Chapter 6 Belle-Belle
Belle-Belle
Fleet Foot—Lucas—had almost caught me out. His soft, golden-brown eyes were liquid and gentle, and I had wanted to tell him the truth. But it would serve no real purpose.
Though Comrade needed no grooming, I still walked him into the stables.
“I need advice, dear Comrade,” I whispered into his mane.
“Anything you ask, my dear Chevalier,” he responded with a nicker.
“I fear I will not please the king as I am. Surely once this ruse is up, I can resume my normal appearance, and see if he would be interested in me. But I come to him inexperienced, and…perhaps I am not that desirable in the first place, in the eyes of a man—"
For the first time ever, the horse cut me off.
“I cannot counsel you on these matters, Fortune. It is not my place. But the men who are your trusted servants care a great deal for you, and even if you had not made them swear an oath of loyalty at my urging, they would do whatsoever you asked. I believe you can trust them with the secret of your identity. What you choose to do is, of course, up to you.”
Then he turned his head from me and began to munch on some hay.
Buoyed by the presence of my men, I chose to eat in the common room of the inn this evening. Venison stew and freshly baked bread greeted us, with a small mug of red wine each.
A minstrel was there, perhaps passing through on the same path as us, en route to the capital to seek his fortune there.
Playing his harp while singing, he first sang an older lay—about the human knight Lanval and his faerie lover.
He broke his oath to never speak of her, and when a human queen pursued him, he mentioned the faerie.
After that, the song ended in his grisly death, because the oath snapped back and slew him.
Whether or not the faerie mourned her lost love was not mentioned, and diners around us speculated about how the story had really ended.
Next was a newer song, full of the types of nonsense tasks that faeries seemed to enjoy: ploughing with a ram’s horn, drying a woven shirt on a horn, that sort of thing.
But because the maiden performed the impossible tasks, the faerie knight was bound to wed her, and he did, fearing the consequences of a broken oath, more than he dreaded the misalliance of taking a human for a spouse.
I must have been missing my sisters, because I reveled in the men’s remarks that followed the music, from the jovial boasting—Strong Back, rather, Benoit had brought down enough venison to feed a village once—to the humorous ribbing, as when Guillaume, my Good Shot, challenged Lucas, my Fleet Foot, to a race.
Neither carried through at my insistence, but my cheeks were flushed with laughter and wine as I stood and commanded them to stand down.
They all stood as well, and bowed, and as the meal had drawn to a close, made to leave for the stables, where they would again sleep in the hay with Comrade.
“Wait,” I said, willing my voice not to quaver. “I wish for Benoit to attend me.”
He lifted his pale blue eyes to mine. He had asked for a second helping of both stew and wine, and I had of course acquiesced, this all being paid for with faerie gold from the trunk, and plenty of it. But he also looked…somehow…both calm and steady, and hungry still.
The contrast enthralled me.
I hurried up to my room, not looking back, trusting Benoit to follow me. And he did.
The feather-down mattress offered one place to sit.
As did the stuffed chaise-lounge. I paused, uncertain where to position myself.
If I took the lounge, he would take the bed.
If I took the bed, he would take the lounge.
Both options were suggestive. Fortunately, I recalled that there was a stool tucked behind the writing desk, and I took my seat there.
Benoit followed my gaze as I somewhat frantically searched the room, and he ended up taking the chaise-lounge.
I took a deep breath.
“Strong Back, my companion Benoit, your loyalty has been unquestioned, and I have no doubts that you will serve me well in the future.” I paused and wiped my palms on my trousers, noting that they were sweaty.
Hopefully each garment, upon being deposited in the faerie trunk, would return laundered in some fashion.
Oh, gods, what would happen if I were to enter battle myself? And become encrusted in not just sweat but also blood? I would certainly be a sight then, and what would the king think…?
I rubbed my hands on my thighs once again, and felt the muscles clench, tired from a day of riding but still strong. And the clench continued upwards into my hips, in regions I had not yet explored, and I had trouble picking up the conversation where I had left off.
“So, Strong Back, what I wish to ask you…” I gulped.
He sat up straighter in the chaise-lounge and held up his hands as though to show me that he was entirely disarmed.
“Milord, you must understand. I have been calling you my Little Lord in my mind, every time I think of you, which is often. Lucas and even Guillaume think so highly of you, we are utterly committed to your cause.”
And then he leaned forward, and I saw the seams of his shirt straining to accommodate his broad chest and shoulders.
“And Milord, you must know. Guillaume’s faerie-gifted sight is enhanced beyond what any of us thought at first. He…told us about you. That you are a woman. And we still think the world of you and would follow you into any battle.”
He raised his downcast eyes, and I sank into their icy blue depths, even as my heart thrummed with the enormity of what he was telling me. My ruse was up, but my followers remained? What would happen when we reached the king? Oh, but what would the king think?!
“I…my…womanhood, it changes nothing?” I whispered. I had been determined to keep that secret for the entirety of this charade, until I had done everything in my power to aid the king.
“Aye, Milord, or should I say, my Chevalier. It changes nothing in how we interact while you are the Chevalier Fortune. But,” and I tracked his voice as it shifted deeper, throatier, “it only changes what you wish it to change, in the privacy of your salon.”
I stood, and turned my back to him, just as I would with one of my sisters while we were arguing over how to finance our next fabric purchase. But I only turned my back on people I trusted, regardless of how much I liked them.
“I…” my voice was breathy, and I hated sounding weak, but I could so do, here. I did not need to pretend at manhood, here. I swallowed.
“I fear I will not be pleasing to my king once I am done with this ruse. I wish for nothing more than to have a chance at showing him who I really am and ensuring that I am a good partner for him.”
I risked a look back over my shoulder.
Benoit was still seated, but I could see his large hands making indentations on his pants legs.
“If I may speak freely, Milord,” he said softly. And I was, inexplicably, pleased to see and hear a softness coming from this large man, one with such a broad back that he could no doubt carry both me and my horse with ease.
I inclined my chin.
“Lucas and I think everything of you. Guillaume is fully sworn to you, and not far behind us in that regard. You know that the faeries have changed the rules for us humans, that reserving one’s first experience for a spouse is no longer required or revered.”
He bowed his head, then looked up, and his light blue eyes blazed when they met mine.
“If you wish my assistance, or that of Lucas if you prefer it, we would gladly lend ourselves to your cause. We are yours, body and soul.”
He continued to give me a searing look, and I felt a whole shudder run through my body. I had not felt this desirable since…ever. And, lacking the tutelage of a mother or aunt, I was utterly clueless as to how to proceed.
I swallowed. “Yes. I would enjoy your assistance. But please accept my apologies for my ignorance on how to first begin.”
I moved to the bed, sat down, and removed my coat. Underneath it was a simple shirt. It too came from the trunk, and I willed it to let down its enchantment, so that I could appear fully myself, in the company of the man who was one of my only friends…and would be my first lover.