by Jocelyn Fox
“You’re the one who insists that repetition and practice is the only way to become truly skilled,” returned Andraste.
“Ah, using my own words against me.” Finn shook his head.
“You give me few enough opportunities to do it, and it is a habit of my sex, is it not?” said the Princess with a throaty chuckle.
“Just because it is a habit of the other ladies does not mean you must make it yours,” replied Finn.
“The majority of my habits would scandalize the other ladies,” said Andraste, raising an eyebrow as she rearranged the arrows in her quiver. “As it is, they remark on the fact that I am not quite as willowy as I might be.” She selected an arrow and sent it quivering into the center of the target.
“And who thinks that they have the right to say such things to you?”
She glanced at him with consideration in her pretty eyes. “You sound so righteously offended, Finn. I wouldn’t have guessed that you cared what others say.”
The sound of his name on her lips, pronounced with such familiarity, plucked a strange chord within him. He took a breath to compose himself before replying. “I don’t care much what others say of me, but I do take issue with those who speak of those I care about.”
She stood carefully still as she nocked another arrow, her words almost too soft for him to hear as she asked just before loosing the missile: “And so you care about me?”
She didn’t look at him, instead selecting another arrow and bringing her bow up for another shot. He waited until she was almost ready to release the arrow.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I do care for you, Andraste.”
She jerked slightly and the arrow skidded into the underbrush well short of the target, but she paid it no mind as she turned to him, bow still in hand. “Proper etiquette dictates that I shouldn’t push the topic further.” Two spots of color burned high on her sharp cheekbones. “But as I’ve said before, I’m not one to be restrained by propriety.” She took a breath and raised her chin. “So, Knight Finnead, do you care for me as a brother cares for his sister, or as a Knight cares for a lady he wishes to court?”
Finn felt transfixed by her gaze, her eyes setting his blood aflame. His head emptied of all thoughts save for her. He drank in the sight of her: wearing trousers and a loose shirt, her dark hair haphazardly braided, sweat dampening her forehead. “I care for you,” he said slowly, “as a Knight cares for a lady he wishes to court.”
She stared at him for a long moment, wild delight surging into her eyes. Before he could move, she closed the distance between them in three long strides, still holding her bow in her left hand. He could feel the heat of her body as she gazed up at him, her flushed cheeks and bright eyes enticing in a way he had never felt.
“Kiss me,” she said, and though her voice was soft it contained an echo of a command.
“As you wish,” he replied, one hand brushing away an escaped lock of her dark hair. He lowered his mouth to meet hers, and she closed her eyes. Her lips tasted sweeter than anything he could have imagined, and the gentle, chaste kiss sent lightning through his veins. He wanted to pull her body against him, to feel her curves crushed against the hard planes of his chest. He wanted to part her lips with his tongue and devour her mouth with his own. But he felt her tremble and he drew back gently. She gazed up at him, eyes wide and hazy with desire. The look of wanting on her face made his own body clench with need, but he took a breath and leaned back slightly.
Andraste took a shuddering breath of her own and smiled slightly. “I will never again disparage the love poems of the mortals that my sister so enjoys.”
“And why is that?” he asked, his voice slightly husky. He regained control of his body with iron will, exerting every bit of discipline he’d learned to bring his wayward desire to heel.
“It seems that words, even the most expressive ones, cannot do a feeling such as this justice,” she replied. “And that was just a kiss,” she added mischievously.
“And it shall remain just a kiss,” he said with an answering smile.
She blinked and stepped back. “Did you not find it…enjoyable?”
Finn chastised himself silently. Finding the right words had never seemed so difficult…or important. “I found it immensely enjoyable. I am a man of honor, but I find that even my self-control has its limits.” He waited a moment for her to understand his meaning, and when a catlike smile appeared on her mouth he knew that she understood what he meant to say. Then she sighed and stepped back, toying with one of the arrows in her quiver.
“Do you ever feel like a chess piece on a board, Finn?” she asked, gazing at the target with her arrows peppering its surface.
“I am a Knight,” he said. “I go where I am commanded.”
She chuckled. “There is not a piece called a Princess on the chess board, yet I feel like I am being moved about in a game sometimes.”
“I would not compare our lives to a game,” he replied.
“To my sister, sometimes I think we are nothing but pieces on the board,” Andraste said darkly. “And I resent it.” She glanced at him. “That is part of why I wanted to learn how to fight, you know. It makes me feel like I control something.”
“Is that why you chose me to teach you?” Finn asked quietly. He felt like he was skirting the edge of a cliff. “Or was that choice made for you?”
“That choice was mine,” said Andraste, meeting his eyes. “Even though my sister approves, that choice was always mine.”
A moment of silence stretched between them. Finally, Finn spoke. “Does it matter, then, if we are pieces on a board? If the choices we make are our own, does it matter if they align with what the Queen wants us to choose?”
“I don’t know,” sighed Andraste. She smiled. “I know that I want you to kiss me again.”
Finn chuckled, even as his heart skipped a beat at the thought. “If you finish the arrows in your quiver and ten are in the bull’s eye, I will.”
“Oh, so it’s a wager?” Her eyes glinted.
“A reward,” he countered.
She grinned. “Very well. A good instructor does reward his students every now and again.”
As the Princess turned back to the target, Finn wondered suddenly if he was truly the instructor and she the student, or if she was about to become his instructor in matters of the heart. Rather than fighting it, he let his affection for her wash over him, thrumming through his veins and sharpened with an edge of desire. He would be a gentleman, he reminded himself firmly. She was the Princess, not any common maiden willing to fool around with a handsome Knight.
You’re just afraid that she’ll want you to deflower her, said Kieran wickedly in the corner of his mind.
Don’t be rude, he chastised his best friend.
I’m not being rude, I’m being realistic. There’s a difference, Kieran replied. Or maybe you’re afraid that she’ll be disappointed in your skills when you do deflower her?
Rude, Finn thought firmly.
I’m actually part of your own mind, so I suppose you should be reprimanding yourself, Kieran’s voice said cheerfully.
We only kissed, Finn thought, watching Andraste send four arrows in a row into the center of the target, clustered so close to one another that the fletching touched.
For now, allowed Kieran, and then the voice fell silent. Finn glanced down the hill and saw Ramel and Rye sparring, Ramel with his blunt practice blade and shield and Rye with a short sword and an axe. Finn winced as Ramel caught a hard blow from Rye’s axe on his shield. Rye had obviously taken advantage of their practice sessions to increase her own skills and strength, and she’d become almost an equal match for his squire depending on the weapon and the day. Perhaps if Andraste took a greater interest in the governing of her sister’s kingdom, she could convince the Queen to make changes, he thought.
“Only one arrow left and I shall collect on this reward you offered,” said Andraste lightly, interrupting his musings. She paused. “What serious
thoughts are swirling behind those eyes, Finn?”
“I was thinking of the changes that could be made if your sister the Queen listens to you seriously,” said Finn slowly. He glanced to Rye and Ramel again. Ramel deflected a strike from Rye’s short sword and used his shield to shove her off balance, sliding his blade through her guard. She caught his blade between her short sword and the haft of her axe, the lean muscles in her arms cording as she strained to hold off his onslaught.
“He could strike her with the edge of his shield,” murmured Andraste.
“But he won’t,” replied Finn.
“In a real fight, that’s what he would do,” returned the Princess.
“But sparring should only be treated as a real fight for so long. It is up to the more skilled partner, or the partner who holds the advantage if both are equal in skill, to determine what course would best benefit them both.”
“That’s a lot to think about in the middle of a fight,” said Andraste.
“If you can’t think and fight, then you shouldn’t be fighting,” replied Finn.
“Fair,” she said quietly.
Rye bared her teeth as Ramel brought his weight to bear on his blade. His sword inched downward inexorably. Then Rye suddenly dropped to a knee and threw her body to one side, releasing Ramel’s sword abruptly and rolling away. By the time Ramel recovered, she held her weapons ready for his next attack. Andraste grinned.
“Thinking of unexpected ways to use your enemy’s strength to your advantage is a bonus,” she said.
“It’s not a bonus. It’s a necessity,” Finn said. “You and Rye both have to contend with opponents superior in strength and speed. You have to use every opportunity to press an advantage.”
“Or use every opportunity to strike at them from a distance,” said Andraste thoughtfully, her right hand stroking the fletching of the few arrows left in her quiver at her hip.
“That could also work, but it has its limitations,” said Finn.
“Rye has been teaching me to throw an axe and a small knife,” Andraste replied. She smiled at Finn’s look. “Does that shock you?”
“Nothing shocks me anymore,” replied Finn.
“Don’t pretend to be wise and worldly,” said Andraste teasingly.
“I do believe I’m more worldly than you, in any case.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised what I hear at the high dais at evening meals.”
“On the contrary, I don’t think I’d be surprised at all.”
“You’re impossible,” laughed Andraste.
“How many more arrows do you have to shoot?” Finn asked mildly.
“For our wager, four more,” she replied.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think that you didn’t want that kiss,” he said with a smile. “Standing about idly and watching the sparring match.”
“I’m not standing about idly,” she said in mock outrage. “We were having a very productive discussion on the merits of Rye’s sparring strategy.”
“Less discussing, more shooting arrows,” said Finn.
“Impossible,” muttered Andraste, but she smiled as she turned back to the target. Finn kept watching Rye and Ramel’s sparring match; after one more situation in which he could have pressed his advantage but waited for Rye to work her way out of the problem, Ramel knocked Rye down with a blow from his shield and pressed the blunted point of his practice blade into her throat. She grinned up at him and licked the trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth. Ramel stepped back, sheathed his blade and offered her his hand. Rye slid her axe into the loop at her belt and took Ramel’s hand, letting him haul her upright.
“Ten in the center,” pronounced Andraste. She turned to Finn and motioned to her empty quiver. “Care to count?”
“Trust but verify,” said Finn. Andraste set her bow down and followed him as he walked toward the target. The arrows in the center were clustered together too tightly for him to count them accurately at the fifty-pace distance. He touched each arrow as he counted it – there were thirteen in the bull’s eye, but he knew that there had been three before their wager. As his hand lingered on the thirteenth arrow, Andraste reached out and covered it with her own. A shiver raced through him.
“Have you verified that I won the wager?” she asked in a low voice. The heat in her eyes when he met her gaze sent another thrill through him.
“It’s a rare occasion when I am happy to lose a wager,” he replied. She smiled and then their lips met. This time, she pressed herself against him, igniting a rush of fire in his limbs as he felt the curves of her body against his own. Her arms slid around him, one of her hands pressing against his hip and the other splayed against his back. Emboldened, he deepened the kiss, her lips parting at the seeking touch of his tongue. She drew in her breath sharply and seemed to melt into him. He kissed her thoroughly for a moment more and then drew back slightly. She kept her eyes closed, her delicious lips reddened by his kiss. Finn swallowed hard and gently created more space between them. Andraste opened her eyes and swayed unsteadily for an instant but then regained her balance. She smiled at him a bit dazedly.
“I say, Ramel, that was a blazing good sparring match!” came Rye’s voice, her words loud and exaggerated.
“Why yes, I would agree with you, a good sparring match indeed!” bellowed the squire. “Now that we are finished, I believe we shall walk back up the hill to the archery target!”
“I think they saw us,” said Andraste in a low voice. She chuckled.
Finn felt his face redden. “Better them than anyone else.”
“Oh, don’t blush,” the Princess said with a grin. “Though it does make you look younger and quite adorable.”
He gave her an affronted look. “Adorable?”
“We are walking up the hill now!” yelled Ramel.
“Yes, such a trek!” howled Rye, her words choked by laughter.
“All right, you two, you can stop with the theatrics,” called Andraste, hands on her hips.
“We just didn’t want to catch you unawares,” said Ramel with a cheeky grin.
“Or otherwise occupied,” added Rye, her eyes dancing.
“Don’t be impertinent,” said the Princess.
“Impertinent? Never, my lady,” replied Finn’s squire, sunlight gleaming off his copper curls. “Simply looking out for the best interests of all involved.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘incorrigible,’” Finn offered to Andraste. Ramel grinned and Rye bit her lip, looking away as she struggled to contain her mirth.
“I’m going to go retrieve my arrows,” said the Princess. She pointed to Rye and Ramel. “I’d appreciate it if you two could have your amusement under control by the time I return.”
Rye gave an unladylike snort and turned around, shoulders shaking. Ramel did a better job of maintaining a calm outward demeanor.
“Apparently, your training hasn’t been for nothing,” commented Finn, watching his squire retain a stoic face.
“Only because I know that I’ll be cleaning your armor all night if I don’t, sir,” Ramel replied with a ghost of a grin.
“I have no such restraint,” said Rye, turning back to them, “so I can be the one to say that it took you entirely too long to kiss her.”
Ramel’s composure cracked as he grinned.
“If it weren’t for the oath my squire is obligated to uphold, I’d say the same thing to you about him,” returned Finn. Ramel’s mouth dropped open slightly in shock. Finn smiled. “I’m not giving you any special dispensation, but I’m saying that I trust you both to know your limits.”
“I have no idea what that means, sir,” said Ramel faintly.
“Oh, I do,” said Rye impishly.
Finn smiled and turned back to the archery target. He reached Andraste as she finished inspecting the last arrow she had pulled from the bull’s eye.
“None broke today, so that’s good news,” she said as she slid the arrow into her quiver. She smiled at him. �
�Time to catch our mounts and head back, I think.”
“As you wish,” he said with an answering smile. They gazed at each other for a long moment, and he was sure that she was remembering the molten heat of their kiss just as he was. Then she touched his arm lightly and walked away through the long grass toward where their faehal grazed contentedly. He watched the golden light of late afternoon burnish her dark hair and knew that from that day forward, nothing would ever be the same between them…and he smiled.
Chapter 25
“When do you think Knight Finnead will put you up for the gauntlet?” Murtagh asked, leaning back in his chair in Ramel’s quarters.
“It’s bad luck to guess what he’s going to do,” said Ramel with a shrug. “Actually, it’s more like I don’t want to get my hopes up.”
“This year marks the same number of years that Finnead spent as a squire,” Murtagh pointed out.
“And you want me to compare myself to him?” Ramel chuckled. “That’s even more unlikely than me getting my hopes up.”
Murtagh frowned. “When did you go and grow up? Where’s the cheeky page who started brawls in the training yard?”
Ramel grinned and tapped his head. “Still here, but tucked away sometimes.”
“Stars, we are getting old.” Murtagh shook his head.
“I’m not the one talking about a hand-fasting under the Dark Tree,” replied Ramel.
Murtagh grinned. “If Ari will have me. You know, her brother Moryn is a senior page now. Think you could take him as your squire after you have your sword?”
“I’m not going to talk about having my sword,” said Ramel firmly. He linked his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair with a reflective look. “Besides, perhaps I don’t want a squire right away. It’s not common, you know, for a new Knight to take a squire right at the outset.”
“Then why did Finnead?”
“I don’t pretend to know what he’s thinking,” said Ramel with a sigh, the smile fading from his face.
“I sense there’s some…friction…between you?”
“Not necessarily. I just think he’s playing with fire.” Ramel shifted and put his elbows on his knees, looking balefully into the flames of the fire burning in the hearth.
