by Amy Little
“It’s like a theatre stage!” Annika exclaimed.
“My fighters can prepare for many environments here. Desert combat, attacking a hill, breaching a ford, urban warfare. They train hard.” Zak gave her a sly glance. “There are many injuries.”
She had already thought that. Sprains, broken limbs, concussions. She had dealt with all those.
Zak watched her think. He liked the vertical line between her brows as she concentrated. Self-consciously, she brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. It was a gesture that underscored her vulnerability. He wanted to take her in his arms; to distract himself, he walked for some distance along the gallery, trailing his hand on the baluster.
His sudden movement startled Annika. “You must be very busy. I won’t keep you.”
“There are few things that I’d rather do than this,” he said.
Annika blushed, then cursed herself for being silly.
“Have you breakfasted?”
“Yes… I mean no,” she said.
“There is a good inn, not far.”
“I’m not hungry.” She said, trying to ignore the rumbling in her stomach, and hurried down the stairs.
At the bottom, Old Cynthia looked from her desk. There seemed to be a glint of amusement in her eyes. “I hope we will see you again.”
“Goodbye,” Annika said, keeping her eyes on the ground, and trying to avoid the old woman, suddenly unsure if she liked her quite as much as she had thought before.
Zak was following slowly behind. He caught up to her before she reached the courtyard. The two fighters were furiously sparring below. One had long, curly hair. Despite the cold, both were stripped down to their breeches. Sweat dripped down from their bodies and steam rose from them. They danced from side to side, covering close to a dozen meters in each attack and counter-strike.
It would have been impossible for her to pass without stopping the fight. She paused on the steps of the house, hesitating to go down.
“See the one on the left,” said Zak softly, motioning his chin to the curly-haired man. “He has an old injury to the outside of his right elbow. It plays up in cold weather but also after the first five or so minutes of a contest. As a result, he finds it hard to parry a downward blow, so he compensates.
Annika watched intently. She soon noticed that the fighter that Zak had indicated leaped back from each downward blow instead of meeting it. The man had an open, intelligent face, that was now contorted in a mask of grim endurance.
“Why does he put himself through this?” she asked.
“The injury won’t heal. Hence he needs to find his way to fight around it. This is his only chance to learn.”
Annika had watched numerous training matches at her father’s castle. Now that her attention was drawn to it, she could easily see the pattern.
The man’s opponent directed his attacks with the aim of delivering outside blows.
“Of course, if the man could be healed…,” said Zak.
Annika glared at him. “You’re too transparent,” she said.
“He’s a good man,” said Zak. “He has a wife and four children. All girls. His post is a centurion, in the Emperor’s Kilnsgard.”
“I didn’t realize they trained outside the Emperor’s castle.”
“Not usually, but there is a small detachment in the city. You see, this man previously fought under me. He knows he will not keep his centurion position long.”
“Why would someone in Kilnsgard need your help?” said Annika skeptically. The Emperor’s men were the toughest and the best trained swordsmen in the Empire.
“He thinks he doesn’t have long to live.”
“I doubt an arm injury will kill him,” said Annika dryly.
“Yet it will. Every year, four men are allowed to challenge the centurion. If one of them wins, he will take the centurion’s spot. Last year, there were two challengers. He defeated both. This year, he thinks he will lose.”
“Then he can go and do something else,” said Annika. “Kilnsgard men must be able to do well for themselves, accompanying merchants, guarding castles. Even my father has a dozen or so in his guard.”
“A Kilnsgard soldier is free to leave. Not so a centurion.”
“Then what happens to the centurions?”
“The new centurion has to kill the old.”
Annika was shaken on hearing that. “You mean…”
“Such is the custom.”
“And his family?” Annika asked, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer.
Zak watched her dispassionately. “They will need to beg the Emperor for charity.”
Annika flinched, well aware of the Emperor’s reputation in such things. “Then I hope he trains well,” she said.
She watched the injured centurion weave around the courtyard. His parries became weaker. Then the sword flew out of his hands. The other fighter came at him with the sword raised.
Annika cried out.
The other fighter halted the sword just above the centurion’s collarbone. Then both backed away, breathing heavily and covered in sweat.
“My men train for skill, not to exercise their cruelty,” Zak softly said.
Annika felt her heart race as though she were the one who had fought.
After the injured fighter picked up his sword, both walked by Zak and Annika, pressing their fists to their chest for Zak and bowing to her. Once they left, there was no one else in the courtyard. High walls blocked off the noise of the surrounding streets.
Annika found it difficult to believe that such a secluded spot can be found in the very center of Karrum.
“The centurion is one of many people you can help if you set up practice here,” Zak said.
Annika thought of the man. She thought of his cradling his injured elbow in the other hand as he walked away. She was also sure that his opponent had a slight limp. Could she walk away from someone in need?
Zak continued, “There are many others like him at my academy. To train here, the only prerequisites are courage and honor. They are good men.”
Annika was not ready to capitulate. “What say will you have in what I do?”
“None. You can heal whomever you want, charge whatever you want. In fact, since I will pay you for each man you treat, you can charge as much as you wish.”
Annika took a few seconds to process this. “And you… what do you gain?”
“I will not lie. I want you close to me, Annika,” he said.
“You’re seeking to bribe me!”
“That is not all. I want my men to be fit for battle. Dangerous times are ahead.”
Annika did not respond for some moments. No matter how much she tried to come to a decision, her mind was blank. From that blankness, she found herself blurting out, “I’ll do it.” Then, recovering herself, she quickly added, “I shall be pleased to heal your men, Prince Zak, on the condition that I can also heal anyone else I choose.”
“Anyone at all,” said Zak. “Agreed.”
Annika wasn’t sure what to make of his pleased look.
Zak brushed a strand of her hair away from her face. “Will you not breakfast with me?”
“You’ve already asked,” said Annika, not inclined to give in on anything else.
“I didn’t get the reply I wanted.”
“So you will keep asking?”
“When I want something, I don’t give up,” he said. His voice was soft and gentle, but forceful all the same.
To Annika, the voice and the words reflected the man himself. Zak was steel wrapped in velvet. Not for the first time since she saw him that morning, she let herself soak in the physicality of his presence. It made her body tingle as though flushed – with what, she could not tell: fear, desire….
Zak ran his hand down her cheek and then along the rough fabric of the sleeve of her tunic. This was the sort of fabric that a common woman from a well-off household would wear. He knew of no aristocrat that would willingly don such apparel. She was not sp
oiled like every other noble that he had met. He admired that. Although he had a multitude of matters to attend that morning, he did not want to part with her just yet. “There is a small tavern not far from here. I often breakfast there. A small corner booth, good coffee, great bread and cheese?”
She shook her head, but unable to force herself to speak the words of rejection.
Zak’s hand returned to her face. His fingers traced the auricle and then the lobe of her ear, then her chin and her neck. His hand went around the small of her neck. He drew her close. His voice was hoarse and barely audible as he said, “I have a room in this house. I stay there occasionally. We can go up there.”
“Zak….”
Zak watched her lips part. Her tongue flicked out, moistening them. Her lips glistened. He wanted her before him, yielding… the pressure was almost too much to bear. “We can skip breakfast. Skip lunch. Let’s stay in and love there for the rest of the day….”
Annika was utterly engrossed in the sensation of his words and his touch. She felt his hand holding her gently but firmly around her back. Another one of his hands was running along her back, down, and down…. She could sense he would be a wonderful lover, she wanted him; it would be so easy to say, “yes”….
Zak pulled her closer. His body was hard against hers.
The pressure of him against her made her flush. She yielded to his kiss. She had no more energy to struggle.
The kiss seemed to continue for many an eon.
She did not want it to stop. She clung to him even as part of her was ready to push him away.
Zak pressed her as close to him as he could dare without hurting her. He felt his want and her need. He wanted to feel her bare skin against his. The weeks that he had spent without seeing her, he had to remain constantly on alert so as to not let thoughts of her dominate his waking hours. Now, those dreams and wants have returned, with a passion that lashed him. It staggered him.
Annika’s mouth parted from his. She was gasping for breath as she said. “No. This is not what I want, Zak.” But even as she said this, her eyes half closed again of their own volition and her mouth searched for his.
Their lips met again.
She felt herself ready to give all that she had to him. All of her was humming as though attuned to a tense, pleasurable pitch. She was ready to take him by the hand and draw him to his room where they would…. Gathering all of her remaining strength, she pulled away from him and said, “No. This will not happen.”
His longing and want lashed at him furiously. He stepped away even as his body craved her. He struggled to keep his voice down. “As much as I want this, so do you. Yet you won’t let yourself go.”
“I can only be myself.”
“I am not asking you to be otherwise!” He stepped away, raking his fingers through his hair in agitation.
She straightening her tunic. She was afraid to meet his eyes, to touch him. She was on a precipice and the desire to throw herself over the edge was too great.
“Will you change your mind?”
“I don’t know,” she said, truthfully.
“I’ll wait for you,” Zak said after a few moments.
“As you please. But I will expect you to behave courteously in the meantime,” she said.
The thought kept running through her mind: if she is to practice healing at the martial academy, how can she face such temptation each day?
As she walked away, feeling as though she were tearing herself away from her only source of happiness, the stones underfoot blurred. The shouts, noises, and smells of the street outside became stronger.
She did not know how she navigated the latch to the gate before stepping outside onto the street. She paused outside, blinking, unwillingly adjusting herself to the world that only minutes earlier had paused its existence. Be strong, she said to herself. It is a long road ahead.
Zak watched her leave with a set, unblinking face. Inwardly, he cursed and groaned at the loss of the chance. Once she had exited the yard, he kicked the statue of the three headed beast beside him. The kick hurt.
The sun was straight above. Its rays glanced off the beasts three protruding tongues like sharpened beams, shining in Zak’s eyes. He squinted and reflected that he had stayed cool in the heat of battle, directing thousands of people in combat. And yet, one glance from her deep blue eyes, one touch, and the depths of feeling that he did not know possessed rose to the surface and threatened to drown everything else that he had thought was a fixed fact. “What is happening?” Zak asked the beast out loud.
The six eyes on the beast’s three heads seemed to smirk.
He should stay away from her, Zak thought to himself. He should focus on making his martial academy a success. Troubles will descend on the Empire soon. Of that, Zak had no doubt. Men who are loyal to him will be essential. He could not let himself be distracted, not now, not when he was so close to his aim.
But even as Zak thought this, he knew that he was fooling himself. Distancing himself from Annika, on his own accord, was never going to work for him. At that moment he felt that nothing in his life was worthwhile if he did not have her.
Letting her go would not be possible. Therefore, he must have her, Zak reasoned. He must. That was the only way to put this madness beyond him.
You’re in trouble, the beast’s three knowing smiles seemed to say.
“I am,” Zak grimly agreed.
Chapter Seven
The dawn was bright and cold.
Annika was up with the first light. She had spent the night sleeping fitfully, waking up, and tossing in the freezing bed. She could not stop thinking about Zak.
The shutters were closed, but even so the room was becoming progressively flooded with sunshine.
Annika asked herself what was she to do. Could she keep things at the merely professional level between her and Zak? Could she trust him? Just as importantly, could she trust herself?
The sun’s rays reached the bedpost after what seemed like seconds, although more than an hour had passed.
Annika, still in bed, said to herself she had to decide now. A few minutes later, as she was peeling the blankets one by one off herself, she had to admit that the decision was made when she had first agreed to go to Zak’s academy. She swung her feet out of the bed.
The stones were cold like ice blocks under her bare soles.
Annika pressed her lips together. She needed to be masterful in her self-control, she said to herself. So she may as well start now.
The water in the basin by the mirror was partly frozen.
Annika hesitated and then splashed a tiny handful at her face. She spluttered. Serves me right, she said to herself, and then reminded herself how she needed to conduct herself with Zak: cold and distant when she did see him, limiting any personal interaction, and never letting him see any chinks in her armor.
She repeated these injunctions to herself a few times, while hopping from leg to leg to keep warm in her flimsy night gown, as she looked for clothes to wear.
Six woolen tunics hung in the full-length wardrobe by the bed, alongside a collection of mantles, boots, and leggings. These were delivered two days after she had moved into the inn. The clothes were all new. The messenger did not wear any livery.
Annika knew that only one person could have sent them. She thought warmly of Cara as she selected a thick, gray overtunic that would hug her hips but leave a good range of motion for her arms. The decision she had taken, thoughts about Cara, and the expensive, refined material in her hands put her in a good mood. She hummed a song she could not quite place.
Somebody pounded on the door.
Annika, holding the tunic in one hand, with the other held the door ajar.
“Princess,” Zak said. He remained in the corridor, smiling winningly. “Looks like you were already up.”
Annika stared at him. “What do you want?”
“I couldn’t find a better way to spend this morning than with my new associate,” he brightl
y said. He pushed the door open and stepped in, looking around with obvious curiosity. “May I?”
Annika glumly considered him. A vague thought flickered in her mind, something she had thought about separating personal and professional. But her manners and her self-possession fled her. All that she could manage was a blunt, “You may not.”
“Interesting,” he said, his hands behind his back. He was examining the room.
Annika saw him look at the messy bed and blushed bright red. “I agreed to heal your soldiers, but not to… to…”
“Spend time with me,” he helpfully finished for her.
She glumly considered him, intending not to answer, but then his raised eyebrows prompted her to say, “I don’t need to respond to that.”
“Only if it’s affirmative.”
“It isn’t!”
“Then don’t.”
“Humph,” she said. She hefted the tunic in her hand, as though remembering what to do with it. Then she headed to the wardrobe.
The wardrobe was large, and each of its doors when opened could well double as a room partition. She hid behind it.
“Shall I open the shutters?” he asked.
“You could close the door behind yourself after you leave,” she said, standing behind the partition and quickly pulling her nightie off. The thought of what he would see and what she would do if he came towards her made her blush, and rushing things, she got her head stuck in the nightie and could only get it off with an unladylike grunt.
“Just trying to be helpful.”
“It would be helpful if we didn’t spend time together outside your establishment.”
“Life would be too dull,” he said, thoughtfully considering the open bag that stood on the table and out of which spilled out her herbs. She was dedicated to her craft, he thought; it didn’t seem to be just a phase. He didn’t hear well what Annika said next.
“Weren’t you worried about the snakes?” she said, once she had the tunic off.
“What’s that?” Zak started coming around.