Legacy (27 page)

“If you want my assistance, then I will be happy to oblige,” Narian said.

Though his reply was sincere, I could not hold his attention.
I had come to believe that nothing would ever penetrate Narian's defenses, but I was wrong, for London had clearly rattled him.

 

“I need a gift for Ailith, then we will have purchased something for everyone,” Miranna said, stopping to peruse the jewelry displayed on the counter in one of the shops.

She and I were visiting the Market District in search of inexpensive yet meaningful Christmas gifts for our personal maids and servants. Every year, we went shopping together for this purpose, though it was seen as improper for us to buy gifts for our bodyguards, who were forced to tolerate us far more extensively than were our maids. While I knew London, Destari and Halias relished working as they did, I would have liked to have been permitted to show our appreciation by giving them something for Christmas.

Winter had now descended upon Hytanica. While it was rare for it to be cold enough in the river valley for the Recorah to freeze solid, the landscape was nonetheless drab and dismal. Especially in the month of January, skies were gray and cold rain would often fall. At higher elevations, the precipitation would descend as snow, capping the mountains to our north in white.

Miranna left the shop and, weaving her way through the people on the street, made her way to a store where dress fabrics were sold. I continued to scan the display before me, although in truth my attention was captivated by the daggers at the end of the counter rather than by the jewelry. Ever since my self-defense lessons with Narian, I had developed a keener awareness of the weaponry carried by Destari and the other guards who worked in the palace. I knew little about the daggers this shop was selling, or any other form of weaponry,
except that simply taking note of them would be viewed as unladylike. I dragged my attention away from the knives and tried afresh to generate interest in the jewelry, vaguely cognizant of the opening and closing of the shop door.

As I passed my eyes over the merchandise, a strong arm took hold of me from behind, wrapping around my upper chest and pulling me against a well-muscled body. I clawed at the man's forearm, desperate to free myself and frantic that Destari was not coming to my aid. My assailant released me with a chuckle, and I wheeled about to come face-to-face with Steldor.

“What are you doing?” I demanded, cheeks aflame, temper rising. “Do you always pounce upon unsuspecting women from behind?”

“Actually, I prefer to pounce from the front,” he said, dark eyes lazily scanning my figure. “Besides, I thought you were learning self-defense. It would seem you need a better teacher.”

I glared at him, both in response to his criticism of Narian and the fact that he
somehow
had learned of the activities in which I had engaged during my visits to Baron Koranis's estate. I could only assume that Tadark had been overly talkative.

“My teacher is the best fighter in Hytanica,” I countered, hoping to strike a nerve.

Steldor smirked, enjoying my reaction as though he had intentionally baited me.

“You know your way with words, Princess, but just how proficient have you become with weapons?”

I stared speechlessly at him. Was he suggesting that he evaluate my skill and the effectiveness of Narian's teaching? And to what end?

“That is not your concern,” I said, beginning to move away from him to find Miranna at the shop across the street.

“I don't believe your father would view Narian as an appropriate teacher,” Steldor commented, following behind me. “Perhaps it would be enlightening to put the question before him.”

I turned back to him, distrustful of his motives. His smirk broadened as he recognized that he had gained the upper hand.

“If you wish to continue to learn self-defense,” he said, reaching out to finger a strand of my hair, “you'll find that I am your only option.”

“Well, since you are the person against whom I most need to defend myself, I will decline your gracious offer,” I retorted. “If you'll excuse me, I must finish my shopping before the day is out.”

I brushed past him to step out of the shop, but to my dismay, he followed right behind, my anger seeming to have encouraged him.

“As I am off duty, I shall accompany you,” he informed me, voice brimming with self-assurance and undisguised amusement.

“That won't be necessary.” I glowered at him in an attempt to burn a hole through his irritatingly perfect features.

“Not necessary, indeed, but it will make for an interesting afternoon.”

Turning my back to him, I made my way through the crowd toward my sister, doing my best to ignore the one person I would rather have seen run over by a buggy than at my side. But he fell into step with me, bent on ruining the rest of my day. As he continued to hold a one-way conversation beside me, I wondered what he might do if he had any inkling of my
thoughts: that were he, the great Lord Steldor, another man, I might have spent the afternoon smiling. Though he had a jealous nature, I doubted he had gone so far in his musings as to have considered that Narian posed a genuine threat to him.

IN THE DAYS FOLLOWING THE ENCOUNTER IN the market, I saw little of Steldor, and frustratingly less of Narian. While I glimpsed Narian at times within the palace, I was never able to speak openly with him. He seemed especially reluctant to say anything as long as London was with me, and his lack of candor was discouraging.

We were in the Grand Entry Hall when Narian joined Miranna and me to decorate the palace. While I had pinned my hopes on this occasion, our conversation was fleeting at best. There were so many other people about that we could say nothing of consequence to one another. I returned to my quarters in despair that evening, then released Destari from his post as I intended to stay in my rooms until I retired for the night. Too dejected to sleep, I picked up a book from the table adjacent to the sofa. I sank into one of the armchairs near the hearth, seeking its warmth, and opened to the first page.

A small noise from my bedroom, scarcely louder than the rattling of a shutter, caught my attention. As no other sounds
followed, I again concentrated on my book, reading until my eyelids drooped.

Yawning, I stood and tossed the volume onto my chair, feeling pleasantly disoriented. As I moved into my bedroom, my eyes flitted to the window beside the balcony doors, and I caught a small movement. I halted, my drowsiness vanquished. The moon was full, shining through the glass and creating a path of light across the floor, and at the edge of it, by the window, I could make out the silhouette of a man approaching me, his silent footfalls terrifying.

Before my paralyzed lungs could draw enough air to scream, the man spoke, his voice gentle and familiar.

“Don't be afraid, Alera. I just wanted to see you.”

“Narian!” I exclaimed. “How did you get in here?”

“I came in through the balcony doors.”

I stared at him in amazement.

“You can't be serious…. How did you get past the guards in the courtyard?”

“It wasn't that difficult.” Gesturing to the balcony behind him, he added, “You may want to start barring those doors.”

We locked eyes for a moment, both of us unsure what to say, then Narian moved forward. As he drew near, my pulse quickened, but not from fear. While I had been desirous of spending time alone with him, I was unprepared to handle the yearning that now burned within me.

With his compelling blue eyes upon my face, Narian reached out a hand and cupped my chin, then bent down to gently caress my lips with his own. I did not resist, and he put his other hand upon the small of my back, drawing my body to him and pressing his mouth more ardently against mine. I
closed my eyes and raised my arms to his shoulders, my fingers playing with his thick golden hair as I returned his kiss.

His lips broke from mine after a long moment and he brushed them across my forehead.

“I was beginning to think I had imagined that,” he murmured.

I nestled against his chest as he held me, his rich, earthy scent of leather and pine and cedar encircling me. Then reason returned and I grasped the impropriety of my circumstances. Here was a man, in my bedroom after dark, whose lips had been upon mine and in whose embrace I now stood, with no chaperone to be found. I forced myself to take a step back from him, and as I did so, Narian's hands slipped down my arms and he entwined his fingers with mine.

He did not ask for an explanation of why I had pulled away, likely recognizing the unseemliness of my position. Instead, he led me to the balcony doors, whereupon he turned to face me with a hint of a smile. “Shall we?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, hesitant yet curious.

“I can get you out of here.”

Though my common sense told me to refuse, the thought of doing something daring and impulsive was overwhelmingly appealing, especially given the person in whose company I would be, and so I nodded.

Narian retrieved a pack I had not noticed on the floor by the window and opened it, then tossed me some black clothing.

“Go put these on, and bring me one of your simpler dresses so you'll have something to change into later.”

I brought a plain linen gown to him, then moved into the bath chamber to don the clothing he had given me. During my self-defense lessons, I had become somewhat accustomed
to men's trousers and did not find wearing them now to be strange, though I would no doubt have felt differently if asked to face anyone other than Narian.

As I again approached the doors to the balcony, Narian pushed his dark cloak off his shoulders and removed the long-sleeved black leather jerkin he wore, helping me into it for warmth. He then rearranged the cloak, covering his light hair with the hood so that he became nearly invisible against the night sky. No covering was necessary for my hair, as it was already a match to the darkness.

Narian crouched down and opened one of the balcony doors, motioning for me to do the same, and we slipped out into the cold night air. He shut the door behind us and picked up the coiled rope that he had used to climb up to my room, tying a loop in its end.

“Slide your foot in here,” he said, holding it open for me.

I stood and inserted the toe of my shoe as instructed. He then tied the rope around my body, fastening the other end to the railing.

“I'm going to lower you down,” he informed me, “but first, we must wait.”

He pointed to the tower at the corner of the courtyard wall, and I saw that the guard who patrolled the planked walkway extending from the tower in two directions had just turned the corner and was walking toward us along the wall's western side.

Narian tugged me into the shadows cast by the palace, and we remained immobile until the sentry reversed direction and began to march south. When he reached the corner, he would pass through the tower and continue east down the length of the front courtyard wall.

Easily hoisting me over the railing, Narian began to lower
me toward the ground. My hands shook and my heart thumped until my feet connected with the earth and I knew that I was safe. I melted into the stone wall as Narian had told me to do, feeling light-headed at the risk I was taking. He climbed down, removed the rope from my body and tugged it off to the side of the balcony, close to the palace, so it would be less visible.

The sentry was now retracing his path and would soon pass through the tower and again turn north, so we stayed where we were. When the man had completed his tour and was once more moving away from us, Narian took my hand and led me across the courtyard to stand next to the wall. We then crept toward the ladder leading up to the tower, mere paces behind the guard moving above us on the walkway.

After waiting for the guard to progress through the tower, Narian motioned for me to climb the ladder. I obeyed, somewhat fearful of ascending straight skyward for fifteen feet upon the rickety contraption, but Narian climbed right behind, hands on the wood on either side of me, providing reassurance.

When we reached the tower, the frosty night breeze tousled my hair and turned the tips of my ears pink, and I shivered both from cold and excitement. Narian did not seem to notice the chill, however. Wasting no time, he pulled a second rope from his pack, fastening it around me as he had on the balcony. Moving to the western side of the tower, away from the sentry, he lifted me over the top of the wall to carefully lower me to the ground. To my chagrin, the rope then landed at my feet. I could see nothing as I stared upward in confusion, but before my confusion could turn to fright, I heard the swish of a cloak and Narian dropped to the ground.

“Can't leave a rope hanging here,” he muttered.

I marveled at our actions—Narian assisting a princess disguised in men's garments to escape the palace in the dead of night, then leaping off walls to join her. I was also a little embarrassed by how effortlessly he had evaded the Palace Guards, both when he had come for me and when we had left.

Narian again took my hand, this time to lead me down the slope into the apple orchard that lay between the palace and the Military Complex. We walked in silence until we came to the spot where Narian had tethered a horse.

“Care for a midnight ride?” he asked, not really posing a question, for I knew he would not take no for an answer.

I nodded as he untied the steed, and moved closer to the large sorrel animal. Thankfully, the horse was saddled, allowing me to mount by the far easier method of a stirrup rather than through use of Narian's knee.

After I was situated, Narian handed me the reins and swung onto the horse's back in the same way he had during my riding lesson. He set the horse off at an easy walk with a
cluck
of his tongue, and I surrendered the leathers to him as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

We approached the darkened city without saying a word, though the silence between us was not uncomfortable. I was happy to be with him, and to be doing something adventurous. The chill I had felt dissipated as we rode, partly from the warmth of the animal and partly from the warmth of Narian's body against mine.

The city was still as I had never before seen it, and in its tranquillity seemed almost like a different place. The streets were deserted except for the occasional guard on patrol who did not heed us. I reveled in my newfound freedom, at being out in the open with no need to hide that Narian and I were together, and with no bodyguards to separate us.

We meandered through the city without speaking, the horse's hooves sometimes clacking against cobblestone, other times muffled on a dirt street, and the houses as well as their inhabitants lay in deep slumber. The moon and stars, reflected by the rare dusting of snow upon the ground, were our primary sources of light, occasionally aided by a guard's torch or candle glow from a window. In the almost complete silence, I became much more conscious of the sound of Narian's breathing and matched it with my own. While in truth I knew little about him, I felt at one with him as I had ever felt with anyone else; despite London's concerns, I also felt safer.

Time eluded me, but all too soon we had circled around to the Royal Stables just east of the palace, and I smiled when I realized from whence the horse had been obtained. Narian dismounted, then to my delight, as I was not used to his assistance, told me to swing my right leg over the pommel of the saddle, and I slid into his arms to land beside him.

None of the grooms was working this late at night, and I hovered by the door as Narian put the horse in a stall. The barn was dimly lit by the moonlight that shone through the windows, but though lanterns hung at intervals on the walls, we dared not light one, lest we draw notice.

He came back to me after caring for our mount, and led me toward a stack of hay at the rear of the barn. We did not speak, but he motioned to me as he settled upon the hay, inviting me to sit beside him. I did so, and he draped his cloak around us both. Tired and warm, his arm around me, I rested my head upon his shoulder, inexpressibly content.

He shifted after a moment to lean against the wall, and I could feel a change in his mood as well as his posture.

“Tell me about London,” he murmured, after he had repositioned us both.

“What is it you wish to know?” I asked, perplexed by his interest.

“How long has he been your bodyguard?”

“For as long as I can remember. He took up the post when I was a little girl.”

“Was he involved in the war?”

“Yes, he was a scout at the beginning of his military career, then sometime during the war began leading troops into battle.” A now familiar pang of guilt hit me over how little I had bothered to find out about London over the years, as I could dredge up few specifics about his life.

“Then how old is he?”

“He is close in age to Destari and Halias, perhaps thirty-nine or forty.”

Narian made a sound of acknowledgment, but I could tell this was not the answer he had expected, for London looked much younger than his years.

“How does he know so much about Cokyri?”

“He was a prisoner for about ten months toward the end of the war,” I answered, and his body momentarily tensed.

“Ten months?” he repeated, slowly and incredulously. “The enemy does not usually last ten
days
when the Overlord extends his hospitality.”

“We don't know much about what he endured during that time,” I said, my mood becoming subdued as an image of London suffering as a prisoner of Cokyri entered my mind.

Narian was puzzled. “But how did London return to Hytanica? How is it that he lived? The Overlord does not release prisoners of war.”

“London escaped. After the Cokyrians took you from your home, there must have been great haste to withdraw from our lands, and he was perhaps less heavily guarded. I know nothing
else about it, except that he was quite ill when he returned to us. When he recovered, he was made a member of the Elite Guard in recognition of his bravery and of his service to the kingdom, and was assigned as my bodyguard.”

Narian fell silent, satisfied for the moment with what he had learned. Then the reason for his interest hit me, and I sat up to stare at him.

“Why were you so interested in London's ring?”

“It is Cokyrian,” he said, watching me closely. “One of a pair. Its twin sits on the hand of the High Priestess, while the one London wears belongs to the Overlord. It was thought lost in battle.”

I stared at him in disbelief. Had London, while a prisoner, managed to steal the Overlord's ring? Though that sounded impossible, it seemed more likely than his stumbling across it on a battlefield.

As I absorbed this information, I realized how meager was my knowledge of the history of the animosity between Hytanica and Cokyri.

“Narian,” I said, dropping my gaze, aware that he was one of the few people who might be willing to discuss such a subject with me. “Do you know how the war began? I have heard much about the war itself, but never about its beginnings.”

Narian laughed, probably aware himself that such an inquiry by a Hytanican woman would be viewed as improper, and I raised my head. His expression was so tender and open as he looked at me that I was certain I could see his soul in his eyes.