The Gauntlet Thrown

by Cheryl Dyson

  ******

  Brydon felt Sellaris watching him, as usual. There was a question in her eyes and an invitation that he could not accept. He almost wished she would try to free her brother instead of watching him. He could have dealt more easily with that.

  He took out the flask and pouches he had been carrying around since they’d left the bandit camp and handed them to Verana.

  "Here. I found these among Reed’s possessions. I forgot about them until now. What do you make of these packets?"

  Verana took the items and examined them. Brydon already knew the brandy was fine stuff, as he had tasted it for the purpose of identification. She opened the first packet and shook out a bit of the leafy substance onto a flat stone. She added a sprinkle of the herbs to a cup of hot water she’d been preparing for tea, using the tip of her dagger to add the herbs.

  "Why do you do that?" he asked, curious as to her elaborate actions.

  "Some things are deadly poison, even to touch," she replied. When the herbs had steeped long enough, she picked up the cup and smelled it, paused for a moment, and then touched her tongue to it.

  Instantly she spat, dumped the contents into the fire, and quickly dug into her pouches. She found a small red leaf and put it into her mouth before chewing and swallowing it with a grimace of distaste.

  "What was it?" Brydon asked.

  "Poison," she replied. "It has to be ingested to work, but I do not like to take chances. The leaf I ate will counter any ill effects."

  Brydon protested, but she insisted on testing the other substances in the same way. What she found was disconcerting, but not unexpected. Four of the packets were poisonous substances in varying degrees of deadliness, and the remaining three were drugs whose main purpose was to knock the victim out. The only differences in the knockout drugs were apparently the nastiness of the side effects.

  "A nice fellow, our Reed," Brydon stated when she had finished. She marked them all carefully and stashed them away with the rest of her medicines.

  "Indeed. I begin to believe there is more to the mysterious Reed than our other ‘friends’ suspect," Verana replied.

  Brydon looked at Sellaris, who had made up her bed for the night. She glanced at him curiously. She always seemed to know when his eyes were upon her. "If we encounter him again, we will know more of what to expect."

  "Hopefully, we will not encounter him again," Verana answered and Brydon agreed wholeheartedly. He stood up and found Sellaris at his shoulder.

  "May I speak with you, Brydon?" she asked. He felt a strange sense of danger when he looked into her mysterious eyes and his throat went dry. He dreaded a confrontation with her, even though he had sensed she was not finished with him.

  "All right," he said and hoped it would be.

  They walked into the jungle, skirting moss-covered logs and ducking the wet fronds of leafy bushes. He watched her hips sway as she walked in front of him and forced himself to look at something else. When they were far away from camp, she turned.

  "You do not like me very much, do you?" she asked bluntly.

  He floundered, caught off-guard by the question. "It is not a matter of like or dislike," he protested.

  "Why have you been avoiding me?" she continued. "Do you find me unattractive? Tell me yes and I will stay away from you."

  Panic thudded through Brydon's pulse and he fought to remain calm. "Of... of course I find you attractive. You are beautiful, which I am sure you well know. I just cannot... be with you."

  "You want me, don’t you?"

  "Yes," he snapped. "But I have other obligations, other responsibilities."

  Her grey eyes turned smoky and she actually laughed. "I am not asking for an obligation," she said flatly. "Do you think I want to spend the rest of my life tied down?" Before he could protest, she went on, "I know how Falarans think. You like to keep your women trapped in your houses to bear your brats and cook your meals. That life is not for me. I am not asking for a commitment."

  Brydon was astounded at her vehemence. "I did not—" he began.

  She cut him off. "Or do you believe that you, a noble Falaran, are too good to waste your time on me?"

  Brydon glared at that. "As wise as you seem to think you are, you obviously know very little about men and especially about me."

  She leaned forward seductively and whispered, "Do you want me to show you what I know about men?"

  Brydon nearly gnashed his teeth and then reached out to snatch her to him. He kissed her roughly and was not surprised when she responded. Her arms slid around him and she kissed him bruisingly, crushing her lips against his. Her fingernails cut into his back and he felt his own hands twist roughly into her hair. Their actions spoke more of war, not love, as if the desire they had tried to ignore had grown into rage.

  He flung her away as suddenly as he had gripped her and stood watching her through half-lidded eyes, panting. She spun away, walked a couple of shaky steps, and then whirled around to glare at him. Her breath was uneven, as was his. She put a hand to her mouth and touched blood on her lip. They watched each other for a moment, not moving, and then Sellaris smiled. After a moment, it turned into a throaty laugh.

  "You really do want me, eh, Falaran?"

  Brydon closed his eyes; fists clenched, and threw his head back in frustration. "Yes," he ground out. "I’m sorry I hurt you, but I cannot have you."

  She walked slowly over to stand in front of him again. The look in her eyes was surprisingly tender. She reached up to touch his cheek and he clenched his jaw tightly.

  "I’ve hurt you worse," she said. "But I am the one to say if you can or cannot have me."

  "You do not understand." He sighed and opened his eyes again to look upon her and fought the need to take her into his arms. He restrained himself from even touching an errant curl that had strayed down to lay near her half-open blouse. She had replaced some of the laces, but seemed to take delight in tormenting him by leaving it partially open at the top. "I am a Falaran, as you know. I am also a Falaran on a quest."

  It took a moment for the clouds of incomprehension to clear from her eyes, but they did at last and she gasped, taking a shocked step backward.

  "You? You will be the next Falaran king?"

  He nodded. "If I succeed."

  She was silent for a long time. Part of him died to see understanding dawn in her eyes and the shutters that dropped down over them to conceal her emotions. "And what is your precious quest?" she asked finally.

  "I have told no one," he said, but she turned away, barely listening to him, seemingly lost in her thoughts. She turned back and gazed at him through narrowed eyes.

  "So you are saving yourself for your princess?" she asked bitingly.

  He flushed. Put that way, it sounded foolish. "I merely think it unwise to—" He stopped abruptly.

  "To what?" she prodded, grey eyes dangerous.

  He turned away and spat it out. "It would be unwise to fall in love with another when I must marry someone else." She was silent for a long time and he glanced at her again. Her eyes were wide.

  "You think you would fall in love with me?" she asked quietly, with no trace of the amusement he had expected.

  Brydon could not tell her he believed he already had. "I think it would be far too easy to fall in love with you," he replied. "And far too difficult for my future."

  "What if it were meant to be?" she asked in a soft voice.

  "How could it? You already stated that you could never live with me and ‘raise my brats.’ And I could not roam the countryside stealing horses."

  She flushed. "I would not expect you to. Besides, it might be easier to live with a Falaran if he were king," she said pertly before she turned and disappeared into the undergrowth.

  Brydon sat down on a mossy log and thought dismal thoughts for a long time.