Chapter 3: Dancing
Chapter 3: Dancing
Emily burst through their door to find three sets of eyes staring at her expectantly. She nodded, laughing. "Easy as pie!" she declared. "He took the whole plate, and he started eating one before I even turned around. He'll be out in no time."
"It's almost a shame," Jennifer sighed. "He seems...different...from the rest."
"They're all the same, Jen," Elle chided gently. "They just want the prestige of marrying a princess; the bragging rights that they solved the mystery; and, of course, the crown."
"Not much of a prize these days," Penelope said with a dramatic roll of her eyes.
"Ladies, ladies," Emily interrupted before the old debate could break out, "we're going to be late! I'm not even dressed yet."
Aaron, huddling in the corner and praying that the crone's enchantment would hold, averted his eyes to make a long, involved study of the wall covering. He could hear the swish of expensive silks, the giggling and whispering of excited young women, and, at last, a quiet scraping noise, like that of a door being opened. He turned back toward the princesses to find them disappearing through a passage hidden behind their heavy antique bookcase.
Muffling a curse, he rushed to follow them, only just making it before the bookcase swung closed behind him. The passage was inky, foggy, and he had to keep close to the youngest and her pool of light or risk losing his way. Odd, he reflected; how can one lose one's way in a straight passage?
He realized with a start that they'd somehow gone from a stone corridor to a forest. The trees glittered strangely in the light of the princesses' lanterns, and he saw that they were made of gold and silver. Reaching out, he quickly snapped off a glimmering twig: proof for the queen. They followed a seemingly unmarked path through the metallic wood for so long that he began to wonder if they wore out their shoes simply by walking. He fought the urge to yawn; he was quite tired, and the bed in his chamber had looked soft and inviting.
At last a building began to materialize through the mist. It was gaily lit, and he could hear strains of music floating through the murk toward them. He quickened his pace a bit, only to have to hurriedly check himself when the youngest abruptly stopped directly in front of him.
"Sisters, did you hear that?" she called to her companions.
The other three paused, turned. "What's wrong, Jenny?" Emily asked from the front of the line.
"I just thought...I thought I heard steps."
"It was nothing; just the water," Elle assured her. "Come on, they're waiting!"
She seemed to relax a little, and her face lit in a lovely smile. "You're right. I'm being silly."
"Nothing new there," Penelope remarked with a grin.
The sisters fell back into their line and began the trek again. Aaron followed more cautiously, being careful to keep his steps light and his breath silent.
Next morning Emily watched him with shrewd dark eyes. He looked worn out, his face set in tired lines, and every few minutes he had to fight off a huge yawn. She glanced at her sisters, fine dark brow raised. "Did you sleep well, Aaron?" she asked carefully.
He looked up from his plate and into four guileless faces. "Like a stone," he admitted ruefully. "I've not had a bed so comfortable in...I can't remember when."
"You've just come from the front?" Penelope asked, her eyes lighting in genuine interest.
"Yes. I've served in your mother's army for the last ten years. The Battle of Ebon Ridge was my final one."
"And the last one of the war, yes?" Jennifer asked quietly. "The enemy surrendered after."
"Indeed," he replied mildly. "But perhaps war isn't the best subject for breakfast conversation. Tell me, ladies: what do you do when you aren't driving your mother to desperation?"
The women exchanged a four-way look, their faces bright with mischief and delight. "We do little else," Elle told him. "It's our primary pleasure."
Emily cleared her throat, reining her younger sisters in. "We read. We play chess. We walk in the garden. We sew. In other words, we engage in all the activities proper for young ladies of our station."
Aaron studied her across the table. Her expression was bland, innocent, but he noticed the gleam in her ochre eyes. "Chess. Perhaps I could interest you in a game, Lady Emily?"
Those dark, knowing eyes flashed. "Absolutely. After breakfast, shall we?"
He bowed his head respectfully. "It would be my pleasure and my honor."
Elle rolled her eyes; Penelope stifled a giggle; Jennifer cast a concerned glance between the man and her eldest sister. Perhaps, this time, Emily had bitten off more than even she could chew.
"Did you have much opportunity for chess as a soldier, Aaron?" Emily asked, watching him as he studied the board, his comely face creased in a thoughtful frown.
He looked up from the game and into her still face, wondering if she were mocking him. Nothing about her expression said so; she seemed to mean the question sincerely. He concentrated on the crystal and obsidian pieces again and considered how to answer. "Little," he said at last. "My father taught me when I was a boy. I haven't played in years."
Penelope looked up from the stack of correspondences she was answering. "What was it like?" she asked. "The war, I mean."
He glanced at her, eyebrows climbing. "Do you really want me to answer that?"
"Why?" Elle asked, marking her place in the book she was reading with a long, elegant finger. "You think we can't handle the truth because we're girls?"
Aaron carefully moved his rook to protect his queen. "No," he replied mildly, "your gender has nothing to do with it. It's just most civilians...they have an idea of what war is like, but it's idealized. Dashing knights in armor. Gallant foes. Colorful banners snapping in the breeze. When they hear the truth, they're always...disappointed, I suppose."
"One of us is the future queen," Jennifer pointed out reasonably. "We should know the truth. If you don't feel comfortable talking about it, though, we understand." She cast her colorfully-attired sister a fierce look, and Penelope turned back to her letters with a little frown.
He danced Emily's recently captured pawn across his knuckles like a gypsy in the market would with a coin. "It stinks," he finally told them. "There's no way to describe how bad it smells. Blood, sweat, vomit, shit, and piss. Pardon my language, ladies."
"We don't mind," Emily assured him. "We asked for honesty."
"You're always afraid. Every minute of every day. The fear never leaves. All your food tastes of it. All your dreams echo with it."
Penelope's eyes were wide. "You were afraid?"
He smiled grimly. "Any soldier who says he wasn't afraid is either a fool or a liar." He shrugged; captured Emily's bothersome knight. "That's the gist of it: stink, fear, and death."
"Do you support the peace treaty?" Elle asked.
"I support the end of the war. The rest is politics; I worry little about politics."
"You'll have to start worrying about it if you're going to be king," Emily interjected smoothly.
"If," he replied mildly.
"Aren't you going to solve the mystery?" she challenged, lips curving in a teasing smile.
"Of course I will," he answered easily. "That doesn't mean I'll be king."
"But...that's the prize for solving it," Jennifer reminded him. "One of us and the crown."
He turned to study the pretty blond for a long moment before he swiveled back toward her sister. A small, ironic smile curved his serious mouth. "I'll solve it, lady princesses. Whether or not I accept the prize your mother is offering is another matter."
Emily opened her mouth. Closed it again. She couldn't decide whether or not to be insulted, and the strange twinkle in his dark olive eyes wasn't helping. He held her gaze for several heartbeats; moved his bishop. "Checkmate," he told her before standing, bowing, and making his exit.
Emily's mouth fell open again as, astounded, she watched him go. She looked down at the board; could feel her cheeks going hot. "Impossible man," she muttered, "he actually beat me!"
Her three sisters exchanged silent, knowing glances before each innocently returned to her pastime, leaving the eldest to stare after the soldier with a scowl.
I know I spent a very short amount of time with princesses in their little hideaway, but, honestly, that issue is sort of secondary to the overall story. :) Besides, he's got two more nights to go.