Bee Among the Clover (131 page)

A
RON wandered through the outer edge of the camp, trying to decide if he wanted to explore the area around the king’s keep again or stay among the
carousers in the tents. He definitely didn’t want to go back to the tent where Roman was sure to have his nose buried in a book again. The strain between them was still keen, and despite his efforts to ignore it, the
frustration ate at him.
It was the Solstice, and Wulfgar was at the keep, celebrating with the
king and some of the other honored thanes. The mood in the camp was festive; the ale and wine were flowing freely, and the smell of roasting
meat was heavy in the air. Aron sighed and kicked at a rock half buried in
the snow in a desultory fashion. He wasn’t in the mood to celebrate.
“You cannot possibly be bored, boy.”
The sound of Osric’s voice snapped Aron’s head up. The battle-lord was with a number of other men, most of whom he did not recognize.
They must be bound to other thanes visiting since they weren’t a part of
Wulfgar’s entourage.
Aron tried very hard to keep his expression respectful when all he wanted to do was glare. He hadn’t liked Osric from the beginning, before
he ever had an inkling of what had gone on between the battleinkling of what had gone on between the battle-lord and
Roman, and every encounter with Osric compounded the dislike.
“No, I was just taking a walk.” Bored wasn’t the right word; he was
frustrated and angry with himself, with the strange aching in his chest he
couldn’t figure out, but not bored. He took a step as if to move around the group of them, but as one, they shifted, and Osric was again in front of him. There was a slight flutter in the pit of Aron’s stomach, and his eyes
narrowed. “I should get back.”
Osric smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes, no one to guard the pretty little slave boy, is there? Why, anyone could stroll into the tent and have a bit of fun with him, couldn’t they?”