I continued down the hallway, past the library, with my eyes downcast, not wanting to talk to anyone. So immersed was I in my misery that I recoiled at the sound of a male voice emanating from just a few paces in front of me.
"I know feet are fascinating, Alera, but it's much more sensible to pay attention to where you're going."
Steldor stood outside the door to our quarters wearing a cocky and irritating grin, and for the thousandth time that day, I felt myself turning crimson. I stared at him, struggling for a witty rejoinder but unable to produce one.
"Did you want something, my lord?" I finally asked, forcing a smile that felt like a grimace.
"I simply wanted to see my beautiful wife," he said, countenance still smug, although his eyes had softened and I suspected the compliment was sincere.
Release my horse!" I ordered, infuriated with him and wary of both the large, energetic beast and its rider.
"No," Steldor snapped. "You're coming back with me."
Gripping my reins, he permitted his stallion to move forward in the direction of the city, my mount obediently following. Unwilling to give in to him, I slid from my horse's back.
"I don't think I will return just yet, Your Majesty."
With an exasperated sigh, he dismounted and strode toward me.As he did, he took in my preposterous appearance.
"What are you doing?" he demanded, stopping in his tracks. "You're out in the middle of nowhere, by yourself, dressed like a man and riding your father's horse! Have you gone mad, woman?" He continued to scrutinize me, and his incredulity transformed itself into a frown. "And just where did you get the belt and breeches?" As realizatin struck, he sarcastically added, "Just my luck that you would decide to get into my trousers when I wasn't there yo enjoy it."
My cheeks burned at his crude comment, and had I been a little closer, I would likely have dealt him a second slap. At the same time, I knew his assessment was accurate.
"I was just going for a ride.I have the right to some fresh air," I asserted, hands upon my hips.
Steldor gave a short, scathing laugh. "Not like this you don't.Now get on your horse.
What is wrong with Steldor?" my father asked, probably thinking illness since a shirt now covered his torso, concealing the last of his bandages.
"He was wounded," Cannan said, leaving out any hint of the strife we had experienced. "He's on the mend now." He cast a glance toward Nantilam, who still stood stiffly in the background, hands bound, Halias on alert next to her. "We have the High Priestess to thank for that."
"Not that she would have assisted willingly," Halias muttered, but she bowed her head toward the captain in appreciation of his acknowledgement.
What do you need?" I asked, sitting beside him and fumbling through the mishmash in my lap. "How about this?"
I examined a container and read the label.
"Will belladonna do?"
"That's a poison, dear.I'd prefer if you didn't give me that." Even with his ghastly injury,his dry humor survived.
You're dismissed, Lieutenant," the captain said evenly. "Go to your quarters."
"Yes,sir,thank you,sir," Tadark squeaked, glancing about miserably before sloshing into the palace, his dignity as waterlogged as his boots.
You always were the martyr, weren't you?" The Overlord snickered, and I closed my eyes briefly, relieved and devastated that he was accepting the trade. "So loyal,so brave, so foolishly self-sacrificing. I will see you regret it all before you die."
"You failed the last time you tried," London shot back. "I'm quite eager to see if you've improved.
The choice is yours.Either way, I will be faultless. So ask yourself, would you rather take credit for an eyesore or for a work of art?"
His speech complete, he sank onto the sofa, stretching his arms out across its back, a grin spreading across his face. I had not thought this through, that much was evident, but now that I had commenced it, I would not give n to him.
"You could change. More easily than could I."
"True," he ackowledged with a chuckle. "But I look perfect."
"Well,I'm sure you could look perfect in something else."
"Oh,doubtless, but why duplicate what is perfect when one could improve what is not?"
I wanted to kill him. I wanted to close that infuriatingly divine mouth once and for all, and if ending his life were the way to do it, I was willing to take that step.Instead, I took a deep breath and tried again.
"If I change, my hair will be ruined."
"You know,dear, something really should be done about your hair in any case. I told you to wear it down. And mind you switch tiaras."
"We're almost last as it is," blustered, trying to keep my tone civil, thought inside I was burning. "You could change more quickly."
"Not necessarily.You already know the gown into which you will change. I would have to search for something less elegant to match the dress you have on, but still formal enough for the occasion. And honestly,have you ever seen me in anything that might go with sky blue?"
I fell silent, for as much as I hated to admit it, he had a valid argument. He generally wore dark or rich colors, nothing similar to my gown. I despised myself for what I was about to do.
"I'll wait," Steldor said, accurately reading my expression.
It's not good, is it?"
Galen's reply was convincingly nonchalant. "I've seen worse."
"Yes-on a dead man."
Galen averted his eyes for a moment before giving a reply. "Don't talk like that."
"Sorry."
"Don't apologize, either."
Steldor gave a wry laugh. "Would you mind telling me what I am allowed to do?"
Galen couldn't suppress a smirk, thought it was laced with sadness, as he recognized the beginning of one of their classic bickering contests.
"Sure-you can shut your trap."
Steldor was smirking, too, then he grimaced, arching his back as unexpected pain shot through him, and new drops of sweat materialized on his forehead.
"Steldor-" Galen started, humor lost, reaching toward him with undetermined intent. Steldor smacked his hand away with as much vigor as he could muster.
"No," he growled, gritting his teeth. "Ignore it.I don't want to think about it."
Galen nodded, thought he looked uneasy. "Just tell me what to do," he said in a small voice.
"Tell me to shut my trap again.
You run off when things get a little more complicated than you'd like, and leave us to cover your tracks so the whole valley doesn't find out that Hytanica bloody lost its King-meanwhile, the Cokyrians are infiltrating our lands to the north, so it becomes entirely possible that you've walked right into their camp. We have men out there still searching for you,men who should be helping to barricade the northern border-to make sure that in a week you still have a kingdom to rule. And you have the gall to strut in here and be an ass! I swear, Steldo, if we didn't need someone to sit on that throne, I'd dispatch you with my own hands!"
The two erstwhile companions stared at each other, Galen challenging Steldor to respond, and Steldor too staggered to do so.Eventually,the sergeant threw his hands in the air and marched into his office,slamming the door behind him.
In the silence that followed Galen's departure, I came to appreciate the true meaning of the word awkward. Steldor did not rise to his feet, and his eyes were glazed. I felt un-needed,but there was no way for me to make a polished exit. The Palace Gaurds,bound by duty to remaind, searched the walls, the floor, the ceiling, for anything plausible in which to show an interest, not wanting to be caught gawking at their King.
You can hardly expect the rabbit to keep up with the fox.
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