by JK Ensley
“But you’re well now,” Cherie said. “Just go to him, start all over. You have to fulfill your mission, Milady.”
“It’s not that easy, lovely girl,” Duhrias said. “The Prince may not have seen her, yet many of his best troops did. Some of them even crossed swords with her, and a couple nearly beat the life right out of her. Even if she doesn’t tell the Prince, they will all believe she did. That’s how guilt works.”
Jenevier nodded her agreement. “And thus, my mere presence will cause contention within his ranks… all but ensuring his failure, not his victory.”
Cherie’s normally happy smile twisted with worry. “Then, what shall you do?”
“I must play out the destiny I set into motion.” Jenevier leaned back in her chair. “I will go where it is they believe they sent me. Do what I can to protect the Prince from there.”
“That may be even better, in a way,” Cherie said. “You can make sure the Prince is the one to deal the final blow.”
“If he makes it all the way to Akio’s,” Duhrias grumbled. “Her swords were meant to ensure his safe arrival. The final battle would be left up to his own might. Now… that assurance is no longer possible. And to top it all off, she has to wait for the Prince while keeping Akio’s bed warm.” He growled. “I won’t let that happen.”
“Why?” Cherie narrowed her eyes. “He’s not the one who beat her senseless.” She turned her attention to Jenevier. “While he was here, did he strike you, touch you, cause you any pain? Was he abusive in any way whatsoever?”
“He did not harm me,” Jenevier whispered.
The younger Spirit girl looked back to Duhrias. “Then, what’s the problem? If Akio didn’t care about her, he would have dragged her away while she was still too weak to stand. Instead, he wished only to see her healed. Why would he worry over her if he only meant to do her harm? Seems to me… the safest place for her right now, would be in Akio’s arms.”
“Seems that way to you, does it?” Duhrias snapped. “You would see her pressed beneath that vile man? You’d rather her be used for his satisfaction than protected by my might?”
“Jeez, Duhrias. Get a hold of yourself.” The girl rolled her eyes. “He’s not an animal or a demon. Don’t carry on so. Truth is… he’s actually quite charming. And exceedingly handsome to boot. He won’t chain her to the bed and mount her, frothing at the mouth and grunting like a boar.”
Duhrias actually snarled then. “And how do you know?”
“Like I said, he obviously cares about her, worries for her.” She crossed her arms. “He loves her, Duhrias. I saw it in his eyes when he left here. What is your fear? That he’ll love her to death? Come on, you know better than that. He will treasure her. She may not like it, but like she said… it’s the destiny she set into motion.” Cherie uncrossed her arms and mumbled to herself. “I’d rather be kissed than punched, any old day.”
Jenevier muffled a laugh. “What she says is true, Dimples. You cannot argue with her logic.”
“Perhaps not… but she could have said it a little better, that’s all,” he grumbled.
“Gentle words will not change this reality, sweet Knight.” She smiled and squeezed his hand. “And as far as being protected by your might, I will be.”
Both of the elegant looking Guardian Spirits gazed at her with furrowed brows.
She winked up at Duhrias. “You will take my place.”
Cherie gasped. “What? You want him to lay with Akio in your stead?”
Jenevier burst out laughing. “Wow. Now that would be a story for the ages, would it not?”
Duhrias pinched her on the arm this time.
“Ouch, you old brute,” she said, immediately returning the painful favor. “No, Cherie. As entertaining as your plan might prove, I meant for him to take my original place… beside Prince Suou.”
“No!” Duhrias slammed his fist down on the table. “I have to stay near you. I must ensure your safety.”
“Ensure her virtue, more like,” Cherie mumbled under her breath, earning her a scalding glare from her handsome Spirit friend.
“You really do have trouble with the whole taking orders thing, don’t you?” Jenevier gave him a teasing smirk. “What happened to… My sword is yours. My life is yours. My—”
“Fine.” Duhrias growled and lowered his head. “I promised to obey you, yes. But I never promise to like it.” He sighed and shook his head. “So be it, Milady. Your will, my hands.”
Chapter 20
Brutus
(BRU-tis)
Jenevier leaned over and whispered to Duhrias. “Once he receives me formally, you know what to do.”
“You don’t have to keep reminding me,” he grumbled. “Once your hand is pulled from mine…” He squeezed hers for emphasis. “…I will go see to the Prince. Guard yourself well, Milady. We won’t be long. I will do everything within my power to hurry the enemy to Akio’s door.”
He looked down at her from the corner of his eye. Jenevier saw plainly the great worry, and even greater sadness, within those beautiful emeralds.
“Fret not, sweet Knight.” She lightly touched his arm. “My heart is not an easy thing to steal. Well, not anymore. I will keep it safely locked away. I promise.”
“Until my return?”
She smiled. “Until my return.”
He furrowed his brow.
“Until my mission is over and I can return from whence I came,” she added.
He squeezed her hand again, jerking it slightly, admonishingly.
Their sweet exchange was ended when the large doors opened before them.
*****
“Are you deaf or something?” The guards held their ground, spears crossed. “You don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of making it to the Prince.”
Duhrias snorted out a chuckle, looking down at the shielded men.
“Listen, buddy,” the second guard tried to reason. “Just turn back the way you came. There’s no way we’re letting you pass, and there’s no point in spilling your blood. You stand absent choice in this.”
“I am Duhrias Rogallis.” The corner of his mouth turned up in a sardonic smile. “I always have a choice. Tell me I am minus a choice, and you’ll never speak thusly again. It’s rather hard to talk… when you find yourself minus a tongue.”
A third guard joined them, stouter built than the original two, but still much shorter than Duhrias. The smirking, dimpled man stood head and shoulders over the tallest of the opposing trio.
The newcomer huffed sardonically as he sized up the handsome River Spirit. “You seem to have little regard for your life, stranger.”
“Yes, very little,” Duhrias said coolly. “Bordering on none at all, actually.”
“What’s going on over here? What’s all the commotion about?” A fourth man, decorated with several golden ribbons, yelled at them, drawing even more attention, motioning for even more men.
Duhrias sighed and rolled his eyes. “I have been sent with an important message. I will not be swayed in my mission. If I cannot enter, then send for the Prince. I refuse to part until we have broken words.”
There was the distinct sound of metal upon metal, sword leaving scabbard.
Duhrias cut his eyes toward the now armed man. “You should think long and hard, little soldier.” He leveled a cold glare at the man. “I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty… my blood is not for your sword to drink. It is meant for much grander things.”
The bared blade shook slightly, accenting the trembling of the hands grasping its hilt.
“Hold, men.”
Duhrias glanced toward the deep-voiced man who was now approaching them. He stood of equal height with the waiting Spirit warrior. The mirror image of the long-dead Emperor Musashi came to stand face to face with the elegantly embodied River Spirit.
They were of similar build—broad of shoulder, long sinewy muscles, uncommonly handsome features. They stood as giants when compared to the surrounding men.
Duhrias half smiled, half smirked. “Ahh, Prince Suou,” he said, without bowing or acknowledging the other man’s station in any proper way. “I come with extremely valuable news from an old friend of yours.”
“Old friend?” Suou never broke the man’s hard glare. “Speak the name and prove your words.”
“Careful what you ask for, Sire.” He chuckled. “Your wish is not one to be granted in present company.”
“You will not speak the name? Then will you speak the message?” Suou added a sharp edge to his words.
“That, I cannot do. I was instructed to deliver the message for your ears alone.” Duhrias casually glanced at the surrounding men. “Let’s just say…” He narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice. “…my master is fair of flesh and blue of scar.”
Prince Suou’s furrowed brow slowly relaxed, realization finally sparking in his dark eyes.
“Let him pass,” was all he said before turning, walking away without another word.
Duhrias chuckled under his breath as he made his way to the Prince’s tent. He thought back to Jenevier’s instructions…
Izaru has seen your face, has he not? What shall you do when he recognizes you?
I will do what it is I do best.
Which is?
Best not to burden your heart with such knowledge, Milady.
He had winked at her then, causing that glorious smile to turn up her sweet lips.
“Ugh, that woman will be the death of me. I can just feel it,” he muttered under his breath, but his smile remained.
*****
“Father, I would like you to meet the woman I plan to marry,” Akio said before bowing.
Jenevier mirrored his respectful action, yet held her tongue.
The older man only grunted and stood, turning to leave. Akio gave her a little nudge, motioning with a nod for Jenevier to follow after the man.
She rolled her eyes (not where anyone else could see) and hurriedly caught up with the doddering, elderly gentleman.
When she continued to remain a few paces behind him, he stopped and sighed loudly.
“Are you feeble, girl? How is it you cannot even keep step with an old man?”
She turned back to Akio, but he remained as he was—facing forward, hands at his sides. She rolled her eyes again.
“As you wish, Milord.”
She moved to stand side by side with the man. He snorted, satisfied, before continuing on. He didn’t look at her. His gaze remained fixed forward.
Jenevier snuck a few glimpses of him from the corner of her eye before finally sighing wearily.
“I may not be familiar with your customs here, but I have yet to visit a place where the elderly are minus names.”
He snorted again. “And I have yet to meet a girl so insolent she speaks before being spoken to.”
She chuckled. “Is that so? Well if that shocked you, you will surely keel over before this visit sees its end.”
He cut his eyes toward her then. She met his sideways glance and saw his tiny smile.
“I could have you beheaded for that,” he said.
“I am certain you could try, yes.”
The old man snorted again, as he pushed open the large double doors.
Brilliant sunlight flooded into the darkened hallway. Jenevier could smell the roses long before she could actually see them.
“Bring the tea,” the man huffed sternly before taking a seat, sighing loudly from the action.
Jenevier watched as a young servant boy hurried back through the doors they had just entered. She glanced over at the seated man before looking around at the hundreds of abundantly blooming plants. She couldn’t help but nod with approval.
“Impressive conservatory.”
“I’m glad you like it,” the man grumbled.
“No, you’re not,” she said casually.
Glancing back, she caught his piercing glare. She only smiled.
“You could not care less whether I liked it or not.” She plopped down in the other large chair. “And I never did—say that I liked it, that is. I merely said it was impressive. But feel free to take that however you like.”
Crossing her legs and leaning her head back, Jenevier gazed up through the high glass ceiling at the slowly passing clouds.
“You’ve got a sharp tongue on you, little missy.”
She smiled slightly, but kept looking to the sky. “You have no idea, old man.”
The door creaked when the young servant returned, arms laden with the silver tea set. She breathed in the wonderful floral scent as he poured their cups full and then straightened up, standing still by the low table, eyes focused forward.
“You may go.” She waved him away as she reached for her teacup.
The young man quickly looked toward the older one, who only nodded with a dismissive motion.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” he grumbled when the boy had gone.
“I know who I am,” she said, before taking her first sip. “I rarely have to think about it.” She returned the cup to the saucer. “So… who the hell are you?”
The man snorted through his amused smile. “Why, I am your future father-in-law, am I not?”
“Pfft, everyone should be so lucky.” She caught his stern gaze, it only made her smirk grow all the more. “Tell me. Do you count yourself as lucky, old man?”
He only blew gently upon his steaming tea. “Not as lucky as I count my son.” He glanced over to judge her reaction. “There was a time when I would have fought him over a beauty such as you. Tell me. How did you come by such rare blessings?” He motioned to the sapphires covering her left cheek.
She half smiled. “You count these scars as blessings in your eyes? Truly? Then tell me. Would you like to be blessed thusly?”
The old man shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps. Were they painful?”
She took another sip of her tea. “Perhaps. Do you like pain?”
“Well now,” he said, sitting down his half empty cup. “That all depends on who’s delivering the blows.”
Jenevier only smiled as she continued to enjoy her sweet rose tea.
He studied her closely for a long moment. “Tell me something.”
She didn’t respond, only waited.
“Why Akio? Why my son?”
Placing the saucer back on the serving tray, Jenevier met the old man’s cool glare.
I like him not, Naga. More so with every passing moment.
I know, Dragon. He is a cunning old snake, to be sure.
She smiled sweetly. “Why not? What’s not to desire? Akio is charming, handsome, strong, and an accomplished dancer as well. I feel comfortable in saying I am certainly not the first woman to ever desire him. Yet, I do plan on being the last.”
“You don’t fool me, little girl.” His crooked smile displayed a glimpse of his aging teeth. “I know who you are. My son may be blinded by your rare magic. Yet I am not. I see through the façade. You were once a normal girl, were you not? Now… you are dark and twisted.”
She returned his haughty smirk with a sardonic smile. “Is that so? Do tell.”
“Deny it if you want. I know the truth concerning you. You are no precious little Princess. Your core is now nothing but a rotting stench, a bottomless pit you try to fill with dead men’s bones.”
“What a morbidly enchanting description—two enthusiastic thumbs up for creativity alone.” She smiled coolly. “But I know you as well, old man. You were always second best, never the leader. Never quite capable of rising above your lowly station. You curse the world you were born into. You hate everything and everyone within it, but none more so than yourself. No matter what you try, no matter who you claim, you will never be able to forget the pain… the pain of that easily forgotten, constantly dismissed, pitifully unworthy little boy who will always live deep inside your blackened soul. You hate him. Yet you cannot escape him.” Her eyes glowed with Vashti’s fire. “Since the world refused to love you, since you cannot even
love yourself, you wish to destroy this entire realm before you take your last… miserable… breath.” She relaxed her shoulders, as she resumed her prior casual demeanor. “Tell me, little lost boy. Was there anyone you ever truly loved?”
At her question, he lost hold of his cool control and lashed out. “I loved my son! He was my whole world. My whole world! And you, you took him away from me. He was my life!” His hands trembled as his aging eyes filled with tears. “My baby boy,” he whimpered softly. “You took the only thing that ever made me smile… ever made me happy.”
Jenevier narrowed her cold glare, kept it locked with his faltering one. She felt no pity for this man, and his sudden tears could not negate that.
“It was you who set this whole thing into motion, old man. It was your treatment, or mistreatment, of the one you claim to be so dear. Your hands are the ones stained with his blood. Not mine. You twisted that incredibly beautiful boy into a hideous monster.”
“No! I cherished him. I never even drew breath before I laid eyes on his innocent little smile. I worshipped the ground my son walked upon.”
Grabbing hold of the chair arms, the old man struggled to stand. He slowly made his way over to a large rose bush completely covered in tiny white blooms.
Jenevier did not move. Her gaze only strayed from the old man’s shaky back long enough to glance toward the now cracked door of the conservatory. A silent, trembling Akio was listening there.
How long has he been standing there?
The whole time, Nilakanta answered. He came when the boy brought the tea. He chuckled softly. You always let that rose-tinged nectar fill your mind, little Naga. You become oblivious to all else.
But it’s soooo good.
The Dragon only laughed louder.
“He was playing by the pond… feeding the fish.”
Her attention went back to the old man when she heard his quivering voice.
