The Sword and the Slave

by Michelle Levigne

"He's a healer, Nona. Gifted. He most likely sensed my ... distress.” L'istra choked on queasy laughter when her nurse grimaced, expressing what she thought of that understatement.

  "Is that just hot water in the pot over the fire or something stronger?” Adon asked, his voice coming from the other side of the courtyard.

  "Hot water.” Nona glanced over her shoulder, pushing the door open a little more so L'istra could see Adon, wearing nothing but a loincloth, fussing with the cooking alcove. “What are you doing?"

  "A light, soothing draft to help General—” Adon paused, and even from the other side of the courtyard, L'istra could see him clench his fists and hunch his shoulders. “To help her Highness go back to sleep. And calm her stomach. After moons living on field rations, last night's feast probably gave her a sour belly, which gave her the nightmare."

  "Most likely.” L'istra knew she was foolish to grab at the first excuse Adon offered her. Nona's skeptical look confirmed it. “He's a healer, Nona. We might as well take advantage of having his gifts at our disposal."

  She wasn't so sure about that when Adon came to the door of her room carrying the steaming bowl. She was very conscious of the nicely defined rolls of muscle in chest and legs, the dusting of hair across his belly, and the tight wrap of his loincloth. L'istra was glad she wore loose trousers and a sleeveless tunic to bed, just as she did when out in the field.

  "Let this steep for a little while longer,” Adon said. He was very careful to look at Nona and not at L'istra. She was grateful and decided to be amused rather than oddly hurt. “I added some anise for taste and to soothe her belly.” He swished the packet of cloth holding the herbs through the water once more before handing the bowl to Nona. “Sweet dreaming, Highness.” With a sideways nod, a mere flick of his eyes in her direction, Adon bowed and hurried back across the courtyard to his room.

  "We are going to have to establish some rules in the morning, aren't we?” L'istra murmured, and leaned out of her bed to watch Adon as long as possible.

  "Bad dream? As if you and I don't know what happened. I'll wager having a man dumped into your sanctuary brought all those memories crashing down,” her old nurse said with a snort. She raised the bowl so the wisps of steam tickled her nose. “Well, that's a nice variation on an old recipe. The valley kingdoms do use some common sense now and then, don't they?"

  "Not enough, unfortunately.” L'istra sighed and held out her hand for the bowl. Nona obviously agreed with Adon and approved of his concoction, and the only way L'istra was going to be alone again was to drink it down.

  Despite the heat, the draught sent a cooling sensation through her belly and took the sour taste out of her mouth. L'istra smiled as she swallowed the last mouthful, amused to realize she hadn't had to force herself at all.

  "I think we're going to be very glad he's here,” Nona murmured. She gestured for the princess to lay on her stomach, and when she complied, picked up a brush and settled on the edge of the bed. “You won't be able to hide anything anymore, you realize."

  "What makes you think I even try?” she murmured, soothed by the slow, gentle strokes of the brush and the sweet drowsiness that rolled over her from Adon's potion.

  "Well, now, with age comes wisdom after all.” The old woman chuckled.

  * * * *

  Adon slept uneasily, waiting, with the instinct that belonged to healers and to mothers of infants, for that first sound of distress. It irked him a little that the healer in him had been so sensitive and alert to the princess’ distress last night. And he felt ashamed at his irritation—he was a healer, after all. He had felt no compunction over healing Parsadi soldiers on the journey to Parses, why should he withhold his talents now that he had ended up in the palace instead of the barracks?

  Because she's Princess L'istra, and you traded one woman who tried to control your life for another who has the power of life and death over you, he reminded himself a dozen times, when his circling thoughts woke him from restless sleep.

  He left both his doors ajar and woke when he heard Nona moving around in the morning. Knowing from bitter experience that his lack of sleep would turn into a thudding headache anchored at the base of his neck, he scooped up a mixture of appropriate herbs in a cup and stumbled around the courtyard to the cooking alcove. Nona glanced over her shoulder when he approached.

  "Good morning, Nona.” He gestured at the pot of steaming water. “Is it all right if I use some of that? Or do you need it all for the princess?"

  "Hmm. Considering you heard her before I did ... I'll wager from the way you're rubbing your neck, those herbs are for you.” She gave him another considering look, then her face bloomed in a smile. “There's more than enough. These are your quarters now, too."

  "As the princess’ slave."

  "Hmm. Yes, but that's no reason to short yourself or suffer. My child likes you."

  "She does?” Adon could have laughed at the way his heart jolted at that bit of news, but he felt rather breathless.

  "Of course. If she didn't like you, she would have protested when you were awarded to her. And I think Hialatus is a fine enough judge of men, you won't take advantage of that bit of favor, will you?” Her expression turned stern, even if her voice stayed light.

  "No. Never.” Adon nodded his thanks as Nona stepped aside, and he dipped up enough hot water to cover the herbs, then set the cup aside to let the mixture steep. “Nona ... do you know what she dreamed?” He shrugged when she frowned at his question. “I can't imagine General Istrak being afraid of anything badly enough to have nightmares."

  "Memories, Healer. Not fear of the future, but pain from the past. No matter how strong my child has grown, how many victories she has won ... there are some injuries in the past that never heal.” Nona nodded for emphasis. “Now, I know you are to work with Hialatus, but you will also be required to attend our princess. We must see about getting you your uniform."

  "Uniform.” He swallowed hard. Bad enough he had to wear the collar, to mark him as property and peace hostage and keep him under restraint—he had to wear a uniform and stand out even more every place he went?

  Then he realized the idiocy of the situation. Taisha had tried to dictate what he wore, when she had no right or power. Now, he had to wear a uniform because of his service to L'istra, and Adon suspected she couldn't have cared less. That made all the difference.

  * * * *

  Half asleep, L'istra rolled over and tugged the blanket up over her head so the rising sun didn't shine on her face. The sense of something off balance prompted her to awaken. L'istra rubbed her eyes and tugged the blanket down. The sun was nearly a hand's width above the palace walls already. Ordinarily, she was an early riser, even when she wasn't on some military campaign. How had she managed to sleep this long?

  Memories of L'innea's death and her childhood terror flickered through her mind. Catching her breath, L'istra sat up and rubbed her face. How had she managed to get back to sleep, and sleep so long, after having that dream?

  "Adon,” she whispered, and smiled, even as her face warmed at the memory of seeing him nearly naked. He hadn't been aware of her state of dress, and likely hadn't been aware of his own state of undress, all wrapped up in his healer's mindset.

  It wasn't fair that a man so handsome and noble and kind should be condemned to the existence of a eunuch. L'istra shuddered, remembering tales of the gelding of peace hostages in the past, before one of her mother's priestly ancestors had invented the magical collars. At least Adon's condition was reversible, if the situation in the ten valley kingdoms ever improved enough to raise them from vassals to allies.

  Without that collar, and the certainty that no one could remove it without the guard stones and her permission, Adon couldn't have been placed into her custody. As the Emperor's youngest child and only remaining daughter, L'istra was bitterly aware of just how valuable her virginity was to the political ambitions of a dozen vassal and ally kingdoms. Everyone knew the collar rendered Adon incapable of even co
nsidering sexual assault against her. It protected her reputation as well as her purity.

  L'istra hated the whole sordid subject. After what Prince Mitterand had tried to do to her, she loathed the thought of having to submit to a man's lust. Even if she liked the man, even if she chose to marry him and felt some attraction to him, she knew she would hate him every time he invaded her body.

  In some ways, she supposed she was just as effectively gelded as Adon and his fellow hostages. At least he had some hope of regaining his sexual potency and enjoying it. That was something she knew was beyond her reach.

  "My child, good morning,” Nona chirped, her face bright when L'istra stumbled out into the courtyard. She gestured at the table and pillows to one side of the lily pond. “Sit. Breakfast is nearly ready.” Without waiting for her charge to obey, she continued around the pond and set the loaded tray she carried down on the table.

  "Good morning, Princess.” Adon came to the door of his quarters, holding a scroll.

  L'istra nearly laughed at how relieved she felt to see he wore trousers and vest. How was it, after all the years she spent in weapons drills and practicing her horsemanship, working with her first rank soldiers, seeing them in all stages of dress uniform and battle nakedness—how was it that one man's bare, clean chest made something tighten pleasantly in her belly?

  L'istra dropped the cup of spiced apricot wine when she became hotly aware that tightening in her belly resided in the place of her pain and shame and hatred.

  "Are you all right?” Adon somehow managed to cross the courtyard and the lily pond in the blink of an eye. She felt a warm tingling in her arm where his hand gripped her, as he and Nona guided her down onto a pillow in front of the table.

  "You still have your healing magic,” she said, focusing on one thing blessedly clear in her mind. L'istra rubbed her arm and offered him a rueful grin. “I'm not ill, Healer. Just muddle-headed from sleeping so long."

  "You needed to sleep,” Adon offered with a shrug.

  "I'm glad the collar didn't rob you of your magic,” she said. And blushed when Nona gave her a knowing look, that pursing of her lips and raised eyebrow that meant the two of them would have a long talk when they were alone. L'istra knew her nurse would get the truth from her no matter how she fought. The training of royal Parsadi soldiers to endure pain, torture, even madness, was useless against her nurse's concern and love.

  "I would still be useful to Master Healer Hialatus without it,” Adon said with a crooked little shrug, matched by a crooked little smile. “May I presume to give you a healer's advice, Princess, and tell you to spend the day in relaxation?"

  "Ha! I knew I would be grateful you were among us,” Nona said, and deposited a basin of scented water, soap paste and warm towels on the other side of the table, within L'istra's reach. “She won't listen to me—"

  "I always try to indulge myself when I return from the battlefield,” L'istra said. “Something always interferes."

  "You let something interfere,” her nurse countered. “Be a good boy, Adon, and find all her keys and lock her in her chambers for the next moon quarter?"

  Adon laughed, starting out with a snort. His eyes sparkled, crinkles appeared around mouth and eyes, and his teeth gleamed white and strong against the tan of his freshly shaved skin. L'istra laughed with him, despite feeling like a stupid child for finding such fascination in his face and the warm flow of his laughter.

  "No, stay,” she cried when Adon bowed to her and Nona and started to back away from the table.

  "But you are about to wash and eat.” Something in his eyes, a flicker of what she took to be hope, warmed L'istra. Did he want to spend time with her?

  "Ceremony and protocol are forbidden to pass through my door. When I am not busy on empire business—"

  "Meaning ridiculous feasts and entertaining pompous ambassadors and fending off suitors who wouldn't know what to do with a sword to save their lives,” Nona interjected. She didn't quite smirk when L'istra sighed and gave her a half-hearted glare.

  "When we are able to eat meals together, I hope you will feel comfortable doing so,” she finished, changing out the words she had thought to say. “I hope we can be friends. For your father's sake, if nothing else."

  "Ah, yes. Father.” Adon nodded, and L'istra wondered if she saw a flicker of disappointment in those dark eyes.

  "We got along well, when you thought I was only the conquering general. Part of me wishes that journey could have continued for moons more.” She shrugged. “I respect your talents as a physician, and I regret the politics that make you a hostage for the sins of others. We are both bound to duties created by the decisions and actions of others."

  "No matter how powerful we become, no matter how high our rank, there is always someone else with the power to change our lives beyond our wishes.” He nodded and regarded her in the same way she had seen him study a patient who suffered for as-yet-unknown reasons. L'istra found that comforting, though she wasn't quite sure why. Then he smiled, and that pleasant twisting warmed her belly again. “Yes, thank you, Princess L'istra, I would very much like to be friends."

  Then the words he had said twisted to form a new pattern in her mind. She thought of the distraught noblewoman—the shrew, she had labeled her—who tried to keep Adon in Eber. There were many kinds of power, and she had seen seemingly weak women dominate men who could make their underlings and peers quail in fear before them. Had that woman tried to exercise power over Adon that he refused to grant her? L'istra wondered if he had been glad to take the demeaning existence of a peace hostage to escape her.

  And that woman claimed she loved Adon? L'istra compared it to the love Mitterand professed for her sister, all the while he tortured her. Unseen, protect me from the travesty that fools call love.

  * * * *

  Adon was required to wear high-ranking servant's clothes in the palace whenever he left L'istra's quarters. He didn't mind, and found it somewhat amusing that she did mind. He reasoned that the clothes would make it possible for him to be ignored like most servants were ignored until they were needed. L'istra made a point of reminding him three times, before he left to join Hialatus in the healer hall, that no one but she could command him. Other than the work he did with Hialatus, all requests for his services as a healer had to go through her.

  "The collar prevents you from leaving the palace complex,” she added as Nona hurried to answer the door and let in the expected escort. “It also prevents you from going into places that could be dangerous."

  "For me, or for the empire?” he couldn't help asking with a smile.

  "Both. Your collar is visible enough that people who try to commandeer you will have no excuse of ignorance. And if someone should try to cause trouble by kidnapping you, the collar will help us find you. No matter where you are taken.” She did not look happy with that information, and Adon gnawed on all the reasons why as he followed the servant boy to Hialatus’ quarters.

  The healer greeted him with a smile and continued scratching notes on a long wax tablet. Adon settled down on the long padded bench in the healer's workroom, to wait until his new superior finished his task. The smells and furnishings and equipment in the room made him feel at home, yet emphasized the fact that he was far from home.

  "And how did you and our tame gryphon get along after I left you?” Hialatus said as he handed the tablet to his servant and the boy hurried from the room.

  "Gryphon?” Adon snorted when he understood a moment later. “Nona, I think, has decided to take me under her wing. Something tells me her approval is far more important than yours or the princess'."

  "Indeed it is. I thought you would suit."

  "You thought?"

  "I recommended to the Emperor that you be L'istra's personal hostage. You're just the sort I want with her. Even the most successful soldier has pains that can't be seen with the eye."

  "She had a nightmare last night. It woke her screaming.” Adon took encouragement from Hialatus’ g
runt and nod. “I dosed her to sleep without dreams."

  The healer grinned. “I was right. You are exactly the man she needs."

  Adon wanted to ask if Hialatus knew what nightmare plagued the princess. Obviously the man was intimate enough with the royal family to have influence on the Emperor and his sons, and to care enough about the princess to place a healer in her household. He didn't seem at all surprised at the news of the nightmare. That had to mean that the nightmares were common, or at least expected.

  "She's my niece, did Nona tell you that?"

  "Sir?” Adon blinked, embarrassed to be caught lost in thought.

  "My sister was L'istra's mother. What the Emperor doesn't let me do because of my rank, my position as maternal uncle allows me. It's quite freeing, in many ways. And limiting in others,” he added in a much softer tone. Hialatus shook his head when Adon opened his mouth to question him. “Enough mystery and gloom for today. To work, my young friend. You and I have much to do, and I suspect you will be the master of us all in some things."

  * * * *

  L'istra kept a discrete watch on Adon as the days turned into moon quarters and then into a moon, then two. Since the officers of the elite Parsadi army went to Hialatus for healing or to check on the condition of their men, it was easy enough to inquire, and to let it be known discretely, that anyone who harmed the healer, who instigated trouble around the healer or who bullied him, would fall under royal disfavor. Some of the lower ranks didn't get the subtle warning until they tried to punish Adon for the mistake of being born in Eber. L'istra was gratified to learn that some of the higher rank officers who had met Adon, and who had benefited from his skills and magical gifts, took it on themselves to “correct” the idiots.

  Not until the evening Adon returned from his duties and she heard him telling Nona about a peculiar encounter, did it occur to L'istra that perhaps protecting him was not such a wise course of action.

  "Do I have bodyguards, do you think?” Adon cast a crooked grin at the woman. Anyone who had not encountered him over the Draktan board, or discussed history, poetry, or philosophy with him, might have thought he was amused. L'istra stood in the shadows of the courtyard, wreathed in the scent of the heavily spiced hens Nona basted on a spit, and cringed at the chagrin and irritation in Adon's voice. It didn't occur to her until that moment that letting people know he was under her protection had likely encouraged some of the bullying.