They were finally coming to the end of the tunnel. Finally. The women were sick of filth and Anchamlan was sick of carrying the squealing Lady Skansea down the dirty passage, causing him to be even more tired by the end of each walking period. Curse this woman's lavish upbringing, he swore bitterly to himself while the women were asleep. She had refused to eat the dried meat cubes the first few times he had offered, yet the ladies-in-waiting had taken them gratefully, gnawing at the meat like starving dogs.
His cape, which usually brought him respect and glory, now only brought him frustration and misery. It kept getting caught on the roots that had started to make their way down into the walls of the tunnel. At this rate it will be rags before we get out, he sighed angrily, taking it off to reveal nice, muscular arms to the women around him. He shoved it into his bag and looked up, catching every one of the ladies gaping at him. One gave him a small smile and he gave her a fleeting one back. Lady Skansea saw it and glared even more at him from under her hooded cloak.
She was miserable. He knew that. Her life was probably feeling like she was going from everything to nothing in the matter of seconds, and she kind of had. She had gone from being able to boss everyone around and getting everything she wanted all while residing in the comfort and happiness of the elitists world to being stuck in a dark, dusty and sometimes damp tunnel with useless ladies-in-waiting and a soldier that wouldn't even give her a second glance but would smile sweetly to one of her ladies if she did to him. And it wasn't for lack of trying. She threw sweet coquettish glances at him constantly and he didn't flinch or even acknowledge that she had done so. She brushed by him in ways that had made the men at her castle go crazy, but he simply moved out of her way. Orders, perhaps? But men never followed orders to keep their hands off of women, at least none that she had met. Especially after she worked her magic on them. But either she was losing it at her prime or this man had been given strict orders not to touch her. Yes. That was the only reason why he didn't fall for her spells. Because of orders. She settled back deeper in her cloak and fell asleep, oblivious to his constant watch over her pale body.
He knew where he was going to take her. The trap door on the other side led to the trophy room of Lady Skansea's brother. Her brother was a good guy. Tall, medium build, blond hair, hazel eyes, though his face looked sharp enough to be cut out of marble. He was almost scary in a way, but Anchamlan knew that Lord Fonahn knew where his loyalties lay.
Turning his head he watched Lady Skansea sleep. She thought she was so clever, thinking that she could trick him into thinking that she never slept. I wonder if she knows that she snores, he mused. It wasn't a big, loud, honking snore like one hears in a campsite of a platoon, rather it was a sweet steady breathing, quiet enough to be mistaken for a stuffy nose. Though if you sit and watch her breath long enough you realize that she is snoring, thought Anchamlan. He knew that if one of them was passing the test for making the world believe that they never fell asleep it was he.
He nodded off to sleep in the cold, damp section of the tunnel, hoping that the end of Lady Skansea's misery was near.