The Battle Lord's Lady

by Linda Mooney

  “He pledged himself to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you accepted?”

  “With one condition.”

  “And that being...”

  “His people have to accept me readily and without prejudice. Until they do, I will not consent to be his wife.”

  Madigan’s bark of laughter rang in the room. “Oh, that’s just too rich! How inconceivably naive of you! Perfect! Just perfect! You know you will never meet that condition, don’t you? As long as I draw breath, I will never, never accept you as anything but the enemy!” she taunted.

  A single tear rolled down Atty’s cheek. “And Yulen has sworn to me he will not take me until I take those vows with him,” she finished. “So, you see, you have nothing to worry about. If your hatred for me never abates, I can’t take those vows. And without the vows, Yulen won’t... What was the word you used? Oh, yes. Copulate. Yulen won’t copulate with me.” Another tear followed, but she was unaware of it. “I am here not just because he brought me here, but because I don’t want to ever leave his side. I want to stay with him, no matter what happens, regardless of whether we ever become husband and wife. Regardless of whether we’ll be able to lie in each other’s arms. I...love...him, Madigan. And you can’t change that. Never. No matter how hard you try, no matter how much you wish it otherwise.”

  “And I love her just as strongly,” Yulen told his mother as he stood at the door.

  Both women looked up in surprise, Madigan with more anger in her eyes. “How long have you been spying on us?” the older woman demanded heatedly.

  Yulen entered the room, shutting the door behind him as he lifted an eyebrow. “Spying? In my own bedroom?” Glancing at Atty, he asked, “Are you all right?”

  “Is this true, Yul?” the older woman asked. “Is it true she’s a virgin?”

  Yulen glanced at Atty, who nodded slowly. “Yes, Mother, it’s true. If you don’t believe me, get Liam up here. He’ll confirm it right now if you need proof. Unless you want to check her yourself.”

  The casual comment caused the older woman to throw her hands up in defeat. “And you pledged yourselves to each other, but with the condition that this woman be welcome in Alta Novis?”

  “Atty will prove herself. It will take time, but it’ll happen,” Yulen swore. “Now, if you don’t mind, I want to spend a quiet evening with the woman I love. Berta should be arriving soon with our supper. In the meantime, Atty, would you like to take in some fresh air? I know you’ve been cooped up in here all day.”

  Knowing she’d been dismissed, Madigan hurried out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Atty looked back at where Yulen stood with his hands on his hips, his eyes cast downward. “Please forgive her. My mother is a very bitter woman,” he began. Atty hurried over, shushing him.

  “No more. I don’t want to talk any more about her. Did you say fresh air?”

  He lifted his head and graced her with a gentle smile. “Out on the balcony.”

  “What balcony?”

  Yulen chuckled as he ran his fingers through her glossy hair. “I thought you were going to snoop. Surely you checked all the doors to see where they led?”

  She shook her head. His hand was gentle, caressing. Closing her eyes, she was half-prepared to feel his lips on hers. His kiss was long, slow, and deep, and made up for the despair brought upon her as it sensuously filled her, starting from her toes and winding its way up through her body. If they had all evening and all night to be together, nothing else would make her happier.

  When he finally released her, he led her over to the far door at the opposite end of the room. It was unlocked, and led out to a balcony along the edge of the roof. From where she stood, Atty could see where a bell had been erected at the furthest end of the main lodge, close to the courtyard. Below it a narrow ladder led down to the ground. Atty looked at him for an explanation.

  “Whenever there’s an important announcement to be made, the Battle Lord, or whoever is in charge, comes out here and rings the bell. That alerts the compound to gather to hear the announcement. My father rang that bell when I was born, to tell everyone he had a son.”

  She could still hear echoes of it pealing all through the day. “Have you ever rung it?” she asked.

  “Two years ago. It was my first time to hold the rope. To let the people know of my father’s passing.” His voice softened with the memory. Atty leaned against him to offer him comfort. “One day, Atrilan, I will ring it again to announce our wedding. I promise you.”

  “I believe you,” she answered him, surprising herself with the statement. Maybe they would. One day. Soon, hopefully.

  It was twilight, and the air was still. Overhead, stars were popping out in the night sky. In the distance the funeral fires were beginning to die, the curls of smokes dissipating. Unaware they were being watched, Yulen pulled Atty against him and bowed his head, resting his cheek against hers as she pressed her hands against his back. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. All evening. All night. He would be able to hold her and love her, and she would begin to heal him. From here on the battle would be all uphill, but the worst was over. And she would always be here, waiting for him.

  After a moment Atty alerted him of a knock on the bedroom door, and together they left the balcony, closing the outer door behind them.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Opinion

  MaGrath found the Battle Lord sitting at one of the long tables in the main hall doing the paperwork that needed to be read, signed, and distributed. It was the only part of the job Yulen truly abhorred, just as his father did before him, but it was a necessary evil. When the time came when he could no longer shunt it to one side, he’d go down to the main hall and spread it all out, just as he’d been taught by his father. This time, however, the physician had the feeling the man was delving into the paperwork as an escape, rather than thinking of it as a duty.

  The physician grabbed two mugs of beer from the kitchen before sauntering over to where the man was reading a long list, most likely the inventory from the compound’s stores. He set one mug where Yulen could see it, then took a seat opposite him.

  “I hate these yearly sweeps,” the Battle Lord mumbled. “Too much happens when I’m gone.”

  “Yeah. Well, that’s to be expected. When we got back, I found out that Macintyre had completely depleted my stores of antibiotics. If there’s one thing you never allow yourself to run out of, it’s antibiotics.”

  Yulen cast an eye in his direction as he reached for the beer. “Bet you gave him an earful.”

  MaGrath nodded, smiling from the memory. “But I’ll bet you he’ll never do it again. Serves me right, anyway. That’s what I get for leaving an apprentice in charge of the compound when I go traipsing about the countryside with you.”

  Chuckling, Yulen took a sip and set down the drink to return to the paperwork. “But that’s over now, isn’t it? No more senseless killings, thank God.”

  MaGrath watched him for a while, until the Battle Lord gave him another subjective glance. “Did you need to see me about anything in particular?” he finally asked pointedly.

  “Atty,” the physician responded bluntly. When Yulen put down the paperwork and sat back, he knew he had the man’s full attention.

  “Okay, Liam. What now?”

  “It’s been three days since the funeral. Don’t you think it’s about time you let her out of that room?”

  “When she’s ready to leave it, I won’t stop her.”

  MaGrath swallowed the smile that threatened to break over his face. “I thought maybe the reason you were keeping her up there was to protect her.”

  “You know that’s part of it,” Yulen acknowledged. “What’s your point? I swear, Liam, you are harder to pin down than a snake.”

  He took a sip of beer. “I just thought you’d like to know what the talk is that’s going around the compound, with regards to you and the little missus.”

  Yulen snorted softly. “You know
I do. So what am I going to have to do to get you to spill the beans?” As the compound’s main doctor, he knew MaGrath had his finger on the pulse of the community, and was often privy to information he’d never be able to obtain on his own. The only thing MaGrath ever denied him was confidential details about individual people. It was part of his oath he took when he became a physician, and Yulen respected his decision.

  “Well, for one thing, you’re going to have to start being a bit more subtle in your attentions toward Atty.”

  Blue-gray eyes narrowed, partly in confusion, partly in anger. “What do you mean?”

  MaGrath gestured toward the upstairs suite with a nod of his head. “Did you forget your bathroom is directly over the kitchen?”

  “No. The tub drains through the kitchen’s pipes, right behind the sinks. Why?”

  “Didn’t you think the help would notice whenever the ceiling begins to drip because a lot of water’s been leaking out of the tub upstairs?”

  “The tub doesn’t have a leak,” Yulen continued, then abruptly stopped. He saw MaGrath waggle his eyebrows at him. “All right. Noted. What else?”

  The physician scratched his own neck with a finger. “Nice love bite. Next time, though, you might want to think about putting a bandage over it.”

  Yulen sighed loudly. Lacing his fingers together, he planted his elbows on the table and pressed his lips against his hands. “Go on.”

  “Just one more,” the physician promised. “Whenever you two are outside on the balcony, remember there’s probably about a dozen or so eyes watching you at any one time. Doesn’t matter if it’s daylight or dark. You’re the Battle Lord, and right now you two are the juiciest bit of news around here.”

  “So what are they saying, Liam? What’s their opinion of Atty?”

  “You want the good with the bad?”

  “I want the truth, good and bad. Do you think there’s a chance they could ever accept her?”

  MaGrath shrugged. “How do you expect them to accept her until they get to know her? They need to meet her. Talk with her. Be with her face-to-face. You want the truth? I think she’ll win them over once they get a taste of her sass and her honesty. You don’t have to be around her long before you know how innocent she is.”

  “An innocent who killed sixteen of my men.”

  Sitting up straighter, the physician leaned part-way over the table. “Do you have any knowledge of what your men are saying about her?”

  He was pleased to see the alarm come over the Battle Lord’s face. Yes, the man had only shouldered his position for two short years, but he showed exceptional promise to become an even greater leader than his father had been. In the meantime, MaGrath felt it his lifelong duty to be this man’s mentor and guide—a man he always thought of as the son he never had.

  “Sit down, Yulen. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  “What are they saying, Liam?”

  “What are they saying? They’re telling everyone about this girl’s incredible abilities. They’re telling people about how she saved your butt from a bull ferret. They’re telling people about her taking out Foster City’s pennant. What they don’t have to mention is how she fought alongside you against the Bloods. But I can tell you there’s plenty of talk about her use of a bow up on the parapet that day. Yulen, you have to let her go out on the field and show these people why you originally brought her here. They already know what’s going on between the two of you. Once they see and hear, they’ll understand. Why, even old Berta is having second thoughts about you keeping her a virtual prisoner upstairs.”

  “Atty is not my prisoner,” Yulen stated.

  “She’s not your wife, either. And neither is she your mistress, although the general consensus is swayed the other way.”

  Lowering his hands, the Battle Lord acquiesced. “You’re right. I’ll go speak with her. Let her know we need to set up some trials. Otherwise the men aren’t going to stand around and allow her to give them instructions.” He started to rise when MaGrath reached over and laid a hand on his arm.

  “No need to go upstairs. She’s already gone.”

  “Gone?” Yulen’s face paled. MaGrath was quick to correct himself.

  “Don’t panic. Not gone gone. I meant gone for a walk. It’s Saturday, Market Day. Atty went for a walk out into the compound proper.”

  “By herself?”

  “Yeah,” the physician nodded. “And unarmed.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Walk

  Atty took a deep breath to try and calm herself, then stepped outside the door. By eavesdropping at the bedroom window she’d learned that Saturday was Market Day. And if the market was anything like it was in Wallis, it would be filled with people laughing and arguing, buying and selling, renewing old acquaintances and making new ones.

  Liam had been right about one thing. If she wanted these people to accept her, they had to get to know her. That meant that at some point she had to venture away from Yulen’s protective arm and away from the shielded privacy of the bedroom, and walk among them. Talk to them. Let them get to know her, and she them.

  Immediately she was aware of everyone’s reaction to her. She’d worn her hair down, knowing its color would be like throwing down the gauntlet, but she no longer cared. They knew she was at the compound. Talk was they’d seen her and the Battle Lord together, and knew from the soldiers’ and the servants’ gossip they were intimately involved.

  No more tip-toeing around, she’d decided. Time to jump in feet first with eyes wide open and chin held high.

  And to make extra sure there would be no mistaking her intentions, Atty had deliberately left her weapons belt in the bedroom. She would be a sheep among wolves, if that was what it took to prove herself.

  Rather than stop and see what the people around her would do, she decided to look over the stalls. It wasn’t long before she became fascinated by the assortment and variety of items for sale or barter. Alta Novis was one of the largest compounds this side of the Missip River, or so she’d been told. The wagons and tents this day seemed to go on forever.

  At one fruit stand she spotted the familiar peaches she’d been enjoying, along with another couple of foods she thought she recognized. The vendor eyed her cautiously, not yet decided whether he would serve her or not.

  “Excuse me, but what are those?” she asked him, pointing to some large purple clusters.

  “Grapes,” he replied stiffly, eyebrows lowered. “Haven’t you ever seen grapes before?”

  Atty shook her head. “Only in books.”

  “Only in books?” A woman nearby parroted. “You know how to read?”

  Atty quickly swallowed her pride. She had to remember these people had been indoctrinated with the same half-truths and falsehoods that Yulen had been taught. For her to get upset when they questioned her would not help matters.

  “Yes, I can read,” she answered them sincerely. “I was also taught some science and history. I can also do my numbers, but not very well, I’m afraid. I hated mathematics, except for the part where I had to learn about trajectory and wind velocity and such. That part was important because I needed it for my trials when I entered the hunters caste.”

  To her surprise, the vendor handed her a grape, which she accepted with a smile. “Thank you.” Tentatively she bit into it and found it tantalizingly sweet. Instantly her mind went back to that morning when she’d had her first peach, and Yulen had then had her. A light blush flushed her cheeks. “It’s good! Where do you get these? Are they grown nearby?”

  “We trade with the compounds along the route,” the woman vendor across the way told her. “Some of them have their own vineyards and orchards.”

  Atty thanked the man again for the taste and continued to stroll along the way. Some people stared as she passed, which was what she expected. Many stopped talking as she neared, which made her wonder if she’d been the topic of conversation.

  At one small shed she noticed a display of knives and daggers
glistening in the mid-morning sunlight. One dagger in particular drew her eye, and she reached out to run her fingertips down its blade.

  “You have excellent taste,” a man came out from inside the building to tell her.

  “It’s...beautiful,” Atty told him. “Did you make this yourself?”

  He nodded. “My name’s Cavender. I’m the master knife smith here in Alta Novis. You’re Atty, aren’t you?”

  She nodded. The man was unreadable. It was hard to tell if he was sizing her up, or if he was being guarded. Which was why she was surprised when he reached past her and lifted down the dagger from its holder.

  “This particular one is called a Ballock dagger. Are you familiar with it?”

  She shook her head.

  “I made the grip of burled black ash because I liked the grain. The blade is double-edged. Personally I love the heft. Just under eleven ounces. Here, try it.”

  Atty stared wide-eyed as Cavender handed her the weapon, allowing her to adjust to its feel. “Well, what do you think?”

  Although it was a larger than normal dagger, it felt good and solid in her hand. She looked up when the knife smith pointed to a knothole in a tree twenty-five feet away.

  “Go ahead and try to hit the tree,” he challenged her.

  Around them people stopped and gathered to watch, waiting to see what the Mutah woman would do. Secretly she wondered if they were wanting her to hit the tree, or to miss. Either way, Atty knew she couldn’t be anything other than herself.

  “Hit the tree?” she repeated.

  Cavender nodded. “If you can,” he added. This time Atty noticed a definite twinkle in the man’s eye.

  “Everyone stand back,” she breathed aloud, and checked to make sure no one might accidentally step in the path of her throw. Looking back at the man, she repeated for the second time, “Hit the tree?” adding, “How about the spider on the tree?”