He wanted to stay and help the King, he wanted to track down the remaining traitors, and he knew he could find them. An excellent hunter, Larian could cajole, he could threaten, he could size men up and know if they were hiding something…or someone.
Though Lizbett needed to be taken to safety, the security at the castle was tight, it would be almost impossible to gain access to her, but he also wanted her at his new home, he wanted to train her, to help her, to make her happy.
The words of the Prince he served began echoing through the corridors of his mind. It was as he was about to mount his horse to leave for Verdana that the Prince had taken him aside to give him some parting advice.
There will come a time, Larian, when you will be pulled in different directions. A man such as yourself will be needed, and sought after, and with your heart you will want to serve all who ask. You must remember that though you are mighty, you are only one. When you find yourself torn select the most important task and give that the attention. If you split yourself, those you wish to help will end up suffering for it, as will you.
Reaching his chamber, the advice in the forefront of his mind, he closed and bolted the door, then noticed a tray of tempting looking food had been laid on his table.
Excellent. I’ll need that when I wake, and I shall pack some for the journey.
Laying himself upon the bed he closed his eyes, picturing the silver-pink moons, and taking long deep breaths he pondered his Prince’s sage words.
Lizbett. Her safety comes first.
The deep sleep began to take hold.
An opportunity to help the King will present itself.
The precognitive thought washed through him; it happened sometimes, a knowingness, a tiny peek into the future. It was always vague but it was always proven accurate, and he knew it would not have come upon him had he not made the right decision. At peace, he descended in the heavy state of Zinyana, his final thought was waking when the sun had moved a slight distance across the sky.
In her apartment Lizbett was having an impossible time fitting all she needed into just one bag. Her servant was doing her best to help, but the Princess was becoming more and more frustrated.
“I must have at least three gowns,” Lizbett wailed. “I can barely fit one, and they will become wrinkled if they’re pushed in too tightly.”
“Could we take the wrapping off them?” the servant suggested.
“No! I will not have anything soil them. You know how I feel about any marks on my clothes. They must look perfect, even my petticoats and underthings must keep their wrapping. I will not have any of my clothing become blemished.”
“Perhaps you can send for more when you reach, uh, wherever it is you’re going.”
“This will not work! I must have at least three bags! One for my finer dresses, one for my riding clothes and casual wear, and one for my undergarments and shoes and lotions and such.”
“Do you wish me to bring you two more bags, Princess?”
“Yes. He’ll just have to understand women need more than men. I’ve had enough of this. Pack three bags as I’ve described. I’m going to the stables to ride Scarlet.”
As she flounced out the door, a quadrant of guards gathered around her and hurried alongside.
“Princess, where are we headed? We’re instructed to advise the King of your whereabouts at all times.”
“The stables, to see my mare,” she announced.
One of the guards split off to hurry to the King’s apartments with the information, while the remaining three shared a panicked look.
“I wouldn’t worry,” she said blithely. “Think about it; if there are any traitors left they won’t be on the castle grounds, they’d have to be complete idiots.”
Unconvinced, the guards kept their eyes darting around them as they headed down the many hallways and out into the courtyard.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Larian had risen from his short sleep, found his arm had completely recovered, and was enjoying the food that had been left when an urgent banging sounded on his door.
“I’m glad I’m awake,” he muttered as he hurried to answer it.
Unbolting the latch he discovered a young stable boy; the lad appeared very agitated and Larian immediately thought something had happened to Thunder, his prized horse.
“Sir, I’m so sorry to pound upon your door but Tholl send me to find you, it’s about the Princess.”
“What’s happened?” Larian asked feeling his heart skip.
“She’s insisting on taking a ride on Scarlet and-”
“I understand,” Larian interrupted, and darting past him began running down the passageway. The young boy stood stunned as he watched Larian gather speed; the warrior was sprinting faster than he’d ever seen anyone run before.
Larian reached the stable yard just in time to see Lizbett trying to pull Scarlet’s reins from Tholl’s grip. The guards were standing by ready to mount up and accompany her should she win the battle, and as Larian stopped and scanned the scene it was obvious Lizbett had caused a complete ruckus.
Though Scarlet was bridled there was no saddle on her back, and the mare was jigging up and down, spooked by the histrionics of her owner; Tholl’s face was red and furrowed, and while the guard’s horses were saddled, standing quietly, the guards themselves looked extremely anxious. To complete the chaotic picture the stable lads were cowering in the background, looking terrified of everyone and everything that was happening.
“It is not safe,” Larian heard Tholl declare as she continued to yank on the reins.
“Of course it is,” she barked. “I have the guards to protect me, and those traitors won’t be anywhere near the castle grounds. If they are we’ll catch them. There’s nothing I’d like better.”
“No, Princess, your father would be most upset if I allowed you to take your horse out, even with the guards.”
“Give me the reins,” she bellowed.
“ENOUGH!”
Larian’s deep voice boomed through the stable courtyard and everyone froze; even Scarlet stopped her jigging, spinning her head around and looking in Larian’s direction.
“You may unsaddle your mounts,” he said lowering his voice and speaking calmly to the guards. “Tholl, did you receive orders to prepare Scarlet for travel?”
“I did, and I was doing so when-”
“When I arrived to take her for one last ride,” Scarlet interrupted.
“She does not need to be ridden, she needs to be prepared for her journey, and you do not need to be riding off anywhere,” Larian said firmly, then stepping forward he opened his palm and extended it towards Lizbett. “Hand me the reins.”
Her violet eyes stared back at him and he saw the challenge, but it was fleeting, and dropping her head she handed them over.
“Please wait for me in your chambers. I’ll be there momentarily.”
Without a word she hurried away, and the stable lads rushed forward to take the horses from the guards so they would be able to follow her and continue their protection.
“Larian, thank goodness,” Tholl sighed.
“Such a handful,” Larian remarked, “I must get her back to my residence. Things will be much easier for us there. I wish the carriage and my men would arrive. They should be here by now.”
“I have checked the mare for the journey. She seems fine. Her feet were just trimmed, she’s eaten well today. She has too much energy for the amount of riding the Princess does, but…”
“But the Princess is the only one permitted to ride her.”
“Yes,” Tholl replied sighing again.
“I think the mare will thoroughly enjoy the long excursion,” Larian remarked.
“She will, I’m sure of it,” Tholl agreed.
“You know I will be taking fresh carriage horses from here?” Larian asked.
“Yes, they’re ready to go, they’re excellent. I trained them myself,” Tholl said proudly.
“Then I shall not worry,�
� Larian smiled. “I want to start the journey in the carriage with the Princess so Thunder should be tethered behind it, but with his saddle on in case of any trouble.”
“I’ll see it,” Tholl promised.
“My men’s horses should be traded as well. I hesitate only because they are so well trained, and we don’t know what we might face on the journey back to my home.”
“How many men do you have?”
“Six.”
“The King said to give you whatever you need, so I will provide you with the six that will see you home safely, come battle or peace,” Tholl offered.
“Excellent. Then it is settled. Now, do you have a small, thin riding stick?”
“Yes, here you are,” Tholl smiled handing Larian a dark brown, leather-wrapped, narrow rod.
“This will do nicely, thank you.”
“I don’t have to ask what that’s for.”
“Sometimes a point must be made,” Larian winked.
Scarlet, who was still nervously moving her feet, suddenly let out a snort as if concurring with the two men.
“Scarlet,” Larian said softly, gently stroking her neck, “you must not worry, your life is about to become far more tolerable.”
His assured, even voice and tender caress began to calm her, and when she let out a sigh and dropped her head, Tholl smiled broadly.
“You have the touch, Larian,” he nodded. “You always did.”
“Thank you for everything, Tholl, and most especially for sending the stable boy to find me. You did the right thing.”
“I’m not sure the Princess will see it that way,” he grimaced.
“The Princess will see as I wish her to,” Larian declared, “and is that a carriage I hear?”
The sound of approaching whinnies and the drawbridge being lowered caused both men to step out of the stable yard and look across the courtyard. The large carriage surrounded by the six men wearing the uniforms of the Zanderone warrior moved slowly across the bridge, then continued forward and came to a stop.
“Thank you, again, Tholl,” Larian said quickly, and running forward enthusiastically greeted his men.
“We were held up, Commander, the marauders.”
It was Zoltaire, the leader of the group and Larian’s righthand man who offered the news.
“Did you pull your sword?”
“No, Sir, I remembered your advice; pull your sword and you ask to fight. We talked, I assured them they would suffer greatly if they attempted to steal from us, and after we exchanged words for a while they saw the better choice and left us in peace.”
“Well done, Zoltaire. This shall not go unnoticed.”
“I believe a woman is attempting to get your attention,” Zoltaire smiled.
Turning around Larian saw Delina approaching, and knew she had come to show his warriors where they could rest and eat.
“Thank you for coming down, Delina,” he said warmly. “Zoltaire, Delina will show you to chambers where you can safely enter Zinyana. We will leave when the West sun sets. It is better we move out in the shadow of darkness. Much has happened here, but I will tell you about that later.”
“Yes, Commander.”
“The stable master is Tholl. He is the man who taught me much when I was here in my youth; he will provide you with fresh horses, both to ride and for the carriage.”
“Excellent. Thank you, Commander. We will sleep and eat, and be ready.”
Knowing his men were in capable hands, Larian hurried to Lizbett’s apartment and this time the guards did not stop him, but bowed their heads and opened the door as he approached.
Firmly gripping the riding stick he moved through the foyer, and without knocking strode into Lizbett’s bed chamber. She was standing by the windows, staring out at the mountains in the distance, and when she heard the door close she spun around.
“Larian, is everything all right? You took so long. I thought you were right behind me.”
“I had matters to discuss with Tholl, then my men arrived,” Larian replied. “Is there anything you’d like to say?”
“Only that I should have been able to take Scarlet out for a short ride,” she declared. “I’m very upset with Tholl for refusing to cooperate. I hope you put him in his place. The nerve of that man!”
Larian broke into a large smile.
“That was very good, Lizbett. Were I not trained in the wily ways of women I might not have seen through it.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she retorted, but even as she spoke she felt the betrayal of the red blush as it crossed her face.
“Your crimson cheeks betray you,” he said pointedly.
“I’m just excited about leaving!”
“Is your servant here?”
“Uh, no, she finished her work and has left to pack me some food for the journey. Why? Do you need to see her?”
“You know why, you also know you were totally in the wrong, and it is time to stop this foolish ruse and admit what a naughty girl you’ve been.”
He watched her struggle as the conflict raged inside her; his assessment was right.
The moment his voice had commanded attention when he’d arrived at the stable, Lizbett had known she was in trouble. Not only had Larian caught her fighting with one of his great teachers, she knew she was totally in the wrong and Tholl’s reasoning was sound.
It wasn’t the safest of times to be out on her horse, even with the guards, and she also knew the carriage was due to arrive and she shouldn’t be leaving anyway. She wasn’t even sure why she had thrown her tantrum and caused a scene; it was just something she’d felt compelled to do.
Now Larian was standing in front of her and had called her bluff, and still she was playing the game, acting the innocent, trying to distract him from her guilt. It was a game at which she excelled, but Larian wasn’t like everybody else; Larian could see right through her.
“Yes, all right,” she murmured. “I surrender. I was wrong, and just now I tried to divert attention from the scene I caused.”
“What do you think I should do about that?”
“Uh, well, since I’ve just admitted my wrongdoing, probably nothing,” she suggested, knowing full well it was a foolish response.
“Still you try? You are relentless. It’s a good trait to have, but sometimes it can get you into even more trouble. I’ll give you one more chance. What do you think I should do about it?”
“You are so hard,” she groaned.
“I’m waiting.”
“Since I am about to sit in a carriage for some time, I would think something other than spanking,” she said quietly.
“Just the opposite,” he declared. “I think sitting on a sore bottom is exactly what you need. Come over here and bend across your bed.”
“Sir?” she bleated.
“Yes, I am your Sir, and I’m pleased you addressed me as such. Quickly, there are things I must see to while my men are sleeping.”
As she shuffled across the room she spied the riding stick in his hand; her pulse quickened; it looked nasty.
“You’re going to use that?” she whimpered.
“I most certainly am,” he said firmly.
She paused for just a moment, staring at it, and he was happy she did; the fear of the thing rolling through her veins would only add to the anticipation, and anticipation was in itself a key element of any punishment.
Laying herself over the edge of the mattress, she cringed as her dress and the underlying petticoats were placed on her back, exposing her again in her thin, silky underwear.
“This will hurt,” he warned. “Face into the bed.”
She felt the stick lay lightly across the center of her cheeks; clenching her teeth she waited for the first stroke and it was a short wait; Larian dispatched the stick with a zinging swish.
Her leg kicked out, not as a conscious protest but an involuntary response, and as the burning mark radiated through her bottom she groaned into the bed.
Wasting
no time he delivered the second and third, laying them close to each other, and seeing the angry red lines through the fine fabric he knew they were smarting keenly.
“Lizbett, you knew what you were doing was absolutely wrong, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Sir, I did.”
“Tell me why you did it.”
“I’m honestly not sure, Sir, but I think it might have been the bags.”
“The bags? What bags?”
“I became extremely frustrated and angry about the bags, I mean, being allowed only one. It was impossible, so I sent my servant to fetch two more even though I knew you would not allow them.”
“Ah, so your little scene at the stable was a rebellious act; you were angry about one thing, so you chose another to voice your discontent.”
“I, uh, yes, Sir, I think so.”
“You can’t always have things the way you want them, Lizbett. I understand this is new for you, but do you see where your moment of rebellion has landed? Directly across the seat of your bottom.”
“Yes, Sir, and it hurts very much.”
“You will not need gowns or fine clothes, and you will receive one more stroke for not following my instructions about the bag, then I will leave you. I will return when the West sun is about to set.”
“Sir?” she whimpered.
“Yes?”
“Thank you for making arrangements to bring Scarlet.”
“Do you think that will get you out of the last stroke?”
“No, Sir, I just wanted to say it.”
“Is it possible you’re really saying, thank you for punishing me? I deserve it and I want it?”
She paused, then moaned into the mattress.
How does he know these things?
He is a Zanderonian warrior, it has been said they understand women, and they are the only men who do.
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
“Then let me hear it. It will please me, and it will help you.”
“Thank you for punishing me, Sir, I deserve it, and…and…”
“Yes, go on.”
“And I want it.”
The fourth stroke sliced through the air, kissing her skin with fire, but before she had time to feel the depth of the stinging flame he had swept her up and was holding her tenderly.
The Warrior and the Petulant Princess Page 9