Shadows: Book One of the Eligia Shala (45 page)

Wrapping his arms tightly around her as Wynn drew the red-hot blade swiftly across the gash, Blaise felt her shudder just slightly against him as the heat seared her skin, but she didn’t make a sound. The smell and sound of her scorching flesh sickened him.

“Once more, Highness, and we’ll be done with this one: just the back wound to deal with.” Wynn applied the blade again, sealing the wound completely. Applying the same procedure to the smaller area on her back, Wynn smeared some light liquid over both of the wounds and reapplied the bandage around her waist.

Slightly paler, but otherwise apparently none the worse, Jenevra thanked him, promised to rest, and left. She was humming tunelessly as they sauntered slowly along to her tent, her hand enfolded tightly in Tessier’s, although she didn’t seem to have noticed.

Blaise laughed as they entered the tent. “What are you doing? Singing?” He turned her around in his arms, only realizing as he looked into her eyes, noticing the hugely dilated pupils leaving just the faintest rim of piercing blue around the edge. “Oh … he gave you laowenton. I thought you were being curiously amiable. Well now—” A devious grin spread across his face as he kissed her. Laowenton leaves were an essential part of a healer’s kit in the army, as strong sedatives were needed all too often after battles; but there was also a rumored side-effect on women that Captain Tessier had never been privileged to witness. He was torn between final proof of that hypothesis and doing the decent thing as Jenevra slid her hands up under his shirt. Incredibly, Blaise managed to control himself and the princess long enough to settle on the floor: sitting with his legs stretched out crossed in front of him, back leaning against her small bed; she lying with her head across his legs; her eyes closed and hair streaming loose as Blaise took the opportunity to unbraid and untangle it as she lay there.

With every stroke of his fingers through the rippling chestnut mass of her hair, Jenevra felt a small tingle. When his touch brushed directly against her skin she drew an almost electric jolt as the laowenton dulled the pain in her side but sent her senses spiraling in myriad other directions. Every detail of him became magnified, intensified to a point at which nothing else could enter her awareness. She could smell the same lemon-mint scent that she’d first become aware of as he held her after her nightmare; but now it was as sharp as if she was lying in a citrus grove; the faint aroma of horses and dust; even the salty tang of the sea. The muscle of his thigh along the back of her shoulders was long and tight under the softness of buckskin, caressing her neck with a warm velvety smoothness. Opening her eyes, she lost herself completely in his. Minutes passed as his warm brown gaze flickered with yellow, gold and black, creating a kaleidoscope vision that she thought she would never get enough of. When he leaned over to kiss her, every nerve ending in her body seemed bound and determined to make its way into her lips, sending a shuddering shock through the princess, the intensity of which hit Tessier like a thunderbolt. Pulling back, he raised her into his arms, kissing her deeply; feeling the tension build in her like wine filling a wineskin.

Totally losing any conscious control, as the heavy dose of laowenton reached its full potency within her; Jenevra flung herself up, kneeling astride Blaise’s thighs. Thick, waves of hair flowed loose past her hips, cloaking them both as she leaned forward, responding to his kiss with unbridled passion; her fingers caressing his skin and hair, pulling his hands onto her body with an urgency that Blaise wasn’t prepared to withstand. Only as she pulled him away from the bed and pushed his shoulders to the ground, sitting on top of him did Blaise grudgingly admit to himself that this was totally wrong: she was oblivious to everything, drugged, unaware. The problem now was that the laowenton had given her increased determination, along with everything else. He didn’t want to hurt her, but his efforts to hold her wrists weren’t having much impact. “Princess? Jenevra, will you stop? I don’t want to have to hurt you, Jenn.”

“Having fun?” Baran called softly from the tent entrance.

“Oh, thank Tore! Baran, get her off me will you?” Blaise was still fighting Jenevra’s flailing arms as she tried to pin him down again.

“Hello, Your Highness,” Jenevra stopped fighting Blaise and looked up at Baran, smiling invitingly; dark fringed eyes huge amidst disheveled hair, shirt hanging loosely off one shoulder.

“Laowenton,” Blaise grunted in explanation.

“Ah,” Baran looked amused as he stood behind Jenevra, lifting her easily from on top of Tessier. “So it’s true then?” One of his huge arms wrapped around the wriggling Princess; he held out the other to help Tessier up from the floor.

Tessier pulled his clothes straight. “Apparently; but I’ve never heard of anyone reacting to it like that. It’s like she’s possessed.”

“Funny though,” Baran grinned.

His sense of humor beginning to reassert itself, Tessier grinned back. “I have to admit I was enjoying it; but then …. It must be love! Do you want to put her down, by the way?” He nodded to where Baran still had Jenevra trapped underneath his arm. “On second thoughts, maybe not. Let me see if that healer has anything that will work against it. Just hang on to her for one minute!”

A short while later, Wynn came hurrying into the tent along with Tessier. Jenevra was now firmly clamped between both of Baran’s arms, still writhing, and Baran’s normally mild expression was looking considerably more flustered than usual. “You’d better have something that would stun an ox in there healer,” he breathed.

Quickly assessing the situation, Wynn dipped into the small pouch he was carrying with him. “It’s my own fault. I should have remembered she’s a woman. Laowenton doesn’t have this effect on men, and even on women it isn’t usually this extreme,” he explained. “I gave her three times as much as I would normally because of that ridiculous pain tolerance she has, and to take care of that fever she’s running. I probably shouldn’t have given her anything,” he berated himself. “She could have taken the cauterization without it. I was just hoping it would have knocked her out for the night.”

“I hope you’ve got something in there that will,” Baran winced as Jenevra’s elbow dug into his ribs again.

“Captain Tessier,” Jenevra beamed at Blaise as she spotted him. “Baran’s no fun at all.”

“Alright, let’s see how we’re going to do this,” Wynn extracted a small vial from his bag. “It’s probably best to put it into something and see if she’ll drink it.”

“Brandy,” Tessier said, quickly. “Over in that bottle.”

Wynn peered at the vial. “Laowenton, brandy and this? Well, if it doesn’t knock her out, it’ll kill her. Either way, at least she’ll be quiet.” He poured a large amount of brandy and added the entire contents of the vial. “Now the trick is to get her to drink it.”

“That we can do,” Tessier said pulling the princess to sit on his knee. “Here,” He put the brandy into her hands, lifting the cup up to her lips. “Drink this. You like this …remember?”

Jenevra sipped at the drink and smiled delightedly. Throwing the rest down in one, she handed the cup back to Blaise.

“Normal girls would fall over with just the amount of brandy in that cup,” Wynn noted dryly. “I only hope she hasn’t ripped everything open again with all that struggling.”

“Actually, Captain Tessier was doing most of the struggling,” Baran comforted the healer. Looking at Jenevra and Tessier, he asked, “Is it my imagination, or is she getting quieter?”

Blaise’s hand waved at them, motioning the affirmative, as the princess kept her lips tightly locked to his. A few minutes later, her head fell against his shoulder, and Tessier was able to look up. He sighed deeply, kissed her gently on the forehead and lifted her over to her bed.

Wynn quickly checked that she hadn’t reopened the wounds. Satisfied, he stood and looked at the two other men, commenting with wry understatement, “Well, that was interesting.”

Baran grimaced, rubbing at a tender spot the princess had elbowed him in. “Do you think she’ll stay asleep? I’d hate to think we were going to have to do all that again in another couple of hours.” He stretched, sleepily.

“I think we’re good, for now.” Wynn said. “I’m going to send one of my assistants in to watch her though, just in case.”

“What’s going on?” Richard Couressime appeared, having heard voices as he passed his sister’s tent. He seemed annoyed to see Baran Wargentin there, although he was more puzzled by the healer’s presence.

“Her Highness was more upset than we thought about Dhorani’s death,” Tessier lied quickly. “I called the healer in to give her a sedative, but it took the extra pair of hands for us to get it down her. You know how she is.” He pointed to the unconscious girl in the corner. “Wynn’s sending a healer in to keep an eye on her. You’d better stay too, Your Highness—you know, for propriety.”

 CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

Jenevra’s absence from Raik’s morning strategy session was easily explained the next day. Richard had completely accepted Tessier’s story, leaving his small sister still unconscious back in the tent as he came to attend the meeting. The fact that she’d had to be given a sedative really struck most of them. As far as any of them could remember, the princess had never actually been sick in her life; never had to see a healer for anything other than bumps, bruises, sprains and cuts gathered in the course of mischief.

Finally surfacing late in the afternoon, groggy and slow after the combination of stimulants and sedatives she’d had, Jenevra was yawning and rubbing at her face as she slouched into the Command tent just before dinner, flopping down into a chair and accepting a cup of water gratefully from the steward. Her hair was tied back simply, and the soft gray pants and tunic made her look even younger than her nineteen years.

Captain Manvi, sitting to her right, gave her hand a gentle squeeze, which surprised her; eliciting a smile for him. He seemed to have become far more comfortable in her presence recently. She didn’t know why that was but, as everything else seemed to be going badly, she was pleased.

Baran and Blaise arrived together, along with Admiral Massili. Blaise took the chair opposite, an indecipherable expression on his face. “Feeling a little better, Captain?” he inquired, courteously.

“Yes, thank you, Captain.” She felt her stomach lurch; sensing something she couldn’t quite read in his eyes.

Dinner progressed, more or less uneventfully. Rafael entertained them all with some of his stories. Jenevra was particularly amused, even laughed, at one involving Gervaise D’Agostino and tucked it away in her memory for future use. As the night drew in, most of the younger members of the party moved outside, sitting round a small fire. Raik, Stephan and Rafael remained inside the tent, although the front was tied back again. Richard, Mikyle, Blaise, Baran and Jenevra lounged around the fire in a circle. Richard was sitting on a small log, with Jenevra leaning against his knee, watching the flames intently. Blaise moved to the opposite side of the fire, away from her.

The colors in the fire flickered and moved: black, gold, scarlet, brown, reminding her of something she could feel on the edge of her memory. Still slightly dazed from the drugs she stared into the fire for a long time, mesmerized by the patterns and colors jumping around. Raising her eyes after some time she found Blaise watching her intently through the flames, and had a sudden vivid image of the different colors in his eyes.

Richard moved across the circle to talk softly with Mikyle Manvi, leaving Jenevra pulling her knees up to rest her chin on them. Baran shifted to sit next to her. “How much do you remember about last night, Princess?” he whispered into her ear; his dark blond hair falling across her face as he leaned close.

That sounded ominous to Jenevra. “Not much,” she murmured, moving back slightly. “I remember being in the healer’s tent…at least I think I do. Then, nothing until this afternoon.” She turned guarded eyes onto the Prince next to her. “Why?”

“Well, it’s a bit of a shame you don’t remember, Princess. You seemed to be having such a good time.” Sliding his arm around her shoulders, Baran poured the whole story into her ear, while Blaise Tessier watched her face change from disbelief into devastated embarrassment; lowering her forehead onto her knees and wrapping her arms around the sides; shutting everyone out.

Baran and Blaise grinned at each other, cheerfully convinced that the princess would be running out of excuses to deny her feelings for Captain Tessier after this. When twenty minutes passed and there was still no sign of her moving, Blaise mimed across to Baran to see if she had fallen asleep. It only took the lightest touch of Baran’s hand on her back though for Jenevra’s head to whip up sharply, making the hulking Prince start.

“What?” she snapped; her eyes flashing dangerously at him.

Baran’s mouth dropped open. Of all the reactions he’d been expecting, this was not one of them. “I was just—”

“Just what?” Jenevra’s tone could have cut marble. “Just seeing what games you and your irritating friend could conjure up?”

“Well, no … I …” Baran stuttered.

“I don’t believe you,” she snarled. “Not one word of it. I expect that kind of underhanded deviousness from him, but not you, Your Highness. You can both keep out of my way from now on. I may have to work with that idiot,” she pointed across the circle at Tessier. “But that’s it. As far as I’m concerned, I’d be just as happy if I never saw either of you again.”

“Hang on a minute, Jenevra.” Baran wasn’t thrown for long, holding her arm tightly to prevent her standing up. “What on earth makes you think I’d lie to you about something like that? You don’t think I’d be that cruel, surely?” Frowning, a small crease appeared between his brows, and he caught her chin in his hand, tipping her face towards his. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you honestly think I would hurt you like that for fun. You can’t, can you?”

“He would,” Jenevra muttered, folding her arms stubbornly. “And we all know what good friends you are.”

Baran sighed deeply. “Princess, listen to me will you? Blaise Tessier would kill anyone who tried to hurt you, I swear it. It took three of us to stop him going after Dhorani the other night. Everything I told you about last night is true; if you don’t believe me go ask the healer. But I really don’t see what’s so bad about it?”

“What’s so bad?” Jenevra finally locked eyes with Baran; cold fury simmering. “After insisting that there could never be anything between us; the following night I, apparently, practically force myself on him, and you want to know what’s so bad?”

“That’s right,” Baran interrupted. “What are you so frightened of, Princess?”

She looked away quickly, hands balling into tight fists against her thighs. “I’m not frightened of anything. I don’t need him to fight my battles for me; or anyone else for that matter.” Pushing his hands away, Jenevra rose swiftly to her feet, stalking off into the night.

Looking across the fire to Blaise, who was ready to bolt after her, Baran waved him to sit down and shrugged apologetically. “I may not have helped much there, my friend,” he noted.

Heart thumping, Jenevra strode swiftly through the camp to the healers’ tent, looking for Wynn. The tall, jug-eared healer looked concerned when he heard her asking for him, but she quickly reassured him that she hadn’t damaged anything else.

“Yet,” Wynn added sourly.

Ignoring that, Jenevra stood scratching at the edge of a table, her gaze focused down at the wood. “Wynn,” she began, hesitantly. “Prince Baran just told me a very peculiar tale about last night. Is it true? Did I really …?”

Wynn nodded silently; feeling for the princess’s embarrassment as she accepted his word as truth. “But, Your Highness,” he said. “Please remember that you really had no control over any of it. I gave you a triple dose of laowenton. That’s partly why you’re not remembering anything.” He scratched at the tuft of white hair behind his ear, before adding cautiously, “If it helps at all, Captain Tessier was awfully concerned about you.”

Jenevra groaned softly, shading her eyes with her hand. “I’ll never hear the end of this.”

“He seems to have behaved like a perfect gentleman.”

“And it just gets worse,” she mourned, knowing now that she’d have to apologize. “Thanks, Wynn. You have no idea what a help you’ve been.”

Totally discomfited with the last few days, the princess was feeling a powerful urge to hit something, hard and for a very long time. Over and above the aching of her wounds, the abrasions and bruising; over the sting of humiliation of the past couple of nights with Captain Tessier, there was the deep abiding pain of killing Misha. The wrenching agony she had felt at the moment she took his head was still with her, feeling as though a part of her had quite literally been ripped out too. Emotionally and physically wrung out, a current of tension was building inside her; a need to purge all of the conflicting emotions in a purely cathartic empty rage. Deep in thought, she wandered to the Flight’s camp; joining those few still awake quietly. Bernardo and Brogan were pleased to see her about. The Flight knew she had been sedated for the day, and assumed it was because of Misha’s death. She made no move to disillusion them, merely assuring them that she was fine now. Spider was out on sentry duty, but Finn’s green eyes met hers once in sympathetic understanding.

As the men drifted off to settle into sleep, Jenevra began to leave. Brogan walked a little way with her, discussing their plans for the next few days in a soft voice. Hands clasped behind his broad back, the gruff sergeant brought her up-to-date on all of the men; adding new assessments of each now that he’d finally seen them all fight and, between them, they began making plans for changes to their normal training schedules.

Leaving her as they reached the top of the rise where most of the officer’s tents were, Brogan was reassured to see Prince Baran and Captain Tessier still hovering around. At least he knew she wouldn’t be wandering through the camp alone if they were nearby.

Jenevra felt nothing of the same calmness when she saw them waiting. Clenching her fingernails into her palms and taking a long, deep breath, she knew there was no avoiding them; and if she tried, they’d just make her regret it. “Baran, Tessier,” she greeted them as they closed in on her.

“Princess,” they chorused, standing directly in front of her, their arms folded.

Cursing softly, her head down, she missed the grin that passed between them. By the time she raised her face to them, their expressions were merely expectant. Biting her lip, Jenevra faced Baran. “I apologize, Your Highness. Wynn confirmed what you told me. I should have believed you.”

“Yes, you should,” Baran replied piously, tossing his hair back behind his shoulders. “But I’ll forgive you anyway; as soon as you say you’re sorry.”

“What?” Jenevra’s eyes narrowed, realizing that they were going to make the most of their opportunity. Closing her eyes and sighing, she muttered, “I’m sorry.”

“Now that didn’t sound very sincere did it, Tessier?”

Captain Tessier shook his head, sadly. “Not very, Baran, but I think Her Highness owes me more of an apology than she owes you. After all, you aren’t the one who was abused.”

“True, my friend, very true,” Baran moved to Jenevra’s side, draping his arm over her shoulders again. “Did you hear that princess? Poor Tessier feels abused—violated if I’m not mistaken. How could you do that to him? Cruel, princess.”

Even knowing that they were just trying to torment her, Jenevra’s eyes were anguished. “I am sorry, Captain Tessier, truly. I really did mean what I said the other night. I’ll keep out of your way going to Mirizir: stay with my Flight. I won’t bother you again.” Darting off into the night, she was soon lost in the shadows around the camp.