, the abuse she had endured, the sweetness in the way she treated other people. Would Valten treat her as well as she deserved? Love her the way he should?

 

Gabe was wrong to think this way. He felt as though he were on the edge of a cliff and about to jump off. If he made the wrong choice, not only would his life be ruined, but a lot of other lives as well. Especially Sophie’s.

 

“I’m so happy you’re better.” She knew she’d already told him that, but relief was washing over her at seeing him eat so heartily, his color coming back into his face.

 

“Like I said, you saved my life with this food. Mm-mm.”

 

“Hardly.” She laughed. She had wanted to run up the stairs last night to thank him for saving her life, and now he was teasing her about saving his. “How is your shoulder?”

 

“Practically back to normal.” He winked, and Sophie felt happy to see him in such a jovial mood. She remembered how much pain he had been in, how sick he was, how she had supported his weight in the saddle. Was that only yesterday? Thank you, God, for healing him so quickly. She would have to thank Bartel too.

 

What should she say to him now? She wanted to see his shoulder, to examine his wound and see for herself if it looked better. But she was afraid to ask. It shouldn’t be awkward for a sister to examine her brother’s wound … but it would be.

 

Finally, she hit upon a safe topic of conversation. “Have you met all the men yet?”

 

“No, only Bartel, although I believe there were two others who helped me to bed yesterday.”

 

“One of them plays the lute, like you. His name is Siggy. He has a bit of a problem speaking, but he seems very kind. And Dominyk plays the drum — he appears to be their leader. And there’s Vincz, who has trouble staying awake, and Gotfrid, who is rather grumpy, and Dolf, I believe, is deaf, and Heinric … Heinric is very happy. Except when he’s … not happy. You will meet them all in due time, I’m sure.”

 

Gabe began to look a little grumpy himself. “I’m sure these seven men are all quite taken with you.”

 

Sophie laughed. “They do seem to enjoy my cooking. I don’t think they enjoy doing that task themselves much.” She smirked and avoided looking at him. But from the corner of her eye she saw his unhappy look.

 

“I have no doubt they enjoy your cooking.”

 

“Now you rest. You shouldn’t strain yourself. You have to get well.”

 

She straightened his blanket and had just picked up the now-empty tray when Walther knocked and entered the room.

 

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