by N.D. Bailey
While Windsor and Akiylah were sitting by the water fountain, Nadora had strolled to the stables, to sit with Orpah and Valor. Because she had been raised to be a strong woman, she often found it difficult to share her true feelings—except among her animals, where she could find solace telling them the secrets of her heart.
Carrying a lantern, she strolled across the manicured lawn to the stables. She breathed in the fragrance of the Eucalyptus trees as she passed by. Nuvatian watched from a balcony as she leisurely crossed the lawn. She was now wearing the princess garments given her by the king. She looked like a woman, a beautiful woman, instead of a warrior. It surprised him that she carried herself with as much grace as any woman he had ever seen, despite being a girl-warrior. He felt compelled to follow her.
Now, wearing the fine clothing King Justiz had given her, Nadora sat on the hay-scattered barn floor among the wood chips and dirt, talking to Orpah and Valor. “King Justiz is not going to ride,” she moaned. “It just doesn’t make sense. We have the bloody sword, but he’s not going to take it. Oh, my fathah is going to be so disappointed!”
As she shared these thoughts with the beasts, Nuvatian walked into the stable.
“Nadora,” he called, as he entered.
“In here,” she replied.
Entering the stall where she was, he said quickly, but with some trepidation, “I-I saw you come down here. I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”
She had walked there with such elegance, but now she sat on the barn floor among the hay, her robe-like dress wadded between her legs. She looked nothing like a princess now. To Nuvatian, even this pose could not ruin the charm and grace he saw in her.
“I’m okay,” she replied, “just disappointed, like everyone else. Why would King Justiz not agree to ride? Why is he avoiding taking his responsibility?” She looked to Nuvatian for some insight.
“I don’t know. Perhaps he’s not yet ready to take on the temptation of the sword.”
“We should have brought the bloody thing with us,” her voice razor sharp, “and just left it with him. Then he would have been stuck with it.”
“Yes, but we didn’t consider that he might not come with us. It seemed more logical to leave it locked up in your fathah’s castle, than to risk travelin’ with it.”
“I think we should go back,” she growled, “and get the bloody sword and bring it to King Justiz.”
“Well, we can’t make any rash decisions. We’ll see what your fathah says.”
“My fathah is goin’ to be furious!”
“I know, I know,” said Nuvatian, grabbing her hand, to help her to her feet. “But we know that the ancient prophecies speak of events yet to come that involve an immortal king. Perhaps King Justiz knows things that we don’t. We must trust that.”
“Perhaps,” she conceded. “It would just be easia if he would explain it to us.”
He looked upon her sprawled out in the hay. Her hair hung loose over her shoulders; she twisted a lock around her finger. Her lips curved even with disappointment in her eyes. He could get lost in her beauty; but now, it wasn’t just her beauty that had snagged him, it was her. He admired her strength and courage, her gentleness, and the way she didn’t flaunt her intelligence or her position. She was most unlike-royalty and her down-to-earth ways had grabbed his heart as much as her beauty had captured his eyes.
The king was right: he had a fight on his hands—a fight within. But it was more than lust.
Nuvatian changed the subject. Affection surfaced in his voice. “You have hay all ovah your robe—or dress, whatevah it is!” He squatted on the ground and brushed some of the hay off the garment. “Whatevah it is called, it’s very pretty—almost as pretty as you!” He ran his hand across her long hair.
Caught by surprise, Nadora did not know what to say. She dusted off the rest of the hay, remained silent.
Nuvatian softly touched the side of her face, lifted her head, and looked into her hazel eyes. Lost for words himself, he just looked at her.
Nadora broke the silence. “Well, I—I think I need to clean out Valor’s hooves. She fumbled awkwardly with the straw beneath her feet.
“Of course you do,” Nuvatian sighed. Sensing the awkwardness of the moment, Nuvatian opted to plop down in the hay across from her and lend his ear to her. “It looks like you are dressed for the occasion.” He laughed, getting a smirk out of her too. “Besides, the Immortals already took care of our mounts. They did everything.”
Nadora was much more comfortable with him when he was just a friend. But that hair. Those lips. Those dimples. He was the most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on but it just all felt so awkward. Besides, she reminded herself, men usually have one thing in mind, and she had the matters of the kingdom in her mind. No, there was no room for a man in her life. She decided she should settle the matter.
“I can’t go there, Nuvatian. You’re an attractive man and I like you as a friend; but, I will be inheriting this kingdom. This is my purpose in life, not marriage and children.”
“Why can't you have both. Besides, who will inherit the kingdom aftah you if you don’t have children?”
“There are cousins. Look, I can’t do both and if I have to choose, I choose the kingdom.”
“You can have both,” Nuvatian insisted, brushing his hand across her cheek. “I will help you.”
“Like I said, I can’t do this.” Nadora stood up and brushed off her dress. She put her hand on Nuvatian’s hair and kissed his head. “Not right now. Not as I am right now.”
Then, she walked away.
Inside she was fighting her own war. She held up high expectations for herself, achievement took precedence over romance; after all, achievement seemed easier, more natural to her. Achievement brought rewards, she wasn’t too sure about romance; from her observation it seemed to satisfy temporarily but often turned messy.
She was a warrior and one day she would be queen. She didn’t know if there was room for the role of wife and mother on her plate too. She didn’t know if there was room in her heart to love a kingdom and love a man too; she didn’t think there was room to make war and love at the same time.
When the riders turned down the silk sheets of their beds, the aroma of Jasmine greeted them. Their sleep was sweet and recuperative. Even Gilgore slept pleasantly in the large guest room made just for giants, beds that actually fit. But Buldar was so excited at seeing the ocean that he didn’t sleep a wink.
