Each day they were given a chore, and it seemed that each was more arduous than the last. Mining was a hard, dirty job, and climbing steep rocks while attached to a woman wasn’t easy. Farming was just as hard and dirty, but there was little if any climbing involved.
But any job they were given was easier than sleeping in the same bed, night after night.
One night they’d tried sleeping on the floor, which had allowed them to lie as far apart as possible, given their restraints. It had been a long and uncomfortable night, and somehow they had drifted toward one another in sleep and ended up with legs entwined and Bela’s elbow in his chest, in spite of their efforts. The bed was so small they always ended up all over each other in the night, and it sagged so much it drew them toward the center, night after night. That would’ve been fine with any woman but Bela.
Merin was hard most of the time these days, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Six years ago Bela had told him she’d taken a potion to prevent babies. That had been a lie; one of many. This time around he knew damn well she was taking nothing to keep her from conceiving, as she didn’t plan to allow for the possibility.
Neither did he.
In the past he’d gone without sex a lot longer than twenty-two days. He could do so again. It was just difficult when Bela was always right
there
.
Since the night he’d heard Kitty speak, the sword had remained silent. Maybe Bela was mistaken when she said that his hearing the weapon’s words meant something. It might’ve been a fluke, or a mistake. Maybe the power had grown too great to contain, and that was why he’d heard. Still, he hoped he was wrong. What soldier wouldn’t want such a weapon? Even though the crystal grip of the sword was too small for his comfort, almost as if it had been made for a woman, a part of him hoped he would be able to keep it.
When he and Bela went their separate ways, whom would Kitty choose?
They left the cottage on this fine morning knowing someone—it was usually Tyman or Clyn—would be waiting with their assignment for the day. Merin was ready. He could use a bit of hard physical labor right about now. He wanted to be exhausted, to be so tired he could not so much as think of sex. He wanted to work himself into a state of sheer exhaustion, so that he wouldn’t wake in the night smelling Bela’s hair or being aware of the way her body fell against his in the wilting bed.
He was surprised to find Bela’s mother waiting outside their door. She wore a smile that spoke of secrets, and she greeted her daughter and that daughter’s soon-to-be-ex-husband with a hug. “You two look lovely and well rested on this fine morning,” she said.
Merin had no time for niceties. “What’s the chore for today?” he asked. “Would you like us to dig a big hole and then fill it in?” Even though his tone was harsh, a little digging wouldn’t be a bad thing. He wanted every muscle in his body to ache so he could think of nothing else.
“Not today, General. You’ll be glad to know your current task is an easy one.”
Great. Just want he didn’t want.
“You two are to throw a party.”
“A
party
?” Bela said, sounding as horrified as Merin felt.
“Yes,” Gayene said in a serene voice. “A party for the people of this village. An evening of merriment for your friends and neighbors. There should be food and drink, as well as music or some other sort of entertainment.”
“How are we supposed to provide these things?” Merin asked. “Can I use the currency I carried with me on this journey to buy . . .”
Gayene was shaking her head before he could finish the question. He was not surprised by the negative answer. Nothing about this ordeal was meant to be easy. There was only a little bit of food in the cottage. They could barely fit themselves in the one-room hut, much less the entire village. “And how many days do we have to plan this
party
? ”
“Providing all that is necessary is your task, General, and the party will take place tonight.”
“Tonight?” Bela screeched. “You take weeks to plan a get together! This isn’t fair!”
“Fair,” Gayene said thoughtfully. “Why, I’d say you should’ve thought of that before you tricked General Merin into marriage.”
Merin felt a moment of vindication, but since he was stuck in the same hell as Bela, his satisfaction was short-lived.
Gayene departed, leaving Bela with a plain brown package which apparently held the dress she would be required to wear. Merin was told to wear his uniform, which had been stored with his other things and would be delivered before the end of the day. The party would commence at sunset.
When he and Bela were alone and the unopened package had been deposited on their miserably misshapen bed, they stared at one another blankly. Hard physical labor was much easier than this.
“Food first, I suppose,” Merin said. “Do you hunt?”
“Of course,” Bela said, sounding only slightly insulted by the question. Her eyes lit up. “If we make a few extra kills, we can barter for the other things we’ll need. The woman who owns the bakery is always happy to trade for meat. Byrnard Pyrl plays the lute quite well, and so does Pero Nestor. I think we can convince one of them to make a trade, as well.”
Merin tried to think as she did. Bartering was a good idea. “I noticed that the pub is in need of repair. The door is almost off its hinges and there’s damage to the roof. Think the owner would trade labor for mugs and ale?”
Bela smiled, and it was quite nice. Wide and real and filled with joy. “What a wonderful idea. I think we can make this work!” Without thinking, she stuck out her hand. Without thinking, he took it. They shook hands as if consummating a business deal, but quickly broke the contact. The simple touch of hand to hand had ignited something best left cold.
THEY
had been lucky in their travels thus far, Savyn thought as he watched Lady Leyla step into her carriage to begin the day’s ride. There had been a few periods of light rain, but no storms, which were frequent enough in springtime. Savyn didn’t mind getting wet, and the sentinels didn’t seem to mind, either. As long as Lady Leyla was dry and comfortable, all was well.
The carriage got under way, and as had become his custom, Savyn directed his horse to the right side of the carriage, where on occasion he could glance to the side and catch a glimpse of Lady Leyla through the open windows. He longed to ask her why she always looked so sad, but he didn’t dare approach her, much less ask such a personal question. Only Minister Bragg and Mistress Hilde dared speak to her.
And yet, Savyn did watch. Night and day, he kept a close eye on her. Sometimes he imagined himself taking her face in his hands and asking her to smile for him. He might as well imagine challenging the emperor for her hand, for both were equally impossible.
There was a warmth in his heart for her, what was surely no more than an infatuation, and yet . . . it felt like more.
More than once on this long morning he had glanced to the side to see her watching him with an expression of sheer annoyance on her exquisite face. He supposed a gentleman would acknowledge the lady’s annoyance and ride elsewhere, but he did not. Once, late in the morning, their eyes met from a great distance and Savyn felt a swelling of his heart—and a swelling of something other than his heart, as well.
He could never have one such as her to call his own, so while they traveled and she was his to protect, he would imagine that she might be his own. Such imaginings were feeding his dreams quite well these days. He gave the lady a smile, and she sharply looked away from him.
There was no logical reason for it, but Savyn was sure that Lady Leyla was not nearly as cold as she appeared to be.
BELA
was proud of herself and of Merin as their plans came together. They’d gone to her family home to gather her bow and a quiver of arrows before setting out, and before the sun was directly overhead, they’d each killed one large boar. One they used to trade; the other had been roasting all afternoon and would soon feed the village.
The party would surround their cottage. There were burning torches and a few borrowed tables, and lots of ale and mugs, as the pub owner had been glad to make the trade Merin had suggested. There were wildflowers on the tables, arranged in a hodgepodge of borrowed glasses. Bela had been surprised at how eager people had been to help, to loan things and make trades. Normally she didn’t like to ask for help, so she had not known.
She cut her eyes to the side, trying for a nonchalant expression. Merin looked very nice in his uniform. It fit him perfectly, showing off his fine body and impeccable posture. He had shaved for the festivities, and she liked the look of his face when he was clean-shaven. He had a very nice jaw, strong and nicely edged, and his lips should not be hidden under facial hair. They were . . . nice. Yes, he was a fine figure of a man, one any normal woman would be glad to call her own.
Most of the day’s chore had progressed very well. Bela’s only problem was with the gown she had been ordered to wear. She looked down at the fabric, which was clutched in her hands, and grimaced before ordering Merin to wait outside, on the other side of the door. He obeyed, without comment this time.
She could refuse to wear the stupid dress, she supposed, but that would mean failure, and failure meant Rafal would cut the rope and all their work, a week of torture, would be for nothing. They wouldn’t be able to attempt dissolution of the marriage for another three years, and all their suffering to this point would be wasted.
Merin waited on the other side of the door while she changed into the unwanted gown. What was wrong with her green gown? It was good enough for other occasions when she was ordered to dress like the daughter of a chieftain, so why would it not do now? It was difficult to move as much as she should, with the restrictions of the rope that bound her to Merin, and she had to stand near her side of the door and pull the dress over her head, and then work the fabric under the rope that encircled her waist. Like the braided rope which had almost become a part of her, the required gown was red and black and white, and it also seemed to be braided. Strips of gathered fabric swirled and entwined, hugging her body too closely. The V-shaped neckline dipped much too low. No matter how she tugged at the fabric, you could see the swell of her breasts, even though that swell was not as impressive as that of other women. Time and again she attempted to pull the material up and over her relatively small breasts and closer together in the center. No matter how she tried, that soft swell of her bosom was revealed. How embarrassing!
Throwing her hands in the air, she gave up. The dress was not going to cooperate. There were black strappy sandals set with red stones, and her golden headband, but she’d left them on the bed and could not fetch them without Merin coming inside.
How she longed to spend the entire night right here, a solid wooden door between them. Was she required to actually attend the party? Could she not just remain here while Merin, on the other side of the door, watched over the proceedings?
Finally, he called, “Aren’t you dressed yet?”
“I am,” she said sullenly. As he opened the door slowly, she added, “If you can call this ‘dressed.’ ”
Merin studied her intently, his gaze raking her up and down. She knew that look. It was feral and primal. She had seen it once before, when he’d hurt her. She’d seen hints of it once or twice in the past few days, but never like this.
“Shoes,” she said, pointing to the bed and turning away so she didn’t have to see that disturbing expression on his face.
He followed her. “And your hair.”
She snapped her head around and glared at him. “What’s wrong with my hair?”
He smiled at her. “Nothing, but you wear that braid almost all the time, and a gown like this one deserves something special.”
Bela tried to sneer. “I’ll get my ladies’ maid right on that.”
She had to sit to put on her shoes, and Merin joined her on the edge of the bed. He began undoing her braid, and with a sigh she allowed him to do as he wished. If it kept him occupied, that would be a good thing, she supposed.
His fingers felt heavy and good in her hair. From where he sat, Merin could easily reach her hairbrush, which had been left on the small bedside table. He began to brush her hair, moving gently and slowly, as if afraid he might hurt her. She closed her eyes and savored the sensations. Since he could not see her face, he would never know that she liked this.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he said grudgingly as he brushed her hair.
“So do you,” she responded just as reluctantly.
He sighed a little. “The proper response to such a compliment is a simple thank you. And besides, men are not supposed to be beautiful.” Now he sounded like he was having fun with her.
“But . . .” she almost said
But you are
, before deciding that was unwise. “I have never been proper, and I don’t intend to start now.”
He laughed, turned her about, and placed the circlet of gold in her hair. Once again, his eyes raked down her body. “More black, red, and white. Are the colors symbolic in some way?”
“Yes.”
“How? Tell me.”
Her mouth went dry, and she found she could not discuss love and passion with Merin, especially not now and not here on this bed. “Ask the seer for an explanation, if you wish one.”
“I’d rather hear it from you,” he said without anger.
Bela stood abruptly. “Perhaps another time, when we have nothing better to discuss. Our guests will be here soon.”
Merin stood, and again he gave her that look that chilled her to the bone. It was a look that cut straight through her, a look that she felt to her toes. She’d rather weed a hundred gardens or mine a hundred days than be put in this position again.
Heaven above, at this moment she felt as if Merin actually were a husband.
Her
husband.