“What is your name?” Ensalor asked.
“Anton.”
“Would you care to show us where we are weak, Anton?” The trainer stepped away and Arthoe leaped toward Vard, practice sword raised, a roar of fury blasting from him.
Vard spun out of the way of a vicious strike aimed at his throat and scooped up the practice sword of the fighter Arthoe had downed. He turned to confront the elf, but Arthoe was already on his way back, sword raised, sweat glistening on his dark skin. Fury blazed from his eyes and Vard’s heart soared. The elf was too angry. Vard blocked a savage thrust and swept Arthoe’s blade aside, using his momentum to carry him past the fighter. With lighting speed, Vard spun and brought his blade down in a resounding crack across the fighter’s back. Arthoe went down, his bare skin split by the force of the wooden sword.
Silence greeted Vard’s victory and he stepped backward out of Arthoe’s reach. Had the scarred fighter been their champion? No matter. They’d learn hero worship had no place in the fighting ranks. He was here to forge new skills, but what were those new skills to be directed against? Were his suspicions correct? Was Leth forming a fighting force that would come against the King’s army?
He raised his voice to the watching men, many of whom scowled at him. No, they didn’t like what he had done to Arthoe. “Strength and aggression are important characteristics in a warrior,” he said, walking around the circle. “But these traits must be tempered with patience and finesse. You must feel at one with the sword to engage in the dance. You require perfect balance, and you must never allow your heart to rule your mind.” He paused to allow his words to have their full effect. “Those who wish to master their mind and learn the dance of the swordfighter may meet with me here tomorrow at dawn.” He looked down at Arthoe. “Any who think they know better need not attend.”
As Vard turned to leave, a growl sounded from Arthoe’s direction. Vard kept walking. It seemed he really would have to make an example of the elven champion. When he gauged Arthoe was about to strike he spun to the left, swinging the practice sword he still held against his assailant’s temple. Arthoe went down in a heap and the men nearest crowded around the body, fingering his throat.
“He lives. Get the healer,” someone said, but Vard dropped the practice sword and walked away. As he cast his eye around the staging ground, he saw he had drawn the gaze of many other Sis Lenweri as well.
“Nothing like making a good first impression,” he muttered. The hostile stares made his skin itch and the hairs stand on his neck. Time to find Alecia.
Chapter 7
Vard frowned at himself in the cracked mirror above the washstand in his room. He looked ridiculous. The robes supplied by Leth fit him well, but robes weren’t his style. The fabric was black silk with golden embroidery around the collar and sleeves, and the swishing sound he made when he moved anywhere was altogether too feminine. How did men ever become used to wearing these. . . dresses?
“Ah, Anton, how wonderfully mystical you look this evening,” Alecia said from behind him.
How had he not heard her enter? Damned clothes!
“Don’t mock me, Allandra, or I’ll put you across my knee and spank your adorable behind.” His gaze met hers in the mirror.
Alecia’s eyes widened until their lilac seemed to encompass her entire face. “You wouldn’t dare!”
Vard turned, prepared to take Alecia in his arms but his mouth went dry with one glance at her. “Where did you get that?”
She frowned and flipped the sleeve of his robe. “It’s not only you who’ll look splendid this evening.” She twirled in front of him, tossing back her head and laughing as he hadn’t heard her laugh since... Vard couldn’t remember when he’d last heard Alecia sound truly happy. That was enough to sour his mood even further. He should never have allowed her to leave Brightcastle.
He reached out and clasped her arms, forcing her to stand still as he scrutinized her dress. It was crimson silk with fine silver embroidery across the bodice and tiny silver buttons that ran up her spine. The bodice was fitted to the hips, ably demonstrating Alecia’s full bosom, and the skirt fell to a small train at the back. Her hair was piled on her head with loops of scarlet ribbon and a silver and ruby tiara completed the ensemble.
“Isn’t this the most delightful costume you’ve ever seen?” she said, her hands caressing the soft folds of fabric at her hips.
“You can’t go before Leth dressed like that.”
She scowled at him. “Why ever not? Oh, Vard, I’d forgotten how it felt to dress like this. I mean, I’d give up anything for you, and I have, but… I never realized how much I enjoyed looking pretty.”
He chuckled wryly. “You look so much more than ‘pretty’. But that isn’t what I meant. If Leth sees you in that dress, he’ll know you for the princess you are. The way you carry yourself in that gown, you couldn’t be anything else. He’ll see that right away. And that tiara. . . Is it possible he already knows? Why else would he give that to you?”
Alecia frowned and chewed her lip. “I hadn’t thought of that. I was too excited at wearing this magnificent gown after over a month in dirty breeches and tunics.” She watched Vard closely as she spoke. “But don’t feel guilty, beloved. It’s not your fault that my father tried to use me.” She wound her arms around Vard’s waist. “I’d give up gowns for you any day. How could you think I’d put up with a lecherous husband just to wear the clothes of a princess? I’m not that shallow.”
“I know you’re not shallow, Alecia, but my heart breaks to see you reduced as you are.”
“Let’s not talk of these things, lest we be overheard. Leth may not know anything of who I am.” An impish smile flashed onto her face. “I’ll pretend not to know what I’m doing at dinner and he’ll be none the wiser.”
Vard grinned back. “I look forward to that.” He pulled her close and closed his eyes as their lips met, reveling in the feel of her soft curves against his hardness. She was intoxicating, her hold on him so powerful he wondered at times if he could walk away, even to save her life. He prayed he’d never have to find out. If Leth could teach him his gift, he might never have to leave Alecia.
He pulled his lips from hers and smiled. “It’s time for dinner, beloved.”
Alecia blinked as if coming out of a trance. “I think your Defender skills might be coming to the fore, Vard,” she whispered. “I feel as if I’ve been ensorcelled. Are you sure you’re not practicing on me?”
“It’s the sorcery of love, nothing more.” He offered his arm and she drew close. The heat of her body stirred his blood, made him wish they could enjoy an intimate dinner in her room, rather than with their host.
Leth awaited them in a small dining room adjoining his office. He sat at the head of a candlelit table sipping from a silver goblet. A beautiful Lenweri woman stood at his elbow, clothed in a scandalously sheer dress of close-fitting black silk. Alecia was glad the light was too low to reveal more of her form. She glanced at Vard and found him studying the elven woman, a frown on his face.
Alecia turned her attention to Leth and wished immediately she hadn’t. His penetrating golden gaze seemed to take in every detail of her appearance as though he wanted to brand it into his memory. She swallowed and attempted a smile, but his eyes met hers at that moment. Her heart flipped. She couldn’t move, nor look away.
“Allandra,” Leth said, his deep voice sending shivers over her skin, “you are exquisite. That color suits you and the style is perfect. You look like a princess.”
Leth left the words hanging as if to invite discussion, but Vard stepped in front of her and the lord’s spell over Alecia was broken.
“Thank you for the garments, Alen Leth,” Vard said.
He sounded on edge, but Alecia only half listened to his words. She was occupied examining Leth while his attention was elsewhere. The imposing lord wore robes similar to Vard’s but of crimson silk with silver embroidery, matching her gown perfectly. His long fingers caressed the silver
goblet and she had to force her eyes away again. She raised her gaze, expecting to see a silver crown studded with rubies, but was relieved to find Leth’s grey-streaked dark hair bare of adornment.
She crossed to the table to sit as far from her host as possible, but the Lenweri woman moved toward her and pulled out a chair closer to Leth.
“Please sit here, Mistress,” the woman said, her musical voice pleasing.
Alecia couldn’t stop a frown as she stood and moved two chairs closer to Leth. At least she would be facing Vard. That might help keep her thoughts where they needed to be.
Leth and Vard seemed to be involved in a staring match that gave Alecia more time to study her host. He was difficult to put an age to, but the wrinkles and graying hair told her he was a good deal older than Vard, perhaps fifty summers. His presence drew the eye and his voice demanded to be listened to.
“Sit, Anton,” he said, pointing to the place opposite Alecia. “We are ready, Failora,” he said to the elven woman. Her fingers brushed Leth’s sleeve as she walked past him and left the room.
Alecia was paralyzed by Leth’s gaze once again. “I knew you were created to wear gowns, Allandra. Do they not feel wonderful against your skin after being on the road for. . . how long did you say?”
“We didn’t say, Alen Leth,” Vard said into the pause.
Didn’t he trust her to give the right answer?
“It’s not important how long we have traveled,” Vard said. “You and I have struck a deal. I’ll train your soldiers and you’ll train me. You’ve been reticent at presenting me with information as to the reason for the training. Trust must be earned. I think you know enough of us for now.”
Leth stood abruptly, his face red and eyes blazing. Alecia stifled a squeak of fear. What’s wrong with me? Why should I act like a frightened mouse?
Vard surged to his feet and the men stood glaring at each other.
“I am the Master,” Leth said. “You are here at my sufferance after blundering into my kingdom. It was you who sought my help. How dare you insult me?” His hands shook as they gripped the table. Alecia thought she heard the wood groan.
Please say something, Vard.
Vard flicked her a look and turned back to Leth. “I’m sorry to have upset you. Trust doesn’t come easily for me.”
“Hold your tongue in future or face the consequences,” Leth roared, slamming his fist down on the table and spilling red wine over the snowy cloth. “Failora!”
Failora hurried in through one of the two doors in the back wall, her movements graceful even in haste. She moved the plates and utensils to the side and Leth passed his right hand over the stain and muttered words under his breath. The wine stain faded as Alecia looked on and Failora re-laid the setting. She left and returned with their meals. Leth resumed his seat.
“You would do well to remember who is master here.” Leth glared at Vard, his anger under control but not extinguished. “Let us forget unpleasantness and enjoy the food that Failora has prepared. Thanks and praise be to Avorelph.”
“Praise to Avorelph,” Alecia murmured, looking across at Vard. The gold flecks in his green eyes were conspicuous. Please Goddess, let him keep his temper. They couldn’t afford for him to enter the transformation. Anything might happen if Leth felt threatened, and Alecia suspected Vard’s talents would appear child-like beside their host’s.
“Who is Avorelph, Lord Leth?” Alecia asked, lifting her fork to spear a plump battered ball of something or other.
Leth seemed to be still composing himself and took a moment to answer. “Avorelph is a previous Lenweri king who became a god of the people. He is the most important elven god in my opinion. He was a celebrated warrior, and the Lenweri see in him a great hope for their future.” Leth’s voice echoed around the chamber, even though he spoke quietly. Did he use sorcery to make his voice travel?
Alecia could see that conversation along these lines was not wise. “What do we eat?” She placed the golden crispy ball into her mouth and it popped, releasing a delicious, salty liquid when she bit down on it.
“Ah, my dear, I am glad you asked. The balls are mountain goat’s eyeballs, and the meat is goat meat shredded and rolled in goat’s stomach then baked in a wrapping of ivy leaves.”
Alecia gagged and breathed deeply through her nose, the remnants of the eyeball sloshing on her tongue. She couldn’t spit it out here! She’d have to swallow it. Alecia struggled to compose her face as the eyeball slid down her throat. Eyes closed, she battled rising bile and shuddered. When she opened her eyes, Leth was smiling. Her face flamed and he laughed out loud.
“You are delightful, Allandra. Your manners are impeccable even though the thought of the goat’s eyeball clearly repulsed you. You intrigue me!”
Alecia frowned at her lap and snuck a quick glance at Vard. His face was like thunder. Too late, she remembered she was supposed to be acting as though she had no court manners. She turned to the side and spat onto the floor, observing Leth from the corner of her eye. She thought his eyebrows climbed his forehead but if she looked his way now it would spoil the effect. Vard’s expression was bland as he returned to his meal. She watched him eat his food as though he relished the fare. Weren’t ivy leaves poisonous? She pushed her plate away, seized her goblet and swallowed the wine inside with an audible gulp. Failora glided over to refill the vessel and Alecia took another large swig which she choked on.
Droplets of red wine sprayed from her mouth all over the snowy tablecloth and onto Vard’s plate, but Alecia was more concerned with drawing fresh air into a throat closed by the sweet liquid. As she drew in wheezing breaths and fought for more air, Vard shoved his chair back and appeared at her side. He hauled her from her chair and drew her arms above her head, murmuring soothingly. Slowly her panic calmed and the black spots left her vision. She drew a shuddering breath and settled back onto her chair.
Vard gave her a last pat on the shoulder and resumed his seat, while Failora hustled over with a moist warm cloth to wipe her face.
“Thank you,” Alecia said as she took the cloth from the woman. The damp fabric felt good on her skin and she buried her face in its folds until her breathing returned to normal.
“A most interesting dinner guest you are, Allandra,” Leth said, his dark eyes amused. “I believe Failora has prepared a broth. Would you like her to remove your meal and fetch you the soup?”
“Thank you, Alen Leth,” Alecia said, her voice still raspy after her coughing fit. “You are kind to consider me that way. I’m sorry I disturbed your meal.”
“It is nothing, Allandra. A man must endure all manner of upset if he is to have the company of a beautiful woman. Ah, here is the broth now. Enjoy.”
The soup was delicious, and Alecia tried to appear as clumsy as possible. Quite a lot fell on the tablecloth and she even managed to dip her sleeve in her meal. All in all, it wasn’t a bad approximation of a woman with few table manners, she thought.
The main course over, Failora brought a rich goat’s cheese with crusty bread and a tub of mountain lemon citrus marmalade, which was delicious with the cheese. Vard disdained the preserve but Leth smeared it on his bread before topping it with thick slabs of the cheese.
“I see you appreciate the combination, Allandra. I have found nothing like it and I have traveled far. It shows an adventurous palate, one that has been exposed to a range of foods.” He laughed suddenly and Alecia jumped. “All except mountain goat’s eyeballs, that is.”
Alecia blushed again. She wasn’t doing a good job of appearing uncultured, but perhaps she had confused Leth with her clumsiness. She would be more careful in future and decline his dinner invitations. Vard could dine with the lord without her. She frowned. That might not be such a good idea. He could easily lose his temper with a few well aimed jibes from Lord Leth.
“Bring the tea if you please, Failora,” Leth said, pushing his chair back and rising from the table. “I say tea,” he said, “but it’s liberally laced with fortifi
ed wine. Just the thing to round off a meal.” He looked at Alecia. “Perhaps you would like to pass on the tea, Allandra?”
She inclined her head. “Perhaps I will do so, Lord Leth. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll retire to my room. I’m weary after the ordeal of the past days.”
Leth came forward and raised her hand to his mouth. She watched, mesmerized as his lips brushed her fingers. The power of the gesture overwhelmed her. She raised her eyes to his and felt the full force of Leth’s gaze. The gold flecks enlarged, merged then seemed to blaze out, searing into her and leaving her skin tingling. His lips curved in a knowing smile.
“Until we meet again,” he said, releasing her fingers and turning away.
Vard’s arm curved around her waist as he turned her gently to face him. “Sleep soundly, beloved. I’ll look in on you after our lesson.”
He led her to the door and watched as she walked to her chamber. She waved to him from her door and slipped inside.
The room was warm from the fire that blazed in the hearth. She stripped her gown and stood in front of a long mirror that had once boasted a gilded frame. Now only specs of gold showed along the weathered wood, as if the piece had lain outdoor. She turned to the side and ran her hands over her abdomen. Was it swelling? No, it was too early yet, but what would she do when she was too large to fit into her breeches? She couldn’t tell Vard too soon for fear he’d send her away. Perhaps she shouldn’t worry. After all, Alen Leth would teach Vard all the tricks of the Defender and she would no longer be at risk of his self-control. Then they could live happy and safe forever as husband and wife.
Alecia thought of the people of Brightcastle whom she had abandoned. She couldn’t leave them at the mercy of Prince Zialni and Lord Finus. She must find a way to remove her father and his hated advisor without placing her child in danger. Somehow, she’d take her rightful place as the ruler of Brightcastle, and perhaps one day, queen of the kingdom, just as her idol Izebel had done. But there was much to accomplish before her dreams would be realized. Leth was the first hurdle she and Vard must overcome.
Princess in Exile Page 6
