Authors: Breanna Hayse
"If
I help, will you forego my beating?"
Dom
raised his brow. "Your beating? I am assuming you are talking about the
spanking you're owed for the temper tantrum you threw, which ended up with you
hurting yourself and us losing the horses."
"Then
your answer is no." Shannon sighed, looking down.
"My
answer is no. However, a show of integrity might help you earn some respect
from your guardsmen."
"It
might or it will?"
Her
voice was so childlike and innocent, Dom felt a sudden need to soothe and
protect her. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her temple. He lifted
her chin and nodded. "It will."
Shannon
took in a deep breath and allowed her head to rest on his shoulder. "Will
it make you change your mind about me?"
"What
do you want to change in my mind?" He hid his amusement, beginning to
understand the fascination his father had had for the girl.
"You
think I am spoiled and rude. That I am not fit to become a queen."
"I
do think those things, but it is up to you to change my mind by showing me that
you are willing to learn and grow. Rectifying a problem that you caused is the
action of a mature adult. Do you believe yourself to be a woman grown?"
"I
used to. I used to believe that I could handle anything that came my way. My
world is not what I thought it would be. It is too different for me to
handle."
"Then
change it."
"Change
it?"
"Either
change your way of thinking, or change your world. Doing nothing changes
nothing." He kissed the back of her hand. "I do not mean to scold. I
just see that there is more to you than you see of yourself. Forgive me, my
lady."
Shannon
swallowed dryly, staring at the hand that held hers. It was so much larger and
darker than her own delicate, long-fingered appendage. Memories of the strength
of that hand, and the hardness of that palm upon her bottom, made Shannon
quake. He did not have to say it—Shannon could always sense the
underlying threat directed at her backside.
"I need a candle," she said.
"You
heard the lady. A candle!"
Dom
watched as Shannon anchored the tallow candle in a nest of rocks upon the
ground. She looked at him nervously.
He
touched his forehead to hers. "You will not be judged for using your gift
for good. Do you need me to light this?"
"No.
Please, you must be silent while I concentrate. I am not good at spellbinding.
Do not interfere either, or I will burn myself worse than usual." Shannon
lifted her eyes to his. "I tell you the truth, my skills are poor. I fear
I will fail."
"You
are forbidden to speak of failing again," Dom said sternly. "I have
faith in you, Shannon. Confront your fear and show me the strength of your
heart. Put aside the things taught to you, and allow your instinct to guide
you. Trust me."
"May
I sing?"
"You
may sing."
Shannon's
gaze burned deeply into his eyes and neither one of them breathed as they drank
in one another's souls. Shannon was the first to blink and break the eerie
contemplation shared between them. She placed her right hand above the candle
and blew on the wick with a whisper's breath. A tiny line of smoke arose from
the darkening fibers, lifting higher and higher into the air until the tip of
the candle burst alive with flame. Shannon lifted her face to the canopy of
trees and began to sing softly. Her lilting soprano brogue danced in a haunting
melody among the branches above as she called upon the forces of nature to help
her in her task. Her voice seemed to separate from her body as she sang, and
the flame stretched upward towards her extended hand. Closer and closer the
flame came, beginning to lick her flesh. Shannon continued to chant, her eyes
closed as she concentrated.
The
smell of burning skin caught Dom's attention. He kneeled in front of her and
stared into her face.
"Look
at me," he whispered. "The flame is cold. It has no substance. It is
a ghost. Turn your hand and hold it. Bring it to rise higher, as a beacon for
that which you summon. Good girl. More."
Shannon
locked eyes with him, unblinking as the flame rose through the back of her hand
and beyond her palm. "They come," she whispered. "I can feel the
horses returning. Did I do it?"
"Yes,
you did it. Do not look away from me. Watch," Dom whispered, placing both
hands on either side of the flame sizzling upon her palm. He formed a cup, and
scooped the flame from her. He held the flame from their bodies, lifted it
towards the sky, then turned around and tossed it upon the pile of wood for the
cook-fire. The sticks and logs erupted into crackling flames just as the horses
arrived. The guardsmen quickly unsaddled and hobbled them, thanking Dom
multiple times.
Shannon's
mouth fell open as she heard her companion being addressed as royalty.
"Mother of the gods, you are King Domitri d'Gavril," she whispered.
"I
am he."
"Yours
is the face that haunts my dreams." Her face paled to the color of the
full moon.
"I
tried to see you from afar. I was blocked, presumably due to your gift,"
he said.
"Why
did you deceive me?" Shannon asked, her voice heavy with disappointment.
"I
had to know that I could trust you."
"Trust
me? In what manner? How is it that you feel you could trust anyone after a
handful of days?"
"I
am able to sense things."
"You
led me to believe that my future husband did not care enough to come and escort
me. You treated me like a common peasant. You spanked me!" Shannon grew
angry and crossed her arms. "You
spanked
me!"
Dom
reached for her hands and unraveled her arms before kissing both palms. "I
did what I needed to do. I needed to know you to be true before I revealed
myself to you. I have enemies, those who wish to kill me. Like you, I face
death if I'm captured by those who do not support me. Does it hurt?"
Shannon
looked at her blistered hand and scraped palms. "Not as much as my heart
right now. Your deceit pains me more greatly than my wounds."
"Does
that mean that you have started developing some affection towards me?"
"Never.
It is the discovery that I have been a mere pawn in His Highness's game of
chess."
"That
is untrue. As for your affection towards me, you lie. Poorly." He held her
gaze.
"I
will never forgive your lies."
"I
did not lie to you. I simply did not tell you all. Fear drives you to try to
control your destiny. You must learn to surrender to the fear and allow life to
guide you."
"Surrender
will make me weak," Shannon murmured. "Weakness is death."
"No,
my darling. Giving in to fear is death. If you cannot surrender to your fear,
then surrender to me."
"I
cannot. I do not know you."
"You
will learn. Shannon? You did well. I am very pleased with your conjuring. You
have remarkable talent and simply need some direction. I will provide that
guidance."
His
praise caught her by surprise. "Thank you, Your Grace," Shannon
forced out, as she lowered her face.
"The
only time I am king to you is when we are before the people." He placed her
burned hand on his chest after kissing the tips of her fingers. "Say my
name, Shannon."
"Moarte?"
"Moarte
is Romanian for death. I will never be Moarte to you again. My name."
"Domitri?"
"Dom."
He kissed her burned palm. The injury faded from view.
Shannon
gasped and touched her palm. "How did you do that?"
"The
same way you summon nature. I give in to my heart."
"There
is no need for us to rush our journey. Instead of finding an inn, we shall camp
here tonight, under the stars and the full moon. Take a hunting party out and
gather food. Four of you are to stay and finish preparing the camp," Dom
called to his men. After the hunting party had left, Dom continued to bark out
more orders from his place next to Shannon. His hand remained on her injured
leg to comfort her. "I am going to help prepare the meal while you rest
your leg."
"Are
you able to heal my knee like you did my hand? Or my bottom?" Shannon
asked, rubbing her calf.
"Healing
is not my primary gift. I can only heal small injuries at this time. As for
your bottom, you were paddled as a lesson and must suffer the
consequences."
"What
is your primary gift?" Shannon asked, blushing as several men chuckled at
his comment.
He
began to prepare the stew. "I can speak into people's hearts and convince
them to do my bidding. Some call it persuasion, others say it is
manipulation."
"Do
you attempt to persuade all you meet in order for you to get your way?"
Shannon grimaced as she kneeled while tossing some twigs into the flames.
"No.
As a promise to my father, I only persuade my enemies," Dom said quietly.
"Then
why do you act unhappy? That sort of gift can prevent a war." When he did
not answer, Shannon asked, "Dom? What type of bidding do you demand upon
them?"
"The
type that sends an Ottoman army of five thousand walking off the side of a
cliff," he said despondently.
Shannon's
mouth hung open in disbelief of his admission. Terror rose within her and she
stood, pointing at him. "The rumors about you are true! You are a murderer.
A cowardly, blood-lusting murderer!" she shrieked.
She
gasped as the sharp edge of the Guard Captain's heavy sword touched her throat.
"You are never to speak to our king in such a manner, woman! Bow before
him and beg his forgiveness, lest I strike your blasphemous head right off your
shoulders."
"No!"
Dom shouted. "Do not harm her! Keep your distance and drop your
weapons!" he commanded, as the other men raced forward with their swords
drawn.
Shannon
keened. The trees shivered as the sound of her unholy wail wove through the
branches and around her attacker. The soldier fell to the ground, clutching his
head while the others looked on helplessly.
"Release him, Shannon," Dom
said gently. "He means no harm to you. He is my Right Hand, and is sworn
to protect me. Sir Jorje is ignorant of the way in which you are accustomed to
expressing your anger. He acted out of honor."
"Honor?"
Shannon hissed, touching her throat where the sword had been. She pulled her
fingers away to look at the thin line of blood. "If he meant no harm to
me, then he would not be lying there, bleeding from his ears."
"Had
he meant you harm without the intent to honor me, then he would be dead.
Release him."
Shannon
waved her hand, turning her head to look at the man writhing on the ground. As
the other three knights raced to his aid, she limped silently into the thick
woods. She could sense Dom following her with his eyes, but did not hear him
call for her.
Deeper
into the forest she wandered, unafraid of the beasts of the woods or the oncoming
darkness. The sun began to set, its rays piercing through the thickets and
leaving behind a subtle glow on the edges of the leaves. Shannon sat upon a
large rock in a clearing, and rubbed her throbbing knee. She looked up to the
sky as the first stars began to twinkle above her, and allowed the peacefulness
of the place to calm her heart.
Guilt
riddled her heart once again. Her words to Dom had been cruel. He had done what
was necessary to save his people and so many others that would otherwise have
been mercilessly slaughtered by a rampaging, enemy army. She had never borne
witness to a battle, but knew that no one would be spared, not even the little
ones. The sisters had tried to teach her not to judge others against the
actions she would have chosen for herself. They had taught that different
people have different reasoning, and that wisdom came when one was open to
listen and learn. She had not shown wisdom, nor had she given Dom the courtesy
of listening. She condemned him for his gifts, yet all the while he had openly
accepted her abilities. She was a fool. A shameful, ignorant fool.
The
howl of a lone wolf sounded through the rustling trees as the moonlight rose to
shine upon the clearing. Shannon closed her eyes and lifted her palm to the sky.
A tiny flame appeared in her hand as though she had captured a star. The pain
in her knee and the soreness of her bottom forgotten, Shannon stood, and began
to dance to the sound of nature, the spirits and soft, plaintive music coming
from the depths of the earth and traveling up through her soul and out though
her lips.
She began to sing,
surrendering to the sounds around her and the natural rhythm of life. Back and
forth, she moved in intoxicating
self-expression, spinning and twirling upon the damp forest
floor and carrying the flame in her palm like a faery lantern. The moon
illuminated her face and she drew hope from its gentle beams.
So lost was she in her trance, Shannon
did not hear the sound of footsteps approaching her.