Marcus had taken great care to keep away any reporters he saw. On more than a few dates, Ian and a few of his fellow students would run around the perimeter of the beach, escorting potential photographers away to the Headmen's Offices for reprimand. Still, there was always someone who didn't draw attention to themselves. Disguises were not uncommon for the press.
In their time, Marcus and Rebekah had been a hot story for the media. Rebekah had decided, with Marcus's approval, that kissing of any kind was not allowed in their relationship. Better to hold off on the intimate exchanges, rather than sharing it with the tabloid reading public. Rebekah wanted the kiss to be special and private. Marcus had reluctantly, but wisely agreed. It hadn’t been the easiest policy to follow, but so far, the media had no pictures of them kissing, and they had not so much as kissed each other’s cheeks.
Still and all, Rebekah wasn't too worried about the press anymore. They'd come. They always did. She'd learned from hard experience that they would not be deterred by a lack of news. When she'd left the Academy, they had followed. And her privacy did not get any more private. In fact, in some ways, she was hounded all the more. And without the facts that they wanted, the mass media was sure to create a story. And after one misstep by Rebekah, the entire circle had begun again. That had taken some effort to undo. Marcus had been kind enough not to ask what that effort entailed.
"Ready for some company Trouble?" Marcus said, his deep voice a welcome sound over the whipping wind. Rebekah looked over to see him in paladin casuals. She frowned a little.
"I thought you said no uniforms." Marcus shrugged at his attire.
"It's all I have."
“Next time we have a free day, I’m taking you shopping for clothing.” Marcus shook his head.
“I don’t trust your taste in fashion.” Rebekah was going to give him a hard time about it, but shrugged instead, motioning for him to sit. Marcus did so gladly, never removing his eyes from her. Rebekah was glad for that. Though technically, Marcus and Rebekah were not “officially” dating, Marcus had made her feel like they were. He had gone out of his way to make her feel like she was the only woman in his world.
Marcus had made it entirely clear that things between the two of them would have to wait. They were a couple by all definitions, but they were also in a situation that did not allow them a whole lot of time to think of themselves. When Marcus wasn't teaching or training Ian or sleeping, he was checking leads in the city central computer network, hoping to find some bit of news that pointed to a Dread Paladin that knew something about Jacob's disappearance. In the end, Rebekah knew that that part of Marcus's life came first, and the security of the rest of the world came before she could have him to herself.
"Hey," was all she could say at the moment. Marcus smirked a little and touched her hand. That was all the gesture he could give under the media blackout rules they'd imposed on themselves. Rebekah took it for what it was and tried her best not to blush.
"So, what did you bring?" Marcus asked, breaking the reverie. Rebekah shook herself a moment, setting a stray lock of her hair away from her face. She turned to her basket and started pulling out food.
"I don't cook, because if I did, you'd just die. And Mom's not sending anyone to cook for me, so it's all store bought." Marcus pulled out a few items, opening them cautiously. He was used to cooking for himself. He rarely did pre-made food, unless it was in the Academy mess hall. Still it all smelled wonderful. Marcus would try some, carefully as he dared.
“Sounds like you got used to being home,” he mused. Rebekah had to nod. She had. That wasn't a secret. Morgana Norik had followed her late husband's requests to the letter. Rebekah was to have no contact with the royal family or the rest of the house staff while she stayed in Littlefield. But having been home for the past few years, most of the domestic duties she had learned had all but faded from her memory.
“You think I've gotten spoiled?” Rebekah asked softly. Marcus paused, trying to think of how to answer.
“It's not hard. It actually takes very little to get spoiled by something.” Marcus was thinking back to that dinner the two of them had shared in Norik the previous year. The food had been specially prepared by the Norik family's personal chef. As such, it was very rich and much more flamboyant than Marcus was used to.
“But you don't think I'm spoiled, do you?” Marcus paused in dishing himself something that looked like coleslaw. Rebekah's face was hard to read. He wasn't sure what exactly she was asking.
“I don't think so. Not judging by your choice of food anyway. What is this?” Marcus held up a plastic container with something green inside. Rebekah smirked a little.
“You know, I'm really not sure. Green stuff.” Marcus gave the container another glance and set it down.
“Maybe the green stuff is spoiled,” he offered mildly. Rebekah grinned easily. “Did you ever consider taking a cooking class? Sir Einhart offers a class here at the Academy.” he asked. Rebekah gave him a flat smile.
“Sounds like a lot of work,” she grated.
“Sounds like you don’t want to actually know how to do stuff, so you can’t be responsible to ACTUALLY do stuff.” Rebekah nodded shortly.
“If I can cook, then people will expect me to cook? Is that what you’re saying?” Marcus shrugged.
“You’re protecting a very particular image in the world. The warrior princess couldn’t possibly be troubled to cook.” Rebekah thought about it for a moment.
“Would you want me to be able to cook when we get married?” Marcus looked down for a moment. Rebekah’s question was very specific in its wording.
“I would like it. But I suppose that if you’re not capable, it’s not a deal breaker.” Rebekah’s face pinched curiously.
“Are you mocking me for not being able to cook?” Marcus shook his head.
“No. I’m mocking you for not WANTING to be able to cook.” After a bit of food and laughter, Rebekah began putting plates and containers back into her basket. Marcus folded the blanket and started slowly for Strebor's Rock. It wasn't a long way off. But he liked being up on the stone when the sunset came. Rebekah knew how he felt. She had spent many an evening talking to him and watching the sun dip down below the sea. She watched him walk and marveled at how attractive he could be just walking.
The one thing that Rebekah dreaded in all this was the ‘J’ word. Jennifer. Marcus hadn't really ever said it, but Rebekah could almost feel it in him. When she came back, both of their worlds were going to spin like a hamster wheel. Marcus didn't want to think about it, and Rebekah didn't want him to either. She hoped that when Jennifer did return, that she would have no power or influence over Marcus. But they didn't speak of it. And as such, Rebekah couldn't be sure.
Marcus set himself down in his favorite place and sighed airily. He was most at home here. At least, he thought so. Strebor's Rock was his own personal touchstone. A place he could call his own and retain his privacy at the same time. Rebekah joined him a moment later, sitting herself down near him.
"Are you taking me to the Littlefield Cotillion or what?" Rebekah asked after a long moment. Marcus tensed a bit.
"I'm not sure I'm entirely comfortable with that," he said honestly. Rebekah couldn't tell what that meant really. She'd gotten used to just doing things with Marcus. This was the first time since they had started to rekindle things that he had been apprehensive.
"Why not? It's just a dance." Marcus got a look on his face that said that Rebekah shouldn't push it any farther. She quickly changed the subject. "What about the Paladin Peace Games? You've got a swordsmanship title to defend." Marcus frowned a little. He didn't look forward to that either. Life with the Dread Paladins loose in the world made the things he used to enjoy a little more terrifying.
"I'm not sure The Games are a good idea with the state of things right now either. I mean, we'd have thousands of people in Littlefield that we don't know anything about, and anyone could try something during the games." Marcus looked out at
the sea. "It's not the best time for it is all. I think the best idea would be for me to stand down as swordmaster." Rebekah figured that made sense. Marcus wanted to defend his title. He was proud of it. But he knew exactly what kind of climate the world was in, and he didn't have time to both prepare for competition and prevent any number of catastrophes.
“So, what do we do while the Peace Games are on? Hide in my room?” Marcus’s face pinched.
“You’re the one who said you couldn’t trust yourself alone with me.” Marcus was trying to be coy. He didn’t really have a good idea of what to do. But he wasn’t about to admit to that.
“I still can’t.” Marcus smirked.
“Some things just don’t change.”
"All right then. How's your class doing?" Rebekah asked, rather abruptly. She didn't usually jump subjects like this, but Marcus didn't seem to want to talk today. She was really at a loss as to why.
"About as well as can be expected I guess. Nothing out of the ordinary about most of the class. But then, you know. You’re there." Rebekah nodded, knowing which class member he was leaving out of that assumption.
"Still worried about Ellis, huh?" Marcus nodded grimly.
"I don't know what it is about that kid. Sometimes I think he's actually listening. Like he's catching the meaning without letting on. But then he'll go ballistic on me, challenging my authority and my knowledge with some obscure references to books I've never heard of." Marcus paused a moment. "I doubt many of them are in the Academy library."
"I don't think you need to worry all that much," Rebekah said, shifting a little sand in her fingers. "You probably haven't found that thing that you need to spark the kid." Marcus had to give her that point. Whatever it was that would turn Ellis Burke towards learning of the paladins and then living by their precepts, Marcus had yet to hone in on it.
"His outbursts are hurting the others." Rebekah nodded then smirked a little. "What?"
"Mary's got a crush on you, you know." Marcus's face pinkened a little. He hadn't been sure of it until Rebekah had said it just then.
"That does explain why I always seem to have her undivided attention when I ask her a question."
"As undivided as you can get with your nose jammed into a ten-pound history book," Rebekah added with a note of sarcasm. Marcus smiled slightly. Mary was entirely too bookish for her own good.
"You see, her and Jack and even Uther. They all have normal problems. Things I saw when I was growing up here. But Ellis is a whole different story. He’s like a bucket of rusty water. I can’t see what’s inside without reaching in. And I’m not sure I want to get my hands dirty. With Cecil not volunteering any information on the matter, I'm just shooting in the dark." Rebekah put a reassuring hand on Marcus's shoulder and looked him dead in the eyes.
"So, get some gloves,” Rebekah said coyly. Marcus smiled. “Look. You'll figure it out. Just give it time." Marcus looked down and tried to smile. "What're you teaching them tomorrow, anyway?" Marcus wasn't entirely sure. He didn't say anything to that effect, but he managed to answer without answering. Rebekah let that go and contented herself with sitting in silence with Marcus.
"Can I ask you a question?' he said after a long moment. Rebekah nodded. "Why don't you like being in Littlefield?" That got Rebekah's attention. “You’ve been edgy about it since we set foot here.” She didn't say anything for a long moment, mulling over her thoughts.
"I'm-" she stopped herself, taking a long breath to clear her thoughts. "When I left Littlefield, I didn't intend to come back, you know." Marcus frowned a little. "I had made my decision and that was final. I was going to be alone for the rest of my life. I wouldn't find anyone like you again." She turned away, facing the setting sun and tried not to cry.
"I went home and I cried for a year over you before I could be seen in public. It was my fault." She paused, rubbing her face with her free hand. "A part of me hoped that you were as upset as I was. That you were having as much trouble."
"I was," Marcus said quietly. "But I didn't cry as much. I almost punched out Cecil once." Rebekah sniffed sharply, amused.
"See. But when you showed up in Norik, I thought you were coming back to me. Then you were getting married and my life was hell all over again in less than a day. You didn't see it on me because of all the fighting and kidnapping in Meridian. It never had a chance to settle in." A long moment passed, and neither of them said a word. Marcus sat quietly, not wanting to break the moment. A part of him urged him to comfort her. To hold her until it was all right again. But he knew better. Rebekah needed to answer this question.
"You still love her I think," she said finally. "I didn't want to come here. I didn't want to be the 'also ran' of this chase. She'll be here again, and you're going to fall for her. And I'm still going to be here, living with that stupid decision of mine." Marcus started to reach for her, but stopped. Something kept him from acting.
"I made that choice like I make every other choice in my life. Brashly. Quickly. Without thinking it through." Rebekah turned to face him finally, tears on her cheeks. "I wanted to go home so I wouldn't be here when SHE came back. A part of me still wants to go home. Just so I won't have to see it happen. Cause if I don’t see it happen, I can pretend it hasn’t." Marcus pulled her to him and held her close. Rebekah cried out on his shoulder, shaking from the anguish she felt.
"It's okay Trouble. It's all right," Marcus said, trying to soothe her.
"I love you. And I don't want her to have you. I know that’s selfish, but I won't share you. I won't." Marcus took her face in his hands and turned her eyes toward him.
"I don't want her to come back. I'm not in love with her. I'm happy. I'm with you." Rebekah smiled, sniffing and wiping at her tears consciously.
"I'm a mess," she said as she wiped her face and fussed with her hair. Marcus smiled as she did it.
"Yes. But a beautiful mess." Rebekah smiled. She did feel better now. She felt a little lighter. But a part of her still noticed. He hadn't said it.
Uther sat in the emptiness of the Holodrome that evening meditating, as was his custom in the night. He preferred the lack of sound in the Holodrome, rather than the noise that young men were entirely too accustomed to making. The youth barracks seemed more like a jungle gym sometimes, rather than a place to sleep and live. Plus, Uther did not like to be the butt of anyone's tasteless jokes when he was trying to meditate.
In the Holodrome, only persons with the most serious of intentions ever walked past him. There was occasion that Uther would see Marcus or Ian step past. Neither of them acknowledged him in the middle of his meditations. Either they were being respectful, or like most people, they didn't see him. Uther did have a talent for fading into the background when he chose to. Almost like he was semi-invisible.
In the background, Uther could hear only the faintest of sounds. The unmistakable clang of bladed weapons clashing on some distant corner of the floor Uther was on. There was some muffled speaking, and some shuffling of feet, the dripping of water from a nearby faucet, but no noises that were of any consequence. Uther's fur ruffled a little and he began to slow his own breathing. It wasn't the time to think about the world around him. It was time to dwell on the things within him.
The day had been fairly trying. Uther had run into a group of boys who did not seem to exemplify the morals and standards of the paladins. In fact, Uther surmised that they were much the opposite of what he felt the paladins should be. And it was these same boys who had been giving him trouble since he'd arrived.
"Hey Woolly!" Monroe had said as Uther walked past them in Nikko Park. It wasn't the most creative thing that Uther had ever been called. In fact, it was probably the name with the least amount of thought that had gone into it. But Monroe Prit wasn't the most intelligent bully Uther had ever met.
It was Uther's first day, and things were confusing enough. The looks Uther had gotten all day were what he had expected. Except for from his mentor. Sir Medag had not looked at Uther as anything
other than a student. Medag was himself a Scaleth. His own appearance was neither normal nor was it welcome by many. The elder paladin had a scaled face and a mane of black, greasy hair that he had attempted to pull back into some kind of ponytail. When he spoke, you could hear his tongue flicking, and his eyes darted about, looking for some kind of predator. Uther felt comfortable with him.
But the rest of the campus that he'd had the uncomfortable pleasure of meeting had not been so accommodating. The Paladins themselves and the teachers had been both gracious and understanding. The student body as a whole was less than enthused by his presence. And that was when he'd seen Monroe Prit and his two lackeys, Creosus Lem and Proctor Dane.
Uther had intended to just walk right past them, but Monroe's two friends, if you could call them that, stepped into his path. Creosus was nothing like Monroe. Monroe was a large and entirely too stupid individual. He had a high opinion of himself and a low opinion of anyone different, larger, smaller or anything else, with the obvious exception of Jack Roykirk, who stood off to the side, a blonde girl attached to his lips. Creosus however, was quiet, lanky and very small. But he had a penchant for violence.
Proctor on the other hand, was a nerdy, brainy type who sported an uneven pair of glasses on his uneven face. The boy's nose was broken and twisted slightly, making it impossible for his glasses to sit straight on his face. A very wicked sneer accompanied his twisted nose.
"You're not leaving, are you Cat-boy?" Creosus asked, stepping right into Uther's face. Uther stopped short, but didn't step back. His father had told him long ago never to back down. He would show strength, even if he didn't intend to exercise violence.
"Is there any reason I should stay?" he asked quietly. Proctor guffawed a little.
"Why, for the pleasure of our company, of course." Monroe chuckled at that, pulling from his bag a short blade that he tended to carry with him. Uther tried not to react to that as the weapon was revealed, but it was a struggle.
The Paladin Archives Book Two The Withering Falseblade Page 6
