Dejected, she stumbled backward, leaning against the tree where Ellias had held her moments before. There had to be something she could tell her parents.
“Milady… please.”
He was still there. Lowering her eyes from their upturned gaze, she let them settle on the man, taking in his appearance with a cautious stare. She didn’t trust him. She didn’t trust anyone anymore. If the Emperor’s own soldiers weren’t above depravity, how could she be certain this man didn’t have similar intentions toward her?
His eyes glowed a brilliant azure, immediately identifying him as a member of her own race. A Vor’shai. That was comforting, at least. She held more faith in her people than she did the humans. Squinting through the darkness she could see he favored the left side of his face, lightly shielding it with his hand, as if prepared for her to strike again if he came too close. Unlike with the other men, she felt sorry for hitting him. Had it not been for his intrusion she might not have gotten away from the soldiers. It was unfortunate she couldn’t show him the gratitude he deserved for his heroics. Regrettably, he had seen her fighting those men. If he told her parents – or anyone else in town – she would be shunned for her behavior; and even worse, imprisoned for assaulting the Emperor’s guards.
“Get away from me.” It was the first thing that came to mind. This man couldn’t be trusted. He’d seen more than she was comfortable with.
“I am not going to come near you, if that is your wish. I only desire to know of your condition. You look hurt.”
“I am fine.”
“Yes, I suspect you gave those men more than they bargained for.” The man’s eyes grew distant, his head turning to stare down the road where the soldiers had gone. “I passed General Deliao on the road. I believe those men are soldiers of his. They should be reported immediately for their misconduct…”
“No,” Kaori shook her head vehemently. No one could know. Her family was too respectable to drag them into such a scandal. It would be her word against the soldiers and the Emperor would be predisposed to believe his men over the word of a single girl. “I just want to go home.”
The man’s brow rose, inquisitive. “Those men attacked you and you have no desire to see them brought to justice?”
“Justice? Do you really think the Emperor is going to believe me over a soldier?”
He paused, the frown on his face deepening. She could tell he agreed with her. There was no way he could argue the truth. “It is possible he might not believe their guilt if you bring the allegations forward alone but if I were to vouch for the fact that I witnessed –”
“Absolutely not!” she gasped, placing the flats of her hands against the man’s chest to push him away, stumbling past him over the uneven ground toward the road. “It would be in your best interest to forget what you witnessed and continue on your way, sir.”
“It is not so easy. I do have a conscience to contend with on the matter and because of that I cannot simply walk away. Why do you not want my help?”
“Because I do not need it.”
“You do if those men are to be punished for their crimes.”
“And what exactly are you going to tell them?” she demanded, turning around to face him, bold in her mannerisms. This man didn’t know who she was. What did she care if she behaved less than cordially toward him? “How do you think the Emperor would respond if he became aware that I physically assaulted his soldiers? And you – you attacked them as well. The entire incident could be twisted to place us at fault and then where would we be? Our justice would land us both in a stone-cold cell in the lowest dungeon of Carpaen.”
The man opened his mouth to speak, closing it again in contemplation. He looked bewildered by the clarity with which she was able to consider the repercussions. “I mean no disrespect, Milady; but do you honestly think the Emperor would believe a young woman such as yourself was even capable of assaulting his men? I must admit the truth amazes me as well and I witnessed it with my own eyes. For him to be told of it without seeing it for himself, he will likely pass it off as nonsense.”
“What of you, then? He has no reason to disbelieve your ability to attack his soldiers.”
“I am less concerned about myself in the matter.”
“Then tell your conscience its assistance is not required and leave me be. I am not worth the trouble.”
Pausing at the side of the road she let her eyes trail down to her injured hand, the dark blood visible over her pale skin through the dim light of the evening sky. She didn’t want the man to see the pain she was in. There would be no getting rid of him if he knew there was anything wrong. Clutching it against her abdomen she began a brisk pace in the direction of her home. Maybe if I stop talking he will go away…
From behind she could hear the man’s footsteps, mingled with the slow thud of a horse’s heavy hooves. Daring to cast a glance over her shoulder she could see him following, the bridle of his horse secured in his hand as he led it along, keeping his distance while not letting her get too far ahead. “If you will not allow me to assist in seeking justice for the wrongs those men have done, at least humor me and let me see you home safely.”
“I told you – I am quite alright,” she huffed, quickening her steps to try and widen the gap between them. What was wrong with this man? It was uncouth to force his company upon her. Surely he was versed enough in etiquette to be aware of his folly. Instead he matched her hastened strides, tugging the horse along at his side.
He said nothing in response, though despite his silence, she was aware of his continued presence behind her. With every step she took her frustration grew. If he didn’t leave her alone her parents were sure to notice their arrival. Even worse, she was leading a complete stranger directly to her home. After her experience this evening, it seemed the worst possible thing she could do in regards to her safety, and that of her parents. This man could be a thief. A no good scoundrel like the soldiers he’d chased away. His intentions were merely more cleverly disguised in his ruse as her savior.
They walked along for a length of time, neither one speaking, the air filled with nothing but the sound of their feet upon the gravel. Up ahead she could see the familiar outline of her home coming into view, veering quickly off to the left toward the stables at the back of the property. She couldn’t go inside the house. Not yet. The candles remained lit in the windows to signal the wakefulness of her parents within. Sneaking inside would be easier once they retired for the evening.
Slipping through the stable door she found her way to an oil lamp positioned on a small stool near the stalls. Firmly, she placed her thumb and forefinger over the wick, focusing the internal energy which was inherent to her people into the tips of her fingers, relieved by the flood of light which spilled across the area from the small lantern, illuminating the open floor. In the soft glow she was able to see the man’s face more clearly as she spun around to focus her attention on him, teeth gritted to keep from screaming. His appearance shocked her into silence, her lower jaw agape in soundless awe. He was younger than she expected. Older than herself, but still young by the standards of their people. The lines on his face were too gentle. Smooth – aside from the swelling that had begun to form along the sculpted curve of his left cheek. His black hair was cut short, windblown from the vigorous pace they’d kept along the road. And those eyes… the sparkling azure glow burned into hers, absent of the animosity she’d witnessed in the eyes of the human soldiers. It was hard to imagine him having any intention beyond the genuine desire to see her safe.
Several moments passed before she realized she was staring, clearing her throat uncomfortably. She had to maintain her anger. The slightest sign of letting down her guard might make him impossible to get rid of, though she already knew him to be far more headstrong than she anticipated. “Do you make it a habit to follow women onto their property uninvited? I should have the authorities called to remove you at once.”
The man’s eyes swept the area, seeming to take in
the details with mild amusement. “The authorities? I suspect the circumstances of our meeting would make their presence less than desirable.”
“So that is it then?” she scoffed, turning an accusing glare upon him. “Do you intend to blackmail me into giving you some reward for your assistance?” she jutted her chin out in a show of defiance. “Is it money you seek or did you have something else in mind?”
“I seek no reward. Why is it so difficult to believe I simply wish to see your wounds tended? Your hand is bleeding…”
“It is not.”
“Now you are being absurd.” Releasing his hold on the horse’s bridle he took a step forward, pausing at the sight of Kaori flinching away from him. This man was not going to trick her the way the others did. Yet for some reason she found herself allowing him to come closer. There was no malice in his eyes. No greed or lust the way she’d seen in those of the guards. His steps were slow. Cautious with a hint of confidence. He wasn’t afraid of her. It was as if he knew she would let him near.
Reaching into the pocket of his trousers the man drew forth a small handkerchief, revealing incredible finesse in the way he shook the fabric out in a single flick of his wrist, his other palm outstretched, seeming to request with nothing more than his eyes for her to place her hand in his. There was something about him that made her comply. She owed this man her life. Although she preferred to think the situation had been well under her control, the truth of the matter was that those men might never have run off had it not been for him. While hating him was her preference, she couldn’t bring herself to push him away with any force. She’d already struck him with such severity. It was a wonder he bothered with her at all.
Lips pursed in distaste, she brought her hand to his, allowing it to rest gently over his palm. In the light she could see the blood on her knuckles, the skin torn from the impact of her fist against those wretched soldiers. She watched in begrudged silence as the man wrapped the handkerchief over her hand, careful not to apply too much pressure. “You will want to keep the wounds clean or you risk infection. It is easier to conceal an injury if it is properly cared for.”
“What do you care how easily I conceal the injury? If you had it your way, you would tell the entire county what happened.”
“You have requested it kept quiet, therefore I will endeavor to do so; and the best way to accomplish secrecy is to not let others take note of that which you wish to hide. We are in this together now. If your secret is discovered, my discretion on the matter will look rather suspicious.”
“I thought you were not concerned about yourself.”
He paused, staring at her, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yes, you are right. My concern is only for you.” The humor faded from his eyes as he brought his hand to her face, positioning his index finger under her chin to turn her head toward the light. His frown deepened, shaking his head in disapproval. “Your hand will be simple enough to hide, but your face – the skin has begun to bruise.”
“I am aware of my injuries, sir. Let me worry about how to avoid suspicion. Your involvement has already been far deeper than I should have allowed.”
“Allowed?”
“I think it is time for you to leave.” Abruptly she pulled her hand away, pressing the fabric of the handkerchief against her knuckles, desperate to be free of his touch. She shouldn’t be here with him. Not like this. They were alone in a dark stable. If anyone found them, she would have larger problems than what anyone would say in regards to the soldiers. “Take your horse and be on your way. If you care anything for my wellbeing, you will not come back.”
“Come now, Milady. You must allow me to pay a visit tomorrow so I may console my conscience that you are safe.”
“You and your damnable conscience,” she sighed. The man was impossible. But she couldn’t give in. They couldn’t be seen together. If the soldiers held any recollection of their faces, it would be too easy to identify her while in this man’s company. “Please,” she pleaded, giving in to the desperation that overwhelmed her, anxious to be rid of the stranger’s presence. “I am begging you to go. Do not come back. Do not come anywhere near me again. I cannot bear the thought of anything befalling you because of my foolishness.”
“Nothing is going to befall me –”
She shook her head in disagreement, vehement in the motion. “We cannot know that,” she argued. “My concern goes beyond whether or not the soldiers will seek revenge. I am more afraid of my parents. If they discover what has transpired, they will never let me go anywhere again. I will be a prisoner under their care for the rest of my life or forced to live in some temple as a miserable priestess. All because they are afraid of men like you. Men who do not respect a lady’s wishes when she requests them to leave her in peace.”
“Odd. I would have thought them more concerned about men like those soldiers; and you appear more than capable of handling yourself.”
“That is yet another reason my parents can never learn of this. My mother would be mortified if she knew. It is unbecoming of a lady…”
Raising his hand, the man gave a quiet, defeated nod, motioning for her to lower her voice. At his direction she let her words trail off, frightened at the realization of how loud she was speaking. “You do not have to explain yourself. I understand your concerns; it was merely my hope that I could convince you to let me help. Sadly, I cannot force you to do so if it is not your wish. But will you truly deny me your company simply for the sake of the unfortunate circumstances which caused our paths to cross?”
He made it sound so horrible. As if she did him a great injustice by sending him away. But what could she do? Even if she felt some strange need to be in his presence again, her parents wouldn’t allow it. It was better for them both to walk away. “I am afraid I must. Now go. Your conscience will eventually forget me, I assure you.”
There was an almost devious look in his eyes, replacing the dismay which covered his features through most of their conversation. “Very well,” he nodded. “I am not one to overstay my welcome. I wish you a pleasant evening, Milady.” With a suave bow he dipped forward, revealing the perfect fluidity and grace of a nobleman. Keeping to his word he turned, grasping his horse firmly to pull himself up into the saddle with a single, well-controlled motion.
Guilt rushed over her to see him prepared to leave. She expected him to put up more of a fight. Why was he suddenly so willing to do what she asked? She wasn’t ready to see him go. Not yet. She owed him something. A simple expression of thanks didn’t seem enough when she considered all the terrible things which might have happened had it not been for his selflessness. Anyone else would have continued on their way at the sight of the soldiers, convinced that interference would land them in prison. It would be insensible not to offer a small token of gratitude he could take with him before they parted ways, never to see one another again.
Unable to hold herself back she took a step forward, the sound of her voice surprising herself as she called out for him to stop. He paused, shifting in the saddle to stare down at her, seeming puzzled by her sudden outburst. Still, he said nothing, choosing to watch her with unveiled curiosity, waiting to hear what she might say.
What exactly did she intend to say? They’d already said their farewells, however brusque they were. She would need to be short and sweet. Directly to the point. Inhaling a deep breath she tilted her head upward to meet his gaze, holding it steady, firm, insistent that she not reveal the true depth of her gratitude. “Thank you,” she nodded, sharp and definitive, making it clear that the conversation was concluded. The man’s expression softened, returning the nod with nothing more than a slight bob of his head before driving his heels into the horse’s sides, the sound of its hooves clattering through the stable door distracting her from the discomfort she felt in his presence. Watching him disappear into the darkness she sank into the shadows of the stable, afraid of anyone at the house taking notice of her there.
Left in the silence s
he became suddenly aware of the piece of fabric still clutched over her bleeding knuckles. The handkerchief. She’d forgotten to give it back. Not thinking clearly she ran out the door to the path where the man’s horse had traveled, chagrined to realize that she was too late. Squinting through the darkness she held the cloth closer to her face, the smooth lines of some form of embroidery noticeable against her skin. There was something sewn into the fabric. A mark of some kind. No. Not just a mark. Letters. T.L. His initials? It had to be. There was no other reason for the letters to adorn the handkerchief.
Stop thinking about him; she scolded herself irritably, wadding the material up in her hand to push the thoughts from her mind. The man wasn’t important anymore. She’d gotten rid of him – which was what she wanted. What she needed to focus on now was a way to convince her parents that her injuries were caused by any other means than the truth. From that moment on, the events of her evening could never be spoken of again. And as long as the mysterious T.L. kept his promise to stay silent, she intended to take their secret to the grave.
Rays of sunlight filtered through the window of Kaori’s room, taunting her with its warmth. She longed to be outside. To run wild through the trees and enjoy the glorious summer afternoon. Nothing stopped her from doing so. Her parents had no qualms about her going outdoors. The problem lie in her own fears of what may lurk in the most unsuspecting places. Since the night of her attack, she avoided setting foot through the front door of her home. For months she kept herself trapped in the confines of her room, saying little to anyone in her family, afraid she might accidentally let her secret slip. It was safer to simply keep her mouth shut and pray word never reached her parents of the truth behind her sudden loathing of nature.
Discouraged by the thought of being imprisoned inside the walls of her chamber on such a beautiful day, she stared down at the knuckles of her right hand, reminded of the night the gods saw fit to cross her path with those wretched guards. The skin had long since healed. By now she imagined the strange man who came to her rescue had forgotten about her and that fateful evening. But she couldn’t forget. It haunted her, guilt lingering in the corners of her mind for what those men were capable of – and were free to continue doing because of her unwillingness to speak out against them. How many poor women had fallen to their clutches because she chose to remain silent? But it was so long ago now. There was no sense dwelling on the mistakes of her past when she could do nothing about it in the present.
The Myatheira Chronicles: Volume Four: In the Beginning Page 2
