Chapter 8: Attitude

A Prince of the Nobillo

Chapter 8: Attitude

"When is the earliest you can return?"

Rivuk frowned as he heard the words from Carak over his wristband. He wouldn't be asking for no reason. He pressed the band and spoke, "What's happened?"

"Boz broke into the room this morning and attacked the princess."

His mind spun to blackness. Again. Boz had done it again. He'd practically gifted her to him. He'd stolen Lindsay from her loving husband and wife only to be raped by his brother. He steeled himself for the next words.

"She has a few scratches, but is largely unhurt. I cannot say the same for your brother."

"He didn't..." he couldn't finish the words.

"No, your grace. She fought him off."

The official report, then. Lindsay was tough, he knew that much, but he doubted she could fight Boz off alone. Still, for a Child of the Immortal to bare his teeth to a prince, let alone harm him, was a capital offense. There was no such law for a princess. Whether because the lawmakers didn't believe a princess could do such harm or the issue had once been common enough to make it expedient to simply grant the princesses immunity if they were able to fend off their attackers, he didn't know, though he suspected the latter.

He studied the disaster report on the flimsy table that served as his desk in the main tent of the relief camp. The floods had carved a canyon where the southern part of the town of Gelm had been. Hundreds were displaced and he hadn't even seen the damage yet. Even if he were to go to Gelm now, it would still take all day to evaluate the site.

Sickness lodged in the pit of his stomach. Lindsay was his wife; he'd hated to leave her to begin with. Mornings without her felt empty despite all the work he had to do. Now, she'd been attacked and all he wanted was to go to her, to hold her if she'd let him. To feel the warm smoothness of her brow against his.

And he couldn't, as much as he felt himself dying inside without her.

Because there were hundreds of his people who needed him just as much if not more. Many of them were separated from their loved ones as well, some to never again be reunited. How could he ask them to put their needs on hold so he could be with his wife? His beautiful wife who'd kissed him so passionately before he'd left... By the Immortal, he'd never felt this way! And she would want him to take her home - after that attack there was no hope he could convince her to stay - she'd already wanted to go before. He should have just taken her when she asked.

He felt a tingling in his pouch as he remembered the feel of her lips on his. How he'd been powerless to stop kissing her, how she'd been unable to stop kissing him. He'd never felt that loss of self in a moment of passion. If he had to take her home, he was going to find himself charged with treason because there was no world in which he'd be able to stay away from the Bonat camp if she was there, so long as she wanted him.

He looked down at the map. Well, there was one world. He couldn't just abandon his people for his lusts no matter how much his mind and body might beg him to. He was a prince. As a consequence of his birth, his feelings would always come second to his duty.

He sighed. "I'll return in three bils, unless I can get away sooner. Can you hold out until then?"

"Of course, your grace."

"Thank you, Carak, and..." The words: and tell her I love her, sprang to his tongue but died before reaching his lips. She should hear those words from him, not through his hest. "Please watch over her as you would me."

"Yes, your grace. She is very much like you," Carak's voice crackled through the band.

He wondered what that could mean. There was that skell after Boz attacked him and broke his arm where he wouldn't leave Carak's side when he was in his second lanc.

He let out a small laugh. He'd wanted Carak to sleep in the bed with him. Somehow, he didn't think Lindsay would go that far.

Carak was kind and patient, but he was still a Child of the Nobillo, and Rivuk knew she harbored a great deal of fear for them. Hopefully, that fear was starting to lessen as she spent more time with his hest. If she could begin to see them as something more than monsters... perhaps... perhaps she would recognize it was more than just the Bonat who needed saving from this endless war.

A soldier came into his tent. "Your grace, there's are reports of landslides into the floodwaters in Gelm!"

Rivuk looked at the map. "The land is unstable. Evacuate the citizens into the northern section. I'll need a team to inspect the south." Lindsay would just have to wait a little bit longer.

________________________________________

Of course, Carak didn't wait until Lindsay was awake to clean up Boz's mess. Nor did he waste any time sending a message to Rivuk about the attack. By the time she was up, Rivuk had already assured Carak he'd be home in three days, if not earlier. The reports from the Western Plateau made three days sound like a miracle, but, Carak assured her, Rivuk's word was good.

She missed Rivuk. She missed having him around, turning to him to ask questions, exploring the realm with him. And she missed kissing him. It'd felt even better than in their shared dream. She reread her letter from Sirix until she'd memorized it. Make sure, when you return, to have left nothing unfinished that might leave you with regret.

She knew Sirix well enough to know that, while he might have been talking specifically about helping Rivuk with his propaganda campaign, he was also talking about her relationship with the third prince. Sirix knew about their meeting of the minds, knew that it was she who'd initiated the sex. He wasn't under any illusions that she might not want to try it in real life.

And, while she wasn't sure when it would happen, she was sure, if she stayed, it would. And probably soon, the way her body reacted every time she remembered those kisses. She wanted him. Bad.

The next few days, she and Carak were inseparable. Any fear she still harbored of him was quickly dispelled by their close quarters. She found it a great comfort to have him nearby, to help as he cooked breakfast (despite his repeated objections), to sit beside him during their reading lessons, to curl up under his muscular arm as he read to her, or to pass the evening playing mancala with him. It was a game Lindsay had learned in elementary school and taught him that was easy enough to quickly make on any piece of paper they had lying around, though by now they had their favorite "board" as it were.

"Carak?" she asked at the end of the third night, as she pulled out the piece of paper that served as their board. It had their names and stars after them serving as tallies to show how often they'd won. Carak's bordered the entire thing and now a row of tiny stars was squeezed between her wins and his.

"Yes, your highness?"

"When did you first meet Rivuk?"

Carak smiled. "Oh, it was maybe seven lanc ago. When Rivuk was still in his first lanc."

"He's only eight lanc old?"

"Yes, why?"

"I just figured... most of the Bonat I know are at least twice that age and don't look any older than him."

"Yes, the Bonat age far slower than the Nobillo and the Korsuch. I believe we're closer to you humans in our developmental stages."

"So how old are you?" she asked.

"Thirteen lanc."

"A lanc's about three and a half earth years so that would make Rivuk twenty-eight and you..." she tried to do the math in her head, "forty-two or something."

He began portioning out the seeds with his large, taloned fingers, three to an oval. She was always amazed by how dexterous those fingers were despite their size. "If that's how you see it," he said.

"So Rivuk was only a toddler when you met him?"

"I suppose. Do you have any further questions, or do you want me to continue?"

"Sorry, go on."

Scooping up three seeds and distributing them, Carak continued the story, "The princes were on a special trip outside of the palace to see the new pyramids of light. This was when they had first been installed."

"Oh, I'd wanted to see those."

Carak gave her a look.

"Sorry," she said and covered her mouth.

"With this being an official outing of the entire royal family, naturally they were well attended by a military contingent, of which I was part. Of course, they took the opportunity to inspect the troops, to show the young princes how. The children gave their bows, but I noticed the youngest, the little black-haired one, was rather distracted by one of the fountains. The large one with the bowl on top. Do you have younger siblings?"

"Yes, two younger sisters."

"Then, I'm certain you know what happened next."

Lindsay took a pile of seeds, dropping them into the circles in the board. "I have some idea."

"Well, it wasn't long after that they realized the youngest prince had disappeared and there was a panic, as you would expect, and we were ordered to search for him. I found myself thinking how he'd kept looking at that fountain."

"You found him in the fountain?"

"Playing in the top bowl without a care in the world."

"Then you became his guard?"

Carak shook his head. "No, my journey was a different one. But our paths crossed every now and again."

Lindsay thought for a moment. "Carak, I haven't decided if I'll be here much longer, but I'd like to see the pyramids of light with you and Rivuk when he gets back. Could you help me write a letter inviting him?"

"Of course, your highness. He'd appreciate that." He plopped a seed into his mancala. "But you have."

"I have what?"

"Decided."

"Really?" she asked, taking her turn.

Carak's smile was gentle. "It's written all over your face."

"Ok then, what am I going to do?"

"If I told you, you'd just do the opposite. You're stubborn like that." He dropped a second seed into his mancala.

"But I thought you wanted me to go?" she objected.

"See what I mean? You've already decided. You decided days ago. This is all merely pretense," he said.

She folded her arms across her chest. "Well, if I've already decided, how come I haven't said it yet?"

"I'd guess it's so you can back out of it. You don't have a problem with changing your mind, but you don't like going back on your word once you give it, from what I've seen."

"Fine, yes, I've decided. I just... you know... I want to be sure before I tell him. I need to look him in the eyes." Clink clink clink went the seeds from her fingers.

"I'm not arguing that you should. I'd rather he didn't get his hopes up to have them dashed."

"You think you have me all figured out, don't you?"

"You don't exactly make it a challenge." The way he said that frustrated Lindsay. So calm, like it was just a simple fact.

She scowled. "I should wipe that smug smile off your face."

"As usual, you're welcome to try. I won't even fight back, if you think that might even the odds a bit."

"Argh!" she cried and started punching him. Not too hard, hitting Carak was like hitting bricks, just enough to make him laugh. His large leg bumped against the table, causing the seeds to scatter.

"Oh, looks like you tipped the board. I win again," Lindsay said, innocently.

"I suppose you do," Carak conceded with an indulgent smile.

Lindsay fell back on the couch. "I hate how much stronger you are than me! At least with Nol I felt like I could get to her level, and I was nimbler than Veralosa, but with you I feel like I'd never even have a chance. Like what the hell are you, Carak? I've fought dozens of Children of the Immortal and none of them were anything like you."

"I assure you, I'm not the only one of my abilities."

"That's... terrifying. But why haven't I ever seen anyone like you before?"

"Luck, mostly. We didn't know that was the Bona Serat Corsar's camp. Now that we do, Rivuk refuses to send the advanced troops there," Carak said as he picked up the spilled seeds.

"How many of you do you think it would take for you to win?"

Carak thought for a moment. "Assuming we knew the locations of the camps and the way they were getting into Mt. Sabor?"

She felt a chill of panic. They knew about Mt. Sabor. How long had they known? She didn't want to ask; she didn't want to confirm it even if they were keeping that particular piece of information to themselves for the moment. "Yes," Lindsay said, "If you knew the locations of the camps."

"Only Rivuk and Boz."

"Just those two?!"

"If I were to be honest, only Rivuk; but it's always good to have back-up."

"One prince to destroy an entire camp?" She was incredulous.

"Oh, no," Carak said.

"Yeah, that felt like too little."

"No, you mistake me. I meant one prince to destroy the entire race. It would be like the destruction of the Olaru after Jericho persuaded them to join him against the Nobillo."

"That was one prince?"

"Well, he did bring an army of the Children of the Immortal with him, but they were simply meant to distract Jericho."

"You talk about Jericho like he's a real person," she said.

"He is." Carak answered.

"You really believe in the Immortal?" she asked delicately, not wanting to offend him.

"There has to be more than this." Carak said, softly.

She felt the pain of his enslavement in his words, the memories she didn't know, of being born to serve and die, of abuse and fighting and starving with no hope of anything better in this life. Even now, as the prince's hest, he was still a slave, still subject to beatings and abuse by even the lowest of Nobillo society.

She wanted to wrap her arms around him, to hold him. For the first time, she wanted to kiss him, to show him that she cared for him as he was. That his life was important to her. That she loved him.

And the weight of that thought held her back.

It could go from there. At that moment, she knew it could. She could feel it in the heaviness in the air. That moment of intimacy could turn physical in a heartbeat, even if, in the cold light of day, their feelings were no more than friendship.

She couldn't risk hurting him by sparking romantic feelings and then abandoning him for Rivuk. How much more desolate would she leave him if she did that? No; she had to pull this back.

She took his hand, shaking it slightly, staring at her tanned peachy flesh covering his grey skin, not daring to meet his eyes. "There is," she said. "I promise you, there is. I'll make sure of it."

A small smile flitted across Carak's thin lips. "That arrogance will be your undoing."

"No, it'll be your lack of faith in me," she said, sitting up straight and pressing her palm to her chest in a dramatic manner. There, the spell was broken.

Carak stood and began rifling around, finding a piece of paper and the something like a marker that the Nobillo used to write with. He lay them down in front of Lindsay. "Let's see if you can write the prince's name, first."

________________________________________

That night, as he flew in through his tower window, Rivuk was surprised to find her letter on his desk. It had been an exhausting skell. Ten long bils of uninterrupted work. He'd barely slept.

On the front of the letter, in the overly dark print of someone who was concentrating very hard on writing their letters correctly, was his name. It wasn't in the pen of his daughter or his hest, both were far more proficient writers. He opened the letter and read, in Carak's familiar style of thin, upright letters, an invitation to join Lindsay for a visit to the pyramids of light. At the bottom, she'd signed it in the unfamiliar letters of Earth. He smiled. As usual, she probably didn't realize that he had no idea how to read them.

He tapped his wristband to send a message to Carak accepting their invitation. As he did, he noticed the dried blood on the hem of his uniform sleeve. He stopped and frowned.

A few new scars were crusting over on his arm, a new one on his leg. They hadn't been worth treating at the time, and now it was too late to avoid them, but he still stuck on the dermal bandages. He'd rather not have ugly scabs for his little princess to worry about as he walked into her room where she lay covered by her blankets, one wing out, as always. He pulled the covers up to her neck.

"Daddy," Deneta muttered, looking up at him with sleep-blurred eyes.

"Hey, little one." He stroked her tawny hair.

"I tried to stay awake."

"You did very well." He leaned his forehead against hers. "Now, go back to sleep. I'll tell you all about it in the morning."

She was asleep before his forehead left hers, dreaming of frolicking with a trio of Kiton; the dream he'd placed in her head. She was probably too old for it, she was almost halfway to her third lanc, and she might tell him so in the morning. But it was a peaceful dream, one his grandmother had given to him, and, right now, after all the destruction he'd seen, he wanted her to have a peaceful dream.

He brushed her bangs back to see her face. She was as beautiful as her mother had been, as she still was, locked alone in her apartment next to Elihim's courtyard. "Sweet dreams, my Deneta."

He returned to his own chambers and reread the letter for what had to be the sixteenth time, searching for clues. She'd learned how to write, at least, to write his name. The letters were a bit shaky and there were a few he had to guess which they were, but the effort was there.

Carak would have helped. Vu, like a river flowing down from the mountain, he recalled. Carak had taught him that, before being reprimanded by the commander for speaking to a prince familiarly. Rivuk winced as he remembered the lashes that brought the dark stripes to the backs of Carak's calves.

But he never forgot.

Had she changed her mind, though? The words of the letter indicated she hadn't. She clearly said she wanted to see the pyramids of light before she left. But then, even if she had changed her mind, wouldn't she say the same? She was nothing if not difficult.

He almost had to marvel at how she and the gruff Bona Serat Corsar had ever managed to keep from killing each other. Neither of them seemed to want to give an inch, or, at least, to reveal that they would. She liked to be in control.

He quickly penned a response saying he would greatly enjoy showing her the pyramids and would meet her for supper at the arcade first and handed it to a messenger to be delivered, then he collapsed into his own bed.

He slept until well after noon.

He awoke to the delicate flaps of Deneta's wings. Sometime during the morning, she must've crawled into bed with him. She wasn't supposed to, of course, she had her lessons. Her tutor would be searching for her.

His daughter must've been afraid for him. It had been many iuna since she'd snuck into his bed. He'd seen the coverage of the floods, though, somehow, despite their accuracy, it all felt much less dramatic having been there, but she wouldn't know that. She'd just have seen the rushing muddy waters and all the pictures of homes being washed away.

There was the slight tickle of downy feathers against his cheek. He smiled. Four little fingers pried open his eye.

"Daddy, are you awake yet?" Deneta asked in her high-pitched trill.

He took her hand in his and away from his eye. "Yes, I'm awake, little princess."

"Can we go play in the garden today?"

"Aren't you supposed to be doing your readings right now?" Rivuk asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. He stretched his wings out to their full size in the cavernous room. "Your tutor must be worried sick."

"But Daddy, you've been gone a whole skell! Please can we play?"

Indulgence. He'd been warned against it time and again. She'd never be a proper noble if he didn't instill discipline in her now. And it was clear she was going to be a royal. He could see it in her eyes, she carried the gift. If she tested positive for it when she reached her fourth lanc, she would be assigned a royal rank, and, if it manifested...