Defiance Ch. 13

What if someone wanted to spar with him? Lukas was as likely to cut his own foot off as he was to fool anyone into thinking he could fight with a blade. What if he was called upon to fight, what if he was actually expected to kill someone!

"You alright?" The solider beside him asked, looking down at him from a dizzying height. "You look about ready to fall over."

"I'm fine." Lukas said tightly. He cleared his throat and tried a smile instead. "My name is Alec."

"Kathilias." The solider replied. "You're new." It wasn't so much a question as a statement of fact.

"Yes, I was recommended for this post a few days ago."

"You must be good with a bow to have so quickly earned the commission." The solider hoisted his own weapon, a huge long bow which was easily as tall as its wielder. "You ever used one of these?"

Lukas looked at the weapon with a causal air, though inside he was shocked by the sheer brutality of it. He was unsure if he could even draw it himself and inwardly shook at the thought of what might happen to a man that was struck with such a forceful construction.

"No," He said at last. He hefted his Recurve bow and presented it with a slight smile. "This may not be so large but I'd wager it has more accuracy than yours."

"Perhaps," The solider agreed, eyeing the graceful curve of the bow doubtfully. "It wouldn't reach as far though, that's for certain."

"You might be surprised." Lukas said confidentially, forgetting for the moment who he was speaking to. "She's small but she reaches considerable distances when drawn, though I'll admit she might not down a man as easily as yours."

"Aye, we'll see." The soldier said, though there was a slight smile on his lips. "We'll be put in practice together no doubt. You can prove your little bow then."

Lukas grinned at him suddenly feeling much more at ease. Perhaps he wouldn't be cut to pieces on his first day at post after all.

**********

Tate's limp was noticeable and people were staring. No doubt the whole castle now knew about his very public beating. He felt his cheeks flame and struggled with the need to just drop into a ball. It had been bad, worse than any other time Christian had attacked him.

The prince had worked himself into a fit, believing that Tate had tried to escape again. No amount of pleading would convince him otherwise and Tate had taken the brunt of Christian's fury in the way of fist and foot.

He had been forced to his bed for almost four days to recover. Rose had been beside herself trying to care for him and was now utterly petrified of the prince. He tried to comfort her but he had been too far gone in his own pain at first to do much to help her. Even though he was better she was still quiet. Her eyes glazed when he spoke to her and he could not get her to smile no matter how hard he tried.

The prince had not touched his face again after the initial slap so Tate's bruises were well hidden beneath flowing silk clothing. The one bruise that adorned his face was an angry purple and yellow that Tate had only briefly observed in a mirror. He could not bear to look at himself for any amount of time anymore but he had been aware that it had looked bad during his brief inspection. He was surprised that Christian insisted upon his presence in court when he looked so ghastly.

Still, his time abed had given him ample opportunity to contemplate his too brief encounter with the prophet. He recognised something in the haggard creature that spoke of power and light, of a potential to be something that was beyond reckoning, and to his amazement Tate recognised something of himself in the fabled thing. For he was a creature and no mere man, though Tate could not begin to comprehend the soothsayers true form. They had bound him somehow, not with the chains they used to drape him but with a magic that soaked the doors and rock of his cell.

He could not puzzle it out alone. He needed to see Tanis and speak to him but Christian would not allow Tate out of his sight. The halfling wondered how long it would take the prince to trust him again. God's he hoped it was not too long. There were things he needed to do that did not include soothing the insanity of a mad man.

Christian stepped beside him, not quite touching as they made their way towards the great hall. "Why are you walking so slowly?" He demanded. "Hurry up!"

"I'm walking as fast as I can." Tate answered stiffly.

He almost thought Christian would hit him again before the prince stormed ahead in a fit of irritation. Tate watched him go, wishing for very bad things to happen to the loathsome prince.

******

Lukas tried not to hold his breath as Tate walked past him. His heart pounded loudly in his ears as the other man walked almost close enough for him to reach out and touch. Look at me, he silently willed, please just look at me.

He couldn't believe it. Tate, his Tate! Lukas thanked all the god's that he had swapped posts with Kathilias earlier than morning. The big solider had arranged to see a woman in town and had begged Lukas's help. The tinker never dreamed it would result in seeing his beloved, who was said to rarely visit the great hall.

Tate looked thinner than Lukas remembered. His clothes were fine and clearly tailored for him but Lukas thought he looked lost in the grand and gloomy fabric. He'd let his hair grow, he noticed with some surprise. Tate wore it unbound around his shoulders with one braid tied off at the front in an unusually long style.

The prince stood close beside him, almost radiating an aura of supposed ownership. He towered above Tate despite their difference in age and seemed inclined to make it clear to the diminutive half-blood that he was the more dominate of the two of them.

Tate's expression was unreadable. His eyes looked vacant, his body tense. A great bruise covered his left cheek, marring the golden hue a deep purple.

"I wouldn't stare." A voice said close to him. Lukas jumped and felt a wave of dread as he found himself looking into the eyes of the prince's captain. "His highness doesn't like it."

"No sir, of course not." Lukas willed himself not to sneer. There was something about the captain that he disliked immensely. It wasn't just his imperious attitude or the way he seemingly enjoyed berating his men, there was something else, something cruel and cold, something to be feared. He was the sort of man that had no doubt spent his childhood hurting small defenceless animals and Lukas's survival instincts were warning him to be wary.

"Like the look of the half-blood do you?" His eyes swept up and down the length of Lukas so intimately that had he been among his own people he would have considered it a proposition. "What was your name again?"

"Arden sir." He said quietly.

"Are you married Arden?"

"No sir." He said, realising now that the captain had stepped closer to him.

The northerner's mouth turned up into a cruel smile. He was about to say something more when Christian suddenly bellowed the captains name. Both men straightened as the prince strode towards them. Lukas dared to glance up and saw that Tate had remained behind, waiting with the rest of the prince's retinue. He seemed entirely uninterested in anything that was happening around him despite Lukas's need for him to look up and see him.

"What are you doing?" the prince demanded as he glared daggers at his captain. "I told you to come with me."

"Apologies my prince." He bowed low but there wasn't a hint of remorse in his voice. "I was reprimanding one of the guards."

The prince's eyes swept over him curiously, lingering for just a moment. "Are you done?"

Lukas looked back at Tate, willing him with his entire heart to look up. See me, he silently begged, please see me!

"Yes my lord."

Please Tate, after everything that has happened all I ask is that you see me.

"Then hurry up. I haven't the patients to be kept waiting by you Richard."

Tate's elegantly tapered hand reached up to push a stray lock of hair from his eyes. His expression was unreadable as he idly looked back at them.

Their eyes locked and in that instant Lukas felt a torrent of need flow through him. To have him so close but not able to touch him was one of the worse tortures he had ever experienced. He took a halting step forward-

A chocked cry caught in the half-blood's throat as he knees folded beneath him. He hit the floor with a quiet thud and remained kneeling, staring at Lukas with huge golden eyes.

"Tate?" Christian asked, his tone a mixture of worry and impatience as he stepped in front of Lukas. The eye contact between them broke but Lukas was no less overwhelmed because of it.

It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to go to his Shantran.

Christian knelt beside the slight man and pulled him to his feet. Tate hung in his grasp like a ragdoll until Christian shook him violently. "What is wrong with you?" he demanded irritably. "Are you well?"

"I-I-" he couldn't make himself speak. His eyes went back to Lukas for a mere instant before he looked back at the prince. "I'm sorry, I haven't eaten-" His voice trailed off as a chorus of laughter boomed around him.

"Poor delicate soul." Christian laughed, hooking an arm around the half-blood's waist as his hand playfully ruffled Tate's tawny hair. "It's the weak foreign blood that runs through his veins." He said in a mock whisper to his followers. They all laughed again, louder this time. "Come then Tate; let us find you something to eat. I'd not have people claim that I'm starving you."

He was led off with Christian's arm still hooked possessively around his waist. Lukas stared after them sorrowfully, sick with need and frustration.

Tate looked back at him once and then he was gone.