by HP Mallory
“She said she was upset merely because she had walked in on a quite… embarrassing situation.”
“Oui, true,” Audrey continued with a pert nod. “Yet most people in a similar situation would simply have apologized for the breach of privacy and removed themselves? It seemed to me the princess was quite shocked and rooted in place.”
“Yes, I thought the same.”
“So, Monsieur Sinclair, I must ask you yet again—there must be or must have been something between the two of you?”
I smiled at her and took her hand, not enjoying these wretched feelings of guilt that continued to plague me. I was not altogether certain that I should have been experiencing them in the first place, for I could not understand what I had done wrong. I was a free man. Lady Bryn had denied my advances and told me she wished to dedicate herself to the life of the soldier. And Audrey had offered herself to me and I had taken her up on her generosity. Was it wrong of me to have done so? As many times as I wracked my brain with that exact question, I could not find an answer in the affirmative.
“I had feelings for the Lady Bryn, yes,” I finally admitted.
“Ah.” Audrey dropped her attention to the verdant grass beneath us. It made squishing sounds as we walked, owing to the heavy dew that still weighed it down. “And the Lady Bryn has feelings for you?” Though she asked it as a question, it was posed more as an observation.
“No,” I answered quickly. “Actually, it is quite the opposite.”
She looked up at me then and frowned, her expression one that suggested she believed me to be quite the silly fool. “Sir…” she began.
“I came to Lady Bryn with my feelings,” I tried to explain. “And she responded, in no uncertain terms, that she could not return them. And that was the end of that.”
Audrey nodded, looking out over the ocean, which was the darkest gray I had ever seen it. The white cresting waves contrasted greatly against the gloomy sky and even gloomier water.
“Well, clearly, she was not honest with you, nor with herself,” she pointed out.
“She was overcome with embarrassment,” I said with a shrug. “I am quite certain that walking in on us was something she would rather not have done.”
“Yes, but as I said, most people without emotional ties would have simply turned and left the situation, but she didn’t.” She stared at our clasped hands and tightened her hold on mine. “I believe she was quite jealous.”
“Perhaps,” I agreed.
“Jealousy is a sign of emotional attachment.” Her eyebrows reached for the sky.
“Perhaps to a degree.”
“Then you do not believe that the Lady Bryn harbors romantic feelings for you?”
“I do not believe her feelings are anything other than slight jealousy that she is no longer the apple of my eye,” I answered. “I have no doubt her true feelings for me are just as they were—platonic.”
“Then why did she act the way she did?”
I cocked my head to the side and considered her question. “Jealousy can make people act in ways they ordinarily would not. But in the princess’ case, I believe it was merely because her mouse was no longer allowing her to toy with it.” I glanced over at her and smiled. “It had moved on to another cat.”
She giggled at that and then fell silent. The wind whipped up and danced around our bodies, causing her hair to pull free from the chignon at the nape of her neck. I eyed her neck and remembered the taste of her blood.
Which was nowhere near as satisfying as the taste of the princess’ blood, I reminded myself, but immediately forced the thought away. The sooner I was able to emancipate myself from the Lady Bryn—and my thoughts of the Lady Bryn—the better.
“And after I left?” Audrey asked, gazing up at me. “What happened then?”
I swallowed hard. This was the part of the conversation I really did not want to engage in. “We talked for a few minutes and I sent her on her merry way.”
It was not altogether true, but a version of the truth I was the most comfortable with. I would not further humiliate the princess by explaining how she had thrown herself at me and I had refused her. I was not that sort of man.
“And have you seen her since?”
“No.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “I daresay that when you do, it shall be quite the uncomfortable exchange.”
“I daresay you are correct.”
She smiled up at me and then glanced out at the sea again. “And where does that leave us, Monsieur Sinclair?” she asked, turning to face me once again.
“Us?”
“Oui. If there truly exists nothing between you and the princess, then it follows that you are available?”
I chuckled at her bizarre wording. “Yes, it follows that I am available.”
She smiled then, and her smile made me realize just how attractive she was.
She is not Bryn, my deplorable inner voice suddenly piped up.
No, she is not, I answered myself, but Bryn is no longer an option.
***
It was only a matter of hours before I found myself face to face with the princess. I was en route to the training field in order to lead my own recruits in the art of swordplay. When I took a turn around a huge and gnarled elm tree, the princess nearly walked headlong into me, throwing her palms up against my chest.
“Oh!” she cried and pushed herself away, clearly surprised. But when she glanced up and into my face, recognizing the man she had just walked into, her surprise gave way to intense discomfort. A red blush stole across her cheeks and her heart began to pound in earnest, the sound calling to me in such a way that I had to force myself to keep my fangs from lengthening. When she realized her hands were still on me, she threw them down as if I had burned her.
“Sorry,” she managed and attempted to sidestep me.
“It is quite a bad place for a tree, is it not?” I asked, offering her a large smile.
“W…what?”
“The tree,” I repeated and motioned to the enormous thing behind me. “It is not located in the best of places, hence our near collision.”
“Oh, right, the tree,” she said, nodding with an embarrassed laugh. It was not lost on me that she refused to meet my gaze. “Yeah, it’s not in a good place.”
“It was a joke, my pet,” I told her.
“Right.” Then she took an inordinately large breath and nodded five times in quick succession before she offered me the most artificial of smiles. “Time for training,” she said. Perspiration had broken out along her hairline, and I was left with the distinct impression she wanted nothing more than to be as far away from me as was possible.
“What does your schedule hold for you today, my lady?” I asked.
Bryn closed her eyes briefly, as if to remember everything she needed to accomplish, and then looked up at me. “Um, I have one-on-one training with Dureau…”
“Why?”
She swallowed. Quite audibly. Perhaps it was more of a gulp. “We’ve got to perfect my ability to control the Flame. And I need to, uh, talk to him about… other things,” she answered, not noticing or perhaps choosing not to acknowledge the fact that the frog’s name immediately caused me annoyance.
“Other things?”
She sighed, appearing both frustrated and hurried. “Things that I don’t want to get into right now.” Without allowing me the opportunity to speak, she continued. “After that, I have to take charge of training the Unseelie recruits. Getting them in proper shape has been a ton of work, but I think it’s going to be worth it. They’ll be amazing on the battlefield, when fully trained,” she finished. She seemed to find comfort in changing the subject to one of military focus.
I cleared my throat in response, desiring to ensure that I had her full attention. I could not mask the fact that I was annoyed at whatever this hidden subject was that she wished to discuss with the dandy, but I knew better than to push her. She would crawl back into her shell, as she was wont to do whenever she w
as pressured. “I hope your training of the Unseelie recruits goes swimmingly,” I offered.
“Thank you.”
“Do be careful with the dandy,” I added, though I was surprised to hear the words from my mouth as they were entirely from left field. It was strange but I did not want to break our conversation. Instead, I wanted to elongate it. Truly, I wanted to discuss the proverbial elephant in the room, but now was not the right time.
“What are you talking about?”
I was not entirely sure what I was talking about, so I searched for the nearest available explanation that might make sense.
“I believe his heart is on the line where you are concerned, my dear,” I said, finally. “And I do imagine you wish to avoid a string of broken hearts.”
It was a silly thing to say, as I cared not whether Chevalier’s heart was on the line, but it was the only explanation I could find. Que sera, I suppose.
She frowned. “Whether or not his heart is on the line is only known to him. And let’s not pretend like you would give a rat’s ass even if it was.”
“I am not sans empathy, my pet.”
“Where Dureau is concerned, I think you are.”
“Then we shall agree to disagree.”
She eyed me knowingly and then shook her head. “Regardless, I’m a grown woman, and I’m fully capable of making my own decisions regarding my life.”
“Yes, yes, my little tempest,” I replied. “You are.”
And with that, we separated for the day’s training activities.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sinjin
Once again, I found myself on the green grass surrounding Kinloch Kirk—grass that had been repurposed from picnic grounds to training fields for warriors too many times over the last several months. The metallic clinks and clangs of clashing iron and bronze weaponry filled the air, as did other sounds suggesting the transformation of men and women from athletes into warriors.
I was leading a one-on-one training session with Damek, who was still improving day by day. His battle skills had progressed noticeably, and he was now a force to be reckoned with. I was beyond proud of my surrogate son.
We were currently in the warm-up section of our training and Damek was struggling with his third set of twenty push-ups.
“Why are we doing push-ups, anyway?” he complained. “It’s not like I’m gonna be doing them on the battlefield.” Then he looked up at me, concerned. “Right?”
“Damek,” I chided, “you must stay active and alert. We do these repetitions not because we actually perform push-ups and jumping jacks in battle, but because our bodies must be in peak condition.”
“I’m trying,” he huffed. He dropped back down to the ground but rather than pushing himself back up, he remained there.
“Goodness!” I admonished, stretching out beside him. “Watch and emulate, good sir!” I then proceeded to complete an easy thirty repetitions.
“I… I don’t think I can, Sinjin. I’m worn out.”
“Let us move to the meat of our training, then,” I said as I reached to where his sabre was leaning against a nearby tree and handed the weapon over to him. We began our sparring exercises but, as with his workout, he was slow both in response time and agility.
“Come, Damek!” I yelled. His mind appeared to be elsewhere this day and as a result, his reaction time and his reactions, themselves, were slower than normal. Finally, I stopped the boy by placing my hands on either of his shoulders and taking his sabre from him. He stood there, panting, and gave me the expression of one who was well aware his form was lacking.
“I’m exhausted,” he admitted with an expression that said he wished I would take pity on him. “And you’re on fire,” he added, fighting to catch his breath.
“And you, my student, are not.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I was… up late.” He paused for a moment as a sly look came over his face.
“What is the reason for that smile?” I asked.
“What smile?”
“You look quite like the cat who just swallowed the canary.”
He chuckled. “No reason.”
“Please, my pupil, do you take me for a fool?”
“Anyone who takes you for a fool is a fool, himself.”
It was my turn to smile. “I knew there was a reason I liked you so, Damek.”
He laughed again. “You’re a lot faster today.”
“And you are not.”
He nodded but did not respond other than to say, “Something must have put you in a good mood? Could it have anything to do with the Lady Bryn?”
“My God!” I railed at him playfully. “To listen to you, you would think my world revolved around that woman.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“No, it certainly does not, Damek.”
“Then your good mood has nothing to do with Bryn?”
Truly, it did, but I was not about to tell Damek as much. My good mood had everything to do with the jealousy the tempest had displayed regarding my tryst with Audrey. The more I considered it, the more I decided jealousy was a very reliable sign of interest. If the princess had no interest in me, she would not have cared who shared my bedchamber, as Audrey had mentioned.
“My good mood should be none of your concern,” I scolded, but with no rancor. “Let us change the subject. We need not focus on my romantic adventures, for I am experienced in such things and you are not.”
He frowned at me. “I’m not as inexperienced as you might think.”
My eyes widened of their own accord. “Tell me, Damek, are there any young ladies who have caught your eye?”
“Um,” he started.
“Um?” I looked at him pointedly. “Come on, out with it.”
Damek responded by looking at the ground and beginning to blush. “Okay, okay,” he said finally, seemingly relieved to confide in me about his crush. “I do think Dayna is… very pretty,” he confessed somewhat demurely, demonstrating himself once again to be a gentleman, even at a young age.
“Dayna?” I repeated as I considered the two of them… as a potential pair.
“Yes, Dayna!” exclaimed Damek, an expression belying frustration spreading across his young face.
“Very interesting.” I smiled down at him knowingly.
“I don’t think she feels the same way about me, though.”
“And why do you say this?”
He shrugged. “She’s been spending so much time with Audrey since this morning—she hasn’t even said hello to me yet.”
I chuckled at the young boy. It was clearly apparent my job as tutor in both studies and battle tactics would now need to be expanded to include affairs of the heart. “Damek, consider yourself quite fortunate.”
“Why’s that?” he asked and eyed me suspiciously.
“Because you have me to instruct you on all things relating to the heart, my boy.”
“What do you mean?”
I rolled my eyes. “Have you not heard of my reputation with the ladies?”
He cocked his head to the side as he considered my question. “Not really. I mean, it just seems like you’ve always been hopelessly in love with Bryn.”
I cleared my throat, for I did not appreciate this description. “The Lady Bryn is the newest chapter in my very lengthy book of trials and tribulations regarding the fairer sex.”
“Trials and what?”
“Tribulations,” I responded quickly and rather irritably. “In other words, regardless of what you think you know about me, I have always been regarded as a Casanova with women. Granted, Lady Bryn has involved me in quite the chase, but prior to her, there never existed a woman I could not woo by way of my handsome face, worldliness, and quick tongue.”
“Except for Queen Jolie. You couldn’t woo her, either.”
I glared at him. “With the exception of the Queen’s bloodline,” I corrected myself, “there has never been a lady who resisted my charms.”
“Huh.”
“
And as to whether Lady Bryn truly resists my charms… it can be debated…”
“I think she’s resisted them.”
“Blimey!” I yelled at him and felt myself growing cross. “Are you interested in my tutelage or not?”
He nodded, trying to conceal a smile. “I probably need all the help I can get.”
“Finally, we are getting somewhere,” I said with much frustration.
“So, Casanova, why didn’t Dayna bother to say good morning?”
I shook my head and frowned at him. “Do not call me that.”
He appeared confused. “Didn’t you just say…”
“Yes, yes,” I interrupted him. “But that is not to say you should call me by the rogue’s name!”
“Oh. Okay.”
“And as to your question regarding why Dayna failed to say good morning to you… Damek, it is still quite early,” I explained, in an attempt to soothe his wounded ego. “Do you two speak regularly?”
“Of course,” replied Damek eagerly. “We talk every day.”
Clearly, the boy had much to learn in the ways of love.
I wondered if Dayna and Damek would be a good match, after all—perhaps I should not encourage this pursuit if it would only end in heartbreak for the young man. Then again, the two young souls had much in common. They had both suffered to an extreme extent at a horrifyingly young age but had both survived significant trauma, coming out stronger for it.
“You and Dayna have similar spirits, Damek,” I acknowledged. “Dayna is an excellent choice of paramour; you have my approval.”
Damek began to smile and I could not resist taking the opportunity to ruffle his hair, which resulted in a prolonged series of grumbles from the young man.
“And now, we will begin our training of a different sort—by analyzing the ways in which the art of love is quite like the art of war,” I announced.
“Is there going to be a test?” Damek laughed.
“The ultimate test, my pupil, is whether or not you win the lady.”
***
