The Brush Tiger of Derven Ch. 06-11

She pushes his hands into the water. Grabbing some soap, she quickly lathers them up. She doesn't like the fact that she is voluntarily touching him but if there is any sap on his hands she needs to remove it quickly.

"They are a beautiful flower-that is why we are so attracted to them. However, they are extremely poisonous. Within minutes of coming into contact with the bright green sap that bleeds from the clipped stem, people get sick-vomiting and such-before they pass out. If not cleaned off quickly, the sap can leech into the blood within an hour. When it reaches the heart, the only result is death," her eyes briefly flash up to him, "They call the flower the 'ex-lover.'"

Irron looks slightly shocked, "I feel fine, at least I think I do...won't you get sick?"

Namora shakes her head, "For some reason it doesn't affect me. It didn't affect my mother either-they think she passed her immunity down to me."

In an instant, his eyes go cold, but his voice is soft, "Do you know much of her? Your mother?"

"No," she dries his hands off, "Aside from that particular immunity, as far as I can tell I don't share anything in common with her," her voice goes quiet, "no one talks about her much."

The two stand awkwardly for a moment in silence. She sets down the dry cloth. Irron cups her face into his hands, "I am going to miss you terribly, my love. I know it is only two and a half days that we will be apart, but I don't know how I am going to stomach it."

Please hurry up, Eunice she thinks. Her hands reach up to Irron's wrists; though it might seem like an affectionate gesture, she does it so that she can prevent his hands from moving elsewhere. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say."

He leans ever so slightly closer to her, his eyes wanton. "May I have a kiss? Just something to tie me over, until we meet next?"

She wants to say no but she doesn't have a good enough reason to deny him. She forces a smile onto her face, unable to say anything. As he begins to close the gap between them, she tries to prepare herself for her first kiss. A fleeting thought crosses her mind: not only will he be the first man she kisses but he will be the last.

His lips are surprisingly warm and he tastes sweet like honey. What starts out as a soft touch slowly deepens as he breaks free from her hold and slides one hand behind her head, the other around her waist. Pulling her close to him, she finds it hard to struggle away from his unforgiving chest. His tongue snakes its way into her mouth; her heart seems to lie dead inside of her, unresponsive to the situation that is slowly spiraling out of control.

Her door scrapes open and she can hear Eunice gasp. Irron quickly pulls away, removing his hands from her. She stands alone, face red with anger.

"I'm so sorry, Princess, I didn't think-" the old lady blabs.

"It is alright, Eunice. King Irron just came to escort me to the dance. He was just about to wait outside for me to finish getting ready."

"Yes, right," he huffs, sidestepping the old lady out the door.

Once alone, she sits back down in front of the mirror. Her hands shake with rage so she keeps them clutched in her lap. Without a word, Eunice begins to fix Namora's somewhat frazzled hair before twisting the crown on top.

When she steps out into the hallway she finds Irron waiting for her. She notices for the first time that he is dressed in a deep green coat, trimmed with gold. Namora forces herself to admit how handsome he looks in the color; she speculates that he wore it because it is her favorite. He smiles at her and takes her arm, turning in the direction of the Grand Hall.

She knows it is still a bit early which means that she will have to entertain him for a while before the townsfolk arrive. Though he doesn't say anything, he somewhat possessively places his hand over hers. The hall is empty as she suspects but instead of leading her to their table, he continues on to the middle of the dance floor. As soon as they reach the center, music starts up. He smiles, taking her hand.

"I asked them to come early, so that we could have our dance in private."

"That was thoughtful of you," she smiles, somewhat relieved that they can get this out of the way.

The tune is a simple one as are the steps; it is a slow waltz in which partners never change but the fact that they are alone allows him to pull her a little closer than she would dance with someone else. He stares into her soul with his dark, dull eyes.

"It is a shame that this is our last night together...here in Derven. I was hoping to get to know you a bit more, on a personal level."

"There will be time for that in Alumenia and more yet after the wedding," she forces herself to stare back at him, accepting her fate.

"Yes, of course," he mumbles. Before they can chat further, Laren and her father enter the room, taking their seats at the smaller table. Soon, while they are only half way through their dance, townsfolk begin to enter, standing silently against the walls as they watch the couple move across the dance floor.

Though she hates to admit it to herself, he isn't a horrible dancer. If he practiced he could be a very good one but she suspects he despises it as a lowly activity. As the music comes to a cadence, Irron delicately tips her backwards and everyone begins to clap approvingly. He brings her back to her feet, taking her hand in his. The couple smiles tensely; Irron nods his head in thanks while she curtseys. Before they leave the dance floor, he surprises her with a gentle hand under her chin, followed by a soft kiss on her lips. Her face reddens, more angry at the fact that he kissed her in front of her father than in front of the whole town. None the less, the clapping gets louder with a few cheers. The couple makes their way back to their table and the music begins again as people fill the dance floor.

It is a few minutes later that she notices Irron's Advisor sneak in. Irron looks at him with a slightly questioning look, only to get a brief nod of affirmation. A smile creeps on to his face before he turns his attentions back to Namora. She gets an eerie feeling that something is afoot.

The rest of the night they have short conversations, mostly consisting of Irron asking her of her likes and dislikes so that he can ensure his castle meets her expectations upon her arrival in Alumenia.

She answers him warmly, allowing herself to be happy that she will have a few days away from him to herself. Yet she doesn't allow herself to think past those two days; the thought of having nowhere to run to in a foreign castle, no one to protect her from her future husband seems more than she can stomach at the moment.

The night moves by quickly and soon the Hunter's Waltz plays, signaling the end of the dance. Irron's hand slithers over to cup hers and though she dislikes the feel of his skin touching hers she doesn't withdraw it. When the waltz is finished, leaving only one couple remaining on the dance floor, everyone files out of the doors to the front of the castle to send off the King. Her father and Laren rise, following suit, leaving only Namora, Irron and his Advisor in the Grand Hall. Still holding onto her hand, Irron slowly walks her to the front doors of the castle and down the stairs past her father.

The elaborate silver and gold carriage he arrived in waits at the bottom of the steps, doors open towards them so that when they stop at it she cannot see any of the townsfolk. Irron turns to her, grasping her other hand in his. As if he wants to completely break her down, his cold eyes search her face while his pleasant voice whispers, "I love you, Namora."

Though she knows they are both pretending, she can't bring herself to say those words to him even if they are a lie. His eyes begin to darken as the silence between them grows. She is forced to do the only thing to side step his anger—she rises up onto her tip toes and kisses him. Namora doesn't pull away quickly like she wishes to, but she lingers, parting her lips slightly to allow his tongue to caress hers. She waits until their kiss is on the verge of vulgarity before she slowly pulls back; the wicked look in his eyes lets her know that he was pleased by it.

Without another word he lets her go and climbs into the carriage. His Advisor follows him into the box, shutting the door between them and the Princess. Slowly, they pull away from the castle and down the main road heading out of town. All of the townsfolk cheer and wave good-bye; Namora stands still with her hands clasped in front of her and her face blank, until she can no longer see the metal box in the distance.

She turns and ascends the stairs; Namora walks right by her father and Laren without making eye contact or even acknowledging their existence. She heads directly to her room and climbs in the bathtub, scrubbing her body until her skin hurts as much on the outside as she does on the inside. She rinses and dries off, climbing into bed naked and for the first time in weeks she sleeps through the night.

CHAPTER 8: FRIENDS

The next morning she wakes up feeling like she had just slept for weeks. She missed breakfast, as it is almost lunch time. Namora dresses quickly, slightly angry at herself that she slept through several hours of her remaining freedom. She exits the castle through the kitchen, grabbing some meat and cheese before directing one of the attendants, "Tell my father I shall be at Amyee's house all day and will remain there for the night. Let him know not to expect me back until morning."

Greystar is eager to get out of his stall, having missed their usual late night excursion. Once they take the road heading out of town he knows exactly where they are going and trots contentedly without direction. Namora finishes her food as well as two plums she snagged from the orchard. When they finally reach the small, slightly overgrown path that leads through the trees to Amyee's house, she slows Greystar down to a crawl, not wanting to seem too eager to greet her friend.

As the forest pushes back, opening into the small clearing, she can hear the steady rhythm of a saw. Namora dismounts Greystar, walking him the last few yards to Franklin, where he processes a long tree trunk into planks. She waits until he is done as he never stops in the middle, claiming that it will mess up the wood if he does. Finally, when he is at the end and the plank breaks loose, he turns to her.

"Good day, Mora," he says casually, as he always does when they are alone.

She can't help but look over his toned, glistening chest before she smiles to him, "Hello, Franklin. Is Amyee about?"

"She went to town this morning but I expect her home soon. You're more than welcome to wait in the house for her," he smiles a lopsided smile and winks flirtatiously at her.

She shakes her head at his attempt to cheer her up, "I'm a married woman, don't you know. Well, soon to be, at least."

"Soon to be means you're still off the hook, for a few days," he grins widely before laughing at the aghast face she makes.

Shaking her head at him, she heads towards the house. Namora takes off Greystar's saddle and reins, letting the horse wander off as she knows he will come back when he is needed. She sits on the porch for a while, basking in the sun. As the warmth starts to make her perspire, she goes inside in search of water. When she finds the water bucket empty, she heads to the well and draws some herself. Namora enjoys spending time at Amyee and Franklin's house, as it lets her pretend to be normal. When they are alone, they don't bother with the formalities of her rank. It is a rare occasion that she gets to spend much time there but she treasures it when she does.

After dragging the full bucket back into the house, she takes a long drink before filling another glass and walking it out to Franklin. She has to wait, again, for him to finish sawing the entire length of the plank before he stops. Thankfully, he takes the glass of water as Namora examines the wood.

"What a beautiful, unusual grain—is this amberwood?" She runs her fingers along the freshly cut log.

"Yes. I think the tree was sick—I found it lying dead behind the wheat field. Surprisingly, whatever it had gave it this odd grain."

She stands back up and smiles, "Lucky for you—I bet this will fetch a high price at the market." She reaches out to take his empty glass; he hands it to her but doesn't let go. Their hands connect. Neither of them move. It takes a few moments before Franklin breaks the silence.

"You just say the word, Mora. I will leave this instant—surely they haven't reached Alumenia yet. I will snuff out his life and be back for breakfast."

"And who would want a widow, Franklin?" She knows she should skirt the subject but she can't help herself. She desperately wants someone to love her though she finds herself incapable of truly returning the feeling.

His other hand brushes her cheek. He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. When he tries a second time Namora cuts him off, saying something she knows she shouldn't, "The answer is no, Franklin. I wouldn't allow anyone else the pleasure of killing that man."

He smiles at her, his hand resting under her chin. Anxiety begins to swell up in her chest as he slowly begins to move forward towards her. Though her mind screams at her to walk away, she holds her ground. The gap between them begins to close. She can feel his warm breath against her face.

Namora hears the old brown mare's footsteps first. She shakes her head, giving Franklin a smile, "Too little, too late dear Franklin." She snatches the cup out of his hand and turns to walk towards the house just as Amyee comes into view. Pretending that she didn't hear the horse, Namora turns around and waves excitedly to her friend. Amyee dismounts and runs over to her, throwing her arms around the Princess. As the two embrace, Namora can see Franklin quickly grab his saw and begin to start another plank, unnerved that his sister almost caught him committing treason.

The two friends trot off to the house, where they sit happily on an old, threadbare couch.

"So, tell me about Irron. Is he as awful as he seems?" Amyee pries Namora.

She smiles and begins to retell the tale of her past few days. Namora is a wonderful story teller; she paints a picture of Irron being a complete gentleman that is hopelessly in love with her. She leaves out the part about the secret passage ways, sneaking out of the castle at night and the small threats he made, as well as the eerie dullness of his eyes. When she tells the part about Irron catching her in the orchard, she edits it so that his hand never reached up her skirt and omits the part about his metal vest; instead he tries to kiss her and ends up knocking her off of the bench, causing her to land on her wrist.

Amyee makes a good listener but she truly knows her friend, so she knows that a vast majority of the story is fiction. None the less, she gives Namora a warm smile, "Well it sounds like he is hopeless. At least he is handsome—just imagine how much worse it would be if he were short, round and bald!"

The two friends laugh gaily. "Well, tell me about your past few days?" Namora queries her friend.

Amyee smiles secretively. Before she starts, she asks, "Will you stay for dinner? I trapped two rabbits this morning, it is more than enough for the three of us."

Namora nods happily. The two begin the process of hauling, heating water and filling the tub for Franklin. When it is mostly full, Namora shucks fresh peas while Amyee cleans the rabbits, the whole time telling her story of the past few days.

At the first dance, a man named Lucas asked her to do the Hunter's Waltz. Amyee has liked Lucas for years but has been waiting for him to make the first move. After the dance, he rode home beside Amyee but was too nervous to ask her out again. Since then, he has conveniently shown up everywhere she has been. Franklin doesn't know anything about it. She went to town today on the premise of buying some herbs she couldn't find in the woods, only to run in to Lucas again. He walked her back to her horse this morning and when no one else was around, he leaned in, kissed her on the cheek and asked to see her again.

The two giggle happily-Namora, able to forget her troubles for the first time in weeks, feels as free as a bird. The sun begins to set in the sky and soon they hear Franklin outside on the porch, taking his boots off. Amyee is mixing the cream sauce for the peas, so Namora grabs the last kettle of boiling water and wanders off to the wash room to temper Franklin's bath.

She pours some water into the dark, wooden tub before sticking her hand in to check the temperature. She adds just a little bit more and rests the pot carefully on a folded towel. Behind the tub on the wall is a beautifully crafted rack which holds dozens of dried herbs and scents for the bath. Namora hums to herself, picking out a few. She smells each carefully, selecting some fresh pine needles, dried herbs and cedar shavings. She puts them into a small cloth napkin and ties it with a neat bow before she crushes the contents to release the scent. Inhaling it deeply, she kneels by the tub and submerges the packet, swishing it around before letting it sink to the bottom. As she rises, she picks up the pot and turns to leave, only to find Franklin watching her curiously. She offers a small smile, feeling awkward about him catching her tending to his bath just so.

He shakes his head at her, "If I were to tell anyone that the Princess of Derven drew me a bath, they would laugh at me as if I had lost my mind."

She blushes a little, "I'm just doing what anyone woman would."

"Amyee never scents my water," he huffs.

Namora walks by him, shoving him slightly as she laughs, "Well maybe I prefer my men to smell less offensive than she does."

The three of them eat a delicious, humble dinner. They tell stories and laugh happily; Amyee lets something slip about Lucas and the two girls spend an hour convincing Franklin that he is a good man and won't do anything unsavory to Amyee, the whole time Franklin playing like he will strangle him if he comes near her again.

Finally, when the moon is high in the sky, Namora takes her leave despite Amyee's pleadings.

"I would love to stay but father expects me back at the castle tonight," she lies. She gives Franklin a small smile goodbye before Amyee walks her out.

After whistling for Greystar he comes barreling up to them out of the woods. Amyee puts on his saddle while Namora fixes his bridle. Just before she mounts the horse, she stops, "I almost completely forgot why I came here in the first place. I was wondering, if you weren't doing anything at the end of next week, could you possibly come to Alumenia and be my matron of honor?"

Amyee bursts in to tears; though she pretends them to be happy, Namora knows they aren't, "Of course I will, Mora."

After hugging farewell, she mounts her horse and disappears into the night.

CHAPTER 9: ENTOURAGE

Having, to her guilt, lied to both her father and Amyee, Namora has the freedom of the night to herself. She directs Greystar to the archery range just outside of town. Though the night has completely taken over the land, the new moon shines brightly enough to provide her with some light. She doesn't have her bow but this morning she did pack her throwing knives.

After she puts on her leather gloves, she counts off paces and takes her stance, perpendicular to the targets with her feet shoulder length apart. Slowing her breathing, she twists her torso towards her fake foe, concentrating on the bull's-eye before releasing each knife in succession. All hit their mark. She doesn't need the practice but she enjoys the burn in her muscles so she repeats the process over and over again. It has been a while since she has trained; since she got engaged, Laren refused because the idea of a bride with a black eye wasn't a good thing.