“Need a moment of protection?” Maran asked softly, indicating the fast-approaching Deeta with a nod of his head. “I’ll occupy her for a song and find the lovely Amarilla here after you’ve had a chance to slip away.”
For a moment, Danner seriously considered taking Maran’s offer. Then he shook his head.
“I suppose I’ll have to dance with her at some point,” he said, “at least to keep her from hounding me all night. I just hope Alicia…” he stopped, blushing.
“She’ll be here, lad,” the cook, Amarilla, said. “I overheard Moreen extracting a promise from her to come tonight, and earlier I helped Mo pick out a lovely dress for her.”
Danner nodded and quickly plastered a pleasant smile on his face as Deeta broke through the crowd in front of him. Somehow she managed to avoid the appearance that she’d been actively seeking him out and had Danner not already seen her searching for him, he might have believed the look of surprise and innocence on her face.
“Oh, Danner, you are here,” she said, her voice breathy. “I was afraid you wouldn’t change your mind.”
Deeta’s direct gaze left no doubt in Danner’s mind that she apparently considered herself to be the sole reason Danner had come to the dance. Or more specifically, the thinly veiled offers she’d made to Danner. Danner’s smile froze on his face, and he was suddenly very grateful for Maran’s presence as the elf came to his rescue.
“Well, we more or less talked him into coming,” Maran said offhandedly, pretending to not see the glare Deeta threw his direction. “He was still reluctant to come, but Birch convinced him that to do otherwise would insult Moreen and the other guests.”
“How fortunate you were so persuasive,” Deeta said sweetly, and Danner withheld a snort of laughter. Did she have any idea how transparent she was?
“Danner.”
Maran’s voice and the slight nod of his head made Danner turn, and his breath caught in his throat. Alicia was just turning toward him, a slightly apprehensive look on her face. In that look there was neither guile nor pretense. She smiled in relief as she saw Danner, then abruptly hid the expression behind a polite smile. But Danner had seen it, and he flushed lightly in pleasure.
Alicia was wrapped in a sky-blue dress of glimmering satin, her hair artfully gathered behind her head to allow only a few curled tendrils to spill forth across her nearly bare shoulders. The dress was slit on her left from the hem to her thigh, and on the opposite side it was open above her hip, revealing a thin wall of smooth, olive-hued flesh. A series of thin, crisscrossing, silken straps ran up that side, tied in two places to hold the dress together.
Danner swallowed hard and nearly coughed as he expelled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He shook his head slightly and blinked, but the lovely woman before him didn’t disappear.
“Alicia,” he said, stepping toward her and offering her his elbow. Deeta fumed silently behind him, forgotten. Alicia’s eyes tightened at the sight of the other barmaid, and Deeta quickly shifted her face to give the impression that she’d had enough of Danner and was relinquishing him willingly to someone else.
Danner’s eyes were only for Alicia, though, and he missed Deeta’s look. He did see the hurt suddenly appear in Alicia’s eyes, and he panicked that he’d already done something wrong.
Think, think, think, he berated himself. Say something sweet, or suave, or genteel. Say anything that’s intelligent!
“I was hoping you’d come,” he said at last, and in the back of his mind he was aware that Maran had resumed his dance with Amarilla and had politely blocked Deeta from Danner and Alicia. Danner would have to find a way to thank the elf later.
“I hope you didn’t wait for me too long,” she said, and Danner flinched at the sharpness in her voice that was only partially disguised by her pleasant tone. Thieves’ Luck indeed. He didn’t know what he’d done to warrant that, but he was going to be damned if he let himself say something in return he might regret later. If he could just keep his head about him and show her a good time, maybe…
Danner suddenly realized he didn’t know what he had planned or what he wanted from Alicia, and then just as quickly realized he only wanted to spend time with her. For now, he wanted to get to know her and to make her smile. He would go from there.
He was wondering just what to say next when the music, which had quieted unnoticed when Danner had seen Alicia, began again with a slow cadence. Danner murmured a quick prayer of thanks and extended his hand.
“May I have the pleasure?” he asked, bowing slightly. He saw Alicia flush slightly, and decided that the extra color in her cheeks only made her look even more beautiful.
How long the two of them danced, Danner could never tell. He lost track of the time and the world around him, concentrating solely on the chestnut-haired beauty at his side. When the music picked up pace, they moved together with only a little initial awkwardness as Danner accustomed himself to a new partner, and he was pleased to note that Alicia was an accomplished dancer.
Maran had, of course, been the one to teach Danner, claiming that he needed at least some sort of instruction in the finer arts of life that his father would never – and, in all honesty could never – teach him. Whoever had taught Alicia had apparently been a wonderful dancer to begin with, and Danner absently wondered who it might have been.
Well into the evening, Danner thought he had his answer. The crowd abruptly quieted as Birch and Moreen appeared. For years no one had ever seen Moreen give a moment’s notice to any man, no matter how many vied for her attention, and now she appeared with a mysterious man, their arms linked with a comfort and familiarity too complete to escape notice. Whispered comments fluttered about the room as the revelers asked and in turn received answers about the man with the radiant innkeeper. Some of the older men and women apparently remembered and identified Birch, and they whispered quick gossip to the younger couples who didn’t recognize the paladin.
More than one man finally realized why Moreen had never given him a second glance. Bereft of his armor and clad in soft cloth, Birch nevertheless cut a martial and imposing figure as he led Moreen to the dance floor. His normally stern and impassive features were moderated to a polite firmness, somehow balanced perfectly by Moreen’s radiant appearance. Her silver dress gave her an ethereal quality, anchored to his steely, grounded presence.
As a large space cleared respectfully around them, Birch nodded to the waiting musicians and spun Moreen into his arms at the first quick note. What followed was the most stunning display of dancing Danner had ever seen, and he shook his head in disbelief at the sight of his uncle on the dance floor. Birch and Moreen were obviously well-practiced with each other, and their separation, however long, had apparently not dulled their sense of togetherness as a couple.
The two of them wove around each other like a snake’s coils, sinuous and beautiful as though they were two halves of the same indistinguishable whole. As the first song led into a second, amidst thunderous applause, Maran and Amarilla joined Birch and Moreen and matched their movements almost perfectly. Danner suspected that Maran was more than capable of outdoing Birch on the dance floor, but this moment belonged entirely to Birch and Moreen, and Maran willingly played the supporting role to enhance the pair’s dance.
At the next song, the rest of the crowd resumed their dancing, closing in about the two couples as though eager to be near such skill. Danner glanced down at Alicia.
“She taught you, didn’t she?” he asked. “Moreen, I mean.”
“Yes,” she said, her voice choked. Danner was amazed to see tears glimmering in her eyes.
“Let’s get some air,” he suggested politely, unsure of how he should react. Should he politely ignore the tears, or offer to dry them, or just point them out and let her dry them? Danner cursed his inexperience in dealing with women and murmured a quick prayer pleading for help.
Chapter 15
I am not a man. I am a paladin.
- Birch de’Val
derat,
“Memoirs” (1013 AM)
- 1 -
Birch and Moreen slipped free of the main room unnoticed by the crowd. Only elven eyes noted their departure, and Maran studiously ignored their absence. When he was asked their whereabouts, he replied he’d seen them only moments ago somewhere over there talking to someone he didn’t know.
After misdirecting another curious couple, Maran decided he’d given them enough time to get away and went in search of Danner. He’d seen how the young thief looked at the barmaid, and Danner was still a young human – Maran didn’t want him to do anything rash.
But, by the same token, he didn’t want the boy to miss a part of his education because he was too timid. Maran would just see if he needed a little push or a restraining hand, then leave him to make his own decisions, or mistakes. Taking Amarilla’s arm in his, Maran wove through the crowd to where he’d seen the thief and barmaid disappear.
- 2 -
Birch took a deep breath and exhaled a long, quiet sigh as Moreen walked toward him with a glass of red wine in her hand. He accepted the glass with a murmur of thanks, then eased back to rest his weight against a table. The room was deserted except for the two of them, chairs stacked neatly atop tables until the morning.
The side room had been added since Birch was there last, and he wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not. When they walked into the room, Moreen had said she used it as a private dining room when guests held parties or meetings, and that it was a valuable addition to the inn.
But to Birch, it was something that had changed in a place that had remained inviolate in his mind for two decades. It was something unfamiliar in a place that was supposed to remain forever the same. It didn’t look new; in fact it had a used quality about it that said more than anything else that this room belonged as a part of the inn. It made Birch seem like the stranger, the intruder, not the room.
“Sit down,” Moreen said softly, slipping a chair from the nearest table. Birch realized she’d already removed the other three chairs so the surface was uncluttered. Instead of waiting for him to politely hold the seat for her, Moreen seated herself. Birch hid a grimace when he saw she was across the table from him, not in the seat next to him. Wordlessly, he slid into the chair and fixed his eyes on the glass of wine before him.
The noise from the main room was swallowed by the terrible silence that hung between them, and Birch heard the rushing sound of blood pounding in his ears. When Moreen finally spoke, it did little to ease the discomfort.
“You’re leaving tonight, aren’t you?” she asked. “Or early tomorrow.” Her tone made it less of a question than a declaration.
Birch nodded mutely in reply, unwilling to speak yet.
“You’re leaving me again, only days after appearing from the grave,” Moreen said, her tone weary and hurt. Birch cringed inwardly. “I guess I should have expected this. Here comes Birch to brighten my life and to bring me a remembered promise of love. But no, he can’t stay, there’s something that keeps him away.”
Moreen didn’t even try to hide the bitterness in her voice, and each word cut Birch more deeply than a dozen demonic claws. At least in Hell, he’d had armor to protect him. Here, now and always, Moreen was already past his defenses and could do far more damage.
“First it’s his brother who needs him,” she continued softly, “and then it’s his training, and finally his burgeoning faith and devotion to the order of paladins. From then on, it’s always been something, hasn’t it? But always he comes back, and always I’m here waiting.”
Moreen stared at Birch until he was forced to look at her. Unthinking, he gazed directly into her eyes and saw her turn pale, but she didn’t flinch.
“Always your dream and faith you had to follow, so I let you go,” she said without malice. But there was a sharpness in her voice that cut into Birch.
Amazed at the pain she’d bourn for so long, Birch stared at her wordlessly for a moment.
“If it meant so much…” he stopped, his thoughts churning. Then, “Why did you let me go?”
Moreen sighed.
“I can’t force you to stay with me, Birch,” she said softly, leaning her head against her hand. “We promised each other from the outset that we would support the other’s search for happiness, even if it took us apart for a time.
“I was keeping my end of it.”
“But…” Birch stammered. A voice in the back of his mind laughed mockingly at him, the mighty paladin who’d conquered Hell now humbled and struck speechless by a woman. Birch recognized it as his own self-doubt, which he normally kept under strict control.
Moreen sighed again, scattering Birch’s thoughts.
“Sometimes I wish I’d tied you down and made you stay with me,” she said, smiling humorlessly. “I could have seduced you and gotten pregnant, then bound you by your honor to stay with me. With enough wine, even your willpower would crumble, Birch. You’d have gotten used to the idea.”
Moreen paused, but Birch stayed silent.
“Instead, I let you go again and again.”
Confused and hurt, Birch replied without thinking.
“Why didn’t you fight for me then? For us?” he demanded. Even as the last words left his lips, Birch regretted saying them. Not only were they the wrong words to say, but he knew how hypocritical and insensitive they were. But too late, the damage had been done.
Moreen’s face slowly contorted into a mask of barely suppressed fury. She glared at him with an anger he’d never seen before, and Birch fought not to turn away from her.
“Why didn’t I fight?” she demanded. Her voice climbed steadily until she was nearly screaming at him in rage. Unnoticed, she overturned her glass of wine, spilling a pool of blood-red liquid across the top of the table. “Why didn’t I … fight? I was fighting for us for years. I was the only one fighting, because I was apparently the only one who gave a damn enough to care more about the other person’s happiness than my own.”
Moreen hurled this at Birch with an almost-physical force, her tone gradually hardening until Birch felt every word like a condemning nail in his heart.
“Every time you had a problem, I helped you through it. Every time you felt too weak to commit to me and to the Prism, I waited for you to come to your senses. By the time you left the last time, I was tired of fighting. I’d been battling an invincible foe for years, and finally realized I couldn’t win. I was fighting your devotion and duty to the Prism and to God. I was fighting your will, Birch, which didn’t seem to be interested in helping me.”
Birch wished he could make his mouth work to speak to her, but his lips stayed sealed as though held by magic. Instead, he could only listen as Moreen turned years of withheld devotion and patience into a force of realization and understanding that broke over Birch like a tidal wave. For the first time, he truly saw what she had gone through waiting for him.
But still he could not speak.
“I couldn’t fight you anymore, Birch,” Moreen said, oblivious to his epiphany and silent desperation to speak. Her voice had softened, but with suppressed weariness, not gentleness. “I was too worn out. So I decided that if we were going to work out, if we were ever going to be together in the future, you would have to fight for me. Just that once.
“And the result? You left me again. Just one last time. For eleven years.”
Moreen’s voice hardened again, but she kept her voice low.
“So don’t you dare tell me I wouldn’t fight, Birch. Every time you came back to me I hoped you would be there to stay, that you would be able to promise me you’d be by my side forever and finally bring an answer to my prayers.” She sighed, her voice again soft with emotional exhaustion.
“But you never did. You just walked away time and again.” She paused, and now the accusation disappeared from her voice, and she looked earnestly at Birch. “Still I never stopped loving you, and I never stopped waiting for you.”
In Birch’s silence, Moreen stood and walk
ed slowly past him. At his side, she rested a soft hand on his shoulder.
“Have you come to your senses, Birch?” she asked softly. “Will you come back to me?”
Moreen disappeared, leaving Birch alone. Outside, the guests were slowly but surely departing for their own homes, saying their goodbyes to Moreen and congratulating her on another excellent party.
The pool of wine slowly dripped onto the floor. Birch remained oblivious to the drink, lost in his own thoughts and silent prayers for forgiveness.
- 3 -
Danner leaned over the railing, balancing on his elbows with his chin in his hands as he stared at the stars overhead. The night air blew gently about him, rustling his hair and sending a slight chill down the neck of his tunic. He turned to see if Alicia was likewise chilled, but the set of her face made the words die on his lips, unsaid. She seemed to be ignoring the chill.
What am I supposed to do? he wondered helplessly. What am I supposed to say?
“It’s a beautiful night,” he said at last, then cursed himself for making such an inane comment.
Alicia murmured a wordless agreement, her eyes focused on something in the distance.
Danner tried again.
“You’re really a fabulous dancer,” he said sincerely, making no attempt to hide his admiration. “The best I’ve ever danced with.”
At last Alicia looked at him, her expression indiscernible.
“Have you danced with many women before?” she asked, her voice cool.
“Well, not really,” Danner admitted sheepishly. “Just the ones Maran brought to help me with my lessons.”
“And with Deeta.”
Hunting The Three (The Barrier War) Page 17
