Chapter 12
It took a while to get Tedra out of the emotional level she’d slipped into. Shanelle found it necessary to totally reverse her stand, reminding her mother of how easy she was to bruise, insisting that she wasn’t badly hurt, just sore.
Tedra had still done some insisting of her own. “I’m going to take him apart piece by piece, but first I’ll give him his wish and let him destroy Martha. She should have Transferred you away from him at the first indication of pain!”
“It wasn’t all pain,” Shanelle had whispered.
“What was that?”
“I said it wasn’t all pain. Martha can’t be blamed for not being able to tell what I was actually feeling, when at least half of it was—nice.”
She’d also had to repeatedly point out that the damage was only the temporary kind and would be eliminated altogether with a few minutes in a meditech, which she’d also had to promise would be done immediately.
She’d left her mother not quite back to seeing Falon as a future member of the family, but not quite so eager to dissect him, either. “I suppose I should hear the monster’s side of it first,” she allowed.
Shanelle sincerely hoped her mother never got an opportunity to meet Falon at all.
For two such volatile personalities to clash, it didn’t bear thinking about.
Besides, nothing could come of their meeting but more difficulties.
Shanelle had made up her mind about Falon.
She didn’t like admitting it, but she was basically a coward, especially where pain was concerned.
And although Falon might have got his emotions in hand just before she left him, she wasn’t going to put herself in a position to experience again what it was like when he didn’t.
An hour later, having rid herself of all bruises and whatever internal injuries she had sustained—she didn’t want to know and so hadn’t asked the meditech for a report—she was beginning to experience a little anger of her own, and all of it for the man who had dashed her hopes so badly.
He had no business being so careless with the kind of strength he possessed.
Someone should have taught him better—he should have taught himself better.
She couldn’t begin to imagine the kind of women he must be used to, women who didn’t mind such rough handling.
Stars, they must be as big and strong as he was.
And where did he come from that he was so like a warrior except in the one way that would have kept her from being afraid of his strength—a warrior’s calm control?
Of course, if he was a warrior, that would open up another whole avenue of fears, some worse than anticipated pain.
And she’d asked him outright where he was from at least once.
Why hadn’t he answered instead of asking if it mattered?
As if it mattered now. It didn’t, other than to appease her curiosity about him. And despite her resolve to never see him again, she was still curious, frustratingly so, which merely added to her anger. She shouldn’t even be thinking about him anymore, yet she couldn’t get him out of her mind.
Dressed now in the traditional chauri that all Kan-is-Tran women wore, Shanelle felt more like she was finally home.
She had these sheer, scarf-like outfits in every conceivable color, but she’d picked plain white for tonight to honor her father and to appease his earlier annoyance at her visitor’s outfit.
Depending on how the scarves were draped, they could be blatantly provocative or demurely feminine.
Shanelle had never tried to be provocative and doubted she ever would.
On her the chauri was firmly belted to keep the upper scarves covering just what they should.
And the scarves of all her skirts were joined well below the hip, so the free-floating sections never parted higher than mid-thigh.
To add color to her outfit, the white belt and sandals were embedded with tobraz, the light blue gems mined in the north countries.
The same gems circled her throat and dangled from her ears and both wrists.
Her hair she left flowing down her back as her father preferred to see it, though she had a hair-styler that could have arranged it in any intricate manner she wanted in just a matter of moments.
She was ready to join her family for the evening meal, yet she hesitated before the mirrored wall in her dressing room, staring at the image reflected there.
But try as she might, she couldn’t see any difference in herself to account for what she had experienced that day.
There was a little added color in her cheeks due to her continued agitation, but that was all.
So what had she expected? It wasn’t as if it had been the glowingly wonderful experience she had assumed it would be that might have put happy sparkles in her eyes.
And the meditech had taken away all the physical evidence.
Just because she felt so different inside…
She sighed in disgust and left her dressing room, even more irritated than she had been, and that would never do.
She had to calm down before she joined her parents.
The last thing she needed was to have her feelings set her mother off again, this time with her father there to witness it and demand explanations.
She circled her room slowly for a few minutes, taking deep breaths, letting the familiar furnishings soothe her.
Her collection of moonstones, the only adjustibed in the palace, the chair Dalden broke every time he sat down in it, always making her laugh, which was why she kept having it repaired, and why he kept testing it.
She hadn’t seen her brother yet, nor had her pet fembair been by to greet her, but she’d see them both before the day was finished, she was sure.
She was safe here, protected. Falon might have threatened to find her, but he wouldn’t. Not here. And she would stay away from the competitions. Corth could escort her friends back to the park tomorrow if they wanted to go, but she’d find an excuse not to join them.
There, she felt better already. She hadn’t realized she’d been worried about running into Falon again, but she must have been.
With a last deep breath, she left her room, smiled at the servant passing by her door, then stopped dead, seeing the four men who followed the servant. Falon Van’yer was one of them. He stopped, too, as surprised as she was. His three friends turned back to inquire what was keeping him.
Shanelle took that opportunity to slip back into her room.
Her heart was pounding frantically. She couldn’t imagine what he was doing in the palace, let alone coming down the hallway from the guest wing.
If only she’d waited just a few more seconds before leaving.
And, Stars, there was no lock on her door.
There were no locks on any doors in the palace because no one would dare enter where he wasn’t welcome.
That thought managed to relieve her a little, until the door pushed against her back as it opened. With a gasp she leaned all her weight against it, but that was about the most wasted effort she’d ever made. It continued to open easily, forcing her to leap away from it before she got squashed.
She turned to face the intruder, not the least in doubt as to who it was. But no words came to order him out; no words of any kind formed as she was struck again by his handsomeness.
Falon stood there in her doorway, grinning at her, satisfaction exuding from him.
He was wearing a shirt now with his leather bracs, if it could be called a shirt.
It, too, was made of the buttery-soft zaalskin, but was white, and without sleeves, and molded to his chest, or what little it covered of his chest, like a second skin.
It ended at his waist, and instead of wrapping around like a warrior’s shirt would, it was fastened tight at his navel with golden links of chain.
As a covering, it was totally inadequate, leaving too much bare in the deep V that ended at his navel, hiding none of the strength in his thick arms. The white merely made his skin seem an even darker bronze, which in turn set him further apart from the golden-skinned warriors of Kan-is-Tra.
Shanelle took all this in, including the four-foot-long sword at his left hip, the gold dagger strapped to his right boot, the new sword belt embellished with gold and white scrollwork, but most of all his size, his tremendous height and brawn filling her doorway.
All the fear she had felt in his tent was there again, but right beside it was that swirling giddiness she’d felt upon first seeing him.
“I had not thought to find you here, woman.”
“That—that goes double.” Managing that much, it was easier for more words to follow. “This is my room and I’m not inviting you in, Falon, so you can just—”
“I invite myself.”
Putting action to words, he moved forward enough to close the door behind him. Shanelle started backing up, but once those azure eyes returned to her, she couldn’t seem to move another step. Anxiety almost had her wringing her hands.
“Falon, there’s no point to this. A few hours haven’t changed anything.”
“I disagree,” he replied, but didn’t elaborate as to why. Instead his eyes dropped to her waist, now minus the computer-link unit. “Does she still listen?”
“No—yes!” Actually, Shanelle didn’t know, but she doubted it. Martha had no reason to keep monitoring her now that she was in her own home, where things like this didn’t happen. “I’m just going to say this once. Leave.”
It was as if she hadn’t spoken. “I have decided to test the computer’s threats, as should have been done at the first.”
“All right, I’ll say it twice. Leave.”
This time he shook his head slowly, grinning at her again. “We have much to finish between us, woman, all that I said must be done. Best you accept my will in this, for I will not leave you until—”
“Why must you be so farden inflexible? Aren’t people allowed free choice where you come from?”