The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Mikhailis glanced at Cerys as she sat by the small fire, focused on cutting herbs they had gathered earlier. The morning air was still crisp, the mist hovering around them as the sun slowly began its ascent. They had decided to cook the Vyrechick they had caught, and the atmosphere was relaxed, filled with quiet sounds of nature, crackling fire, and their occasional chatter.

"Careful there, Cerys," Mikhailis said, leaning over to see her attempt at chopping the herbs. He noticed her hands shaking just a bit, perhaps due to her unfamiliarity with the process or the lingering tiredness from the day before.

She huffed, her brow furrowing, but there was a smile tugging at her lips.

"I'm trying. It's harder than swinging a sword."

Mikhailis chuckled, moving to sit behind her. He placed his hands gently over hers, guiding her grip on the knife.

"Here," he said softly, leaning in close enough that his cheek almost touched her red hair.

"Hold it like this… Use your fingers to guide the blade."

Cerys blushed slightly, her cheeks warming from the proximity. She could feel his breath on her neck, and the way he carefully held her hands made her heartbeat quicken.

"You're enjoying this too much, aren't you?" she asked, her lips curving into a teasing smile.

"Maybe a little," Mikhailis admitted, giving her a playful grin.

"But, I'm also an excellent teacher. Just focus."

She rolled her eyes, but her hands relaxed under his guidance. She managed to cut the herbs into more even pieces, her confidence growing with every stroke of the knife.

"There you go," Mikhailis said, giving her shoulder a gentle pat before pulling back.

"See? It's not so bad once you get the hang of it."

Cerys looked up at him, her eyes glinting with a mix of challenge and amusement.

"Don't expect me to cook for you every day, Your Highness."

He smiled, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"I wouldn't dare. I'm only here to make sure you don't cut yourself in the process."

Cerys's eyes narrowed, but she couldn't help the smile that broke across her face. Mikhailis moved back to the fire, where a few pieces of Vyrechick meat sizzled on a makeshift grill they had constructed from branches and stones. The aroma filled the air, and Cerys took a deep breath, savoring the rich, smoky smell. They had seasoned the meat with the herbs she'd cut—a combination of wild sage and a pinch of salt Mikhailis had carried with him—and the scent was enough to make her stomach growl.

"You know," she began, raising an eyebrow, "I think you're enjoying this cooking far too much."

Mikhailis turned to her, a teasing smile on his face.

"Cooking is like an art," he said, grabbing a wooden spoon they'd carved out of a branch. He gently stirred the broth they were making with the rest of the Vyrechick.

"You have to give it your all, especially when the audience is as critical as a certain Duke-ranked knight."

Cerys's cheeks flushed, and she picked up a stick, lightly poking his side.

"Stop that. Or else I might rate this meal… harshly."

He chuckled, shifting away to avoid the poke.

"Alright, alright. I'll let the food speak for itself."

When the Vyrechick was finally ready, they settled down beside each other, taking in the sight of the cooked bird. The skin was crispy, glistening with juices that oozed out whenever the meat was cut. Mikhailis had managed to make a simple yet hearty dish, roasting the meat alongside a few vegetables they'd found in the forest—wild carrots and mushrooms—adding depth to the flavor. He had also prepared a stew using the leftover meat, simmered with herbs until the flavors melded together perfectly.

They shared the food in comfortable silence, sitting cross-legged by the fire, enjoying the warmth of the flames and each other's presence. Cerys took a bite, and her eyes widened slightly as she chewed, the flavors exploding on her tongue. She looked at Mikhailis, impressed.

"This…" She swallowed.

"This is actually really good."

Mikhailis looked at her, feigning hurt.

"You sound surprised, Cerys. Have a little more faith in me."

She shrugged, a mischievous smile on her lips.

"I'm just saying… For someone who's more used to commanding troops, you're surprisingly adept at this."

He grinned, raising his mug of tea in a mock toast.

"Survival requires versatility, my dear Cerys."

She laughed, clinking her mug against his before taking a sip of the warm tea he had brewed. The tea was a blend of leaves he'd found near the cliff—mild and aromatic, with a hint of sweetness that lingered on the tongue. They reserved some of the cooked Vyrechick, wrapping it tightly with the remaining large leaves to keep it fresh for the journey. They had made sure to cook enough to sustain them for at least a few days.

As they finished eating, Mikhailis looked at her with a thoughtful expression.

"Shall we go look for your horse now? I'm sure the poor thing's still around here somewhere."

Cerys's face softened at the mention of her horse, and she nodded.

"Yes. I hope he's alright."

Together, they packed up their things, dousing the fire before setting off along the cliffside. The air was still cool, and they walked side by side in comfortable silence, occasionally exchanging glances and smiles. The events of the previous day felt distant, replaced by the lighthearted banter and the warmth of each other's company.

After a while, they heard the faint sound of whinnying coming from a patch of thick vines that grew along the cliff. Cerys's heart skipped a beat, and she hurried forward, her eyes widening as she saw her horse—alive, but entangled in the vines, struggling to free itself. It seemed that when he fell from the cliff, the thick vines had cushioned his fall, preventing a fatal injury. The vines, though an obstacle now, had been his saving grace.

"There you are," she said, relief washing over her as she approached the horse.

"Easy now… We're here to help... I'm so glad you're alive..."

Mikhailis moved beside her, assessing the situation.

"Looks like he's stuck pretty tight," he said, rolling up his sleeves.

"Let's see if we can get him out of here."

Working together, they began carefully untangling the vines that had ensnared the horse. It took time, but they worked in tandem, Mikhailis cutting through the thicker vines with his knife while Cerys spoke soothingly to the horse, keeping it calm.

"You're alright," she murmured, her hand running along the horse's neck.

"We're getting you out of here."

The horse, as if sensing her presence, began to relax, its breathing steadying. Finally, with one last tug, the vines gave way, and the horse stumbled forward, free at last.

"There you go," Mikhailis said, patting the horse's flank.

"Good boy."

Cerys smiled, her eyes softening as she looked at the animal.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice filled with emotion.

Mikhailis gave her a nod.

"Let's give him some rest and let him eat before we move on."

They fed the horse some of the Vyrechick meat, along with water from their flasks. They waited patiently as the horse regained its strength, watching as it ate the surrounding grasses and drank form the bowl they filled with the remaining water they have, its energy slowly returning.

"He'll be alright now," Cerys said, her eyes filled with gratitude.

Mikhailis smiled.

"That's good to hear. Now, we should find a river. We're running low on water."

With the horse now well enough to continue, they mounted up, Cerys taking the reins as Mikhailis settled in behind her. They rode slowly through the forest, Cerys's eyes scanning their surroundings as they searched for any sign of water.

"You know," Cerys said after a while, her voice light, "I think you need some lessons in horseback riding."

Mikhailis raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? And who might be giving these lessons?"

Cerys turned her head slightly, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Who else? Me, of course."
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She shifted slightly, pressing her body against his as she guided his hands to the reins.

"See? This is how you hold them. Firm but gentle."

Mikhailis chuckled, feeling her warmth against him.

"Is this really necessary?"

Cerys smirked, leaning back into him.

"Absolutely. I need to make sure you don't fall off the horse."

Mikhailis shook his head, but there was a smile on his face.

"I appreciate the concern."

They continued their search until they finally heard the soft murmur of flowing water. Cerys urged the horse forward, and they soon found themselves at the edge of a small, clear river. The water sparkled under the sunlight, and Mikhailis slid off the horse, helping Cerys down.

"This looks perfect," he said, moving towards the water.

"Let's fill up our flasks."

Cerys knelt beside him, her eyes meeting his as they worked together to fill their containers. Their hands brushed occasionally, and Mikhailis could feel the connection between them growing stronger with every passing moment. There was something intimate about the simplicity of the task—working side by side, in sync, with no need for words.

"You know, Your Highness,"

"Thank you for helping me," Cerys said after a while, her voice soft.

Mikhailis looked at her, his eyes warm.

"You don't need to thank me, Cerys. I'm here because I want to be."

She smiled, a genuine smile that lit up her face.

"I'm glad you're here. And again. Thank you for saving me,"