likely be traveling again the following morning. Hugo was not one to stop and explore. He had his mission and precious little would stop him, even if the mad streets of Kashgar were fascinating to observe.
She was actually quite cold by the time she left, her skin prickling, welcoming the sun outside. Hugo was waiting for her, clean and shaven. She'd almost forgot what he looked like underneath all the sand.
"They beat me with switches," he said grumpily.
Eloise smiled. "They rubbed me down with oil. It was heavenly. I think both of us got what we deserve."
Hugo huffed half-heartedly and started walking. "Hungry?"
"Famished," she said, feeling better about everything now that she'd made peace with this opportunity to see her father.
They found an eatery covered with intricate, deep red rugs and pillows around low, lacquered tables with metal inlays. There were no chairs and they were supposed to sit on the carpet-covered floor.
Bronze cups with tea were presented to them and Eloise drew in the delicate scent. It had been much too long since she'd had a cup of tea and the first sip coated her parched throat. These little pleasures were the joys in life and she took another sip of the glorious liquid, considering whether she could take some back to England.
A plate of food arrived along with bread and rice, a spiced mutton dish that smelled divine. Eloise loved Persian food and took her fill, letting the spices tease her tongue and her nose, then sitting back against the cushions when she couldn't eat anymore.
"Which way are we traveling?" she asked as she watched Hugo continue to eat, suspecting he enjoyed the spiced food more than he admitted to—English food being drab and flavorless in comparison. Although Hugo would probably defend it as preferable to deep and heady flavors of the Persian dishes, defending the indefensible.
"Crossing the Black Sea is the fastest route. The Mamluks have taken over Acre, so there is no longer safe passage through the south."
Eloise took more sips of the cooling tea. Crossing the Black Sea meant going through Constantinople, although she doubted Hugo would stop long enough for her to call on her friends in the city. "There isn't a great hurry, you know."
Hugo wiped his fingers and sat back. "Keen to spend more time in my company?"
"No," she said, not anticipating his response would take that direction. "But there are people I do want to see."
"We will not be taking years to meander across the world, like you did. I have commitments to get back to and I wish to do so at the earliest opportunity."
"You want to head back to fight the French?"
"It is my duty."
"Do you like war?" Eloise asked, knowing there were people who loved fighting and killing, and the horrible messiness. She hadn't quite picked him as one of those.
"I like being a good servant for our king, and right now he needs us to finish this war."
"Are you not the least bit curious of the things around us?"
"What point does curiosity serve? Nothing in our lives will change. I will still head back to France, you will … " he didn't quite finish the statement, "probably fight whatever your father has intended for you, but both of our fates are set. The only hope is to finish this war."
"My fate is in my own hands."
"You might have shirked your duty by running away, but for all you have seen and done, it changes nothing. As from the day you are born, and as proven by your father's intent on retrieving you, you are destined to be a nobleman's wife."
"No, I'm not," she said harshly enough to draw attention from the other patrons. "I'm not some docile lamb that will be told what to do."
"Perhaps you should learn before your husband beats you into the docility required of a good wife," he said between clenched teeth, then softened. "You don't have to fight everything, Eloise. You must learn to pick your battles. Your wayward ways will gain you nothing but pain."
"First of all, you're wrong. My father picked this
She was actually quite cold by the time she left, her skin prickling, welcoming the sun outside. Hugo was waiting for her, clean and shaven. She'd almost forgot what he looked like underneath all the sand.
"They beat me with switches," he said grumpily.
Eloise smiled. "They rubbed me down with oil. It was heavenly. I think both of us got what we deserve."
Hugo huffed half-heartedly and started walking. "Hungry?"
"Famished," she said, feeling better about everything now that she'd made peace with this opportunity to see her father.
They found an eatery covered with intricate, deep red rugs and pillows around low, lacquered tables with metal inlays. There were no chairs and they were supposed to sit on the carpet-covered floor.
Bronze cups with tea were presented to them and Eloise drew in the delicate scent. It had been much too long since she'd had a cup of tea and the first sip coated her parched throat. These little pleasures were the joys in life and she took another sip of the glorious liquid, considering whether she could take some back to England.
A plate of food arrived along with bread and rice, a spiced mutton dish that smelled divine. Eloise loved Persian food and took her fill, letting the spices tease her tongue and her nose, then sitting back against the cushions when she couldn't eat anymore.
"Which way are we traveling?" she asked as she watched Hugo continue to eat, suspecting he enjoyed the spiced food more than he admitted to—English food being drab and flavorless in comparison. Although Hugo would probably defend it as preferable to deep and heady flavors of the Persian dishes, defending the indefensible.
"Crossing the Black Sea is the fastest route. The Mamluks have taken over Acre, so there is no longer safe passage through the south."
Eloise took more sips of the cooling tea. Crossing the Black Sea meant going through Constantinople, although she doubted Hugo would stop long enough for her to call on her friends in the city. "There isn't a great hurry, you know."
Hugo wiped his fingers and sat back. "Keen to spend more time in my company?"
"No," she said, not anticipating his response would take that direction. "But there are people I do want to see."
"We will not be taking years to meander across the world, like you did. I have commitments to get back to and I wish to do so at the earliest opportunity."
"You want to head back to fight the French?"
"It is my duty."
"Do you like war?" Eloise asked, knowing there were people who loved fighting and killing, and the horrible messiness. She hadn't quite picked him as one of those.
"I like being a good servant for our king, and right now he needs us to finish this war."
"Are you not the least bit curious of the things around us?"
"What point does curiosity serve? Nothing in our lives will change. I will still head back to France, you will … " he didn't quite finish the statement, "probably fight whatever your father has intended for you, but both of our fates are set. The only hope is to finish this war."
"My fate is in my own hands."
"You might have shirked your duty by running away, but for all you have seen and done, it changes nothing. As from the day you are born, and as proven by your father's intent on retrieving you, you are destined to be a nobleman's wife."
"No, I'm not," she said harshly enough to draw attention from the other patrons. "I'm not some docile lamb that will be told what to do."
"Perhaps you should learn before your husband beats you into the docility required of a good wife," he said between clenched teeth, then softened. "You don't have to fight everything, Eloise. You must learn to pick your battles. Your wayward ways will gain you nothing but pain."
"First of all, you're wrong. My father picked this
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