Tale of Obsession: Courting Daphne Ch. 06

"What exactly is she to you?" Sylvia asked, feigning indifference, although Leander knew her well enough to know that she cared. A lot.

The general did not feel the need to tell her. It was not as if Sylvia's knowledge would help. Instead, he retrieved fresh clothes from the trunk and threw his armour to the bed.

"I hear rumours that she is of noble blood," Sylvia continued, not dissuaded. "How true is that?"

His patience was running thin. He had not slept all night long and he would have to put up with an interview very early in the morning?

"I advise you to leave the tent as soon as you are dressed," Leander growled. "I do not wish to find you here when I come back."

Sylvia grinned at him and stood up from the bed, posing to show off her goods. There was a time when Leander would have welcomed the display of her brazen wantonness and immediately take avail of what was being offered, but not anymore.

"You do not scare me, Leander," Sylvia said, a reminder of the years they had known each other. "I know that you will not even lay a finger on me however angry you get. Why don't you stay here and let me take care of you? Your grumpiness is not amusing."

With a heavy sigh, Leander turned his back to the woman. There was no use talking to her, as she would never listen to him, anyway. He sensed it, however, when Sylvia walked close to him and stood right behind him. When he turned to face her, she pulled his head down to hers and engaged him in a crushing kiss.

When she ended the kiss, Sylvia pierced Leander with an angry glare. "Never deny me again, Leander. It is a big insult to have a snivelling girl like Daphne replace me on your bed. I know how to please you and if you cannot admit that to yourself, then at least let me demonstrate my skills."

"I need to do no such thing," Leander said coldly, pushing her away with as much self-control as he could muster. Her insult of Daphne did not escape his ears. "Never set foot into my tent again, Sylvia, or you will find a general you never thought existed."

The woman grinned at him sarcastically, her eyebrows raised high on her forehead. "Are you threatening me?"

Leander did not say anything more, but stared at her with a cold look in his eyes. He watched as Sylvia's blood rushed off her face when she realized that he was serious. She quickly gathered her garments and dressed herself, before leaving Leander alone in his tent.

'She better leaves me alone,' Leander thought as he strode out of his tent a few minutes later, heading for the river.

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Anthony frowned as he has finished listening to Mia. He must say, the woman was crazy, but then, what she told him made sense.

"Look into it, my lord," Mia said, bowing her head to him.

The woman left as quickly as she had come, leaving Anthony alone. Once again, he looked at the letter that Mia claimed was from Daphne. It bore Northcove's seal, and Daphne signed it, but there was no telling if that was really her signature unless he showed it to Leander so that the general could verify. Who could be more familiar to Daphne's handwriting than her faithful stalker?

But what were the implications if the contents of the letter were true? Thersale was on the losing side of this war, which was hard to believe. And if Daphne was once again tricking them? Anthony did not want to know.

"Ah well," he said to himself as he refolded the letter. "This is Leander's headache, not mine."

Yet, the letter was addressed to him. If Daphne had wanted Leander to know, wouldn't she just write to the general? Torn, Anthony stared at the letter again.

"What do I do now, you cunning she-wolf?" he asked, imagining Daphne's face.

Annoyed that the woman should use him in her game, Anthony lit a candle and began destroying the letter. Whatever happened -- whether the letter was authentic or not, it would not be seen in his possession.

As soon as he had reduced the letter to ashes, Sylvia walked into his tent, wearing a frown on her pretty face. Anthony tried not to grimace but failed.

"What is that?" the woman asked without preamble, walking over to the table beside which stood Anthony. When she saw the ashes, she raised an eyebrow and looked at the man.

"A letter," Anthony answered, watching Sylvia's reaction carefully, "from a very faithful correspondent."

The woman averted her eyes, touching the ashes with the tip of her forefinger. "It never came to my attention that you are in correspondence with a woman."

"Now you know," he said with a shrug. "How can I serve you, Sylvia?"

"Leander is in a very sour mood," she said, sighing as she returned her gaze to him. "It seems that he does not want me around him anymore."

'Cannot blame the man,' Anthony thought, further wondering what it was about Sylvia that made him dislike her. This was the only woman he met whom he did not even want to consider bedding, and not only because she was Leander's exclusive mistress for more than four years.

"Will you speak to him?" Sylvia asked.

"Yes," he answered, eager to have her out of his tent. The lie that followed came easily. "And I shall advise him not to evoke your wrath by being a sour man."

Sylvia flashed him a smile that could instantly put most men under her spell. "Thank you."

Anthony knew better than to think that the woman liked him. He knew that Sylvia generally disliked the people who were close to the general, most especially Daphne and him. But the woman tried to be civil, if only not to displease Leander.

There were these rumours that reached his ears, passed on to him by the many spies he paid from every corner of the camp and every village where Leander left some of their warriors. Anthony had always discarded them as mere rumours, never considering them important enough to tell Leander. But now...

Sylvia exchanged a few more banters with him before finally leaving. As soon as she was gone, Anthony frowned and looked at the ashes of what was supposedly Daphne's letter. It was starting to irk him.

With a sigh, he finally decided to talk to his best friend. He was told that the general was bathing in the river, and Anthony purposefully followed him there.

"I assume that you are here to apologize for telling Sylvia to come to my tent," his friend growled as soon as he arrived.

Anthony grinned. "Wish to the devil if you dare, but you shall never hear the apology."

Leander merely shook his head, not bothering to wade out of the water. "So, what brings you here?"

"Have you received any instruction from the Duke of Wildercross?" he asked.

It was easy to guess Leander's answer, but Anthony needed to hear it spoken nonetheless. "No, nothing from the duke yet. I am starting to think that he has abandoned us."

A chill went through Anthony's body, although he did not let his friend see it. Daphne's letter, and now this ominous comment. Were they being sold to the Elgeshorans?

"In the meantime, we need to have his daughter back," he said, watching his friend with a frown. "Send me to Northcove to talk to the duke."

"In your dreams," Leander replied, grinning at him. "Your interest is highly suspicious. You want Daphne out of my life and now you volunteer for the task of trying to get her back?"

"You know that you do not trust another soul as much as you trust me," Anthony pushed.

"Which should make me warier of your intentions," Leander commented. "I shall not be deceived, least of all by you."

"You already are, you moron," Anthony laughed. "Send me to the duke and I will try talking to him."

He did not wait for Leander's answer, already knowing what it would be. He left the general, heading back to his tent to prepare for his journey. Anthony asked for five of his spies, telling all of them that he needed people to accompany him to the duchy of Northcove.

It was less than an hour later that Leander called him and his companions and formally announced that they would be sent northwest for a very important mission. Sitting astride his horse, Anthony decided to do one last thing that would ensure the success of the mission Daphne sent him to do.

While most of the camp looked on, he called to Leander and asked, "How much do you trust me, General?"

If Leander was surprised, his face did not show it. "I trust you with my life, as you should trust me with yours."

Anthony chuckled as he shook his head. "This world will end, but I shall not trust any man with my life, least of all a man I grew up with and impossibly outranked me."

Chuckles from the spectators made Leander grin. He extended a hand to his best friend. Anthony gripped that hand tightly and said to the general in a low voice, "I thank you for the trust, brother. My loyalty goes to you, and only to you." He paused and looked hard into his friend's eyes. "Remember that."

As Leander grinned and sent him on his way, Anthony took a deep breath. Leander would have his head for this, but the letter from Daphne made sense and Anthony could only decide to follow her. He only wished that Leander's trust in the lady had not been misplaced, for it was still Leander's judgment that Anthony counted on.