Chapter 12 – A Taste of Poison #6
“No,” Remin said immediately. His black brows lowered. “We’ll try…something else. I would rather you kept Ophele away from swords altogether.”
“That ain’t quite what we practiced, Your Grace…” Davi pointed out as he trailed after Remin to dispose of his own damaged sword. Both of them had been made of solid oak.
The three men were lightly armored for this exercise, which had seemed very exciting when they first began and then became increasingly less so.
The objective was simple: to allow Ophele to practice moving between her guards without tripping them.
It didn’t sound like a difficult thing to do, and Ophele had worn her most practical boots and presented herself at the mess hall of the barracks at the appointed time, secretly hoping to impress Remin.
Except Remin did not want to be impressed.
In fact, she got the distinct impression that he did not want any of this to be happening.
“Same objective,” he said when he returned, plucking another practice sword from a nearby barrel and pointing to the end of the hall with it. “Try to make it to those doors. Go for speed this time.”
“I’ll defend first,” said Leonin. “My lady, stay with Davi and just keep moving.”
“All right.” Ophele tried to sound enthusiastic, but she had a growing list of objections to this plan, the first of which was that Remin wouldn’t let her do anything.
It was true that there wasn’t much she could do against armored men, and a lady could hardly wander about Segoile in armor.
She doubted she could even get her teeth through their gloves.
Though if anyone did try to snatch her, she fully intended to bite whatever parts of their anatomy were available.
But surely she could try to dodge them on her own before then, couldn’t she?
All this time she had been privately planning to scramble up to some high place and wait for Leonin and Davi to dispatch them, or for rescuers to arrive, or for her abductors to get bored and go away. It used to work on Julot.
And that was another thing. What were the odds really of a three-hundred-pound juggernaut like Remin trying to abduct her?
They must think of the worst thing, yes, and it was also possible that a Bhumi water bison might escape from the Imperial menagerie and try to run her down in the street, but it seemed to her that there were other, more likely scenarios they might have been practicing.
But Remin absolutely would not hear of anyone attempting to lay hands on her, so here they were.
“Go,” he ordered.
Ophele went.
Stars, he was terrifying. She could hear armor rattling behind her as she bolted forward with Davi to her left, hauling her along by her elbow.
He was a left-handed swordsman, an important advantage against most opponents, and a perfect complement to Leonin.
Backed into a corner, the two of them could defend for a very, very long time, even against the Duke of Andelin.
That was the last resort, though. They did not want to be backed into a corner.
“Don’t look back,” Davi warned as swords clacked together behind them, one-two-three, blows in such rapid succession that Ophele really would have liked to see it.
But all too soon there was a curse, a thud, and then heavy, pounding boots, accelerating.
Ophele knew that sound. It meant Remin was overtaking them.
The double doors at the end of the hall were still fifty paces away when Davi suddenly swore and whirled about, flinging up his sword and thrusting Ophele behind him.
She immediately stepped on the hem of her gown and sat down. Hard.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she said immediately, scrambling back to her feet with a red face. Remin had already stopped and was shoving Davi aside. “It’s this stupid skirt, I’m sorry.”
“You could bundle it up while you’re running,” Remin said, coming to examine her hands. “Is women’s clothing meant to hinder? Perhaps Tiffen could take off a couple inches…”
“Not in Segoile, Your Grace.” Leonin shook his head, appearing with a fresh welt over his jaw. “We might as well announce that we’re not able to defend her, quite aside from the scandal of fashion. If we really meant it, we’d have Her Grace practicing with a train and dancing shoes.”
“This is sufficient for today,” Remin said, looking grim.
“I can do it,” Ophele said, trying to sound competent. “Shall we try again?”
The whole thing felt a little unreal. She knew that it was possible that someone would really try to kidnap her, but it felt about as likely as being run down by one of the Emperor’s bison.
It gave her an uncomfortable, queasy feeling to see them all so serious, when she was just a bastard, and no one could really want her for anything.
But this was a chance to prove to Remin that she could take care of herself, and maybe he didn’t need to worry so much. She was fast on her feet. It was just trying to dodge about Leonin and Davi that was throwing her off.
So the next time Remin said go, she was off like a rabbit.
The familiar noises pursued her. Pounding footsteps.
They turned as both Leonin and Davi pushed Remin back, and Davi even launched himself at Remin’s legs, trying to knock him over while Leonin and Ophele raced for the doors.
But Remin was so quick, all too soon she could hear him coming up from her left and even as Leonin was yanking her forward and out of the way, she snatched up her skirts and accelerated, bounding past him for the final twenty paces to slap her hands against the huge double doors.
“There!” she said triumphantly, turning. “Look, Remin, if they hold you ba—”
“Never leave your guards!” Remin exclaimed. “Why did you do that? Do you know who might be behind that door? I told you, always stay in arm’s reach of your guards.”
“But—but I thought we were close enough,” she stammered, crushed. “I can run, too—”
“You’re not supposed to run off by yourself. You’re supposed to learn to run with them,” he said flatly. “This is not a game. There is no base.”
“I know, but—”
Her nose was starting to sting and she looked quickly away, grateful that Leonin started talking. She didn’t want to cry, that felt like it would only prove Remin’s point, but she wasn’t useless.
“Perhaps we ought to begin with that, then, my lord,” Leonin was saying. “It’s unrealistic to focus too much on stopping you. Our opponents in Segoile are likely to be less skilled and more numerous. We will not be attempting to hold off the Duke of Andelin.”
“Thank the stars,” muttered Davi.
“We’ll try that, then,” Remin agreed after a moment. “No weapons. Just keep me from laying a hand on her.”
That was what he wanted anyway. The least possible danger.
It felt like she had failed a test, and it felt like she hadn’t even had a chance to try.
Silently, Ophele moved behind Leonin and Davi, glancing resentfully up at the tall posts and beams lining the dining hall.
She would have liked to climb up there and then see if Remin could lay a hand on her.
“Ready?” he asked, moving back a few paces to give them a sporting chance. “Mind that skirt, wife.”
They lasted longer this way, at least. It was a child’s game compared to the business of swords, but Davi and Leonin formed a shifting, flexible wall around Ophele, moving to deflect Remin away rather than confronting him directly.
Ophele was quick to dance back whenever he lunged toward her, and after a little while she thought she even spotted a pattern in how Leonin and Davi were moving, the way their hands turned outward to push her back a split second before they stepped.
It wasn’t something she could reason through while she was trying to move, but once she had spotted it, it felt easier to focus on Leonin and Davi and stay with them, without being distracted by Remin.
Maybe that was the trouble? Maybe she was paying too much attention to him? It was hard not to, he made such a racket when he was pursuing, and sometimes he even randomly shouted as he charged and made her freeze, so she had to stumble backward.
Why, he was doing that on purpose!
Ophele had only an instant to appreciate his cunning before he did it again, lunging forward with a shout that made her backpedal automatically with fright, and then someone else stepped on her skirt and she tripped and the next thing she knew, she was ricocheting between all three of them like a small ball rattling between tenpins.
For a minute, she didn’t know which way was up.
“Stars, Ophele!” She heard behind her, and big hands dug her out of the pile of limbs and sat her up, Remin’s horrified face swimming above her.
“Ouch,” she said thickly, shaking her head. She had smacked her nose hard enough that her eyes were watering, and when Remin turned her hands over, both her palms were badly scraped by the flagstones. From the feel of it, her knees were in similar shape.
“I’ll get some water.” Davi shook his head and rose. “Bloody buggering hell, those skirts are a menace, I’m so sorry, my lady.”
“It’s all right,” she said, touching her nose and wondering if it was bleeding.
“Let me see,” said Remin, tilting her head back. “Anywhere else hurt? It’s no small thing to get tackled by three men in armor.”
“I’m all ri—” She let out a squawk of protest as Remin pushed her skirts up over her knees, ignoring their audience. Blood was trickling from long scrapes on both knees.
“This is why I didn’t want to do this,” he said savagely, producing a handkerchief and carefully wiping away the blood streaks. “Guard work isn’t like soldiering, we’re not used to maneuvering around someone to protect them, look at this—”
“They’re just scratches,” she protested, pinching her poor nose. “I can do it, next time I’ll—”
“There won’t be a next time,” he retorted. “Davi and Leonin can borrow one of the pages until they learn not to fall on you.”
“But there’s only a few weeks left!” she exclaimed, trying not to yelp as he blotted at her bleeding knees. “I can do it! I have to learn not to trip them, don’t I? I’ll be careful, I prom—”
“I said no,” he snapped. “Look at this! One fall! They’re going to think I beat you! I won’t have you getting knocked about—”
“It’s not as if it’s the first time!” she shouted back, and his mouth shut with a snap.
All three men were staring at her with a strange, helplessly fury, and Ophele only belatedly realized what she had said and lifted her chin.
“Well, it isn’t. And if someone wants to kidnap me, I don’t think they’ll mind knocking me about. Remin, you can’t—”
This was the last thing he wanted to hear, she knew it.
“You can’t protect me from everything,” she said. “I have to learn this by myself.”
Remin’s jaw tightened, his lips pressed flat as if he were suppressing a really crushing response. And then he sighed.
“I know that,” he said, his wide shoulders sagging. He glanced back at Leonin and Davi. “Give us a few minutes.”
“You can’t,” Ophele repeated as she let him steer her over to a bench to sit down. “Remin, I can help. At least let me try.”
“I don’t want you getting hurt,” he repeated, crouching in front of her and pushing her skirts back up over her knees.
“Not even this much. Your knees are so…I like your knees, you have pretty knees, what if this scars? I’m supposed to protect you.
I hate this, you’re not supposed to get hurt, I hate watching—wife! What the blazes was that for?”
Ophele shook out her hand. She had slapped his head so hard, it felt like she might have broken it.
“You,” she said, her voice quivering with fury.
“You! How do you think I feel? I know you’re not sleeping, you’re not eating properly, do you think I like watching that?
Do you think I don’t worry? You won’t even tell me, you won’t talk to me, you don’t even admit it when you’re sick!
How would you like it, if I just hid it and told you I was fine! It’s not fine!”
He rocked back on his heels, his eyes widening.
“You won’t even let me help,” she said, trying and failing to keep her voice steady.
“I could get away from you, I know I could, but you won’t even let me show you!
I can climb, I could get into the rafters and you would never get me down and then Leonin and Davi could fight you or go for help but you won’t even let me try, you won’t even listen—”
“I don’t want you climbing in the rafters,” he began, faltering, and then rose up on his knees, pulling her into his arms as she started to cry. “Oh, wife, don’t. I just don’t want you to get hurt. If something happened to you—”
“Well that’s how I feel, too!” she sobbed, slapping his chest. “All this time! All I could do is watch you hurt! Do you think I didn’t know?”
“All right,” he murmured. “All right. You’re right, I’m sorry.”
“You have to talk to me,” she wept.
“I will.”
“And you have to stop saying you’re fine if you aren’t.”
“That’s the pot calling out the kettle,” he said, his fingers stroking the back of her neck.
“I don’t care. I told you when I was hurting and it was embarrassing for me, too.”
“You did.”
For a little while, they were quiet, and she could feel his fingers moving through her hair, gentling.
“I want to help,” she said, lifting her head to look up at him unhappily. “Am I that useless?”
“Of course not,” he replied, low. “I just…I really was trying to keep you from worrying, wife. I want you to be happy. I want to keep you safe. I didn’t want you to know…”
“That just means I have to figure it out by myself,” she informed him, and made him give a short laugh.
“That’s what Miche said.” He bent his head, his lips brushing hers, and after a moment she decided to allow it. “I’m sorry.”
“Then can we try again?” she asked, looking up to meet his eyes. Her mouth set in a stubborn line. “I can do it.”
“Let’s do something about your knees first…” He trailed off and sighed. “And then you can show me what you can do.”