He cleared his throat. “My lady, we’re really not supposed to . . .”
“Supposed to what?” she pressed, her eyes wide.
“Consort with prisoners.”
“Consort?” She gave a little giggle. “I only asked your name.”
“Name’s Ladon,” he said finally with a grudging gruffness. However, his eyes were hardly grudging--his gaze followed her as if transfixed by some lovely darting bird. “Now, is there anything else you need before we leave?”
“Thank you, Ladon, but I think we’re fine for right now. Aren’t we, love?” She turned to me with an unabashed smolder, so intense it heated the very air between us.
“Oh, I’m fine,” I said shortly.
*It wouldn’t hurt you to be more solicitous with them. She thought.
*So that’s what you call it.
She rolled her eyes. *I’m just trying to secure a little sympathy for our plight.
*Sympathy? You secured quite a bit more than mere sympathy. You just made us the most popular guard duty in the whole damned place.
“If you require anything, knock on the door,” Ladon said then. “We may not open it right away, but trust us, we’ll hear you. We’re under orders to have at least four guards at hand when we open the door to this chamber,” here he flicked his eyes in my direction, “and it may take us a minute or two to summon more.”
“Now are you and Ettore on duty here every morning?” Safire asked.
“Every other morning, my lady.”
“So I’ll be seeing you both again?”
“If that pleases your ladyship,” Ettore burst out, earning a narrow look from Ladon.
Safire smiled, the sort of indulgent smile she might bestow on a younger brother. “Of course it pleases me--you’ve all three been most kind. And what of you?” she asked Katrina. “Will we see you again?”
Katrina bobbed a curtsy. “Yes, my lady.”
“I’m glad.” Safire swallowed, glanced down at her clasped hands. “It’s good for us to see familiar faces. Kind faces. You can’t possibly know how much your kindness means to me, after what we’ve been through.” The echo of a babe’s cry followed by her silent scream split my eardrums, and I knew then that the tear that slipped down her cheek was not only genuine but likely only the first of many. I slid my arm around her shoulders and pulled her on to my lap.
“I appreciate your concern,” I said over her bowed head to the guards and Katrina, “but you need to leave now. My wife’s suffered great hardship in the last few months and needs her rest.”
“Yes, sir.” They left the chamber in decorous silence just like ordinary servants, and for an instant, it seemed that we were the lord and lady of the manor enjoying a lazy morning in bed. Then Safire stifled a sob against my shoulder, and I saw the stains darkening the front of her shift.
“My body can’t seem to forget, Merius,” she murmured then.
“You should have woken me.”
“Oh dear heart, I couldn’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“You were sleeping so soundly, and well, it makes me a bit shy, really, for you to see this,” she stammered.
"It makes you shy that your body works like it’s supposed to?" I said in a fierce whisper. "Safire, you gave birth barely over a month ago and have been nursing since then . . . so you’re, you’re," I struggled for the right word, "you’re leaking a bit . . . that’s natural during weaning, right?
"Haven’t you ever felt embarrassed by something you couldn’t control about your body?"
“No, men aren’t anywhere near so modest, sweet,” I said aloud, hoping that hearing the sound of my voice would settle her. “Although when I was younger and first started having dreams of naked women and tumbling, I’ll admit I burned the soiled sheets and then put fresh linen on the bed so the maids wouldn‘t know. I got quite adept at making up beds.”
“What did you think was happening?”
“I thought at first I’d pissed in my sleep, which embarrassed the hell out of me. Then I realized it wasn’t piss, and that scared the hell out of me.”
“What did you do?”
“I wanted to ask Whitten or Selwyn or one of the older stable boys, but didn‘t dare for fear they‘d mock me. Then the housekeeper said something to Father about the sheets disappearing.”
“Oh no.”
“They thought one of the servants was stealing, had even picked a culprit, a young maid named Cora. She would have lost her position and been sent to the magistrate for punishment, and I couldn’t abide that. So I went to Father and told him I’d burned the sheets by accident as part of one of my oil lamp experiments. He thrashed me for being heedless--no surprise there--then asked me what had really happened, which scared me half to death. I thought I’d lied so well, you see, and I couldn’t understand how he knew that I had lied. Father’s spooky like that. He seemed to know everything that went on in the house, always knew when one of us tried to sneak off to Calcors, what we‘d really been up to while we were there, even though he might be gone for months at a stretch. None of us could figure it out. Hell, I still can’t.”
“So what did he say?”
“He laughed. The son of a bitch actually laughed when I finally told him. Then he said not to worry about the sheets, that it was just evidence I was normal. Then he gave me some advice I won’t repeat and told me to be prudent because if I sired any by-blows, he’d hang me by my thumbs from the roof. Then he dismissed me.”
Safire snorted. “He’s never been one to mince words, has he?” She planted a kiss on my temple. “Do you want to see what’s for breakfast?”
I swung my feet off the bed and stood. I had worn pants to bed in case Toscar and the queen decided to visit again, and now all I needed was a shirt. I stretched until my sluggish blood stirred and then rushed to my muscles, leaving me feeling warm and limber all over. My long sleep had rejuvenated me. I turned to look at Safire, who had padded over to the wardrobe and now bent over the leather bag of clothes she had brought. She wore one of my favorite shifts, a pale peach-colored affair with green trimmings, made of silk so sheer she might as well not have been wearing anything at all. The same midday sun that lit her hair on fire pierced the shift so that it seemed little more than a veil over the pearly shimmer of her skin. Her nipples stood out where milk had dampened the thin material. The shift exposed her unearthly beauty, a beauty that was never meant to be draped and concealed in the heavy garments of this world. Except when other men beheld her. Then her aura tightened to a thin dark line around her body, her movements becoming more and more jerky as she rifled through the bag, her thoughts a frantic jumble.
"What is it?" I wandered up beside her, noticing the empty shelves of the wardrobe. My few clothes were gone.
She turned the bag upside down--a couple handkerchiefs fluttered out, the pouch of sage, nothing more. "Our clothes--where are our clothes? They were there last night, after we had our bath."
"The maid, the men, they were in here earlier, before we woke. A couple times, actually. Maybe they took them . . ." I trailed off as Safire's eyes met mine.
"The queen--I bet she did this. She ordered them to take our clothes."
"Why would she do that?"
"So I'll paint. If I paint, I'll get them back." Safire stared down at the bag, then flung it to the floor as if it burned her.
"How do you know that?"
"Because that's how her twisted mind works, Merius. That's why they took the sheets and bed curtains last night, supposedly to clean them--she knew the first thing I would do when I found my clothes missing is try to cover myself with a sheet."
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” I said. I gripped her wrist and led her over to the washstand.
With trembling hands, she removed the shift and handed it to me. “Make certain you use cold water,” she said. “It’ll take the stains out better.”
I washed it in the basin while she washed herself with a damp rag and drank another draught of
sage tea. The diaphanous material billowed and glistened in the water, air pockets rising and bursting as I swirled the shift around the basin and then wrang it out. Safire held up her arms and shivered as I pulled the wet garment over her head. It clung to her skin, so thin in spots that it looked like she wore nothing at all. Grasping her shoulders, I steered her toward the hearth.
“Stay here till it dries, lest you catch a chill.”
She crossed her arms and huddled closer to the fire. “At least this silk’s thin. It should dry before anyone else comes.”
I started to pace, my temples suddenly throbbing as if someone had brained me with a stone. “Damn it, Safire, this is not going to do. This is not going to do at all.”
“Dear heart . . .”
“If some other man sees you in that . . . that garment . . . Good God.” I paced for another moment, my hands searching for something to break, something to hit. But there was nothing. Safire rose and put her hand on my arm, and I stopped as she drew away the tension from my muscles.
"We should eat something before they come back," she said. "We both need our strength."
When the door opened a half-hour later and four guards escorted Korigann and Toscar into the chamber, I bit down on my tongue so hard that I couldn’t speak. Safire reached for my elbow but then stopped as if stricken.
Fire filled my mind, my skull burning from the inside. All I saw of the guards were their eyes. Their unblinking stares on my wife. My wife who started to shake, her head down, her arms covering her torso in such a way that her wrists seemed bound in front of her with invisible shackles. Her aura shrank in upon itself, a nocturnal flower that withered in the harsh daylight. I lunged forward then, no clear plan behind my movement except the urge to pluck the guards’ eyes out of their sockets.
Toscar and the guards drew their swords, the hiss of the blades against the metal tops of the scabbards the warning hiss of a snake the instant before it strikes. I froze, the harsh rattle of my breath the only sound for a long moment.
“Good afternoon, Merius, Safire,” Toscar said finally, sparing me an unreadable glance before he looked at Safire, his eyes narrowing to intent gleams. He reached out with the quick grace of a swordsman, his hand suddenly under her chin.
She jerked back, her aura opening with the lash of a purple sail unfurled in a violent wind. “Never touch me again,” she choked, glaring at him.
He smiled faintly. “I apologize. I always have the desire to touch--as a boy, I can’t tell you how many times my nurses slapped my hand away from the bric-a-brac. Even now, Her Majesty won‘t let me near her ivory carvings.” The tip of his sword rested on my arm, casually, as if it would be the easiest thing in the world for him to slice off my hand if I moved.
“I’m not an ornament to be man-handled, my lord, but a flesh and blood woman, and the only man who touches me is my husband.”
“Believe me, no one in this chamber doubts you’re a woman, Safire.”
“You disgust me,” she spat. “And all you guards should be ashamed of yourselves. Do you have mothers? Sisters? Daughters? Why don’t you picture them forced to wear this godforsaken thing--”
Toscar cut her off with a chuckle. “Aesir above, what a spitfire you are. Surely an artist like yourself can appreciate man’s weakness when confronted with natural beauty.”
Korigann stepped forward, as if suddenly deciding he had heard enough. Of all the men, he looked only at Safire’s face and nowhere else. “It’s good to see you, Safire, no matter the circumstances,” he said then. “I understand we’re to have a lesson today.”
She bit her lip and nodded. “I hope so, sir. I want to try those metallic pigments, and I need your expertise.”
“Let's get started.” Korigann clapped his hands at the guards. “Get a couple smocks, an easel, a palette, turpentine, and brushes of all sizes. And my collection of mediums. Bring the whole studio up here, in other words.”
“But my lord . . .” one of the guards protested, glancing at Toscar. “I thought we were escorting her down to the studio.”
“Safire is not dressed to go downstairs, so we’ll bring the studio to her. Wouldn’t you say that’s the best solution, Radik?” Korigann threw this last at Toscar like a challenge.
Toscar didn’t answer immediately. Instead he fixed his eyes on me, his sword tip now poised inches from my throat. I gazed at him with what I hoped was my most impassive expression--I wouldn’t even allow myself to flinch inside, much less on the surface where he would see it. “I think that Merius would like to take a turn with me on the practice floor while you and Safire paint.”
“We should use real blades, my lord.” I said.
Toscar chuckled and sheathed his sword. “Then it wouldn’t be practice, would it? Patience, Merius--are you really in such a hurry to die?”
Safire raised her head, her pupils so large her eyes appeared black. “My lord, I meant what I said last night. If you hurt Merius, I swear I’ll find some way to slay myself before I paint anything for Her Majesty.”
Sweat prickled on the back of my neck. “Safire, this is between me and Lord Toscar. Please don‘t wager your life on the outcome of our duel.”
“Merius, I’ll wager what I wish,” she said coolly. “You did.”
“Love,” I said through gritted teeth, “I issued the challenge, not Lord Toscar, and it’s your duty as my wife to help me uphold my honor and fulfill my commitments.”
"Even if you made those commitments without even bothering to ask me?"
"I’ll not argue with you in front of these men." Sparks crackled between us as we glared at each other. "Do you realize how difficult you’re making this for me?"
“More difficult for you?” she hissed. “What about for me, Merius? I’ll not see both of us sacrificed on the altar of your honor.”
“Listen to your husband, Safire,” Toscar remarked, so smooth I itched to punch him. “If you truly love him, you’ll honor his wishes.”
“Just like Her Majesty honors your wishes in all things?” Safire’s voice shook.
A collective hush followed her words, as if none of us could believe she dared be so direct about a matter from which the whole court averted their eyes. I glanced from man to man and realized that they no longer looked at Safire, but at Toscar, their breath bated for his reaction.
Toscar finally forced another chuckle, his unblinking gaze on Safire as if he longed to gag her. “My, my, aren’t we bold? Considering what’s happened, do you really think you should be so free with your words?”
“My lord, you and Her Majesty have forced me to expose myself to all and sundry,” Safire said airily. “If you don‘t like my naked tongue, perhaps you should have left me my clothes.”
Gone were Toscar’s quietly condescending chuckles and politely demeaning comments. Instead he watched Safire steadily, his face a stolid mask. He then turned sharply toward Korigann. “Lady Safire needs lessons in how to comport herself at court,” he barked. “While instructing her in painting this afternoon, it would behoove you to instruct her as well in what happens to the ungrateful and the insolent.”
Korigann glanced down at his hands, roughened as a sailor’s from years of exposure to turpentine and minerals. Then he looked at Toscar, his eyes bright. “Radik, I’m an artist, not a courtier. If you wanted someone to instruct others how to be royal lapdogs, you should have summoned a man more like yourself.”
Toscar shook his head. “Be wise, Korigann,” he said softly. “Fine--stay locked in here with the witch until you both remember your places.”
Korigann shrugged and glanced at Safire with a furtive grin that only she and I seemed to notice. *Korigann’s thinking that Toscar doesn’t understand artists very well, if he believes it punishment for us to spend all afternoon undisturbed with our paints.
The guards reached for my arms. Damn it. Safire and Korigann had enraged Toscar just in time for him to take it out on me on the practice floor.
Safire’s face slackened
. *If he hurts you . . . he won’t dare hurt you. Merius . . .
I cursed my rogue thoughts that she sensed all too well. *Like any other man, Toscar’s bound to make more mistakes when he’s angry, which will help me understand how best to beat him when the time comes. Now block me, lest we distract each other. You’ll help me best by being in a long-sleeved, high-necked woolen gown by nightfall, so paint and paint fast.
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed me on the lips, and I forgot for a blessed moment there was anyone else in the chamber. One of the guards silently held out a shirt for me, and I pulled it over my head and arms. Then I let them blindfold me and shackle my wrists before they led me from the chamber with a shuffling of many boots. As the door clanged shut, Safire called my name, then she was lost to me behind the stout door and the hastily built wall between our minds.
“My lord,” one of the guards said, the bold one who had questioned Korigann’s request earlier to bring his studio to Safire, “the blindfold is an excellent precaution, but I worry . . .”
“Don’t,” Toscar said. “Do you really think he’s going to try anything with his wife locked away?” Despite this, the fingers on my arm tightened to the point I thought my muscle would pop. I grimaced as they led me away into the muted light and shadow of the unknown beyond the blindfold.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When someone finally removed the cloth, I stood dumbstruck, too blinded by the sudden light to move. After a moment, my eyes began to adjust. The floor was of some creamy wood, polished to such a high sheen that it appeared covered by a thin layer of still water. The afternoon sun slanted through a row of floor to ceiling windows, so bright and warm that the pain forced me to look away before I could even tell what shape the panes were. Helmeted guards stood at silent attention around the perimeter of the chamber, the only audience in attendance. One coughed suddenly, and I jumped under my skin, just enough for me to notice how tense my muscles felt. Toscar was no where to be seen. I turned slowly, exposed to all in my trousers and borrowed shirt and boots, without even a gambeson to protect my torso or a dagger to hold in my hand. It wouldn’t be much practice if I didn’t have a blade of some kind.
Tapestry Lion (The Landers Saga Book 2) Page 55