Monday, May 6, 2013

Part 56




As the night progressed more food and drink were brought in.  She frowned but it wasn’t her place to dictate what was appropriate. Verin was laughing and sharing stories with the mercenary generals.  It wouldn’t do to have a mere bodyguard correct her lord in front of the allied officers.
Occasionally she’d catch a glimpse of Onata in the party, usually surrounded by men like a mother duck with her hatchlings. 
Then she saw a familiar head of flaming red hair approach. 
“You’ve done well for yourself,” Burana said. 
Burana held out a tankard of foul smelling ale.
“You know I don’t.”
Burana smirked.
“Thought I’d try.  It’s been a while.  I thought maybe other things had changed as well.”
“Not my faith.”
“Of course not, but can that last forever?”
“How are you doing?”
She tried to give an honest smile.  She was happy to see her, but Burana had an edge in her voice that was confusing.
“Not as good as bodyguard to Lord Verin. I hope you won’t sneer at us lowly rank and file soldiers.”
“Of course not.”
“Do you think your gods gifted you this lofty position?”
“Are you drunk?”
She looked down at the other goblet in her hand.
“Maybe.”
“I’ll find you tomorrow and we’ll talk then.”
“I want to talk now.”
“No, I can’t be distracted right now.”
“Too good to talk to me, huh?  Too good to talk to the unbeliever?”
Greza didn’t know what to do.  Burana was only getting worse and if she got more beligerant it could embarrass her in front of Verin or worse: embarrass Verin in front of his allies. 
Then Tempest stepped in. 
“Soldier, unless you have important business with Lord Verin, I suggest you leave.”
Tempest’s voice was low like distant thunder and didn’t carry beyond their ears. 
Burana looked up at the horned giant and backed away without another word. 
“Thanks,” Greza said.
Tempest gave her a nod and went back to his place behind Verin’s throne. 
Verin said he wasn’t going to drink tonight so he could keep a clear head, but he held a giant goblet in his hand that had been full an hour ago. 
As the hours ticked by the room became more vacant as the soldiers went off to sleep, “patrol” the city for more entertainment or retire to their rooms for love making. 
She knew from history that every army had problems with morality.  It came with the stress of never knowing if it would be one’s last day or not.  Still, she hated how the Divine Lights’ mission was being carried out by such lost people.
“Well, gentlemen, I’m calling it a night,” Verin said to his generals. “See you in the morning and we’ll get back to conquering an empire.”
He stood up and waved for her to follow him.  She was going to regardless.  He had been drinking and she didn’t know his level of inebriation.  His coordination could have been thrown off, leaving him vulnerable to attack. 
They walked down the hall that lead along the outside of the wall.  An arched colonnade gave them an open view of the city below them.  The wind still had a touch of chill to it but Verin didn’t even have a cloak on. 
She wondered if he came from a cold place or if he just didn’t mind it.  She minded.  The wind was coming right up her dress. It was very pretty but it wasn’t at all practical. 
“What do you see down there?”  He asked.
She walked to the ledge and rested her elbows along the wall.  The stone was cold and seeped through her sleeves almost instantly. Greza saw that most of the lights had gone out and only a few stars remained in the man-made sky. 
“A sleeping city.” 
He looked at her and shook his head with a smile.
“I didn’t mean so literal.”
She looked again. 
“I see an uncertain future.”
“I thought certainty was the one luxury religion gave a person.”
“Only in a few areas.”
He turned away from the view and leaned back against the short wall.
“I keep wondering what chain of events brought you to me.”
He spoke without looking at her.  It was as if he was talking to himself.  She examined his face for signs of being drunk.  He didn’t look it but he didn’t look himself either.  It like like a perfect song with one of the instruments out of tune.
“That’s one of the certainties I have,” she said.
“You have some crazy ideas about the gods, but you are one of the most exceptional women I’ve ever met.” 
She blushed and cleared her throat at the complement.  He must be drunk. No one complimented her like that.  She was a good fighter, sure, but she was hardly exceptional.
“I think my lord is exaggerating.”
“No,” he said, the smile disappearing from his face. “If anything, I’m not doing you justice.”
She didn’t know what to say.  She folded her hands and stared at the city with all her attention.  This sudden praise was as undeserved as it was unexpected. 
“You look beautiful tonight.  You look beautiful every night, but especially more so tonight.  You’re strong, pretty, innocent and probably the most intelligent person in the army.”
“I…I hardly think that’s the…the case, my lord.”
Beautiful? She wasn’t beautiful.  Everyone agreed that Orks were ugly and she was an Ork.  Half Ork, yes, but still most people saw the green skin and black hair and counted her as an Ork.  She knew she wasn’t pretty which meant only one thing: Verin was drunk. 
He fell silent and she didn’t dare look at him in case he was looking at her.
Did he really think she was pretty?  She didn’t see how unless he had problems with his vision that she was unaware of.  But if he did…  What if he really did think she was pretty?
She felt her cheeks grow warm and a strange tingling sensation ran up and down her back. 
He moved closer to her and rested a hand on her shoulder.  If felt like the heat of a fire through her dress. 
“Greza, come to my room tonight.” 
She gasped and held her breath as her hands shot up to cover her mouth. 
There was no denying what he was suggesting.  She had been around masters and soldiers long enough to know what he meant. 
Two powerful ideas instantly began battering around inside her head.  One side was horrified at the idea.  Everything her religion taught her told her that sex outside of marriage was a sin.  It caused pregnancies which led to children without fathers and proper role models, it lead to disease and led to bastards living in poverty.  All her life she had ran from it with a desire to be pure for the one man she would marry.
The other part of her mind screamed at her to say ‘yes’ and let him take her to his bed where she could be with him.  She’d have his lips on hers and his hands on her body.  Despite her best efforts, she had imagined such a thing more times than she was proud of. Every inch of her body burst with its desire to have him on top of her. She really had no idea what it was like but she had a strong imagination. 
She wasn’t ignorant about the technical aspects.  She had seen it done at parties in front of her.  She had heard the moans of pain/pleasure and seen the looks of absolute ecstasy on their faces. There were few things she wanted more than to experience that with Verin. 
But Verin was above her.  He wasn’t hers to have.  He belonged to the Princess that was to appear.  That meant she was meant for someone else and she had a duty to whoever that person was. 
Verin’s mission in the prophecy was too important to ruin because of her selfish wants. 
“I can’t.”
His brows lowered.
“Can’t?”
“It’s not right.”
“Is this a religious thing?”
“Partially.”
He stepped away and looked her up and down.
“Do you want to?”
“Well…that’s a complicated answer.  There are several simultaneously-“
“Do you want to, yes or no?”
“Yes,” she said before she could stop herself. 
She was about to take it back but then she realized that it was true.  She did want to.  She wanted it very badly.
“Then let’s go.”
Right then all she had to do was remain silent and she’d get her secret desire.  She’d be with Verin like no one else was.  She’d feel what it was like to have him press down on top of her and feel his breath on her skin. 
All she had to do was stay silent and take his hand. 
But the cost was too high.  She’d be robbing her future husband and she’d be going against the commandments of her gods.  She knew what was right. She just had to have the courage to do it. 
She swallowed before answering.
“But I can’t.”
He sighed.
“I’m getting tired of your religious piety.  If you want to, then don’t let some fake spirits in the sky tell you otherwise.”
“They’re not fake.  They’re real and I follow them.  If I betrayed them then I could betray anyone and then how could you ever trust me?”
“I don’t care,” he snapped.
His flash of anger made her step back.  
“Come on, let’s go,” he said and held out her hand. 
If he continued this she knew she’d give in eventually.  Already she felt more like she following him to his bed. 
“No,” she said.
Then she turned around and ran. 
She ran back inside and through the halls to her borrowed quarters.  There she slammed the door and locked it. 
Her breaths came in great heaves, but not from the short run.  Her heart was pounding like a woodpecker’s tapping and her eyes were burning.  When she rubbed them her hands came away wet. 
This had all gone horribly wrong.  Now he would hate her and send her away.  He hated her religion and now he hated her. 
Greza sat down on her bed and collapsed backwards into the mountain of pillows.
How was she supposed to face him in the morning?  All she wanted to do was run and hide.  He had offered her his bed and she rejected him as if she were somehow better than him. 
Was she being punished for her sinful thoughts?  Was this a test of fate or was this just one of the unfortunate aspects of normal life?  Whatever it was, was unfair and it hurt.    

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