The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Chapter 221: The Horse’s State

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.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

"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.

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,"