Matilyn stared at him. She realized how difficult it must be for him to say such things, to admit such things to her, the Arinford traitor. How far they'd come. She knew then that she could choose to forgive him, and forgive everything he'd done: the death of the boy, the sword at her throat. It would be history, and she'd never forget, but she could forgive.
"Thank you," she said, accepting the gift. "Thank you, Samuel. We're going to do great things together, you and I."
Catherine patted the bed next to her, "Sit down," she invited.
Oliver took the offered seat, and then took her hand in his. "How are you feeling, Catherine?"
"I'm recovering nicely," Catherine said, "The wound still hurts, but I think the pain will fade quickly enough. The nurses that attend me seem sure of my recovery."
"That's good," Oliver said.
"That's very good," Catherine corrected, "For soon, we will be married."
Oliver nodded, "I look forward to that," he said, "I can't wait to be your husband and have you as my wife."
Catherine smiled. The smiles came a lot easier these days. She barely had to pretend. "I can't wait either," she said smoothly. She glanced at the door of the room and then her smile became a bit more genuine. She'd begged the guards at the door to allow her some alone time with her beloved and they'd granted it, the fumbling fools.
"In fact," Catherine said to Oliver, "I don't want to wait any longer. We've waited long enough to be husband and wife, have we not?"
Oliver nodded. "Soon," he promised.
Catherine pulled her hand free of his and rested it gently on his thigh. "Not soon enough," she said. "Oliver, kiss me."
He kissed her. Catherine pretended it was Will, and this was enough to make the kiss the most passionate one they'd shared. She reached around, threading her fingers into his hair. She pressed her chest against him, ignoring the flair of pain. "I want you," she whispered.
Oliver pulled back, panting. "I want you too."
"Then take me," Catherine said. She slid the blanket on her lap aside and drew him closer, "Make me your wife of the flesh."
"Shouldn't we wait?" Oliver asked, "Till the wedding? That's the custom and..."
He trailed off. Catherine could tell he didn't want to argue, not really. She kissed him again, and he reacted as any sane male would. A hand fell to her breast, squeezing it gently. The other went to her upper thigh, caressing it.
"I can't wait that long," Catherine said, "Not for you, my love. Make me yours."
That was all the encouragement the young prince needed. He braced himself above her, and unlaced his trousers. Catherine teased him for a bit and then helped him finish the deed, crying out in pleasure when he entered her.
They were quiet cries of course. No need to attract the guards.
When they were finished, Oliver lay beside her. He caressed her cheek, his smile large and happy.
"I love you," he said.
"And I love you," Catherine returned. She leaned forward and kissed his nose. This made him smile even more. Boys were so easily controlled.
"Catherine," Oliver said, "I need to ask. Why did you have me do it?" He nodded down at the bandages wrapped around her chest.
Catherine was surprised by the question. "Don't you remember what I told you?"
Oliver nodded, "You said it would ensure our future together. But how does delaying our wedding ensure our future? I need to know. Now that we've lain together in the flesh, there can be no secrets between us."
Catherine had to consider the question very carefully. She knew she was treading in dangerous waters now, and had to phrase everything just perfectly. So much relied on his love for her, and what he'd do to please her.
"Do you truly love me?" she whispered.
"More than the world," Oliver said.
"You deserve much better than what you have," Catherine said, "Your father is not planning on letting you become king. I overheard the talk only days before I asked of you such a large favor."
Oliver sat up, his eyes widening, "What?"
Catherine nodded, "He plans on giving the kingship to your cousin. He said you were too weak to rule, and that he had no true wish for the same king and queen to someday preside over both Lamonte and his precious Terifille."
"My father wouldn't say such things," Oliver said.
Catherine raised an eyebrow, "You doubt me?"
"No!" Oliver quickly said, "No, not at all. This just comes as a surprise. I thought my father had more faith in me. I've always known that he harbored a love for my cousin, but I had no idea that he cared that much."
Oliver settled into a brooding silence, his good mood gone.
Catherine smiled a little, but then quickly put on the face he needed to see. "Oliver, I want to be your queen. If my father finds out about the change in rule, he'll force me home."
"Once we're married, he can't," Oliver said, "You'll be my wife."
"There are customs in Lamonte to null a marriage," Catherine said, "He would surely force us to partake in this annulment so that I could marry your cousin, or someone else of high standing."
"But we belong together," Oliver said, repeating the very words she'd whispered so many times in his ear.
"I know that," Catherine said, "That's why we have to act. I need to know. Would you do anything for me?"
"Anything," Oliver said.
Catherine drew him closer and began to whisper her plans in his ear.
TWENTY
Savior's Birth is Celebrated
GEORGE AND MIKE SHOOK HANDS. PENNY COULD tell both of them were sizing the other up. She couldn't help but smile. They were more alike then they realized but she doubted either of them would recognize or admit it.
"You brought in Simons?" Craig asked her. He sounded testy and irritated about the decision. "You should have consulted me first. I'm trying to help you here, Penny, but that won't work if you're not going to ask my advice."
Penny rolled her eyes at Craig. She'd though he'd be impressed by her dedication to the cause. Instead, he was colder than ever.
"Well, it's too late now," he said, looking around. The entire resistance had come to Penny's estate, including the new recruits. They were huddled into small groups, chatting among themselves. Penny had asked her servants to keep a close eye on the front and back gates. She didn't want unexpected visitors.
"He's going to help us," Penny said. She glared at Craig and then sighed, turning back to Mike and George. "Do either of you have any ideas on how we should go about this?"
Craig stepped up beside Penny. George stared at him for a moment and then looked back to Penny. "Well, little lady, I suppose we should start by seeing what everyone here knows. I can't imagine its's much. But maybe we can get some idea of what they'd be good at."
Mike nodded his agreement. He had his arms folded across his chest and he was staring at the groups thoughtfully, "You've got some teenagers in this group," he said, "You want me to teach kids how to fight?"
"I thought you were only here to see what they'd be good at," Penny said. When she saw his expression, she held up a hand, "They have the right to be here. They know what they're getting into." She looked over at Chrissa Stone. She still couldn't believe the girl had the guts to go face George alone.
"I'm not comfortable with it," Mike said.
George eyed him for a moment and then shrugged, "Well, I am. They're kids. Means if we try to send the little brats away, they'll just come back again, probably with some cheap booze. Better they're fighting with us then drinking alone."
Mike let out a sigh but gave a reluctant nod.
Craig grabbed Penny's arm as she started to speak. He cut across her swiftly, "We'll have them get into groups. Divide up between the two of you. Simons, you work one side of the garden, Corriton on the other. Understood?"
George glared at Craig. He turned his attention to Penny, "Is that the way you want it, little lady?"
"Yes," Penny said, "That's fine." She jerked her a
rm out of Craig's grip and smiled at Mike, "Does that work for you?"
"Yep," Mike said, "But go ahead and get started. You know, I have to make a living. I don't have time to spend all day dawdling here."
Penny nodded and she and Craig quickly split up to talk to everyone. Within minutes everyone had fallen into their respective groups. Penny made her way to the leaders, giving each one directions. Joanna led the first group over to where George stood, and Penny took hers to Mike. Craig joined them with his party at the same time.
"Now," Mike said loudly, folding his hands behind his back and looking at what he had to work with, "I want to know how many of you have ever been in real combat. I don't mean hitting each other behind the bar while drunk either. I mean real, honest combat."
Only Craig raised his hand.
Mike nodded but didn't look discouraged. On the contrary, Penny thought his eyes lit up with the same excitement they had when he'd found her the weapon back in his ship, "What we want to do first is figure out what type of weapon you should each be using. This can be a lengthy, in-depth process but we're going to make sure each of you has exactly what you need. Belmonte and Dalton are last. Questions?"
Nobody spoke up. Mike was intimidating when he spoke.
"Alright then, let's go ahead and get a volunteer to go first. You in the front then. What's your name?"
Sirn Moss stepped forward, "Moss. I'm happy to go first. I think I'd probably work the best with daggers."
Craig rolled his eyes.
Mike shook his head, "You could be right. Hold your arms out, so we can find out, Moss." Once Sirn had done this, Mike walked around him, checking his body out fully. "Now touch your toes."
Moss looked rather embarrassed but did as Mike asked. He performed a few other stretches that took about five minutes. When he had finished, Mike looked pleased again. "See? Now I know your dexterity wouldn't allow for the movement speed required for fist weapons. You do have great posture though, so I want to try you out with a sword and shield."
"Are you sure?" Sirn asked, looking slightly agitated at his original idea being ignored, "I do think that I--"
Mike interrupted him, "I don't know what you think. I'm just telling you what I know. Okay? Okay. Try it out."
His face turning an even bright red, Sirn muttered something and walked over to the racks that had been set up. He selected a sword from it and then a shield from another. Shifting them around so they were comfortable in his hands, he returned to Mike.
"Now, hold your sword like this... position your shield like this... see, swing, block, there you go, you're a natural. You need some work, but you're going to be great."
Sirn practically swelled with pride, "I suppose this does do better than some small blades. It fits me well."
"Good. Go get back in line. We've got more to go through," Mike said. As soon as he stepped back, Chrissa Stone moved forward.
Mike frowned at her, "Don't you think you're a little young for this?"
Chrissa gave him a cool stare.
"Belmonte, a word," Mike demanded at Penny, turning his back on the teenager. Penny bit her lower lip and followed Mike to a spot some distance away.
"Why would you let a kid fight?" Mike demanded.
Penny shook her head, "I thought we settled this. It's better that she can fight than to be defenseless."
"She shouldn't be involved," Mike said, "I'm not comfortable with it. I don't like kids. They should be home, safe. We shouldn't have ever involved them. You shouldn't have."
"I didn't involve her," Penny returned the look that Mike was giving, "Lamonte did when they killed her family. You want to send her away? Fine. But I'm not going to."
Mike shook his head in resignation and then walked back to the weapons area. Penny followed behind, avoiding the gazes of the group.
"Hold out your arms," Mike commanded Chrissa sharply. She followed the direction without complaint. He took the same amount of time examining her as he had Siren. When he was done, he checked her eye sight and had her try a single sword, long and thin. She quickly showed her adeptness with it.
Over the next two hours, Mike went through each person one by one and helped them pick out the weapons that would suit them best. Some did quite well and others were obviously not coordinated for fighting. Kyle Sweeton ended up with two daggers and quickly showed he had the dexterity to use them. Allen Jens ended up with a broad sword. Marci Lewis took a staff that was wider but shorter than Penny's. Both of the Lend brothers got swords, and Sara Burke ended up as the first archer.
When it was Penny's turn, she thought she did fairly well with her staff but Mike refused to comment.
The last person to go up was Craig. When Mike invited him to pick out daggers, he shook his head and drew his own.
"Those are nice," Mike commented, "Where'd you get them?"
Craig frowned but said, "They're hand-crafted."
Mike seemed to catch something in Craig's voice and didn't push the issue. Instead, he gestured around. "So can you use them?"
Instead of answering, Craig spun around suddenly, flipping one from his hand. He turned just a tad and flipped the other as smoothly. Everyone turned to look where they landed. The first had cut the strap of the quiver of arrows that Sara had put over her shoulder. The arrows had all fallen and scattered around the ground.
The other hit the handle of the blade that Kyle Sweeton was holding without touching his hand. It had flipped the dagger out and both hand landed point down in the ground, still quivering.
"Disarmed is dead," Craig said and then walked over to retrieve his blades.
Mike watched him for a moment and then nodded, "I think we're done here. If you want further training, stop by after you've finished with Simons and we'll set something up."
Penny looked at Mike, surprised, "So you'll do it then?"
"Well you lot aren't going to learn on your own," Mike grunted, "So I expect you to train hard."
"Penny will be training with me," Craig told him.
Penny and Mike both opened their mouths to protest but Craig went on speaking, "No sense arguing. I'm going to help you, but you're going to train with me."
Without waiting for an answer, he gestured to his group and they fell in line behind him and walked off.
"What was that about?" Penny asked, hurrying to catch up with Craig. The rest of her group followed behind, chatting about their new weapons and gossiping about Craig's obvious skill.
Craig glanced at her without stopping in his walk, "I want you to train with me."
Penny frowned. "I can train just as easily with Mike. He helped me pick out my staff. This is his occupation."
"His occupation is teaching self-defense," Craig snapped suddenly, "That's fine, that's just great for everyone here, we don't have much time, but I will train you to fight like a soldier."
Penny frowned at his tone, her own becoming defensive, "So one day, you hate me, the next you're helping, then it's anger again, and now you want me to train with you."
"I have seen people die," Craig said, "Over and over, I have seen people die. There wasn't much I could do any of those times. That ends here. I said it back there, I'll repeat it now. You want my help with this little adventure, you'll train with me."
"Fine," Penny said, "You win. We'll train together."
Craig nodded but didn't say anything further on the subject. Penny glared at his back as he sped up and went to stand next to George Simons.
George looked over at Craig, arms folded, "A bit demanding, aren't you?"
"Misunderstanding," Craig grunted. He waved his group forward, "We need to see if these people have the aptitude for manipulation."
"We need to check your aptitude as well," Penny said, stepping up to join Craig. He ignored her.
George looked between the two of them and shrugged, "I'll check everyone here. You two included. We can start with you actually, show your groups what you're made of. Set some examples."
"I am not parti
cipating," Craig said firmly. He stepped back away from George and Penny and stood next to Chrissa Stone.
"Whatever you say," George said, "Let's start with you then." He smirked at Penny and pulled out a pack of matches. "Come on, little lady."
Penny sighed. She felt nervous suddenly, looking back at the group. Everyone was watching her intently. Sirn was bobbing on his feet, grinning. Kline looked impatient for his own urn. Chrissa was obviously expecting something.
George cleared his throat and Penny brought her eyes back to him. "Concentrate on your anger," he told her, "and make this match explode." He lit a match. "Remember what I told you."
Penny tried to focus but nothing happened. She could feel her anxiety building up even further. She stole a look back at the group and saw their looks of confusion when the match merely flickered out.
"Nothing to worry about," George said. He flashed the group a smile and then looked at Penny, lowering his voice, "Come on. Get angry, girl. Show them."
Penny nodded and looked at it again. Once again, nothing happened. The match flickered out. This time, there was a light smatter of muttering throughout the group. She thought she heard the phrase no aptitude for it and grimaced again.
"Well, you can go after," George said. He was embarrassed for her, she realized. "You may need some time to prepare. Nothing wrong with that."
"One more time," Penny said.
George frowned.
"One more time," she repeated.
"Fine," George sighed, "Get ready then." He waited a minute to give Penny focusing time and then lit the match.
Penny focused on the flame, trying to blot everything else out. She tried to draw on her anger and her emotions to bring forth her Chakran. Despite her attempts, she couldn't summon enough anger. She heard more talk and saw the flame flicker and felt her face flood red.
Suddenly the match inflamed; the fiery ball exploding outwards and engulfing the area before dispersing. George and Penny were both forced to leap back out of its way and even then, George looked like he might have gotten a little singed.
Cheers erupted.
Penny looked around, confused. She hadn't done anything. Both groups were now applauding her show.
Revolution (Cartharia Book 2) Page 22
