The Commander's Desire (5 page)

The Prince raised his hand, calling for
attention. “Time for music to honor the Commander and his beautiful
bride-to-be. Mac à Chruiteir, you may begin.”

The delicate melody of the clàrsach rippled
into the hall. Elwytha quickly spotted the man seated behind his
triangular instrument, fingers feathering the gut strings. The
beautiful music lightened her spirits a bit. So far, it was the
only evidence of civilization in this heathen court.

She ate quickly and properly with the spoon.
The Prince did as well, but the lout to her left used his hands and
slurped mightily from his trencher when near empty. The Commander
primarily ate with his knife.

Which reminded her. The lout’s blade. She
waited until more ale was consumed and the men jested, roaring with
laughter up and down the table. The knave to her left rested his
arms on the table now, softly chuckling like a simpleton. He had
lost his reasoning abilities…whatever he had possessed to begin
with.

A quick scan proved no one paid her the
least mind. Quickly, stealthily, and without looking, she slipped
the enemy’s dagger from his scabbard. Easy. Simple. She hid it in
the folds of her dress beneath the table, heart beating rapidly.
Victory! Elwytha smiled to herself and sipped more water.

A wide hand curled around her wrist
underneath the table. Alarm jolted her. Ignoring a spike of fear,
she turned to the Commander. “Take no liberties with me,” she
hissed.

His eyes bored into hers. “Return it.”

She slid the blade with her other hand to her
knees, and, using her shins as a slide, allowed the dagger to slide
to her feet. She scooted it under one foot. “Unhand me,” she
ordered.

The grip tightened. “Return it.”

“
Have you drunk too much
ale?”

“
I will search you if you do
not return it now.” The frowning, squinty gaze looked hard,
reminding her of the brute warrior he was.

Now was the time to keep a cool head.

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what
you’re imagining, but I have taken nothing. See? My utensil remains
on the table. As do my trencher and cup. What more do you
wish?”

“
Return it.” His deep voice
remained even. Faintly, she was surprised he didn’t thunder at her.
Probably it was an attempt to retain his pride. He wished no one to
guess that he wielded no control over his future bride.

She smiled at that pleasing thought.

“
Put both your hands on the
table,” he rumbled.

Elwytha froze for a second, and then
willingly complied. She gave him a mocking half-smile.

“
Now stand,” he ordered,
“and take a step back from the table.”

What about the blade? Elwytha felt uneasy.
What did he intend with these orders? And should she submit?

“
Am I dismissed?” she
inquired.

He turned his full warrior scowl upon her
then, and said in low thunder, “Comply.”

More fear fluttered. “But I wish more food.
I’m hungry,” she denied. She needed that dagger. Surely he had not
seen her sleight of hand. He would not thwart her now.

“
Very well.” He turned and
abruptly put one leg over the bench, so he straddled it now, facing
her. He made to flip his other leg over, also.

“
What are you doing?” she
asked, alarmed.

“
You wish to be carried out.
I will be glad to do so.”

“
I don’t wish to be carted
anywhere,” she snapped.

“
Then comply. Now,” he
growled.

Frustration tightened her lips. He would deny
her this triumph. How had he known? How had he guessed? She was
glad the blade wasn’t on her person.

“
I’ll stand,” she said, with
as much dignity as she could muster. She cleared the bench, but her
impulsive attempt to slide the blade back with her foot and hide it
by her skirt as she swung off the other side was thwarted by his
massive leg barring her way.

“
Step over.”

She rolled her eyes. “My, aren’t you
trusting?” Reluctantly, she stepped over his shin.

Unfortunately, thanks to her ill-thought plan
to shove the weapon with her foot, the dagger now lay in plain view
as soon as her skirt cleared.

One massive paw scooped it up. He held it by
the blade. “Explain.”

She didn’t like the threat in the mild
tone.

“
Explain what? You found a
blade on the floor. Is it yours?”

“
A blade. Warrior
speak.”

She shrugged this off. “My brothers taught me
a few things. Even a princess must learn to defend herself.”

With one swift movement, the Commander
returned the dagger to his now passed out comrade.

“
Perhaps he dropped it in
his drunken stupor,” Elwytha suggested with an innocent
smile.

“
Trouble in paradise,
Commander?” inquired the Prince. “Treachery afoot so soon from your
betrothed? Perhaps she has supped too often at her brother’s
table.”

Elwytha stiffened. “My brother practices no
treachery.”

“
Perhaps you mistake
brothers.”

“
You speak in circles,
Prince.”

His eyes narrowed. “Which brother do you
favor, Princess?”

A unexpected lump choked her throat and
Elwytha clenched her fists. “I have but one brother now, Prince,
thanks to…” She bit her lip, realizing it would be foolish to
accuse her host of ordering her brother’s cold-blooded murder. Or
perhaps that had been solely the evil crime of this monster, beside
her.

She shuddered with revulsion and backed away
from them both. “I am weary. Thank you for the meal, Prince. I must
bid you goodnight.”

Spinning in her soft slippers, Elwytha fled
the room. Unwanted tears crowded her eyes and she ran blindly
through the fiendish snake’s lair. How dare the Prince taunt her
with her beloved brother’s death? A great, aching knot of misery
pulsed in her throat. The bold bravado, which she had clung to ever
since entering the palace, shattered, leaving her emotionally naked
and vulnerable. And she hated it. Weakness had no place in her
warrior’s heart.

She had no idea where she was going. She flew
down shadowed corridors lit by flickering torches, and then found a
large door, flung it open, and found herself in the soft night with
grass beneath her feet.

A courtyard. The sweet scents of vanilla and
late blooming wild roses enveloped her. Gasping, she found a path
through the garden and dashed down it, under the pale light of the
moon. A bench appeared and she sank down on it, weeping
uncontrollably. She wailed long and loud with grief for her dead
brother, and for the fear and loneliness she felt here, captive in
this enemy stronghold. She wondered if God was listening, and
gulped a prayer for deliverance from this unconscionable
situation.

She became aware of another’s presence.

Alarmed, she looked up and saw the Commander
outlined in moonlight, larger than life.

“
Get away from me,” she
cried out, horrified. “I hate you.
I hate
you!
”

He sat beside her and she instantly sprang to
her feet. “Don’t touch me, or so help me, I’ll…”

“
You have no dagger,” he
reminded her. “What will you do?”

“
Find another!” She bit her
lip in dismay at the impulsive testament to her true desire.
Brokenly, she said, “I wish to be alone. Leave me.”

“
It’s not safe for you to be
alone.”

“
And I am safe with
you?
”

“
No one will harm you when I
am with you.”

“
And who will protect me
from you?”

“
You must trust
me.”

“
I will
never
trust you!” Her voice shook.
“Not as long as you live.”

“
You think I intend to harm
you?”

“
Isn’t that what you do
best?” Her voice rose. “Kill. Destroy. Ruin people’s lives!” She
burst into more tears of sorrow for her brother. “You are a
monster! A dishonorable monster,” she screamed, unable to help
herself. “I hate you!
I hate you.
I will hate you forever!” She ran, but tripped and
collapsed to the ground, overcome with rage and grief.

“
Elwytha.”

She ignored him, sobbing into her hands.

“
Elwytha.” To her shock, her
hated enemy scooped her up in his arms.

“
No!” she cried out. She
kicked and fought like a wild animal. “Put me down!” She wrestled
harder, with all of her strength. She hated his vile presence. His
touch made her skin crawl. Being so close to him…touching him…made
her wail all the louder in dismay.

Still he held her. He would not release her.
Her struggles seemed to affect him no more than a gnat flitting at
his jerkin. Gradually, she realized it was useless to fight. He
would not release her. More logical thoughts drifted in. They still
remained in the garden. Maybe he thought she’d taken leave of her
senses. Perhaps if she calmed, he would put her down.

With difficulty, she gulped to a stop.

“
Put me down,” she said in a
watery voice.

Instead, he began to walk toward the
castle.

Elwytha felt spent. No fight remained in her.
Unless, of course, he tried to force himself upon her. Better to
reserve her strength, then.

She sniffed quietly and wiped at her face
with her sleeve and endured his presence. He smelled of leather and
soap, but she ignored this, tensing herself for the return to his
chambers.

He strode in, but instead of dumping her on
his bed again, like she had expected, he edged open the door to her
room and lowered her onto her own bed. A lamp flickered in the
room, shadowing the bad half of his face into blackness. The good
half looked like a normal man, with a straight dark brow and a well
cut mouth, twisted down. Only the dark stubble on his head looked
unnatural. Why would a man shave his head like that?

“
You are all right?” he
asked.

She stared at him, barely able to believe her
good fortune. “Yes.”

“
Then I bid you goodnight.”
Quietly, he closed the door behind him.

Elwytha stared after him. What was that
about? Why hadn’t he pressed his advantage? Clearly, he could
physically overpower her.

After a moment she washed, changed, blew out
the lamp, and crawled into bed. She felt spent and achingly empty.
She cried again, but quietly this time, for her brother. Somehow,
she would avenge his death. Her misery here would not be for
ought.

* * * * *

The Commander paced his chambers, feeling a
disturbed, restless energy—as well as guilt—churn through him.
Clearly, he had killed someone Elwytha loved. But who? All the
faces blurred together in battle. He put the heel of his hand to
his head. She hated him. He acknowledged that this would never
likely change. It sickened him, but what had he expected?

Still, she was to be his wife. The desire to
keep her for his own appealed now, more strongly than before. What
could he do so she would look upon his presence with favor?

An idea came to mind, and he smiled. Perhaps
it would soften her heart toward him a little. He hoped so.

Chapter
Three

The next morning, a gentle
tap
on her door awakened Elwytha. Alarmed,
she sat bolt upright. Yesterday’s distressing events streaked
through her mind. She was betrothed to the Commander.

Mayhap that was he, seeking entrance to her
virginal chamber?

She clutched the bedclothes to her neck,
fervently wishing yet again for the friendly bite of her steel
blades. Then she reminded herself that she was a warrior, not a
fainting violet. No more displays of weakness. Last night she had
succumbed to frayed nerves, but this morning she felt refreshed and
clear headed once more. It was time for courage, and for bold
plans.

Elwytha took a fortifying breath. “Announce
yourself.”

“
Hagma, miss,” came a small
squeak. “I have tea for you. And water to wash.”

With relief, she said, “Enter.”

The other girl hurried in, carrying her
burdens. She scurried about, pouring fresh water in the pottery
wash bowl, and setting the tea pot and cup on the small dresser.
Finished, she wrung her hands, obviously at a loss for what to do
next. “The Commander says if you wish, you may have a bath each
day. I need only know when, so I can prepare it.”

“
In the same room as
before?” Elwytha asked slyly, thinking of her weapons, snug beneath
the rug.

“
Nay, miss. The Commander
has another room. You will let me know when you wish to
bathe?”

“
Perhaps this even, before
supper,” Elwytha suggested, disappointed about the knives, but
pleased about the bath.

“
Very good, miss. What do
you wish to eat to break your fast this morn?”

This special treatment surprised Elwytha,
especially since she had refused the services of a maid twice to
the Commander. “You don’t need to wait upon me,” she told the other
girl. “At home I know my way about the kitchens.”

“
But you are a princess,”
Hagma said with some horror. “And the Commander…he said I am to
take good care of you. And I shall.”

Elwytha took a quick breath. Was Hagma a spy
for the Commander? Otherwise, what would be his purpose in
pretending courtesy to her? Whatever the case, clearly Hagma bore
no fault. She merely followed orders. Elwytha smiled to put the
girl at ease. “I would like bread, and perhaps fruit.”