Chapter 25: The Dove's Essence

The captain’s head snapped up, their gaze hardening as they barked orders for their men to bring the intruder inside. A moment later, the storehouse door swung open, revealing two guards flanking a sheepish-looking Rick. The lanky strawberry vendor, his face pale beneath his weathered straw hat, clutched a burlap sack to his chest as if it contained the crown jewels of Snowfall itself.

Sonne, never one to miss a beat, sprang into action, his earlier apprehension evaporating like morning mist under a summer sun. He rushed towards Rick, his face a mask of exaggerated concern, and enveloped the startled vendor in a bear hug that would have made even the most seasoned soap opera star proud.

"Rick!" Sonne exclaimed, his voice thick with faux emotion. "What are you doing here? I was so worried!" He pulled back slightly, his gaze flitting between Rick’s wide eyes and the captain’s skeptical frown. "I told you not to come here, not with all the guards about. It’s dangerous!"

Rick, struggling to regain his composure, glanced nervously between Sonne and the imposing captain, his gaze lingering for a moment on the captain’s gleaming sword hilt.

"And who’s that?" the captain suddenly inquired.

Sonne, channeling his inner thespian, threw a melodramatic arm around Rick’s shoulders, pulling him close. "This is my–" he began, his voice dripping with honeyed affection. But before he could utter another word, invent a profession, invent a relationship between him and the bewildered strawberry vendor, the captain stepped forward, their movements swift and decisive.

With a speed that belied their slender frame, they closed the distance between themselves and the bewildered Rick, their gloved hand shooting out to grab the vendor’s collar and pull him close. Rick squawked in protest, his eyes widening in alarm as the captain’s face, framed by a cascade of platinum blonde hair, loomed before him.

Sonne, his theatrical performance abruptly cut short, watched in silent amusement as the captain proceeded to sniff Rick’s neck with an intensity that bordered on predatory. Rick, his face rapidly turning the same shade as a ripe strawberry, stood frozen, his entire body radiating an aura of pure, unadulterated terror.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the inspection ended. The captain pulled away, their expression unreadable as they glanced between Sonne and the thoroughly flustered Rick. "Don’t judge," Sonne drawled, unable to resist poking fun at the situation. "Sometimes when you’re desperate…"

But the captain, apparently immune to Sonne’s teasing, had already moved on. They spun on their heel, their gaze sweeping over their assembled men. "We’re leaving," they announced, their voice brooking no argument. "There’s nothing for us here."

And with that, the captain, their mission seemingly abandoned, marched out of the storehouse, their soldiers trailing behind them like a pack of obedient hounds. The sound of their retreating footsteps echoed through the silent street, leaving Sonne and Rick alone in the sudden quiet.

Silence descended upon the storehouse once more, thick and heavy with unspoken questions and the lingering scent of pine and ozone, a ghostly reminder of the captain's intimidating presence. Caspian, his heart still pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs, cautiously emerged from his hiding place. His step measured and deliberate, his gaze fixed on Sonne's back.

Eventually, Caspian paused, his arms crossed over his chest, his sapphire eyes scrutinizing the strawberry merchant with an intensity that belied his usual reserved demeanor. He'd heard everything, every word, every suggestive inflection, every flirtatious quip that Sonne had directed at the captain. A strange mix of emotions churned within him – annoyance at Sonne's seemingly effortless charm, a prickle of something akin to jealousy at the memory of the captain's hand lingering on Sonne's arm, and a deeper, more unsettling feeling that he couldn't quite place.

As he moved past Sonne, Caspian intentionally let his elbow drag across the strawberry merchant's torso, his arm brushing against the firm muscles beneath Sonne's simple white shirt. He wasn't sure why he did it – perhaps it was a subconscious attempt to gauge Sonne's reaction, to see if the strawberry merchant would react with the same playful banter he'd displayed with the captain. Or maybe, just maybe, it was something more, a spark of something unspoken that flickered between them, fueled by shared danger and the close confines of the storehouse.

Sonne, caught off guard by Caspian's unexpected touch, let out a soft grunt, his hand instinctively flying to his stomach where Caspian's elbow had made contact. What was it with people hitting his stomach today? he thought, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes despite the lingering tension in the air. He glanced down at Caspian, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smile.

"Someone’s feeling a little touchy today," Sonne purred, his voice a low rumble that stirred a flutter in Caspian's chest. He leaned closer, his gaze locking with Caspian's, a playful glint in his eyes. "Don’t worry, Your Highness," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the gentle creak of the floorboards. "You’re still the only royalty I’m interested in courting."

Caspian, his cheeks flushing at Sonne's words, quickly averted his gaze, pretending to be engrossed in straightening the folds of his simple green tunic. He couldn't deny the warmth that spread through his chest at Sonne's words, the way his heart seemed to skip a beat at the strawberry merchant's unwavering attention.

Meanwhile, Rick, still recovering from his close encounter with the captain's intense interrogation techniques, watched the exchange between Caspian and Sonne with a mixture of amusement and bewilderment. He cleared his throat, drawing their attention. "So," he began, his voice a tad higher than usual, "that was…interesting." He glanced between the two, his eyebrows raised in silent question. "What was all that about?"

Sonne, his earlier flirtation with the captain momentarily forgotten, chuckled, clapping a hand on Rick’s shoulder. "Just a little misunderstanding, my friend," he explained, his tone casual, but Caspian noticed the way his gaze darted towards Caspian, a silent message passing between them.

Sonne turned his attention to Rick, his gaze falling on the burlap sack still clutched tightly in the vendor's hand. "Speaking of misunderstandings," Sonne began, his voice laced with playful curiosity. He leaned closer to Rick, his keen eyes noticing a faint, floral scent emanating from him. It was the scent of Dove soap, the same soap Sonne had bought a few days ago, the same soap he’d given one to Rick.

"Wow, you really used it right away," Sonne commented, his voice a mixture of amusement and feigned disapproval. He leaned closer to Rick, sniffing dramatically. "I thought you would give it to your wife."

Rick blushed, a sheepish grin spreading across his weathered face. "Well," he stammered, "I just wanted to, you know, try it out first. See if it was any good." He scratched his head, his gaze darting nervously between Sonne and Caspian. "It’s surprisingly refreshing, actually. Leaves your skin feeling all soft and whatnot." He shrugged, his grin widening. "The wifey’s gonna love it."

Sonne laughed, shaking his head at Rick’s antics.

As Rick gathered his belongings, preparing to brave the watchful eyes of the Snowfall Guard once more, Sonne clapped a hand on the vendor’s shoulder, his expression suddenly serious. "Listen, Rick," he began, his voice low and urgent. "I need you to take care of the stall for me tomorrow. Tell everyone I’m away on business, tending to some urgent matters at the farm."

Rick, his brow furrowed with concern, opened his mouth to protest, but Sonne cut him off with a reassuring smile.

"Don’t worry, old friend," he said, his voice regaining its usual playful lilt. "I’ll make it up to you. Double your usual cut, how’s that sound?"

Rick’s eyes widened, a slow grin spreading across his weathered face. "Double?" he echoed, his voice barely a whisper. "Now you’re talking my language, Sonne." He winked conspiratorially, his earlier apprehension forgotten.

Sonne chuckled, shaking his head at the vendor’s predictable response. "Good man," he said, clapping Rick on the shoulder once more. "Now, off you go before those guards decide to pay us another visit."

As Rick slipped out the door, his footsteps light and quick despite the weight of the secrets he now carried, Sonne turned his attention to Caspian, his gaze lingering on the prince’s face, a mixture of concern and determination in his eyes.

"We’re leaving tonight," he announced, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. "It’s too risky to stay here any longer."

Caspian, his earlier annoyance at Sonne’s playful antics momentarily forgotten, nodded his agreement. He’d never been one to shirk from danger, but the thought of endangering Sonne, of dragging the strawberry merchant into the web of courtly intrigue that had ensnared him, filled him with a sense of unease he couldn’t shake.

"Where will we go?" Caspian asked, his voice barely a whisper as if afraid to break the fragile illusion of safety that Sonne’s presence seemed to create.

Sonne, a reassuring smile playing on his lips, moved closer, his hand resting lightly on Caspian’s arm, a gesture that conveyed more comfort than words ever could. "Trust me," he murmured, his voice a low rumble in the gathering darkness. "I have a plan."