Fate War: Alliance

by E. M. Havens

  “Maybe it’s not his mech.” Cole soothed.

  “No. It’s his. I know.” Her pronouncement was final. “I – I worked as his apprentice when I was a child.” Cole caught her glance. She was making sure he wasn’t too shocked. He was, but not for the reason she supposed. He managed to keep his face blank, and she continued. “I would know his work, his style anywhere. Cole, he was more like a father to me than my own. He helped me hone my abilities. I thought we were – friends.” The tone in her voice moved from hurt to anger. “I just don’t understand why he would leave. Why he would work for the Fate.”

  “Zeb said he wouldn’t have left of his own free will,” Cole thought out loud.

  “Zeb?” Sam switched from anger to excitement. “How do you know –”

  “Princess,” Captain Jensen interrupted as he returned, giving a courtly bow. “Pardon, but can you fix the other one?”

  “Other one?” Cole and Sam asked in unison.

  “A few of the men followed their trail. There’s another mechman a few hours to the west. It looks to be in much worse shape.”

  “I guess that explains the soldier on foot.” Cole suggested. “Why don’t you have the other one delivered to my manor?” Turning to Sam he asked, “You can fix it, right?” He thought she might enjoy having the mech to tinker with, but her response dazed him.

  She jumped to the tips of her toes and brushed her soft lips to his cheek in an innocent kiss. Now she stood there, cheeks blushing around the hand that covered her mouth. He was tired of waiting. It was the only invitation Cole needed.

  He spun her around to stand before him. One of his arms wrapped around her waist while the other pulled her hand from her mouth easily. Cole searched her eyes for fear and found only anticipation. Releasing her hand, he brushed his thumb lightly across her lips, cradling her face in his palm. He was vaguely aware of Captain Jensen shifting his weight and clearing his throat. Slag it. It was now or now. His nose brushed hers. He felt her breath escape through waiting and parted lips, warming his own. Then he was there, tasting her honeyed lips, breathing her in. He pulled away. His head was spinning as he fought his own desires, but her lips followed and claimed him in return. Gently. Purely. The moment was over too soon. They watched each other, still embraced, testing the reality of the kiss.

  “We have a long ride.” Cole tried to say, but had to clear his throat and try again.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Let’s go home.”

  Sam watched lazy motes of dust dance in the blushed ray of sunlight sneaking through the gap in the burgundy curtain. She had been awake since before dawn, too rested to sleep, even though they had arrived at the manor well after dark. Two nights. Two nights and no nightmares, two nights in Cole’s arms. She smiled and tightened her grip on his hand, securing his arm around her waist, enveloped in his smell of rain soaked earth and sage. Peace. She never imagined he could bring her peace. Her mind had never been so still.

  In the morning light, the differences in their quarters at the Castle and the manor were evident. Where the castle was cold stone, this room was of wood and white plaster. The only stone was the fireplace at the wall opposite the bed. The furniture was more delicate, less harsh. The atmosphere just seemed lighter, like the release of pressure after a thunderstorm.

  The pattern in Cole’s breathing changed, and she knew he would wake soon. What would today bring? A look at her new home, certainly. Another kiss, maybe. She closed her eyes and relived the moment, examining each detail anew; soft lips parting hers, a shadow of stubble prickling her chin and cheek. His tongue brushing, tickling her moistened lips. An unfamiliar ache awakening in her stomach.

  “Good morning, Beautiful.” Cole yawned and drew her into him, kissing the top of her head.

  “Good morning.”

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked, feather light lips brushing her ear. She almost forgot to answer, distracted by the lightning bouncing between her ear and unknown, unnamed places in her core.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you ready to explore the manor?”

  No, she wasn’t. Sam wanted to stay right here in his arms and for him to continue trailing tiny kisses down her neck, but her stomach answered for her. Its disgruntled growl chased away Cole’s embrace and provoked his laughter.

  “Better get breakfast.” He chuckled and kissed the top of her head again.

  After they dressed, Cole showed Sam the second story where their rooms were. He pointed out the different guestrooms and washrooms that comprised this level. Again, unlike the castle, the white walls and carpets softened the home. Paintings of landscapes and other still-life adorned the walls instead of portraits of ancient rulers and their conquests, both battle and the hunt.

  The house had gravity-fed plumbing from a nearby river and a boiler as well, he explained. She tried to concentrate, but felt awkward in her dirty riding pants and Cole’s button down white shirt. The manor boasted many servants, and their princess should not be seen like this. Her things had already arrived, but Cole had sat on each trunk she attempted to open, barring her from the contents. When she threatened to call out Sprocket, Cole wavered only a moment, but called her bluff. He did promise to send for more manageable clothing, though.

  Sam’s anxiety compounded when Cole led her down the back stair case. Clattering pans and utensils confirmed the presence of people. Completely ignoring her distress, he continued to the kitchen. Her stomach growled again as the savory smells of fried meats and baking bread reached her.

  For all the noise, there were only two people in the room. A young girl washed dishes, and a short roundish woman hummed tunelessly as she scurried about the kitchen.

  “Nana!” Cole called over her ruckus.

  “Oh!” She startled, placing a hand over her ample bosom. “Lord Cole. Oh, welcome home!” The gray haired cook wobbled to Cole and crushed him in an embrace. She pulled back and looked him up and down, tisking. “Have they not been feeding you? Ack. A whole kitchen full of cooks in that castle and they can’t keep a Prince in proper form.”

  “Hello, Nana. It’s good to see you too,” Cole patronized. “I’d like to introduce you to Princess Samantha.”

  “Hello, Nana.” Samantha offered her hand, feigning a confident smile. The old woman looked beseechingly to Cole, her face blotching red and purple. She twisting a handkerchief mercilessly in her hands looking as if she might explode.

  “Oh, go on, Nana.” Cole mollified.

  “Oh, my dear!” She ignored Sam’s hand and wrapped surprisingly strong arms around her in an embrace. Nana’s head came just to below Sam’s chin, and her sobs rose above the din of boiling water and banging pans. “It’s so good to have you here. Finally, a lady at the manor.” The teary cook dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief and released Sam. “We’ve waited so long for you and you’re so beautiful.”

  Why did Sam unexpectedly feel like she couldn’t bear to disappoint this woman, a servant?

  Nana looked back and forth between Cole and Sam, eyes widening in excitement. “And you’re in love!” The woman’s wails redoubled, then she pulled both the prince and princess in a three way hug. “It couldn’t be more perfect,” she sobbed. Cole just shook his head and pat the round woman on the back.

  “Okay, Nana. Okay.” Cole said, attempting to pry the cook’s fingers from his waist. Sam’s stomach growled again, and Nana released her grip.

  “Oh no.” Nana said, trading her tears for consternation. “This won’t do.” She looked Sam up and down. “No, this won’t do at all.”

  Sam oscillated between running in horror back to her room and having the woman put in stocks.

  “Now, Nana…” Cole chastised.

  “Don’t you, ‘Now, Nana’ me.” She rounded on Cole, jabbing a wrinkled finger at him. “It’s one thing for you to come back peckish, but to allow your wife to starve? This girl is on her last breath. I’ll have none of it. Sit!” Sam obeyed, as did Cole, at one of the stools around the
center island piled with vegetables in process for another meal.

  “And this is Sally,” Cole said, pulling one of the girl’s braids. She turned a sweet smile to Cole. Cole winked and the child blushed, then turned back to her work. “She can hear you, but she can’t speak. Right Sally?” He tugged her braid again, and Sally gave him a stern look. Much too stern from a servant to their prince, but Cole simply laughed and stuck his tongue out at the girl whose cheeks pinked again and continued to wash.

  Nana heaped both their plates with bacon, eggs, biscuits and blackberries, humming cheerfully.

  “Nana was my nanny when I was young.” Cole explained as they ate. “She’s been with me all this time and keeps this place running smoothly.”

  Sam enjoyed the easy banter between the two. Nana regaled her with tales of Cole as a boy, and Cole denied his mischief. She had never felt more comfortable, more relaxed. Eating with the help, and in the kitchen much less, was just not something that was done, but it felt right.

  As they chattered, she considered second helpings of most everything. She picked at her cuticles and eyed the biscuits.

  “Don’t be shy.” Nana urged and filled her plate again without asking. “Can’t have the princess wasting away on my watch.” She was thankful the decision was made for her.

  After breakfast, Cole finished the tour of the manor. He started with the grounds, which boasted a stable, riding ring, servant quarters and barracks for the small group of guards that were assigned to the manor. He led her back inside. When he came to a set of intricately carved double wooden doors, he paused with his back to them. A sheepish grin was in place.

  “What’s mine is yours,” he said and opened the doors with a flourish.

  Sam stepped into the two story room filled with books.

  “A library,” she said in awe, breathing in the sweet leathery smell and dust. Sam spun taking in the round room with no windows. Oil lamps lit the space casting deep shadows on the brightly colored marble mosaic floor. The room wasn’t overly large, but there must have been thousands of books. Her mind began the calculations; how many books, how many pages, probabilities of certain genres and how long it would take her to read them all. Her turning led her back to Cole, who watched her with a self-satisfied smirk.

  “You like it?” he asked.

  “Of course,” she responded, trying to slow her unrestrained mind. Her thoughts had been held captive for too long. She felt them begin to run, stretch and pull. They loosened and built up muscles that had atrophied from disuse.

  “One more room,” Cole said, pushing open another set of double doors in the library. They entered Cole’s laboratory. This room made the study at the castle look like a simple closet. Glass, rubber, metal, and ceramic containers lined the shelves. Bottles, beakers, cans, and boxes filled other spaces. There were scales and burners among the equipment, but the bronze microscope begged Sam’s attention.

  The back wall was paned glass from floor to ceiling and flooded the two story room with sunlight. On the other side of the wall several servants went about their duties in a large greenhouse.

  “Oh, Cole,” Samantha whispered. “This is magnificent.” When she could finally pull her eyes away from the site, she looked at Cole. He stood, arms crossed with that crooked smile that meant she was about to be uncomfortable.

  “So. Do you think you might comprehend enough to assist me in this laboratory?” he asked with biting sarcasm.

  Sam could only offer a laugh in response, as she bounded into the room to explore.

  ****

  The look of absolute rapturous delight on Sam’s face made Cole wish he had put it there. Nana could take the credit though, or rather her raspberry tart with fresh whipped cream did. He waited patiently for her to finish savoring the last bite and answer his question.

  They sat in the drawing room having afternoon tea. Sprocket crouched by the piano, chattering at the instrument. The racket sounded like a conversation with a long lost friend and he paused every few moments as if listening for an answer. Cole found it distracting and quickly becoming annoying. He could still imagine the creature pouncing on him at any moment.

  “He was the Master Tinker of Perspicia.” Sam continued and dabbed crumbs from her lips with a napkin. “Jasper developed mech years ahead of his time. Even our most advanced Tinkers are dumfounded by scraps he left behind.”

  Cole was thankful for Nana’s treat. He could tell Jasper was a difficult subject for Sam, but the tart was distracting her enough to keep her talking.

  “I thought his name was familiar. I’m sure I’ve heard of him before. And you’re sure the mechmen were Jaspers design?” Cole prodded.

  “I…” Sam looked past him, like the answer lay on the back wall. “I worked with him.”

  Cole calculated quickly. “He disappeared ten years ago. You worked with him when you were eleven?”

  “Actually, my earliest memories are of working with Jasper in his shop,” she added, still not looking directly at him.

  Cole quirked an eyebrow at her, knowing she still held something back. Shifting uneasily under his stare, she finally broke.

  “Mother wouldn’t allow me in his shop. I snuck out to be with him.” He held the stare to make sure that was all. “A lot,” she added.

  “I’m sure.” Cole chuckled and released her from his gaze. “I still can’t figure out how you snuck around to get books from my study, or how you went to the stables with no one seeing you. I would have heard about that. Not to mention how you suddenly appeared in the middle of the battle with the Fate the other day. Don’t tell me. You just know how to be sneaky too.” He winked and took a sip of tea.

  Sam shrugged and hid her expression behind her cup. Yes, she was a sneaky one.

  She leaned forward, a conspiratorial look in her eyes. “I thought we were close. Jasper talked to me, understood me. I don’t think my father has said a complete sentence to me ever.”

  She sat back stared into her cup. “And…”

  “And,” Cole prodded when she didn’t continue.

  She took a deep breath and fixed him in a pained gaze. “He also sent me a message.”

  “When? How?” he coaxed.

  “The soldier in the dungeon.”

  “You snuck out to meet with the traitors?” Cole worked to keep his voice steady. Sneaking out to the stables was one thing, but this was dangerous.

  “No. The day in the secret passage at the castle. He sent me a message then.”

  Cole stared, confused and concerned for Sam’s sanity.

  “It was in mine and Jasper’s secret language. He said ‘I am with the Fate. I will save you’. Then the soldier stared at the wall like he could see me and said ‘Hello, My Dear’.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?” Cole demanded.

  “I – I,” she stammered, tears brimming. “What difference would it have made?”

  “You’re right. It doesn’t make a difference except now we know for sure where Jasper’s allegiance lies. Tell me about this secret language,” he asked, trying to take Sam’s attention away from the betrayal.

  “Well, it’s fairly straightforward once you know the rules.” She wiped a single tear from her cheek that had escaped. “You square the number of letters in the word. Then for consonants, you count forward that number skipping vowels and Q. For vowels you count backwards skipping consonants.”

  Cole stared like he’d been kicked in the head by Octavious one too many times.

  She continued, “Oh, and Y is always Y.”

  “How long did it take you to translate the message?”

  “As he said it. Instantly.”

  “There is no way you can do that. Say ‘Cole is handsome’ in Samese.”

  The resulting giggle was encouraging. “Xugi ox met’jxusi.”

  “That’s remarkable. Although I wouldn’t know if you did it right.”

  A thump brought their attention back to Sprocket who was now on the bench whirring angrily at
the piano.

  “What’s his problem?” Cole asked.

  “I don’t know.” Sam said, more amused than concerned.

  Cole tried to ignore the noisy creature behind him and concentrated on their question game. He couldn’t remember what he was going to ask next. “Okay. It’s your turn. Ask me a question, anything at all,” he said.

  Sam spooned another lump of sugar in her tea and stirred it contemplatively. She took a breath to speak then huffed it out. He tried not to be frustrated. She was really trying to break out, but today everything grated on his nerves like rock candy on rotten teeth. The pent up tension in his body vied constantly for release, and he was about to crush that skittering gold roach brooch if it didn’t shut up.

  “Okay, I’ve noticed that your relationship with your servants is highly irregular.” The words spilled out quickly. “Your servants seem to be much happier than most. Why is that?”

  “Oh, that’s an easy question.” Cole was disappointed in himself. He missed her victory due to his bad mood. “I treat them like people, not servants. They are also paid a fair wage for their services. It goes a long way for morale.”

  She smiled at his answer, and he soaked it up. Her eyes twinkled with pride over the rim of her tea cup. No one had ever looked at him that way, and it never really mattered before. He smiled back, and hope blossomed that her pride in him would never fade.

  A thump and bang of keys on the piano interrupted the moment.

  “Sprocket!” Sam screamed and almost dropped the tea cup in her haste to cross the room. The creature writhed on the floor, looking like a dying bug, stuck on its back. Sprocket’s shrieks drowned out the continued ringing of struck piano keys.

  “Sprocket Home!” Sam said, but the creature continued its thrashing. “I don’t know what to do!” She turned worried eyes to Cole. He held his hands out, helpless. “Sprocket Home!” She tried again with no response.