by Matt Heppe
“You’re going to tell me running away isn’t an option.” She smiled at Morin. Two days more with him had convinced her that she was, in fact, deeply attracted to the prince. He was much like Belor in his enthusiasm and conviction that the Wasting would end and that they could make the world a better place. But there was something more to Morin, a sense of underlying power—even danger, which she had never felt with Belor.
“No, running away isn’t an option.”
“I would use my knife, I suppose.”
“And how will that go? You with your little blade against my sword.”
“Not well.” She smiled. “That’s why I wanted to run.”
“This is where harness fighting comes in. Harness fighting is simply wrestling in armor. It’s used when you’ve lost your weapon or you wish to subdue an enemy without killing him.”
Morin took a training sword, shield, and dagger from the wall. He handed the dagger to Hadde while he stood in front of her with the broadsword.
“You see how unfair it is?”
She nodded.
“Now if you wait for me to attack, you’re finished. You have to attack me. But that isn’t easy. I can fend you off with my shield and you’ve this big butcher’s blade to worry about. If you could get me to the ground, it would be much easier. My sword would be useless and I would be vulnerable to stabs to the eyes, under my coif, or under my armpits. Put your dagger down.”
He placed his sword and shield on the floor next to her dagger and stood in front of her. “Could you win a wrestling match with me, Hadde?”
“It would be hard.”
He laughed. “I should have expected that answer. You’re not one to concede defeat. Now, why would it be so hard?”
“Because you’re so much bigger and stronger than I am. And you’re an experienced fighter.”
“Isn’t it hopeless for you?”
“No, because if I kicked you in the crotch you would curl up on the floor and cry like a child.”
Morin’s mouth dropped open as he took a step back. Hadde smiled. “I, um,” he stammered, “I thought you were going to say you were faster than me, or you were strong for your size.”
“I once tried to stab a varcolac raider in the privates. But I missed and stuck him in the thigh.” She couldn’t help herself and laughed at the shocked look on Morin’s face.
“I guess you know more than I thought about harness fighting.”
“It wasn’t something I planned, but it worked.”
“Perhaps I can formalize some of your raw talent and teach you some new skills. Here, a quick demonstration.” Morin picked up the sword and handed it to Hadde. “You’re going to take a swing at me. Slowly, so you can see what I’m doing.”
Hadde took a step back. “Ready?” At his nod she slowly swung the sword overhand and down toward his head. Morin blocked her at her wrist. Very quickly he brought his leg forward and locked it behind hers. He paused with their two bodies pressed close against one another. “This is called a hip throw.” Morin’s face was just inches from hers.
“It’s very romantic.”
“I…um.” He flushed.
She smiled and asked, “Is this how it ends?”
Suddenly, she found herself lifted from the floor, swung over his hip, and planted gently on her back. He looked down at her. “That’s how it ends.”
He helped her to her feet.
“Do it again,” Hadde said. “This time I’ll try to stop you.”
“Very well. And we’ll go a little faster.”
Without warning, Hadde shouted and swung the sword. In a whirl of motion she found herself planted on the floor. This time it ended with Morin straddling her, his knees on either side of her body and his left hand pinning her sword arm to the floor.
“I—that was fast,” she said, breathless.
He grinned down at her and waved his right hand in front of her face. “This is my dagger hand. If you were a Tyskman…” He drew his finger gently across her throat.
Hadde licked her lips. “But I’m not a Tyskman. I’m Lando—”
He leaned down and kissed her. She greeted him enthusiastically. Much too soon, he broke off the kiss. “You’re much nicer to Landomeri than you are to Tyskmen,” she said.
“Landomeri are much more beautiful.” He bent forward to kiss her again, but she put her free left hand on his chest and pushed him back. “My turn,” she said.
Morin frowned. “Your turn?”
“My turn to throw you.” She pushed harder.
“I suppose.” He looked crestfallen.
They stood, and taking the sword, Morin advanced on her. Hadde blocked the sword, locked his leg, and tried to throw him. He didn’t budge. She strained harder but he barely moved.
“What’s wrong?” She frowned as she looked up at his face. “I think you’re too big.”
He smiled. “It’s all in the hips. You’ve to get yours lower, and put your right arm below my ribs. There, now—”
Morin rose over her hip and toppled to the floor, Hadde falling on top of him. She scrambled to pin his arms to the floor.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” she asked.
“No, I’m fine. Now you have me right where you want me. If you keep your weight on me, I can’t move. Lock your arms.”
Hadde leaned forward and put more weight on her arms. “Now your fate is in my hands.”
“And how do Landomeri treat their prisoners?” he asked.
Still pinning him to the floor, she leaned forward and kissed him. Eventually, she broke the kiss. “What do you think?”
“It wouldn’t work,” he said.
“Wouldn’t work?” she frowned.
Straining with the effort, Morin lifted his arms from the floor. Hadde shifted her weight forward and pushed with all her strength. After a few moments he gave up.
“You’re strong,” he gasped. She leaned forward and they kissed again. She waited much longer before stopping this time. “Are you going to let me move, Hadde of Landomere?” he said.
She shook her head. “I like you where you are. If I let you up, you might try to escape.”
“I promise I won’t.”
“I’m not giving you the chance. Oh, and I want five wagons of food for my people.”
“Only five? Not ten?”
“And I want to know something....”
He smiled. “Go on.”
“I want to know what you see in me.”
“This is a tough interrogation.”
“Tell the truth, Prince Morin. You're in my power.” He pressed against her, but she forced his hands back down.
“So I am,” he said. “I'll tell you the truth. When I first saw you in the great hall I saw a beautiful foreigner just asking to be conquered.”
“Is that right?”
“It is. But now... now I see much more. I see a woman of passion. I see someone who, like me, feels a duty to make the world a better place."
“And....”
“And I've had enough of this interrogation.”
“Too bad. I like what I'm hearing.”
He gave her a crooked smile. “You're very certain I can't escape on my own.”
“No, you can't.”
He relaxed under her, pursed his lips and blew air at her.
She grinned. “What was—”
A blast of wind suddenly struck her and her long hair whipped around her face. She recoiled in surprise. Morin lunged upward and she suddenly found herself sitting on his lap, her legs around his thighs and his right arm around her waist. The wind stopped.
“Magic?” she exclaimed, gasping for breath. “You cheated!”
“In battle you do what you have to.”
“Hmmph! Magic is really useful.”
“It has saved me from time to time,” he said as he pulled her close. He kissed her more passionately than he had before.
“Can you do more than mess up hair?”
Someone pounded on the door. “P
rince Morin,” a voice called.
“Off,” Morin said. “Grab your sword.” Hadde untangled herself from him and, after snatching up her weapon, rolled to her feet. Morin stood before her in a ready stance. “We can't be seen like that,” he said to her in a hushed voice. Louder he called, “Come in!”
Astor stood in the doorway. “Captain, His Highness wishes to speak with you. He's in a foul temper.”
“Let him know I’ll be with him shortly. Oh, and what of our South Teren friend?”
Astor shrugged. “Keeping to himself. No accidents yet,” he said. He caught Hadde's eye and gave her a slight smile.
She felt her face redden. He knows what we were up to, she thought.
Astor gave Morin a quick salute and retreated from the room.
“Off to knock some sense into my brother,” Morin said. “Perhaps we might continue the lesson at a later time?”
She smiled. “I think we will.”
***
Hadde repaired the fletching on her arrows as Maret, Tira, and Jenae continued their furious sewing efforts. The Festival of Spring was only a day away and the maidens were in a panic that they wouldn’t finish their gowns. Their efforts, however, did not make a dent on the pace of their gossip. Hadde mostly ignored their chatter, but it seemed to be the same conversation over and over. Perhaps she could change its course?
“You know,” Hadde said, “I hear all this talk of Prince Morin and this or that knight or squire, but none of you talk of marrying Prince Handrin.”
“What?” Tira squawked. “But he’s… he’s just a boy.”
“There will be no choice in the matter,” Jenae said. “The choice will be made for him.”
“I met him.” Hadde said. “I watched Orlos give him a magic lesson.”
“Prince Morin can do magic,” Tira announced.
“I know.”
“You’ve seen him do magic?”
“I—ah—he showed me some at our last archery lesson.” Hadde tried not to blush at the memory of the romantic interlude. Hoping to change the subject, she turned to Jenae. “Do you think you’ll have your dress done by tomorrow night?”
“I’ll not sleep a minute. It will get done.”
“She wants to impress Squire Melas,” Tira giggled.
“Really? So you were the Maiden he mentioned,” Hadde said.
The girls all turned to face her. “What? He mentioned me?” Jenae asked.
“Yes, during our journey to Sal-Oras. He said something about his father negotiating with a young lady’s father.”
“So it’s true!” Tira said.
“I knew it,” Maret said. “He will propose at the ball.”
Hadde made her way to the window as the girls chattered about this new turn of events. Wavy figures moved in the courtyard below. Many wore the royal red of the House. But two standing beside a horse wore black.
Cracking open the window she peered out. As she had hoped, one of the two men was Morin. The other was Astor. She thought for a moment of telling the girls of Morin’s presence, knowing how much it would please them.
Her gaze flicked towards the maidens and back to Morin. They would just crowd her from the window. She let them gossip on. Below, Morin clapped his friend on the shoulder and then they shook hands.
“Hadde, did he say anything else?” Tira asked.
“No, nothing. But, to me, he seemed very much in love.” She paused as the maidens burst into a fresh round of giggles. She watched as Astor mounted and rode out the gate. Morin turned and strode for the Great Keep. His gaze flicked over the keep's facade, and for a moment she thought he spotted her looking down at him. But his stride didn't slacken and he soon disappeared from view.
“A package for Ambassador Hadde of Landomere,” Gran called from the doorway. Maret waved the elderly servant into the room. She handed Hadde a linen bundle tied with red ribbon. Under the ribbon lay a sealed note.
“Shall I read the note for you?” Maret asked.
“Maret, don’t be rude,” Jenae said.
“I’ll do it," Maret said. "Hadde can’t read.”
“Maret! Shhhh!” Tira said.
Hadde laughed at the girls. “I don’t mind, Jenae. I know I cannot read.” Hadde took the note from under the ribbon and handed it to Maret.
Maret frowned as she looked at the letter. “The royal seal, again. It must be from Prince Morin.” She cleared her throat as she opened the letter. “’Dear Hadde,’ it says.” She paused and pursed her lips. “’I’m sending this gift in thanks for my archery lessons. I know it isn’t your fashion, but it would please me if you would accept it. My thanks again, Morin.’”
“He signed it, Morin?” Tira asked. She snatched the note from Maret’s hands and read it. Then she put it to her nose and breathed deeply. “Oh, if he would only marry me.”
“Please, Tira,” Jenae said, “He’s not going to marry you. Maret, maybe, but not you.”
“I’ve as much a chance as she does.”
Jenae rolled her eyes.
“Don’t fool yourself,” Maret snapped. “I’d put you twelfth in line.”
“Twelfth!” Tira shrieked. “How dare you!”
"You know how powerful my father—”
“Stop it.” Jenae interrupted. “Don’t fight. Neither of you are going to marry him.” Both girls glared at Jenae, but held their tongues.
“Open it, Hadde,” Maret demanded.
Hadde glanced at their unsmiling faces before resting the package on her lap. She hesitated before opening it. What would she find? And how would the girls react to it? She could only imagine their reaction if they knew the truth about her and Morin.
She untied the ribbon and unfolded the linen cloth. The girls gasped as she revealed a luxurious black dress. The rich wool cloth was finer than any other Hadde had ever seen.
“Look at that gold embroidery.” Jenae was clearly awed.
“Look, there is a belt and a circlet and slippers and a fine chemise,” Tira added.
Hadde ran her hand over the belt of gold links shaped like ivy. The circlet’s swirling pattern matched the embroidery of the dress.
“It’s as fine as anything I’ve ever seen the queen wear,” Tira said.
“He’s not going to marry you,” Maret announced, staring at Hadde.
“Of course not,” Jenae said. “But look at that dress. You must try it on, Hadde.”
Hadde examined the dress doubtfully.
“You must.”
Hadde took the package to her room. Why would Morin have given her a dress? The last time she had worn a dress it was to mock Saladoran men. He had to mean something by it. Did he want her to try to fit into Saladoran society? Why? She felt a momentary flutter in her stomach. Did he mean for her to stay? It couldn’t be. It was impossible. She had to return to Landomere. No matter how she felt about Morin.
She ran her hand over the dress. It wouldn’t hurt to try it on.
The dress fit well, but without lacing it up she couldn’t be certain. Unlike Maret’s red dress, the sleeves went only to her wrists. The frilled white cuffs of the shirt stuck out beyond them. She supposed it was intended. The girls would correct her if not. The high collar of the dress didn’t close either. She pulled the Spiridus Token from under the shirt and laid it outside the collar.
Hadde linked the belt around her waist and, smoothing her hair, put the circlet over her brow. The slippers were impossibly small. She put on her moccasins and walked back to Maret’s room.
Hadde smiled at the awestruck looks on the girls’ faces. Jenae jumped up and tightened the laces that ran up the back of the dress. “Too tight,” Hadde said, but Jenae would hear nothing of it.
“It’s wonderful,” Jenae said as she stepped in front of Hadde.
“What is wrong with the neck?” Tira asked.
Jenae looked at the high collar of the dress. “It looks like the dressmaker forgot to put buttons on the collar. That’s odd on such a fine dress.” She tried to pull th
e edges of the collar closed. “Hmmm, it won’t close.”
“I don’t think it’s supposed to,” Hadde said.
“It has to. You cannot go around revealing your neck like that.”
“I do all the time,” Hadde replied. “None of my tunics have high collars.”
“Well, they’re Landomeri clothes. That’s different. This is a Saladoran dress. What will men think? I can see your neck all the way to your collarbone. I mean, if they can see your collarbone, what comes next?”
“I like the sleeves,” Jenae said. She lifted Hadde’s arm and looked at the cuff. “I think I’ll do this with my dress.”
“You should wear your collar like this, too,” Hadde said.
Jenae laughed. “That would be so scandalous. You can get away with it, Hadde, but I never could.”
“Lady Celena will never let you cut your cuffs that short, Jenae,” Tira said.
“It’s beautiful,” Maret said. “Are you going to wear it, Hadde?”
“I don’t know.” She glanced at the girls. They stared at her expectantly, but she also sensed their jealousy. She sighed. There would be no harm in her wearing a dress once. “I guess so.”
“You have to,” Jenae said, sounding relieved. “It’s too beautiful not to wear. Just look at the gold alone!”
“I thought you didn’t like dresses,” Maret said.
“I don’t, really,” Hadde replied. “But it was a gift.”
“When I asked you before, you said you wouldn’t wear one.”
“Maret,” Jenae said, “whatever she said before doesn’t matter. This is a gift from Prince Morin. She has to wear it.”
“You don’t see it?” Maret snapped. “You don’t see what she’s trying to do? She will steal him away!”
Hadde took a step back from Maret’s anger. Jenae and Tira stared in silence.
“I’m not stealing him,” Hadde said. But I could if I wanted to. She left the words unspoken, but her heart raced at the thought. It would be so easy to crush the silly little girl’s spirits. Maret might think they were rivals, but it wasn’t a contest.
“Prove it. Stay here. Don’t go to the festival.”
Hadde’s cheeks flushed red with anger. She had enough of Saladorans telling her what to do. Even Maret. “I’ll go where I will, and no one will stop me.”