Shadows: Book One of the Eligia Shala (43 page)

Burrowing his head into the soft skin of her neck, he began a slow exploration of sensitive spots like the one he’d inadvertently found when she woke from her nightmare. A muffled squeak and a giggle, along with a quiver he could feel run through her told him he’d rediscovered at least one of them. Without warning a conversation he’d had with the Chancellor’s wife at Phillip and Christiana’s wedding crossed his mind.

“She’s still just a child really, Captain,” Lady Menzetti had said to him. “All she needs is someone to love her and make her laugh. She’s warrior enough, she doesn’t need anyone to fight her battles for her. She takes herself far too seriously.”

Another smothered giggle interrupted his memory, and he grinned as he thought of how few people had ever heard the princess actually giggling like a little girl. “Well, Princess, how are we doing so far?” His warm brown eyes glowed like caramel in the lamplight. “Ready for a little more?” His eyes gleamed as her smile answered him. Resting her head in the crook of his arm, Blaise kissed her again, his free hand stroking gently along her face and throat. Feeling the slight apprehension in her as his tongue flickered against her lips, he ran his thumb along her jaw. “Relax, I won’t hurt you,” he whispered, rubbing softly beneath her lower lip until her mouth opened under his. With a small murmur of pleasure he began to tease her lips and tongue with his, still stroking her face and neck. He could feel the tension literally melt out of her as he continued; her arms went around his neck, her hands tangled in his hair and she pressed against him. Losing himself in their growing passion, Blaise ran his hand down Jenevra’s back, caressing the long line of her spine, generating another tremor in the girl across his lap. Brushing her hair back, he kissed the smooth throat, sliding the loose linen shirt off her shoulder and moving his lips soothingly along the bruised skin there. With his head buried in her soft flesh, he brought his hand around her side, running it lightly up to her breast, feeling her respond to his touch.

Pushing away suddenly, the princess limped stiffly to the far side of the tent, arms folded tightly across her chest. “No! We can’t do this. Absolutely not.”

“Princess?” Blaise was worried. “What’s wrong? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Avoiding him, Jenevra paced around, keeping the table in between them. “No,” she said, absently. “You didn’t hurt me. But I can’t do this. You have to go.”

“No until you tell me what’s wrong.” Blaise tried to catch her arm, letting go swiftly as she pulled away, gasping slightly and holding onto her side. “Alright,” he held his hands up resignedly. “I won’t do anything. Just tell me what the problem is.”

“I just can’t do that, Captain,” she waved one hand vaguely around the tent. “I can’t be involved with anyone; especially not another officer.”

“What?” Tessier knew that most of her Flight had been selected on the basis of no family ties, and assumed that was what she meant—not having a relationship outside the Flight—although her objection didn’t quite make sense to him. “You have brothers, a sister; your cousin is the Emperor, and you pretty much grew up with him. Then there’re the Logansson twins. Gavin’s lost Logan now, but you still allowed them into your Flight. The rules are already bent on that issue. Why shouldn’t you …?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Tessier,” Jenevra snapped; the intensity of the feelings she’d just experienced causing near panic in her shattered state. She’d never considered how an event such as this would affect her. The topic had never even been broached during her training on the Island, and Jenevra was totally stricken at how quickly she had been overwhelmed. “But I’ve no intention of being another of your conquests. The Emperor will probably want me to marry someone at some point. I can’t jeopardize that just to satisfy your need to have every woman you meet.”

“That’s not fair, princess,” Tessier looked hurt. “I love you.”

Jenevra snorted in disbelief. “Pull the other one, Captain. How many girls have you said that to?” Holding the tent flap open, she couldn’t look at him. “Thank you for looking after me, but you need to leave now.”

Ducking through the opening, Tessier paused, leaning his head close to Jenevra’s. “Just so you know, Princess; you’re wrong about me. I’ve never told any woman that I love her; just you.” Smiling slightly as he saw her head come up to look at him as he said it, he kissed her again. “Maybe
I’ll
marry you, Captain Couressime—just to prove my point! Sleep well, my princess.” He chuckled at the muffled curses coming from inside the tent as he walked away.

The following morning, Jenevra pulled on soft gloves to cover the cuts on her hands. Belting the Spirit sword around her waist, just a little lower than usual to avoid pulling on the stitches, she picked up Ki-Nimh’s sword and Misha’s talisman and set out for Ki-Nimh’s tent.

Wynn, the healer, was already with Ki-Nimh when she arrived, and wasn’t pleased to see the princess, especially when he saw the sword in her hand. “I thought I told you to rest?”

“I have. I’ve slept a little since I saw you. That’s more than I usually manage.” She raised a hand against his soft-voiced protests. “I’ll be fine, honestly. I won’t do too much, but I have to be out there with the other officers. I don’t want them to know what happened last night. If I’m not there, they’ll know something’s wrong. Anyway, how’s Ki-Nimh doing? Is he well enough to travel today do you think?”

“I think,” Wynn folded his arms determinedly. “That he needs to rest before you move him. And you certainly shouldn’t be thinking of riding either.”

She frowned. “Tomorrow?”

“I doubt it.” Wynn wouldn’t let her push him: not at the expense of his patient’s health.

Giving up, Jenevra placed Ki-Nimh’s sword back on its stand, draping Misha’s talisman over it and cutting the red cord from the hilt and from one of her wrists; leaving the pieces on the base of the stand. She murmured a short prayer of cleansing and thanksgiving over it before covering it with a large silk square specially dedicated to that purpose.

Spider and Finn exchanged amused glances with each other as she wandered into their camp a little later, a little slower of step and paler than usual.

“Morning, Captain. Sleep well?” Spider inquired.

Shooting him a dangerous glance, Jenevra turned to Brogan. “How is everyone today, Sergeant?” she asked, nodding slightly towards where Gavin Logansson sat, head resting on his arms.

“Not too bad, Captain, although … if I might make a suggestion? I think maybe we could miss a training run this morning. Gavin certainly isn’t up to it, and a couple of the others are stiff and sore. Nothing serious, I just think a rest day would be good for them.”

“Fine, I could use a day myself.” She smiled at his look of surprise. “You can tell them, though. That way you get to look like the hero around here.” Sobering slightly, she asked if anyone had thought about what to do for Logan. “It’s not like we’ve established anything yet, for those we lose from the Flight. Theiss didn’t count. Has anyone asked Gavin?”

Brogan shook his head. “I’ll talk to him this morning. The sooner we can take care of that the better. It’s not good to have death hanging around too long.” He scratched at his beard, clearing his throat, as he always did when he had something to say to her.

“What?” she asked.

“Well, since you ask—you appear to be limping. You weren’t limping yesterday that I remember.”

“I’ve just pulled a muscle in my back. It’s nothing, really. It’s just making walking a little uncomfortable.” She waved her hand airily, dismissing it.

“And there seem to be more bruises on your face than yesterday.”

“Delayed reaction, Sergeant.”

“Delayed reaction? And the reason we’re wearing gloves today Captain?”

“Blisters.”

“Blisters?” Brogan repeated; disbelief etched plainly across his broad face.

“That’s right, Sergeant,” Jenevra was all innocence. “Blisters … from all the sword work yesterday. Delicate skin, you know.”

“Delicate?” Brogan snorted. “How many hours a day do you practice? Your hands must be like leather.”

A look of concern appeared in her eyes. “Really? Maybe I need to do something about that,” she mumbled as she wandered off, lost in thought.

As Brogan turned suspicious eyes onto Spider and Finn who were watching, grinning, they both suddenly found a burning need to occupy themselves out of his sight.

Ambling through the camp at a pace far removed from her usual stride and trying very hard not to limp; Jenevra heard a piercing whistle, and looked around to see Baran Wargentin waving at her from a distance. Aching all over, she relished the opportunity to stand and wait for him to catch up with her. The Prince’s normally sparkling eyes were dull from lack of sleep, but he greeted her with a gleaming smile. “How are you feeling, Princess? You saw the healer last night?”

She grimaced lightly, nodding in confirmation. “Just a bit achy … a few stitches.”

“Commander Rabenaldt wants to see the Flight Captains this morning. You should tell Captain Tessier.” Baran stared ahead, his expression bland, but a lilt in his voice alerted her.

“Why? I don’t know where he is,” she said, noncommittally.

“Really? But, I thought—” Baran broke off, surprise evident.

“What?”

“Nothing, Princess, I just thought maybe you two might have … talked, last night.” He glanced down at her, running a hand over his beard. “I thought maybe he might have said something.” Pulling her arm through his and turning their stroll towards Raik’s tent, Baran patted her hand gently. “Don’t you know how Tessier feels about you?”

“He said something last night. I just don’t believe him.”

Baran nodded. “I can see why you’d be suspicious of him,” he said. “But I’ve known Blaise for years, Princess, and I can honestly say I’ve never seen him like this. He really does care for you. I thought he’d tell you, after what happened. But then, I’m just a hopeless romantic at heart, you know. Not many people know that.”

“I just knew Clera had to have seen something in you,” Jenevra noted, smiling. The smile faded as she added, “I’ve no intention of being another of his conquests, Baran. Anyway, even if I did care for him—which I don’t—we both have Flights, responsibilities. It’s probably just the novelty of someone not throwing themselves at his feet that appeals to him anyway.”

The startled expressions on the faces of Raik, Richard, Stephan, Mikyle Manvi and Rafael Massili as Jenevra entered the tent on Baran’s arm were priceless. As Baran solicitously settled the princess into a chair and took the one directly next to it, he leaned across and whispered into her ear, “We’re off to a great start. Last night we left together just after I announced our ‘understanding’. This morning we appear together. Their imaginations must be turning cartwheels already. Good thing they don’t know how you really spent last night.”

Jenevra turned bright red again, which the assembled men ascribed totally to whatever Baran had just whispered to her, rather than the appearance of Captain Tessier in the tent.

Blaise took a seat directly opposite them, his expression unfathomable. Gazing steadily across at them, he didn’t even flicker a muscle when Baran beamed at him, winked and laid his arm possessively across the back of Jenevra’s chair.

Raik announced that he had decided to hold each of the units in place for a couple more days, to allow the wounded to recover more, and for a ceremony to honor the dead, of which there were blessedly few after a battle involving so many. There would be the traditional games and contests for those able to participate, which met with a rumble of approval from all of the men; although Captain Manvi was quick to point out that Jenevra had managed to acquire several experts in her Flight.