The Warrior and the Petulant Princess (18 page)

“Thunder,” he smiled, and finding the bucket of carrots he grabbed a handful and carried them across to his noble steed. “My friend, you heard me.”

The horse took the gift, munched loudly, then leaned the weight of his heavy head against Larian’s chest.

“You calm me, you chase away the worry. Now I know why my instinct told me to ignore her hand between her legs earlier. She wanted more attention, more spanking or discipline of some kind. She is starving for it. Thunder, my uncle was right, she is wily, and she used what she learned to control me. There is much I must ponder through the remainder of this night.”

Thunder softly nuzzled him, as if understanding everything Larian had just said.

“I am glad of one thing. I did not need to be away from her for a full passage of the moon to see this. I have no wish to be away from her for any length of time, but I understand what my uncle meant. I would not have seen clearly had I been laying beside her. I would have been captivated by her body, I would have been thinking only of the joy of being with her.”

Thunder pricked his ears, and a moment later Larian heard it too; the distant sound of approaching hooves.

“Who would be coming here so late?” he frowned, and giving Thunder another stroke on his neck he moved out into courtyard.

His keen hearing told him he wouldn’t have long to wait; whoever was riding was galloping at top speed. Looking across to the fields he saw the horses moving around, anticipating the arrival, and he could see Scarlet bucking in her paddock.

While he didn’t anticipate an adversary he didn’t feel comfortable waiting alone with no sword at his side, so he hurried over to the warrior’s house. Opening the door carefully, not wishing to disturb anyone who might be in Zinyana, he spied two of his men quietly chatting and sharing some wine in a corner. They looked up as he entered, and he signaled for them to join him and bring their swords; moments later the three were headed back to the courtyard.

“I hope it’s not bad news,” one of them remarked.

“Whoever it is, he is very close,” the other added.

Practiced in the art of defense they immediately separated so each would have a third of the courtyard, and while Larian remained visible his two men stayed hidden. He heard the horse break from its gallop into a trot, and a short time later it entered the courtyard; Larian immediately broke into a broad smile.

“Zoltaire!”

“Commander!” the warrior hailed in reply as he leapt from his horse.

“I’m glad to see you,” Larian declared. “You must have traveled with great haste to be back so soon.”

“I was anxious to bring you the news,” Zoltaire declared.

The warriors who had been hiding appeared from their covert positions and hurried across to welcome him. Larian was eager to hear the report, but knowing the two men and Zoltaire needed a moment for a reunion, he took the horse into the stables and began to take off his saddle. The camaraderie between the three was essential; in battle they were brothers, each fighting for the other, and the small moments mattered. He had just put the horse into an empty stall and filled its water bucket when Zoltair entered the barn.

“I have much to tell you,” he said quickly.

“Let us go into the kitchen and sit at a table. You must need food and wine.”

“It would be good,” he nodded, and together they crossed the courtyard and headed into the house.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

T
he kitchen was well stocked, and as Zoltaire removed his sword, waist belt and heavy jacket, Larian plated cheese, bread, some fruit and nuts, and some slices of meat left over from the dinner he’d shared with his uncle. There were several bottles of wine on the counter, and selecting the one that contained the most he set it on the table along with two goblets.

“This cheese is excellent,” Zoltaire declared. “I am never hungry until I begin to eat.”

“The warrior’s curse and blessing,” Larian remarked. “Now, please, tell me what news you have brought.”

“The King was greatly heartened by the news that the marauders were bringing the escaped nobles to the castle. He looked weary, Larian, and I feel the absence of the Princess has been difficult, but shortly after I arrived his wife rolled up in her carriage, and that brightened him.”

“I can imagine the King would be missing Lizbett very much,” Larian said thoughtfully.

“The King told me that the plot to kill him had been long in the planning, but they could only execute their evil deed while the Queen was away.”

“Why?”

“Because she is famous for her sense of smell. Their only chance was the poison, and she would surely have detected it. Apparently few know that the Princess inherited her mother’s gift.”

“So my being there…”

“…while the Queen was out of town gave them their chance. They’d been waiting for a banquet, and your arrival happened to coincide with her absence.”

“What happened with Delina?” Larian asked, recalling the handsome woman who had appeared so warm and capable when he’d arrived.

“Delina had no stomach for interrogation, and just before I left I heard that in exchange for a quick death she has promised to tell all she knows, so I suspect there is even more news by now.”

“And did the marauders arrive while you were there?”

“They did, Larian. I had met with the King…oh…that reminds me, he gave me something for you,” Zoltaire said getting up; walking to his waist belt he retrieved a sealed letter from his bag and swiftly delivered to Larian’s hand.

“Ah, thank you,” Larian said as Zoltaire sat back down.

“Anyway, I was just getting ready to leave when the marauders arrived. Those nobles did not look very noble!”

“I’m sure,” Larian grimaced.

“I waited to see what would happen, and after they’d been taken away, the nobles, I mean, a cart packed with food and bowls, clothing, many things, was handed over to Zanock, and then the very best thing happened.”

“What?”

“The King’s own medicine man came out and left with them to tend to the leader’s son.”

“That is excellent news.”

“The King looked much better when I left than when I arrived,” Zoltaire said solemnly.

“Thank you for bringing me all this so speedily. It is all very good to hear.”

“He said your meeting with Zanock was no accident, that it was the God’s doing for many reasons.”

“Maybe he’s right,” Larian sighed.

“I believe I will take myself to the warrior’s house,” Zoltaire announced, “unless there is more you need from me?”

“No, nothing. Take what foods you want with you. I have some thinking to do outside of all this, and I must do it before the East sun rises.”

“Until we leave tomorrow then,” Zoltaire said standing up.

“Yes, until then.”

Taking his goblet of wine with him Larian ambled back to Lizbett’s chamber, and silently entering he sat at a table in the corner of the room. Sipping his wine, gazing at his wife-to-be sleeping softly in her bed, he turned up the oil lamp, broke the seal on the letter and unfolded the paper.

Larian

The tale of your encounter with the marauders does not surprise me. Your skills as a warrior are not your only gifts, and though you are still young, you have an uncanny ability to see past the obvious, to be empathetic, to touch hearts and read minds. Should your wedding to Lizbett come to pass I would like to offer you the position of Head Negotiator of Verdana. You know this is a very influential post, and while some may see your youth as a disadvantage, I see it as just the opposite. I believe our adversaries will underestimate you, giving you the upper hand. (Of course I would offer this irrespective of the marriage, but I doubt your Prince would let you go).

I thank you most deeply, Larian, for all you have done for myself and my realm, and of course, for Lizbett. These are difficult days, and while I miss her very much it is best she is not here to witness the tumult that surrounds us.

Please give her my love, and I wait your response.

King Herandah of Verdana

Leaning back in his chair Larian took a deep breath.

Head Negotiator! I would be the King’s right-hand man. This is astonishing.

Folding the letter he placed it on the table and stared across the room.

Lizbett. What a future we could have. It all rests on my shoulders now, my shoulders and your heart. I will do my best to win you, I will do my best to open the door, but it will be you who must step through it.

Picking up the letter he returned to his room, placed it carefully in his bag, then headed back to sit at Lizbett’s side. Pulling up a chair he sat watching her sleep, pondering what he would do, what he would say and how he would say it.

She was wily indeed, and it was a trait she would need one day as Queen, if she really did want to control him they were doomed, but if she chose to surrender to him, to their love, then soon they would be sharing the glory of a life together.

He felt his eyes grow heavy; this was a good sign, this meant his mind was working and he would open them with answers. It was how he found his path outside of Zinyana. His small naps weren’t exactly naps, but a closing of his controlling thoughts just enough to allow his inner guide to take over and show him the path.

It was the tweeting of a bird on the windowsill that stirred him. WIth his sensitive hearing it was as if it were sitting on his shoulder singing into his ear. Blinking open his eyes he stared out the window and saw the light of the East sun. Soon the household would stir, the morning meal would be laid out in the dining hall, and they would be leaving.

He realized his head felt clear. There was no worry or debate, and looking across at her he suddenly saw the map, what to say and what to do. Standing up and stretching he sat on the edge of the bed and touched her shoulder; she mumbled something, then frowned, then rolled on to her back and yawned.

“Good morning, Lizbett.”

Her violet eyes fluttered open and she stared up at him.

“Mmm, what a wonderful sight. My warrior.”

It brought a smile to his lips, and in that moment he could almost understand why her father had been so lenient. He could imagine her as a little girl, all eyes and hair, staring up at him innocently…
I’m sorry Pappa, I didn’t mean it.
The vision was so clear he wondered if he’d once actually seen it, but of course he hadn’t, and shutting it out of his mind he set about untying her wrists.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked.

“So well, even if my bottom is still sore and my nugget is starving.”

Laying down next to her he pulled her into his arms inhaling the fragrance of her hair, and relishing the soft yielding of her body.

“I love this,” she sighed, “being in your arms this way.”

“Soon it will be every morning,” he promised.

“It will?”

“I have decided our wedding should be soon, very soon, and I have also decided it should take place at my new home, with the blessing of your father and my Prince of course.”

“Your home? I thought we would have a big celebration in the castle.”

“I believe your father will be concerned about security at such an event, and the same is true with Zanderone, but at my residence it will be much safer. We can avoid the throngs that will arrive in either realm to mark the occasion, and enjoy the intimacy of a small number of invited guests.”

He waited, praying that she would understand the ceremony was about the two of them, not just a time for adulation over her dress, her hair, and her warrior husband. This was the first thing he needed to hear, the first and most important.

“Larian, as I think upon it, I believe it will be even better,” she said softly.

“Because?”

“Because it will be so special, and what better place to start our life than at your new home.”

The surge of relief that traveled through his heart made him hug her tightly, squeezing her against his chest.

“Larian!”

“I must hold you this way for a moment,” he said tenderly, “I must.”

Her heart was true; it was her intense desire for boundaries, discipline and love that had sent her off course, and he knew exactly how to redirect it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

M
uch to Lizbett’s delight the morning meal was served on the outside patio, and as she drank the honey tea, and ate the warm bread fresh from the oven smothered in vegetables that had been basted and baked until soft and creamy, she ooh’d and aah’d with every mouthful.

“Uncle, this is better than the food at the castle. Why does it taste so delicious?”

“It’s the soil here,” he smiled. “The fruits are sweeter, the vegetables have more flavor, even the milk and cheese from our animals has a richer taste and creamier texture.”

“May I please buy some and have it delivered to father? He would enjoy it so much, and I would love to surprise him.”

“For sale, no, to gift, yes, and it will be my honor to send him some as a token of our long friendship,” Uncle replied. “Soon you will be my niece, and perhaps, if Larian honors you as he should, I will supply some tasty morsels for your wedding.”

Larian knew exactly what his uncle meant; before breakfast Larian had taken him aside and told him of his epiphany during the night.

“As I thought,” his uncle had nodded. “I could see it in her eyes. Do you know what to do?”

“I believe so, Uncle,” Larian had replied.

“Then don’t wait, do it with haste.”

Selecting a slice of seeded bread from the basket in the center of the table, Larian covered it with soft cheese and smiled at him.

“Uncle, I can assure you, Lizbett will have all the honor she can handle.”

“Honor? What is this talk of honor?” Lizbett frowned.

“Giving you honor by showing you affection,” Larian replied, “and by teaching, by protecting and nurturing you.”