Beyond the Crimson (The Crimson Cycle) (15 page)

“You definitely belong in the stars,” I murmured
, glancing at the beautiful creature beside me.

His eyes became intense, searching mine as though to see if I really believed it to be true. I straightened to face him, not faltering as he moved in closer to me and though my heart was failing
, I kept my eyes focused on his wanting him to know I meant it.

He leaned in close enough for me to feel the warmth of his skin, gently putting his hand behind my head as he cupped the back of my neck, eyes still searching mine. “No… I really do not,” he muttered.

Then more forcefully, he pulled me in to meet his soft full lips. My whole body melted into the kiss as he leaned down on me, and every fiber in my body was on fire, burning with longing. I had never been with anyone before; my body had never responded to any touch with such fervor. I was ignorant in all the ways of being with a man, but all I knew was I wanted more. I wanted it so bad that my whole body ached for it. I was a wildfire and he was my fuel. I stood on my tiptoes, pushing deeper into his kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck, running my hands through his short black hair, unable to get enough of him. His hands started moving slowly but firmly tracing the curves of my body and each touch set a new flame to my nerves.

“I like this dress,” he murmured into my lips, keeping them moving on mine, as he carefully pushed me down into a large pile of hay. He rolled so that his upper body was hovering over me, hands continuing to outline my body
, but it wasn’t enough; all of him forever would not be enough.

He moved his lips to the corner of my mouth, tiptoeing across my jaw line with kisses finding the lobe of my ear, sending an agonizingly enjoyable tingling sensation throughout me.
I felt his hands start to go south, slowly lifting up my dress. I gripped the back of his head, willing him to go further… but then he stopped. He pulled away abruptly, dark curtains sliding across the green jewels.
No, no
I wanted to beg. It was physically painful.

He turned away from me, pushing his hand to his head and gripping a chunk of his hair
, as his elbows rested on his knees. He was taking deep breaths, no longer touching me at all, and I couldn’t help but feel like a child who had waited all year for Christmas presents only to find Santa had left none. I had to fight back the tears of disappointment and the whining that I could feel coming on, almost like a temper-tantrum. I didn’t even care how he felt about me at the moment; I just didn’t want it to end. I felt miserable and rejected. I finally sat up, feeling dizzy.

“Sorry,” he rasped finally, keeping his eyes down to the ground. His hand still clutched to the curl.

“For what?” I choked out, grasping a chunk of my silk dress into my hand.

“For trying to take your maidenhood like
this
.” He flung his hand towards the horse hay almost disgusted.

“Take my maidenhood?” I asked surprised. Was that what he meant to
do? I thought there were steps, things you did first before you got there. I widened my eyes; it wasn’t what I had thought I meant by wanting him, but I suddenly realized if he hadn’t stopped there was a good chance I might not have been strong enough to either, and as the distance cleared the fizzling smoke in my head, I started finding myself thankful that he had.

He looked back a
t me, knitting his eyebrows together. “You are a maiden, are you not?” 

“Yes,” I said, surprised at the question. His eyebrows loosened
, as his face twisted up into a funny look. “Does it matter?” I asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious about it.

He cocked his head and thought a moment, letting a sly smile curl u
p on the right side of his face. “I like it
very
much that you are.”

The words sent relief flooding through me and more th
an ever I was glad I had waited. “Are you?” I blurted out, hoping that maybe I had misunderstood Kay’s words and the glances he shared with Gawain, after all neither of them had actually said it; I had only assumed.

He bellowed out a laugh and gr
een jewels sparkled in his eyes. “I am most certainly not a
maiden
.”

I blushed.
“You know what I meant.”

The emeralds danced,
looking rather entertained as he watched my face for a moment, but then as quick as a flash, the smile fell to a scowl, and he dropped his head in his hands, gripping his hair so tightly on both sides I could see the white of his knuckles even in the moonlight. Finally, he lifted his head, eyes to coal, muscles in his jaw flexed. “Of course I am not,” he muttered angrily, rising to his feet, and it wasn’t just the answer that made me wish I had never asked.

“What’s th
e matter?” I asked, moving to stand, unsure what had caused him to become so angry.

“You have no sense about you,” he
said harshly, not looking at me. “You should not be out here.”

My heart picked up into a panic;
what the heck had just happened?
How could he go from one extreme to the other so quickly? But then I realized who I was talking about. I thought of the words I asked him. It was nothing more than he had asked me; it didn’t make sense. “Then why did you ask me out here?” I demanded.

He let out a
rough breath. “It is not too difficult to figure out is it?” His sinister eyes flickered to the pile of hay as some indication, and it made me sick, but I shook my head; the words he said to me couldn’t have merely been said just to lay with me. He confessed too much, his expressions were too innocent, and if that really was his reason, he would have tried to go through with it, not stop as a gentleman would.

“You’re lying,” my uninhibited mouth blurted before my wine-filled brain could stop it. “You… you and me—”

He turned and smirked wickedly at me, taking a step closer, “Needs and emotions are not the same, remember?” he interrupted, pointing at me, as he impudently spat my words—now loutishly tainted—back into my face. 

“
Needs?”
I shot out appalled, as he grinned callously at me. I felt gravity take every part of my body to the floor with only my skeleton somehow able to resist the pull. The words hurt badly as though a million knives shot through me and slit my body the whole way down, but the wounds burned, filling with a fire. My nails pressed deep into my palms. “Manipulating someone’s feelings for your own sordid entertainment is… it’s… it’s cruel!”

“I
never claimed differently.” He shrugged his shoulders coolly. “I only care for myself, and I like it that way.” 

I s
hook my head, feeling disgusted. “Then why did you stop?”

Something in his eyes flashed, but he
continued to grin condescendingly, giving a slight shrug. “Because if I had continued, I would be stuck with you following me around like some lost dog.”

My jaw all but hit th
e floor. “A lost
dog
?” I demanded furiously. “I wouldn’t follow
you
even if… even if you were the last map out of here!” I stomped my foot immaturely to make my point, but he only laughed. I felt more ridiculous in this moment than I had ever in my life. That small insignificant moment had meant more to me than I could have imagined, but it really meant nothing to him, and that’s why he stopped because he knew it would
never
mean anything to him. I felt tears work their way up to my eyes, and I desperately tried to fight it off, embarrassed that I had let myself become so worked up, hating my heart for tricking my brain into thinking I meant something to him.

H
is face went hard. “You saw the inscription,” he said accusingly, voice lowered into a seductive drawl as he pointed at me again. “Only a face. No heart, no soul… nothing beyond crimson blood.
I
warned you. It is your fault, not mine.”

I took rapid deep breaths that nearly came out as wheezing. It was true; he had been fair. He showed me his cold callous pieces
, but I chose to misplace them as the merciless forces of nature worked against me. My irrational heart had made a painful error by not listening to my brain and the consequence hurt badly, but I wouldn’t flounder around like some idiotic love struck teenager. I would salvage the bit of dignity I had left. “Well,
thank
you
for reminding me,” I replied as tartly as I could, and turned on my heel to walk away, but he grabbed my arm and wheeled me back to face him.

“Where are you going?” he demanded, lowering a malicious eyebrow
, but then his eyes widened, and he glanced away, muttering something as he quickly dropped his hold on me, looking somewhere between ashamed and irritated with himself.

What the heck was his problem?
He made it perfectly clear how he felt; why would he even care? The gesture catapulted into my rising wall, but I wouldn’t let it crumble.

I shoved
him away from me, feeling the warmth of his chest on my cold palms, and wanting nothing more than to have his body pressed against mine again. “Why do you
care
?” I spat out, making certain to emphasis the word. “After all, that would require an
emotion
!”

He crossed his arms.
“I care not at all,” he said smugly.

“Good!” I shouted. “Now leave me alone!” A
nd with that I stormed back into the grand hall.

He liked the red-haired boy because he walked funny. It meant he was different, different just like him. The red-haired boy knew it too that was why he was cautious and guarded, the same reason he did not ask questions about the remnants of the bruises still present on his face, and he liked that. 

             
He followed him to the yard. He said he would introduce him to the others. He hoped they were different too. 

             
The first boy he saw was older like the red-haired boy. He had dark brown hair and smiled a lot. He was happy; he would not understand the things the red-haired boy and he had to endure. No, they would not be friends.

The brown-haired boy looked at him peculiarly. He had seen that look before; it was pity. It was the same look the doctor and castle servants gave him. They pitied him for being so different. He despised it
, so he scowled at him. The brown-haired boy widened his eyes and gulped fearfully. He liked that, but he would not let them see him smile. 

Behind h
im a blonde boy bounded forward; he was happy too, but for some reason it did not bother him as much. The blonde boy appeared to be the same age as he was, and just like him, he was tall, but he was not different. In fact, he seemed rather perfect. He was about to scowl at him too, but the blonde-haired boy threw an arm around his shoulder and began to jabber on about a game they were playing.

The touch made him uncomfortable, but the game sounded fun, so he bit his thumbnail and tried his best to listen carefully. His mother said he needed to listen. People did not like him because he talked too much and never sat still. If he tried to be like them
, maybe they might like him. Maybe, just maybe, they would be friends.

I stormed back into the grand hall and immediately spotted Elaine. She glanced up, as though feeling my heat, and scrunched her eyes together, quickly excusing herself as she bustled over to me.

“What is the matter?” she asked full of concern.

I pouted out my lips. “Nothing,” I lied, not wanting to delve into it. In fact, all I wanted was to forget about it, and I knew exactly how to do that. “Let’s get some wine.”

She smiled coquettishly at me.
“I can do that.” Then she grabbed my hand, pulling me to a table filled with jugs of all different kinds of remedies.

“Bran!”
I heard Arthur shout, and the weak, masochistic part of me turned to the sound. Arthur rushed over to him, wrapping an arm around his neck. “You are missing the fun, Cousin! Come!” Brendelon looked anything but happy but didn’t resist against Arthur’s persuasion, as he pulled him to the table filled with his comrades laughing over beer. 

“My cousin here is the bravest, most fi
erce warrior you shall ever see.” I heard Arthur slur proudly, wrapping him up in an awkward hug.
And most uncaring too
, I mentally added. Brendelon clapped him on the back trying to get out of the hug but Arthur kept his hold. Finally, he let go and stumbled backwards a few feet. Brendelon grabbed his arm to steady him, and Arthur gave a thankful look, before plopping back down on the bench.

“Come Cousin! Sit with me!” H
e patted the bench beside him, as he chugged the remainder of his beer. Quickly, a serving boy ran over with a jug to fill the glasses.  Gawain, whose face was now as red as Kay’s hair, came stumbling forth, handing Brendelon a mug of beer and laughing.

Elaine pushed a cup into my hand
, and I drank it in three large gulps, quicker than one should drink wine, still glaring at him. She laughed. “You should try the ale!”

I turned to her j
ovial face, which made me smile. “Let’s try
everything
,” I said mischievously. She filled up two more glasses and tapped mine with hers, as we both drank it down grinning like naughty children.

A large man with a face full of hair and hair buzzed very short to his head jumped up onto one o
f the benches, beer mug in hand. “Let me tell you all a story of men, brave and true,” his voice rang out. Loud cheers came from all of the tables, and I could not help but smile at the strong camaraderie that was evident everywhere in this room. Elaine squeezed my arm, giddy as could be. “As you know, those horrendous sea dogs, as ignorant as can be, think they dare stand a chance against our dear War Duke.”

Everyone cheered raising their cups to Arthur, who smiled proudly. “Do not forget my valiant knights!” he chipped in.

“And do not forget that we have a troll on our side,” Brendelon sneered.

There were uproars of laughter and Gawain, too drunk to even fake an angry face, laughed as well as he threw a slab of bread at Brendelon’s head, who gracefully ducked out of the way. “Well
, one look at the ill-omened raven and their fate was already told!” Gawain shot back.

Brendelon laughed, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

              “Enough children let Bors finish his tale,” chided a handsome young man with long dark hair.

             
“Aye, please let Lancelot hear the tale of how wonderful he was,” Gawain joked, punching him in the arm.

             
“And all the ladies who swooned for him after…” laughed Kay, batting his eyes mockingly.

             
Lancelot blushed but laughed anyway.

             
“As I was saying,” Bors continued in good spirits, “those mangy Sea dogs sailed many days to come to our shores only to be met by the hands of Arthur and his valiant knights, especially myself might I add.” He grinned. “A quick attack they were expecting, but Arthur knew the tricks of the land. High on the rising hills half of us hid out of sight as to appear that we were few in men. Arthur rode forward, brave as always, with Bran on one side and Kay on the other, giving the Saxons one more chance to surrender and save their miserable lives. Of course, being the ignorant fools that they are, they quickly declined and chose death instead.”

             
He spoke with such intensity that he had the whole hall quiet, intrigued by the tale. I snuck a glance at Brendelon, whose face looked slightly ashamed, but maybe I was imagining that.

             
“Their long-haired barbarian of a chief had the audacity to insult our War Duke, which was foolish and clearly unacceptable. Bran ready to lurch forward and only stopped by the hand of Arthur, keeping with proper conduct of war, threatened that he will have his head for the insult.”

             
Arthur wrapped his arm around Brendelon’s shoulders in a form of gratitude. He gave a weak smile in return, but then quickly chugged the remainder of his beer.

             
“We should not have been so kind,” Bors continued without missing a beat, “because would you not know, those mangy dogs already had their filthy men surrounding ours that stood below the hillside, sneaking around on foot through the trees and blending in with the dirt. Out they came, thinking they had the element of surprise, their barbarian chief screaming for us to surrender. But Saxons take no prisoners, and we were not afraid. Bedivere rounds our men, spreading out from the left, as I take the others to the right, but Saxons fear the horses so they do not leave the safety of the trees and instead wait as their large war band begins to march in from the shores, thinking they will take us from the sides and behind, as we are distracted from the west.

             
“Lancelot and Gawain, watching from the distance, dismount all of our men from their horses and begin to track down the hillside through the trees. It is no surprise that Lancelot is swift and stealthy, but even Gawain managed to sneak down unnoticed.” Bors grinned at Gawain as a few of the others laughed at the poke, and even though I had expected Brendelon to jump right in, he kept his eyes down and picked at the wood board with his long tanned fingers, almost like he wasn’t listening at all but in deep thought about something else.

             
“Now, those fools are only watching our men who still stand in the open fields, preparing to attack the oncoming forces of sea dogs, so they do not notice the others who are marching downward, too blind to even see their own impending doom. Then suddenly their chief gives out a loud war cry and in moments it becomes complete chaos. Our men in the open field charge forward, led by Arthur, who dodged every blow that came his way, taking down four to five of them with each swing of his sword—”

             
Arthur grinned, shaking his head at the exaggeration but did not argue with the story.

             
“—the poor fools never knew what was coming. Bran and Kay led forces from each side, attacking the fleeing mongrels as Arthur continued the attack from the middle. At this time, myself and Bedivere, tired of them having all the fun, began to take on the flanks that snuck between the cracks of the horses. Fearing the horses, most of them made their way onto terrain that was difficult to ride, including their war chief who was suddenly very regretful that he had not taken our offer of peace when he had the chance. Bran remembering his promise, leapt off of his horse, to follow him into the trees.”

I watched as many of the girls stared at him dreamily.
They can have him,
I thought bitterly, as I gulped down another glass of ale to cool the unwanted burning stabs of jealousy.

“Bedivere and I also made our way into the forest, following the cowards to their doom. Well
, those men are more animalistic than I had originally thought, and suddenly from the branches of the trees, they jump down taking me with them. I thought I was at my end, but then like the brave leader that he is, Arthur rushes to my rescue and slices those savages to bits before they can have me. I was to give him my gratitude, but he already moved his way along the enemies, moving towards the Saxon chief in a race against his own cousin for the head of that hideous chief dog. 

“He moves forward from the left
, as Bran hacks his way from the right, ominous eyes only on one thing. That poor fool had eyes wide in fear not knowing which way to run, so he heads up the mountain side, but at the top is Lancelot and beside him is the giant Gawain so he stops, wondering who he would have better luck with: the renowned War Duke, whom all other kings fear; the giant fearless warrior with the skilled swordsman by his side; or the pretty boy with terrifying eyes.” Bors smirked again at his own joke.

“Well
, he did not know the wrath of the raven so down he goes right into the man who wants him the most. The side of his mouth curled into a malicious smile and suddenly the Saxon chief stops, instantly knowing he has chosen the wrong knight to press his luck with, but by now it is too late because the raven has already taken flight, and with one slash across from the left and coming down from the right, the Saxon chief’s head rolled.”

Bors
paused dramatically for just a moment, and though Brendelon’s eyes stayed down to the table, I saw a slight smile play on his lips as the men cheered at the death of the Saxon leader, but then as erratic as he was, his face went straight.

“We had hacked them limb from limb, the hills and fields running red with blood and once they see their war chief slain they know they have no other choice to surr
ender, but little did they know the rage had just begun—”

“Th
at is enough,” Kay said suddenly. “You talk too much Bors and there are ladies present who do not need to know the bloody details of war.”

Brendelon pushed his hand through his
hair—the odd look on his face lifted—and he shifted his dark eyes to meet mine for a brief moment, but looked away quickly. I was dying to know what Bors was about to say; I was certain it was another secret, but apparently I was the only one because everyone else jested and cheered, hailing Arthur and his knights, laughing as their beer and wine was filled, and the music started up again. 

Elaine grabbed my hand and start
ed twirling me into a new dance. I giggled forgetting Bors’ story for a moment, as she filled up the wine glasses. We danced and laughed as everything around me spun into one big blurry brush stroke, only able to focus on the sights directly in front of me, but I felt happy and that was all that mattered. Bedivere had worked his way over to her and keeping her promise she saved a dance with him, so I plopped down on the bench to take a rest and steady my swinging vision.

Elaine suddenly appeared to my left throw
ing her arms around me giggling. “You will not b’lieve what Bed told me,” she slurred. “Lanss-lot is asking Brendelon’s permission to dance with you.” She giggled again but the words irritated me. I didn’t belong to him; he wasn’t my keeper.

I huffed out a breath
. “It’s none of his business,” I said snottily.

“Do not worry, he tol’ him he could,” she said grinning, too intoxicated to understand why I was annoyed.

I shook my head, but she seemed to not see that either as she yanked me back to the main floor with more energy than a hyperactive child. I was getting tired, but I followed because I needed the distraction. She led me back to the drink table and as she turned around to hand a cup to me, her eyes widened and I whipped behind me to see what she saw.