Fight for the Enemy
Alora slowly snapped the balcony door shut. She took a few steps to lean against the rail, and search for him. When she spotted his dark shadow move to the door of her private garden, she smiled. She padded down the steps in dainty white slippers.
She tightened the silken belt of her black embroidery robe as she hurried to the path leading to the finely painted door of her private garden. Alora slowed as her heart beat quickened, when she saw Brandon’s dark form pacing before the door. She watched the set of his wide, muscular shoulders as she crouched down, inwardly cursing herself for not changing out of her white nightgown. She grasped the iron wrought hilt of her new dagger.
She rose and unsheathed her dagger, cringing when a slight whisper escaped. She neared Brandon swiftly, and very quietly.
“You should have worn the dark pants Alora. Not a white nightgown. I am disappointed, you know better. I’m certain of it. Now open this door and let us in.”
Alora straightened and scowled at Brandon. “Can’t you let me have it?” She pointed the shimmering blade at him before bending and securing it in its home. She strode forward and lifted a thin chain from around her neck.
As she grasped a small, golden key and inserted it into the lock, Brandon said, “I do not want to be the giver of false hope, my princess.” He came forward when Alora held the door open for him. “Now, we must discuss you lessons. You are supposed to begin Lesson One, after your ceremony, in two days.” He glanced at Alora and an annoyed look crossed her face. “But, young Alora, you have been receiving your lessons, in secret, at night. As a result, you shall be started Lesson Six. When you officially begin them, that is.”
Alora grabbed his muscular upper arm with both of her hands and yanked him to a stop. “Does that mean you aren’t going to teach me now? If so, and you knew that when you told me to meet you…. Why did you tell me to come?”
Brandon pulled her along as he kept walking. They passed beautiful flowers, and blossoming trees, without glancing at their astoundingly simple beauty. Over the last few months, they’d memorized her whole garden, layout and beauty.
“I did know when I told you to meet me.”
Well…. Why? If not for my lessons, why meet with me? Unless you’re going to train me tonight?” Alora pulled him to a more secure stop and stood directly in front of him. She placed her hands on his shoulders and, trying to ignore the sudden fluttering in her stomach, looked up at him. As Alora grinned hopefully, she hoped it was dark enough to hide the faint, unusual blush that had risen upon her checks.
Alora glared as Brandon’s deep chuckle sounded. “As good as you are at dancing Alora, now is not quite the time,” he grinned and placed her hands firmly on her waist, “But, if you insist.” He twirled her around a few times, then stopped. She wasn’t in front of him to go forwards in the path. If he turned, she would be behind him. Alora whacked him, hiding the giggle that was bound to escape.
“Stop it, Brandon. We have important matters to discuss.”
“Of course, Princess. I give my gravest apologizes for my-”
“Oh, stop it.”
“As you wish Your Most Royal Serene Princess-”
“Brandon!”
“Oh, fine.”
“Thank you.”
“No fun at all.”
Alora sighed. “I thought you were supposed to be the responsible, mature one, O’ Royal Tutor?”
“Must you take the pleasure out of everything?”
Alora didn’t reply.
Brandon ran a hand through his almost black hair as he watched Alora. “So what important matters must be discussed again?” Brandon was more sure this time then last, of the faint blush that rose upon her checks.
Alora didn’t even glance at him as she strode forward, ahead of him, her chin held proudly high. As she reset the pace much faster then what it had been, Brandon let Alora pass him to walk ahead of him. He began to fiddle with her long, silky black hair. After a minute, when she didn’t pull her head away and glare at him, he stopped, and took hold of Alora’s shoulders.
“Let go Brandon. We’re almost there.” Alora said shortly as she was jerked to a stop.
Brandon watched her closely. She seemed more anxious then angry. He let her go. “No silent treatment. I’ll not have it Alora.” he told her, stern as could be.
She nodded as she turned away. “Fine.”
A few silent moments later, they came to a stop at the aged green door to the personal sitting area of Alora’s private garden. Alora’s green eyes flicked back and forth between Brandon and the door. Brandon looked at the door, and noticed that the window, had a veil obscuring it. He stared at it. It had never been there before, Alora like the window to be open…
Brandon shook his head and turned to Alora. “Are you going to open it? Or shall I?” Alora’s eyes went wide. She nodded him ahead. Brandon frowned, but came foreward and gently pushed the old door open. He froze. His eyes narrowed. Brandon’s eye swept the area, the area that looked so… different.
“What happened?” Brandon asked, schocked. He swirled around to face Alora, still standing outside the door.
“You don’t like it?” Alora’s face fell as she finally looked at him. Her eyes were full of hurt, and worry. She stepped foreward and stood close enough to Brandon that he could feel the warmth radiating from her body.
Brandon took an automatic step back, and blushingly he replied, “It does not fit the girl I know. Why has it changed? The whimsical garden, I know, was your place. Now it looks fit to host a party for, for your mother. Were you privy to these, these changes?” He turned and walked around the refurbished area.
“My mother said that it needed to be fit for a queen. Not the imagination of a girl-child. And she said, that because I’m a princess, when I marry, my husband will come here. And live here. With me. So, she said that my garden would be fit to e-entertain my… My husband.”
Brandon didn’t try to reply through the sudden lump in his throat. Instead, he exaimed everything. In place of the large stone fountain, was a large, red couch, decorated with fine gold embroidery. In turn, the pouffy chairs and matching table had been replaced with ornately shaped glass top tabe and the straight backed chairs that were used through out the castle. The other small padded bench that Alora sometimes fell asleep on was replaced by a chaise lounge chair that was certainly large enough for two people to sleep on.
Suddenly a thought sturck him. Alora… Husband. She would be the one sleeping there, with a husband. “Have your parents decided who your husband will be?” He sat on the large red couch and waved Alora to sit and join him.
She stepped in front of him. He watched her beautiful green eyes, he was still awestruck by her gorgeousness. Her long black hair lay in waves on her back, tumbling over her shoulders, almost teasingly. Her black robe, tighter around her slim shoulders then loose over her waist and below. Her nightgown, he noted, was new as well, fit for a marriageable young woman. The gown was simple, thin cotton. It fit snugly around her whole young figure, flareing out mid-thigh to end at her ankles. He tried not to notice the low-cut neck that bared some of her chest.
“Brandon… please kiss me?” She sat so close, their bodies were touching.She took one of Brandons’ hands in both of hers. “Please?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “it would be m-most un.. Unchaste. You are a princess, I’m but a traveling tutor for noble families. And now the Royal Family. Besides that, you are to be seventeen tomorrow, you are eligible for marrige tomorrow. But back to your age. I am seven years your elder.”
He shifted away again when Alora tried to look at his face. “Then you are twenty-three. I’ve gotten ahead in arithmetic as well you know. Compared to Jasmine, or now Lady Gildger, she married three years ago. She was sixteen then and he was…. He was thirty-four. There was an….eighteen year difference between them. Now she’s nineteen, and with child. Several years is not so much.”
Brandon finally turned and looked sternly at Alora. Any other female would have blushed furiously, looked away, wringing hands, and muttering apologizes. But not Alora. She stared steadily back at him, chin up and defiance in her strong green eyes.
“I want to feel what it’s like, Brandon. Before it’s forced.” Her soft voice said simply to him. Brandon shot up and began pacing to and fro before Alora. “Brandon.”
He stopped and turned his back to her. He ran a hand through his dark hair. Alora watched him, then stood and stopped just behind him. She touched his left shoulder and he jerked away violently, as if touched by a brand. Alora moved in front of Brandon, and she, again ignoring the fluttering of her stomach, put both hand on his shoulders.
“Good night, Princess.” Before he could turn away, she moved her hand around his neck, and stepped closer.
“Please Brandon? I want you first, not some lordling, or distant prince who won’t see me or know me as you do. Brandon, please?”
As Alora looked up at him, with her wide, innocent green eyes, his heart was pounding. Pouding so hard he thought it would burst forth from his breast.
He wasn’t supposed to let this happen. His job was to get into the castle and be trusted by the Royal Family. Over the past five months, he’d done just that. He’d become King Dawson’s favorate breakfast guest. Queen Liliane’s favorite market guard. And most importantly, Princess Alora Loretta Sintervive’s tutor and her teacher in the fighting arts. Among his fathers orders, there was not one that stated he had to love. HE would not say it, but he longed to hear his real name on her lips. He longed for her to know the truth of who he was, and be okay with it.
And, the irony of it, by this time tomorrow, Alora would know the truth of it. The truth of who he was, who his father was, and why he came to the castle in the first place.
AS she looked up at him, he could only see what she might be after his father and his men. His heart almost broke to think about what his fathers ‘trusted’ men would do to her.
He felt her arm wrap themselves tighter around his neck. He placed his hands lightly on her waist as he did earlier. But this time, there was no play.
He slowly dipped his head down and gently pressed his lips against hers. Alora pressed closer and tangled his hair in her fingers.
He should pull away. His mind said it, and expected it to be done. Instead, his arms came around her waist so tightly, he lifted her a few inches.
He was dizzy.
Her whole body was tigth and warm against his own. Her bofy heat radiated and warmed him through her thin nightgown. With her closeness, he could feel that her heart was beating as fast as his own. Suddenly, her nightgown seemed much, much too thin.
Forcing himself, Brandon unlocked his arms from around her waist. He reached around his neck to grasp her wrists. He pulled them down, then gently pushed her shoulders away.
He closed his eyes before she met them. Brandon stepped back, turning his head away.
Alora looked down, swallowing an overly-happy smile that she knew Brandon wouldn’t want to see. Once she was sure she had her expression under control, she looked at him.
Brandons’ jaw was clenched tight, his eyes closed. He had taken a step away from her, not even attempting to hide his look of effort. Effort to achieve what, Alora did not know.
“Brandon?” she said quietly.
He almost flinched. “Good night, Princess.” he said tightly. He turned stiffly and swiftly, and left the garden withour looking at her. The door was swinging on it’s hinges.
Alora stood frozen. Her throat tightened and she swallowed hard. She could hear his footsteps, still echoing down as he walked. Away from her. He was leaving her. He had left. He left her.
As she stumbled backwards to sit on the smaller red couch, hot tears ran down her checks. She wished he hadn’t left. She wished she never had asked her the kiss, not matter how wonderous it had been.
She mubly curled up on the chaise-bed. She tucked her legs and arms in her robe. As her eyelids dropped and sleep approached she repeated the name of whom held her heart.
“Brandon.”
(*)
Brandon was going out to the stables to meet and talk with somebody, whena messenger came round the corner in a rush. He instantly slowed when he saw Brandon, and halted.
“Ah, Brandon. I have a messege for you…. Rather urgent…”
“Well, out with it then Coll. I have someplace to be.”
Coll swallowed. He stepped closer and said in a hushed voice, “Her Majesty, Queen Liliane, wants to know if you know where the princess is. And,” he said before Brandon could interupt. “if not then you are to come with me. No excuses, she said, the Queen did.”
Brandon hesitated, thinking of the vital information he needed at the meeting he needed to attend at the stables. He glaced back at Coll, who was so anxious to escort him back that he was bouncing on the soles of his feet. That motion decided him. Cool was the best messenger in the castle and had the patience to wait for a mule to walk the length of the stable yard and back. If he was like this, then the situation must be very dire and, Coll would have to be under a very high amount of pressure.
“Very well. Where are we going?” Coll’s release of breathe was very audible. The messenger began walking, very quickly, back the direction from whence he came.
“Princess Alora’s rooms. She can’t be found.”
Brandon started running. “When was she last seen? And where?”
The messenger had to push to keep up with Brandon’s running pace. “ Her maids, Tavia and Temia, saw her last. When they helped her dress for bed. They tucked her in, then went to their pallets in the foyer. When they went to wake her, her bed was empty, and her robe and slippers gone. It doesn’t look like there had been a struggle.”
As they approached the turn that would lead them to Alora’s rooms, they slowed and trotting they turned the corner. There were gaurds galore, and the sight that shocked him the most, was that Queen Liliane was in charge of it all, tears streaming down her face, but still looking ferocious as could be. King Dawson was standing, shoulders hunched, talking to the captain of the castle guard.
Coll melted into the crowd around Liliane, awaiting his next job. Brandon was able to slip in unnoticed, and went to the King. “Your Majesty. What happened? Is there anything I can do to help?” The Captain looked at him. His hard brown eyes narrowed at Brandon.
“Who are you, and what do you think you can do to help?” The Captains voice was as hard as his eyes. Brandon looked at him, noting the hard muscles that made Brandon think that the well-worn sword at the Captains hip was not needed.
“Captain Viscole, this is Brandon Learner. He is Alora’s tutor, after her coming-of-age ceremony. He spends a great deal of time with her. He might have ideas about where she is.” Dawson said while Viscole and Brandon sized each other up. Brandon hoped that the man would not be at the ceremony, but because he was Captain, he would be. Brandon knew he would be a good fighter. “Brandon. Any idea?”
The king’s voice held a note of despairation. Brandon drew his eyes away from the glaring Captain. ‘I know she often sneaks to her garden at night. Has her garden been searched?”
“Of course.” Captain Viscole answered gruffly. “But we couldn’t get to her private garden. Usually when she goes there at night, the gardeners find the door propped open with something. Today the prop was in the path, but the door was closed. We figured if she was in there, she would be out by now. The gardeners said it was probably the wind that blew the prop out onto the path.”
Or by a man who kicked the first thing he could reach outside of her garden. She hadn’t used the prop the night before. “She told me where an extra key was in her room.” Brandon said thoughtfully. “Has anyone thought to use that?” He glaced at the capt. Before looking towards the foyer of Alora’s suite. He had never been in her rooms. He wondered if it would be designed how she would like, or if Liliane had redesigned it, as well.
“No. We did not know of it. Please go see if you can find the key, Brandon. Captain,” he said as the man moved to join Brandon, “Please stay.” It was an order, politely stated as a suggestion.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Brandon bowed, deeply and quickly.He turned away stiffle and walked to Alora's room, trying to remain unnoticed by Liliane. He was stopped when he tried to go past the foyer into Alora's bedroom.
"Do you have permission to go farther then this? I was tols no one was to go into her bedroom." This man too sized him up, considering the difference of visible muscle if he had to take him down.
"I have express permission, given by King Dawsome, himself, to look for a key to the Princess' private garden." Brandon looked coldly at the guard. "Surely you must have seen me with Captain Viscole and the King, discussing this very matter? If not, then your observation skills are somewhat lacking. Please move, gaurd." Brandon knew that he had just earned the great dislike of this man. He was not usually so cold to the men who protected the Royal family. Indeed, he had gained many a friend in the castle and city guards. But this day was going to be hard. And that did not mix well with the fact he barely slept after what had happened with Alora. And now, the peice centeral to his mission of five months, was no where to be found. If she remained unfound, he was sure he'd be in a very large amout of trouble with his father, not to mention pain.
The gaurd scowled at him, but moved aside and let him pass. As he did, Brandon could swear he heard the gaurd mutter, "Noble b*****d." A wall went up in Brandon's mind. For that name, noble b*****d, was indeed what he was. he wanted to punch the man, but tried to swallow his anger, and curled his fists instead.
He thought back to when Alora told him about the key.
"I have another key to my garden. It looks the same as my little gold one, but silver. And the hole is not heart-shaped as my gold one is. It is shaped much like a sheild. I think it must have been meant for a male to carry.... But I keep it in my jewelry box. The black one, with hearts embossed on it. It's behind the mirrior, so you'd have to pop out the mirrior. I don't know how that box was constucted, but it seems a miricle of tiny constuction." he remembered laughing then, and Alora smiling and whacking him on the arm. "It's true. There's a little compartment behind the mirrior, maybe the size and depth of a child's hand. I keep the little silver key there." He remembered that she wanted him to have it.
Brandon swallowed, and went towards a large make-up table with jewlry boxes. He scanned them, and found the black one, and pulled it out. He stared, and traced over the intircate embossed hearts. He opened the box, carefully as if he was handling delicate glass. The box was almost empty, only containing a few small gold rings with small, semi-presious stones, and a folded piece of parchment.
Brandon frowned, his attention drawn to the little note that had his name printed clearly in Alora’s handwriting. He picked it up, and unfolded it. He let out a heavy sigh and began to read;
Brandon -
I don’t exactly know how you would have found this. All I knoe, is that I would never have the courage to hand it to myself. I’ve contemplated sliding it under your door, slipping it in one of your books when you are teching me. That kind of thing. I am honestly not sure how I want you to find this, but I know I want you to know, before my comning-of-age ceremony. When I told you about the key, I wrote this note. I knew that somehow, you’d need them at the same time. How right was I? I’m smiling right now, in case you were wondering.
The reason I wouldn’t have enough courage is the content of this note. Of what I am going to tell you. I’m going to tell you… I’m telling you that I love you. I want to be with you. You remember all the love stories, and poems you showed me? And how I was so annoyed about the weakness of women who fell hopelessly in love.? I’ve turned into one of those women. I would do anything for you, I love you so much. I do all the same things those foolish. Women do. Weakness of the knees, heart beating too fast, butterflies in the stomach… all of that.
Take the note, it says Mother and Father on it, and give it to them. Tell them you have no idea what is says, which will be ture because you will not read it. Then take the silver key from behind the mirrior, and go to my garden. The pink roses out side the gate, and pick one and place it on the middle of the path in fron t of the door.
Brandon, I love you.
-Alora
Brandon swallowed. Wrong name, he thought. He looked in the box, there was indeed another note stating Mother and Father on it. He squeezed his eyes shut, love and happiness warring with dispair and anger inside. He set the note down. He set the other note next to it.
He angled the box, then delicately pulled the mirrior toward him. There was a sharp pop as it came out. There was a little silver key resting there, on a bed of blood red velvet, with its sheild. He slid his note from Alora into his pocket, and picked up the key and the note for Alora’s parents. He left the jewelry box as it was, and walked stiffly out of Alora’s bedroom, past the guard-who was still glaring at him- and went to Kind Dawson and Captain Viscole.
“Here is the key, when you find her, tell her… That I couldn’t pick a pink rose.” He turned to the king. “This was there, for you and Her Majesty. May I be excused? I was attending other matter when messenger Coll found me.”
“You are excused, Brandon. Thank you.” Again Brandon nodded, and bowed. Then he promptly turned and walked away.
He needed to get to the stables.
(*)
Alora walked around the big red couch, wishing it was still the fountain. The soft fabric was nice and warm, but she wanted to be able to drag her fingers though the numbing water. She wanted to sit on the cold stone, lip of the fountain. She sighed, and flopped back on the couch, reveling in the improper behavior that would get her in to trouble if her mother knew about it.
Alora was lonely. She wanted Brandon to find the note, take the key, and come running through the door, fall on his knees, and announce that he loved her. She wanted him to gifted her with a beautiful pink rose. They were her favorite. She loved pink roses. Brandon taught her how to draw roses.
Suddenly she heard the thundering of feet. Why would Brandon bring so many people? She sat up and two quads came rushing in. The men quickly fanned out, searching the garden.
“What do you think you are doing?” Alora asked harshly.
A man came forward, the white tie around his large right arm signified that he was the captain of the castle guard. “You Highness, I apolagize. You were missing this morning, and remained missing. The tutor came and he found a key in your room. He told me to tell you that he couldn’t pick a pink rose. I beg forgiveness.” He bowed deeply, and the other men followed suit.
Alora sighed again. “There is no need to apolagize. I could have gone back to my room at anytime. I chose not to. I thank you, all of you, for trying so hard, and succeeded in finding me with such haste. If you wouldn’t mind, would you men escort to my room?” She stated her order as a question, that was still clearly an order.
The men all nodded, and Alora came foreward. They formed a ring loose ring around her, the normal guard escort for any Royal Family member. The men were shaken by the unusual force and barely masked and contained fury. She was usually kind faced, and gentle.
But everyone knew that the princess was strong-willed, but very few knew that she could have a furious temper. Some of the men knew, that as soft as she seemed, Alora’s slim body could run like wind, and look almost like she’s flying. And the gaurds had heard that she could fight too, weak as she looked she could handle a bladr and worked well in han-to-hand combat.
She didn’t even notice the mens nervousness towards her. She was too busy glowering at the image of Brandon in her minds eye. What did it mean? He couldn’t pick a pink rose… Out of love for the plants? He couldn’t come?
Another sickening thought came to her. What if he didn’t love her back? But he kissed her. That kiss was the reason she decided to go ‘missing’. If he loved her, wouldn’t he come find her?
“Why didn’t Brandon come? Only he knew where the silver key was.”
The answer came from behind her, in the gruff voice of Captain Viscole. “Yes, Your Highness. He did indeed find the key. He gave that to me, and gave His Majesty. Then he asked to be excused, on account of he had been attending other matters when he had been called. “
Alora nodded curtly, and replied, “Very well. Thank you for informing me. Do you know if my father has yet read the note?” Alora sensed hesitation, but kept stolling along, almost as if was normal for eight armed men to escort her through the femine paths of her own garden.
“I do not know, Your Highness. I am not privileged to know such information. I apolagize.”
“I would have thought that the Captain of the castle guard would have been privy to such information. You owe no apology; I do.”
“No. Of course not, Highness, you need not concern yourself with the likes of myself. You have every right to ask any questions you want. I do not. But I should be able to answer any.”
Alora stayed silent. She wondered if her parents had read the note yet. Would they show Brandon? Would either of them accept it? …Would Brandon?
The men kept glacing at Alora and her blank, but slightly thoughtful gaze that set upon nothing.
(*)
“She wants to marry him, Liliane! She needs to marry a high lord, or a prince! Brandon Learner was a commoner. He was a street-rat; the only reason he was ever taught was because he was caught stealing food. And because his family had died, and he was young, the city gaurds put him in a school. He had to work there to earn his keep, and the teachers taught him just because he was there. Our daughter can not marry a commoner!” Dawsom finished his rant with a fist slammed down on the desk in his study.
“Alora’s penmenship has much improved since the last time I looked it over,” Liliane responed, ever so calmly. She was looking over the note.
Dawson glared at her calm face, and he felt his initail shock wear off, and his anger ebbed reluctantly away, at a very slow, snail like pace. “Lili, please support me in this. She is only seventeen today. She can’t be in love….”
Liliane smiled and moved to stand behind her husband and rested her chin on his shoulder. “I was fifteen when I met you. We meet at your eighteenth birthday. I was a middle-class noble. Branond, he is now a lower-class noble. I was very little above what he is now. You were allowed to marry me. If he agrees, and wants to amrry her, why shouldn’t we let them? Dawson, what if she truesly loves him? Would you deny your daughter her love?” She kissed his neck.
Dawson sighed. “I hate when you bring up the past.” He rubbed his face as if attempting to wipe away tiredness, or sleep. “Lili, times are different now. People are more judgemental then they were before. Ut I could not deny our daughter. Even if I tried; she is as strong and as firery as could be. She would fight for what she wants. Indeed, she already does.” Liliane moved to leave and smiled.
“I think she is back. I will ready her for her ceremony, and discuss this with her. It is a mothers job to contemplate the matters of the heart. I will attempt to seek if she truly loves him, for him. I shall be back later, Dawson.” With that she swept out the door.
(*)
Brandon stalked through crowds of people. He was furious. At himself, at Alora, at missing the meeting in the stables. He was slightly taller then most of the people at the market, and that handful of extra inches, caused people to glace at him. Glancing at him, lead to seeing his forbidding glare. Which, in turn, caused people to steer away from him.
He was still glaring blindly at nothing when a very young woman bumped clumsily into him, from nowhere. The cup of soup that she had been holding dumped over them both.
“Damn it.” he said, trying to wipe off the liquid that was slowly soaking in to his clothing. “How much more must I take on this day?” He made an irritated noise. He barely let his glare pass over whoever the young woman was before he set off again.
When he was in a thinner crowd, he found a bit of shade. He sat against the wall, his knees drawn loosely to his chest, his arms draped over his knees. Brandon dropped his head. Suddenly he was aware that there was a warm, living, breathing presence near gim. AS the presense sat a few feet awsy from him, his hands curled into fists.
“I had no idea you could get so steamed over spilt water Brother.” Brandon’s head shot up when he heard the lilting voice of his younger sister.
“Kyra? What are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to stay home? Father isn’t there. You should have stayed there and taken safety in his not being there. Come with me.”
Alora slowly snapped the balcony door shut. She took a few steps to lean against the rail, and search for him. When she spotted his dark shadow move to the door of her private garden, she smiled. She padded down the steps in dainty white slippers.
She tightened the silken belt of her black embroidery robe as she hurried to the path leading to the finely painted door of her private garden. Alora slowed as her heart beat quickened, when she saw Brandon’s dark form pacing before the door. She watched the set of his wide, muscular shoulders as she crouched down, inwardly cursing herself for not changing out of her white nightgown. She grasped the iron wrought hilt of her new dagger.
She rose and unsheathed her dagger, cringing when a slight whisper escaped. She neared Brandon swiftly, and very quietly.
“You should have worn the dark pants Alora. Not a white nightgown. I am disappointed, you know better. I’m certain of it. Now open this door and let us in.”
Alora straightened and scowled at Brandon. “Can’t you let me have it?” She pointed the shimmering blade at him before bending and securing it in its home. She strode forward and lifted a thin chain from around her neck.
As she grasped a small, golden key and inserted it into the lock, Brandon said, “I do not want to be the giver of false hope, my princess.” He came forward when Alora held the door open for him. “Now, we must discuss you lessons. You are supposed to begin Lesson One, after your ceremony, in two days.” He glanced at Alora and an annoyed look crossed her face. “But, young Alora, you have been receiving your lessons, in secret, at night. As a result, you shall be started Lesson Six. When you officially begin them, that is.”
Alora grabbed his muscular upper arm with both of her hands and yanked him to a stop. “Does that mean you aren’t going to teach me now? If so, and you knew that when you told me to meet you…. Why did you tell me to come?”
Brandon pulled her along as he kept walking. They passed beautiful flowers, and blossoming trees, without glancing at their astoundingly simple beauty. Over the last few months, they’d memorized her whole garden, layout and beauty.
“I did know when I told you to meet me.”
Well…. Why? If not for my lessons, why meet with me? Unless you’re going to train me tonight?” Alora pulled him to a more secure stop and stood directly in front of him. She placed her hands on his shoulders and, trying to ignore the sudden fluttering in her stomach, looked up at him. As Alora grinned hopefully, she hoped it was dark enough to hide the faint, unusual blush that had risen upon her checks.
Alora glared as Brandon’s deep chuckle sounded. “As good as you are at dancing Alora, now is not quite the time,” he grinned and placed her hands firmly on her waist, “But, if you insist.” He twirled her around a few times, then stopped. She wasn’t in front of him to go forwards in the path. If he turned, she would be behind him. Alora whacked him, hiding the giggle that was bound to escape.
“Stop it, Brandon. We have important matters to discuss.”
“Of course, Princess. I give my gravest apologizes for my-”
“Oh, stop it.”
“As you wish Your Most Royal Serene Princess-”
“Brandon!”
“Oh, fine.”
“Thank you.”
“No fun at all.”
Alora sighed. “I thought you were supposed to be the responsible, mature one, O’ Royal Tutor?”
“Must you take the pleasure out of everything?”
Alora didn’t reply.
Brandon ran a hand through his almost black hair as he watched Alora. “So what important matters must be discussed again?” Brandon was more sure this time then last, of the faint blush that rose upon her checks.
Alora didn’t even glance at him as she strode forward, ahead of him, her chin held proudly high. As she reset the pace much faster then what it had been, Brandon let Alora pass him to walk ahead of him. He began to fiddle with her long, silky black hair. After a minute, when she didn’t pull her head away and glare at him, he stopped, and took hold of Alora’s shoulders.
“Let go Brandon. We’re almost there.” Alora said shortly as she was jerked to a stop.
Brandon watched her closely. She seemed more anxious then angry. He let her go. “No silent treatment. I’ll not have it Alora.” he told her, stern as could be.
She nodded as she turned away. “Fine.”
A few silent moments later, they came to a stop at the aged green door to the personal sitting area of Alora’s private garden. Alora’s green eyes flicked back and forth between Brandon and the door. Brandon looked at the door, and noticed that the window, had a veil obscuring it. He stared at it. It had never been there before, Alora like the window to be open…
Brandon shook his head and turned to Alora. “Are you going to open it? Or shall I?” Alora’s eyes went wide. She nodded him ahead. Brandon frowned, but came foreward and gently pushed the old door open. He froze. His eyes narrowed. Brandon’s eye swept the area, the area that looked so… different.
“What happened?” Brandon asked, schocked. He swirled around to face Alora, still standing outside the door.
“You don’t like it?” Alora’s face fell as she finally looked at him. Her eyes were full of hurt, and worry. She stepped foreward and stood close enough to Brandon that he could feel the warmth radiating from her body.
Brandon took an automatic step back, and blushingly he replied, “It does not fit the girl I know. Why has it changed? The whimsical garden, I know, was your place. Now it looks fit to host a party for, for your mother. Were you privy to these, these changes?” He turned and walked around the refurbished area.
“My mother said that it needed to be fit for a queen. Not the imagination of a girl-child. And she said, that because I’m a princess, when I marry, my husband will come here. And live here. With me. So, she said that my garden would be fit to e-entertain my… My husband.”
Brandon didn’t try to reply through the sudden lump in his throat. Instead, he exaimed everything. In place of the large stone fountain, was a large, red couch, decorated with fine gold embroidery. In turn, the pouffy chairs and matching table had been replaced with ornately shaped glass top tabe and the straight backed chairs that were used through out the castle. The other small padded bench that Alora sometimes fell asleep on was replaced by a chaise lounge chair that was certainly large enough for two people to sleep on.
Suddenly a thought sturck him. Alora… Husband. She would be the one sleeping there, with a husband. “Have your parents decided who your husband will be?” He sat on the large red couch and waved Alora to sit and join him.
She stepped in front of him. He watched her beautiful green eyes, he was still awestruck by her gorgeousness. Her long black hair lay in waves on her back, tumbling over her shoulders, almost teasingly. Her black robe, tighter around her slim shoulders then loose over her waist and below. Her nightgown, he noted, was new as well, fit for a marriageable young woman. The gown was simple, thin cotton. It fit snugly around her whole young figure, flareing out mid-thigh to end at her ankles. He tried not to notice the low-cut neck that bared some of her chest.
“Brandon… please kiss me?” She sat so close, their bodies were touching.She took one of Brandons’ hands in both of hers. “Please?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “it would be m-most un.. Unchaste. You are a princess, I’m but a traveling tutor for noble families. And now the Royal Family. Besides that, you are to be seventeen tomorrow, you are eligible for marrige tomorrow. But back to your age. I am seven years your elder.”
He shifted away again when Alora tried to look at his face. “Then you are twenty-three. I’ve gotten ahead in arithmetic as well you know. Compared to Jasmine, or now Lady Gildger, she married three years ago. She was sixteen then and he was…. He was thirty-four. There was an….eighteen year difference between them. Now she’s nineteen, and with child. Several years is not so much.”
Brandon finally turned and looked sternly at Alora. Any other female would have blushed furiously, looked away, wringing hands, and muttering apologizes. But not Alora. She stared steadily back at him, chin up and defiance in her strong green eyes.
“I want to feel what it’s like, Brandon. Before it’s forced.” Her soft voice said simply to him. Brandon shot up and began pacing to and fro before Alora. “Brandon.”
He stopped and turned his back to her. He ran a hand through his dark hair. Alora watched him, then stood and stopped just behind him. She touched his left shoulder and he jerked away violently, as if touched by a brand. Alora moved in front of Brandon, and she, again ignoring the fluttering of her stomach, put both hand on his shoulders.
“Good night, Princess.” Before he could turn away, she moved her hand around his neck, and stepped closer.
“Please Brandon? I want you first, not some lordling, or distant prince who won’t see me or know me as you do. Brandon, please?”
As Alora looked up at him, with her wide, innocent green eyes, his heart was pounding. Pouding so hard he thought it would burst forth from his breast.
He wasn’t supposed to let this happen. His job was to get into the castle and be trusted by the Royal Family. Over the past five months, he’d done just that. He’d become King Dawson’s favorate breakfast guest. Queen Liliane’s favorite market guard. And most importantly, Princess Alora Loretta Sintervive’s tutor and her teacher in the fighting arts. Among his fathers orders, there was not one that stated he had to love. HE would not say it, but he longed to hear his real name on her lips. He longed for her to know the truth of who he was, and be okay with it.
And, the irony of it, by this time tomorrow, Alora would know the truth of it. The truth of who he was, who his father was, and why he came to the castle in the first place.
AS she looked up at him, he could only see what she might be after his father and his men. His heart almost broke to think about what his fathers ‘trusted’ men would do to her.
He felt her arm wrap themselves tighter around his neck. He placed his hands lightly on her waist as he did earlier. But this time, there was no play.
He slowly dipped his head down and gently pressed his lips against hers. Alora pressed closer and tangled his hair in her fingers.
He should pull away. His mind said it, and expected it to be done. Instead, his arms came around her waist so tightly, he lifted her a few inches.
He was dizzy.
Her whole body was tigth and warm against his own. Her bofy heat radiated and warmed him through her thin nightgown. With her closeness, he could feel that her heart was beating as fast as his own. Suddenly, her nightgown seemed much, much too thin.
Forcing himself, Brandon unlocked his arms from around her waist. He reached around his neck to grasp her wrists. He pulled them down, then gently pushed her shoulders away.
He closed his eyes before she met them. Brandon stepped back, turning his head away.
Alora looked down, swallowing an overly-happy smile that she knew Brandon wouldn’t want to see. Once she was sure she had her expression under control, she looked at him.
Brandons’ jaw was clenched tight, his eyes closed. He had taken a step away from her, not even attempting to hide his look of effort. Effort to achieve what, Alora did not know.
“Brandon?” she said quietly.
He almost flinched. “Good night, Princess.” he said tightly. He turned stiffly and swiftly, and left the garden withour looking at her. The door was swinging on it’s hinges.
Alora stood frozen. Her throat tightened and she swallowed hard. She could hear his footsteps, still echoing down as he walked. Away from her. He was leaving her. He had left. He left her.
As she stumbled backwards to sit on the smaller red couch, hot tears ran down her checks. She wished he hadn’t left. She wished she never had asked her the kiss, not matter how wonderous it had been.
She mubly curled up on the chaise-bed. She tucked her legs and arms in her robe. As her eyelids dropped and sleep approached she repeated the name of whom held her heart.
“Brandon.”
(*)
Brandon was going out to the stables to meet and talk with somebody, whena messenger came round the corner in a rush. He instantly slowed when he saw Brandon, and halted.
“Ah, Brandon. I have a messege for you…. Rather urgent…”
“Well, out with it then Coll. I have someplace to be.”
Coll swallowed. He stepped closer and said in a hushed voice, “Her Majesty, Queen Liliane, wants to know if you know where the princess is. And,” he said before Brandon could interupt. “if not then you are to come with me. No excuses, she said, the Queen did.”
Brandon hesitated, thinking of the vital information he needed at the meeting he needed to attend at the stables. He glaced back at Coll, who was so anxious to escort him back that he was bouncing on the soles of his feet. That motion decided him. Cool was the best messenger in the castle and had the patience to wait for a mule to walk the length of the stable yard and back. If he was like this, then the situation must be very dire and, Coll would have to be under a very high amount of pressure.
“Very well. Where are we going?” Coll’s release of breathe was very audible. The messenger began walking, very quickly, back the direction from whence he came.
“Princess Alora’s rooms. She can’t be found.”
Brandon started running. “When was she last seen? And where?”
The messenger had to push to keep up with Brandon’s running pace. “ Her maids, Tavia and Temia, saw her last. When they helped her dress for bed. They tucked her in, then went to their pallets in the foyer. When they went to wake her, her bed was empty, and her robe and slippers gone. It doesn’t look like there had been a struggle.”
As they approached the turn that would lead them to Alora’s rooms, they slowed and trotting they turned the corner. There were gaurds galore, and the sight that shocked him the most, was that Queen Liliane was in charge of it all, tears streaming down her face, but still looking ferocious as could be. King Dawson was standing, shoulders hunched, talking to the captain of the castle guard.
Coll melted into the crowd around Liliane, awaiting his next job. Brandon was able to slip in unnoticed, and went to the King. “Your Majesty. What happened? Is there anything I can do to help?” The Captain looked at him. His hard brown eyes narrowed at Brandon.
“Who are you, and what do you think you can do to help?” The Captains voice was as hard as his eyes. Brandon looked at him, noting the hard muscles that made Brandon think that the well-worn sword at the Captains hip was not needed.
“Captain Viscole, this is Brandon Learner. He is Alora’s tutor, after her coming-of-age ceremony. He spends a great deal of time with her. He might have ideas about where she is.” Dawson said while Viscole and Brandon sized each other up. Brandon hoped that the man would not be at the ceremony, but because he was Captain, he would be. Brandon knew he would be a good fighter. “Brandon. Any idea?”
The king’s voice held a note of despairation. Brandon drew his eyes away from the glaring Captain. ‘I know she often sneaks to her garden at night. Has her garden been searched?”
“Of course.” Captain Viscole answered gruffly. “But we couldn’t get to her private garden. Usually when she goes there at night, the gardeners find the door propped open with something. Today the prop was in the path, but the door was closed. We figured if she was in there, she would be out by now. The gardeners said it was probably the wind that blew the prop out onto the path.”
Or by a man who kicked the first thing he could reach outside of her garden. She hadn’t used the prop the night before. “She told me where an extra key was in her room.” Brandon said thoughtfully. “Has anyone thought to use that?” He glaced at the capt. Before looking towards the foyer of Alora’s suite. He had never been in her rooms. He wondered if it would be designed how she would like, or if Liliane had redesigned it, as well.
“No. We did not know of it. Please go see if you can find the key, Brandon. Captain,” he said as the man moved to join Brandon, “Please stay.” It was an order, politely stated as a suggestion.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Brandon bowed, deeply and quickly.He turned away stiffle and walked to Alora's room, trying to remain unnoticed by Liliane. He was stopped when he tried to go past the foyer into Alora's bedroom.
"Do you have permission to go farther then this? I was tols no one was to go into her bedroom." This man too sized him up, considering the difference of visible muscle if he had to take him down.
"I have express permission, given by King Dawsome, himself, to look for a key to the Princess' private garden." Brandon looked coldly at the guard. "Surely you must have seen me with Captain Viscole and the King, discussing this very matter? If not, then your observation skills are somewhat lacking. Please move, gaurd." Brandon knew that he had just earned the great dislike of this man. He was not usually so cold to the men who protected the Royal family. Indeed, he had gained many a friend in the castle and city guards. But this day was going to be hard. And that did not mix well with the fact he barely slept after what had happened with Alora. And now, the peice centeral to his mission of five months, was no where to be found. If she remained unfound, he was sure he'd be in a very large amout of trouble with his father, not to mention pain.
The gaurd scowled at him, but moved aside and let him pass. As he did, Brandon could swear he heard the gaurd mutter, "Noble b*****d." A wall went up in Brandon's mind. For that name, noble b*****d, was indeed what he was. he wanted to punch the man, but tried to swallow his anger, and curled his fists instead.
He thought back to when Alora told him about the key.
"I have another key to my garden. It looks the same as my little gold one, but silver. And the hole is not heart-shaped as my gold one is. It is shaped much like a sheild. I think it must have been meant for a male to carry.... But I keep it in my jewelry box. The black one, with hearts embossed on it. It's behind the mirrior, so you'd have to pop out the mirrior. I don't know how that box was constucted, but it seems a miricle of tiny constuction." he remembered laughing then, and Alora smiling and whacking him on the arm. "It's true. There's a little compartment behind the mirrior, maybe the size and depth of a child's hand. I keep the little silver key there." He remembered that she wanted him to have it.
Brandon swallowed, and went towards a large make-up table with jewlry boxes. He scanned them, and found the black one, and pulled it out. He stared, and traced over the intircate embossed hearts. He opened the box, carefully as if he was handling delicate glass. The box was almost empty, only containing a few small gold rings with small, semi-presious stones, and a folded piece of parchment.
Brandon frowned, his attention drawn to the little note that had his name printed clearly in Alora’s handwriting. He picked it up, and unfolded it. He let out a heavy sigh and began to read;
Brandon -
I don’t exactly know how you would have found this. All I knoe, is that I would never have the courage to hand it to myself. I’ve contemplated sliding it under your door, slipping it in one of your books when you are teching me. That kind of thing. I am honestly not sure how I want you to find this, but I know I want you to know, before my comning-of-age ceremony. When I told you about the key, I wrote this note. I knew that somehow, you’d need them at the same time. How right was I? I’m smiling right now, in case you were wondering.
The reason I wouldn’t have enough courage is the content of this note. Of what I am going to tell you. I’m going to tell you… I’m telling you that I love you. I want to be with you. You remember all the love stories, and poems you showed me? And how I was so annoyed about the weakness of women who fell hopelessly in love.? I’ve turned into one of those women. I would do anything for you, I love you so much. I do all the same things those foolish. Women do. Weakness of the knees, heart beating too fast, butterflies in the stomach… all of that.
Take the note, it says Mother and Father on it, and give it to them. Tell them you have no idea what is says, which will be ture because you will not read it. Then take the silver key from behind the mirrior, and go to my garden. The pink roses out side the gate, and pick one and place it on the middle of the path in fron t of the door.
Brandon, I love you.
-Alora
Brandon swallowed. Wrong name, he thought. He looked in the box, there was indeed another note stating Mother and Father on it. He squeezed his eyes shut, love and happiness warring with dispair and anger inside. He set the note down. He set the other note next to it.
He angled the box, then delicately pulled the mirrior toward him. There was a sharp pop as it came out. There was a little silver key resting there, on a bed of blood red velvet, with its sheild. He slid his note from Alora into his pocket, and picked up the key and the note for Alora’s parents. He left the jewelry box as it was, and walked stiffly out of Alora’s bedroom, past the guard-who was still glaring at him- and went to Kind Dawson and Captain Viscole.
“Here is the key, when you find her, tell her… That I couldn’t pick a pink rose.” He turned to the king. “This was there, for you and Her Majesty. May I be excused? I was attending other matter when messenger Coll found me.”
“You are excused, Brandon. Thank you.” Again Brandon nodded, and bowed. Then he promptly turned and walked away.
He needed to get to the stables.
(*)
Alora walked around the big red couch, wishing it was still the fountain. The soft fabric was nice and warm, but she wanted to be able to drag her fingers though the numbing water. She wanted to sit on the cold stone, lip of the fountain. She sighed, and flopped back on the couch, reveling in the improper behavior that would get her in to trouble if her mother knew about it.
Alora was lonely. She wanted Brandon to find the note, take the key, and come running through the door, fall on his knees, and announce that he loved her. She wanted him to gifted her with a beautiful pink rose. They were her favorite. She loved pink roses. Brandon taught her how to draw roses.
Suddenly she heard the thundering of feet. Why would Brandon bring so many people? She sat up and two quads came rushing in. The men quickly fanned out, searching the garden.
“What do you think you are doing?” Alora asked harshly.
A man came forward, the white tie around his large right arm signified that he was the captain of the castle guard. “You Highness, I apolagize. You were missing this morning, and remained missing. The tutor came and he found a key in your room. He told me to tell you that he couldn’t pick a pink rose. I beg forgiveness.” He bowed deeply, and the other men followed suit.
Alora sighed again. “There is no need to apolagize. I could have gone back to my room at anytime. I chose not to. I thank you, all of you, for trying so hard, and succeeded in finding me with such haste. If you wouldn’t mind, would you men escort to my room?” She stated her order as a question, that was still clearly an order.
The men all nodded, and Alora came foreward. They formed a ring loose ring around her, the normal guard escort for any Royal Family member. The men were shaken by the unusual force and barely masked and contained fury. She was usually kind faced, and gentle.
But everyone knew that the princess was strong-willed, but very few knew that she could have a furious temper. Some of the men knew, that as soft as she seemed, Alora’s slim body could run like wind, and look almost like she’s flying. And the gaurds had heard that she could fight too, weak as she looked she could handle a bladr and worked well in han-to-hand combat.
She didn’t even notice the mens nervousness towards her. She was too busy glowering at the image of Brandon in her minds eye. What did it mean? He couldn’t pick a pink rose… Out of love for the plants? He couldn’t come?
Another sickening thought came to her. What if he didn’t love her back? But he kissed her. That kiss was the reason she decided to go ‘missing’. If he loved her, wouldn’t he come find her?
“Why didn’t Brandon come? Only he knew where the silver key was.”
The answer came from behind her, in the gruff voice of Captain Viscole. “Yes, Your Highness. He did indeed find the key. He gave that to me, and gave His Majesty. Then he asked to be excused, on account of he had been attending other matters when he had been called. “
Alora nodded curtly, and replied, “Very well. Thank you for informing me. Do you know if my father has yet read the note?” Alora sensed hesitation, but kept stolling along, almost as if was normal for eight armed men to escort her through the femine paths of her own garden.
“I do not know, Your Highness. I am not privileged to know such information. I apolagize.”
“I would have thought that the Captain of the castle guard would have been privy to such information. You owe no apology; I do.”
“No. Of course not, Highness, you need not concern yourself with the likes of myself. You have every right to ask any questions you want. I do not. But I should be able to answer any.”
Alora stayed silent. She wondered if her parents had read the note yet. Would they show Brandon? Would either of them accept it? …Would Brandon?
The men kept glacing at Alora and her blank, but slightly thoughtful gaze that set upon nothing.
(*)
“She wants to marry him, Liliane! She needs to marry a high lord, or a prince! Brandon Learner was a commoner. He was a street-rat; the only reason he was ever taught was because he was caught stealing food. And because his family had died, and he was young, the city gaurds put him in a school. He had to work there to earn his keep, and the teachers taught him just because he was there. Our daughter can not marry a commoner!” Dawsom finished his rant with a fist slammed down on the desk in his study.
“Alora’s penmenship has much improved since the last time I looked it over,” Liliane responed, ever so calmly. She was looking over the note.
Dawson glared at her calm face, and he felt his initail shock wear off, and his anger ebbed reluctantly away, at a very slow, snail like pace. “Lili, please support me in this. She is only seventeen today. She can’t be in love….”
Liliane smiled and moved to stand behind her husband and rested her chin on his shoulder. “I was fifteen when I met you. We meet at your eighteenth birthday. I was a middle-class noble. Branond, he is now a lower-class noble. I was very little above what he is now. You were allowed to marry me. If he agrees, and wants to amrry her, why shouldn’t we let them? Dawson, what if she truesly loves him? Would you deny your daughter her love?” She kissed his neck.
Dawson sighed. “I hate when you bring up the past.” He rubbed his face as if attempting to wipe away tiredness, or sleep. “Lili, times are different now. People are more judgemental then they were before. Ut I could not deny our daughter. Even if I tried; she is as strong and as firery as could be. She would fight for what she wants. Indeed, she already does.” Liliane moved to leave and smiled.
“I think she is back. I will ready her for her ceremony, and discuss this with her. It is a mothers job to contemplate the matters of the heart. I will attempt to seek if she truly loves him, for him. I shall be back later, Dawson.” With that she swept out the door.
(*)
Brandon stalked through crowds of people. He was furious. At himself, at Alora, at missing the meeting in the stables. He was slightly taller then most of the people at the market, and that handful of extra inches, caused people to glace at him. Glancing at him, lead to seeing his forbidding glare. Which, in turn, caused people to steer away from him.
He was still glaring blindly at nothing when a very young woman bumped clumsily into him, from nowhere. The cup of soup that she had been holding dumped over them both.
“Damn it.” he said, trying to wipe off the liquid that was slowly soaking in to his clothing. “How much more must I take on this day?” He made an irritated noise. He barely let his glare pass over whoever the young woman was before he set off again.
When he was in a thinner crowd, he found a bit of shade. He sat against the wall, his knees drawn loosely to his chest, his arms draped over his knees. Brandon dropped his head. Suddenly he was aware that there was a warm, living, breathing presence near gim. AS the presense sat a few feet awsy from him, his hands curled into fists.
“I had no idea you could get so steamed over spilt water Brother.” Brandon’s head shot up when he heard the lilting voice of his younger sister.
“Kyra? What are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to stay home? Father isn’t there. You should have stayed there and taken safety in his not being there. Come with me.”
