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She cradles her injured arm with her left hand. Rick’s finger tips send shivers through her body when he runs them up the sides of her thighs, under her gown. They latch onto the top of her pants and he slowly pulls them down, her bare body shielded from his eyes by the fabric but not from his hands. She wants to throw herself into the wall, slam her shoulder hard against something to make the pain erase the pleasure of his touch but she doesn’t. His arm wraps around her waist while he helps her step out of her pants. With the utmost of care, he lifts her up into his arms like he did the first day they met. This time she lets her head fall forward to rest against his neck, the feel of his body causing her both comfort and agony.
Rick carries her to the bed, where he gently sets her down on top of the blankets. Sitting next to her, he places his hands on her left shoulder and her waist so that he can turn her, stomach down, on top of him as he lies back. He hugs her close to his chest; she buries her face into his shirt, breathing him in. He slides his hand down the back of her gown, warm fingers massaging the salve into her injured shoulder. They don’t speak or look at each other. Though he is done, his hand remains on her back, fingers tracing her spine. He waits until she is almost asleep before he slides out from under her. He pulls the blankets up around her and snuffs out the lights. She can hear him get undressed and lay down but when there is no movement in the bed she knows he is spending the night alone in the pit.
TRUE LOVE
***
The next three nights continue in this way; Rick helps Mora get dressed. They go downstairs to eat and drink. She doesn’t speak, choosing to ignore the questions that are asked of her. She doesn’t bother to look at anyone or move unless asked to. At the end of the night, after everyone has gone, Rick carries her upstairs, undresses her, rubs the salve into her shoulder and puts her to bed. On the fourth day, Rick wakes her up and speaks directly to her for the first time since she tried to kill him.
“The Queen sent over a dress for you to wear. There is hot water in the tub; I don’t think you’ll need my help today.”
Mora nods in acceptance. She seems to have healed almost entirely. She sits up in the bed, stiff from not moving. Rick turns, speaking over his shoulder before he leaves the room, “I will be waiting downstairs to take you to the border when you are finished.”
She gets up when he is gone and undresses. Sliding into the tub, she doesn’t allow herself to think or feel anything; she only moves to accomplish the tasks at hand. She washes her hair and body well before getting out and drying off. The dress the Queen sent over is a fine one. She slips it on, brushing out her hair while she looks at herself in a mirror. The style must be from Sceadu because she shows more cleavage than she would have been comfortable with before. The white gown is slender through her torso, floating freely down to the ground. The sleeves don’t cover her shoulders, but start midway down her biceps, opening up into flowing, floor-length long fabric at her elbows. She knows her father would disapprove of so much skin so she only ties back the sides of her hair, letting the rest of the length cover her bare shoulders and back. She slips on the dainty, soft white shoes that accompany the dress.Content held by NôvelDrama.Org.
With her head held high and her posture perfect, Mora exits the bedroom for the last time. Feeling comforted by being in a dress again, it is easy for her to float gracefully down the stairs. She stops in front of Rick. The longing look in his eyes no longer has an effect on her heart because she knows that no matter what either of them want, as it stands, it cannot be.
“You look…” he starts, knowing what he wants to say but stopping himself. Behind him, Daniel, James, Lucas and Sari look over Mora with surprise.
“Beautiful?” offers up Daniel.
“Exquisite?” adds James.
“To die for?” says Lucas.
“Like a Princess… fit for a Prince?” Sari needles Rick with her words.
He doesn’t feed into it but instead holds up the ornate looking chains that Mora arrived in, “While we travel, you’ll have to wear these.”
She only responds by holding up her hands. Mora knows that if she tries to speak to him, she will break. After he clasps the locks around her, they walk out of the tavern and into the dull light of the afternoon. The stable boy, Jacob, holds Mora’s horse steady, his mouth wide open. Without assistance she mounts it with ease. Rick locks her chains to the saddle before the group heads towards the edge of town. This time, Mora can see the townspeople openly staring at her. She sits tall, chin up, ignoring their whispers and mummers.
The road that leads back towards the castle branches off to the east. When it turns into forest, Mora can see Wardens Eric, John and Dell waiting, along with a few other guards and the Queen. James, Sari, Lucas and Daniel all leave them and head back to town. When Mora continues her silence and doesn’t acknowledge or greet anyone, she can see Eric’s posture slump a little.
The group doesn’t speak. They ride slowly for an hour or two, maybe three; the whole time Mora keeps her eyes on the ears of her horse. She never slouches, never waivers. She tries to clear her mind and come to peace with herself but it is hard. She wants to be with Rick but she is obligated to put her country first.
Even though it is difficult to tell, she can see the sun, hidden behind the clouds, cross the sky and rest near the horizon. When it is close to setting and casting the darkness of night across the land she can make out a carriage in the distance. Mora leans back in her saddle, causing her horse to stop even though Rick leads it. He turns to her, “Why have you stopped, Princess?” His voice is soft and tender and threatens to cut her guard down.
She avoids looking at him, lest her efforts at being cold shatter before his eyes. She holds her hands up, speaking to the Queen, “Unless you wish to start a war, it would be wise to unchain me before my father sees.”
Rick looks to the Queen; she nods, “Yes, it would be wise. We cannot, however, remove your collar until negotiations are final.”
With chains removed, they continue on. As they draw closer, Mora can see her father get out of the carriage. Advisor Laren, Captain Franklin and Officer Jackson are among the dozen or so who guard him. For the sake of negations, someone has tied a red ribbon from tree to tree, marking the border to Sceadu. Mora and her escorts were about forty yards in from the border when they camped.
The King paces nervously back and forth on the safe side of the ribbon. Mora dismounts; she clasps her hands in front of her. Holding her head high, she places one foot in front of the other, knowing each step takes her away from what her heart wants. Calm with purpose she walks slowly towards her father.
The noise from a group of Derven lumbermen draws her attention from her father’s face to the road just past his shoulder; they work at removing the last part of the large burwood tree. The trunk is almost as wide as she is tall and it appears they have been working on it all week, taking care to cut it carefully so they can harvest the wood. The tree fell from a large cliff on the eastern side of the road where it wedged its trunk against it and its branches tangled in the trees opposite.
When Mora feels her collar begin to shift, she stops. For the first time she welcomes the tight restraint on her neck as it is the one thing that prevents her from fulfilling her royal duties. While she is only ten feet away from her father, she may as well have been miles. Rooted firmly in Sceadu for only a few more moments, she feels her body grow cold in preparation of her coming future.
King Nathanial’s eyes tear up at the sight of her; his face is aged with worry. “Namora, my child-are you well? Have they been treating you civilly? You aren’t hurt, are you? Jackson said that you got bit by a wolf! The outrage!” The man standing before her instantly transforms from a King to a loving, concerned father. She has never seen him act this way but under the pressure of losing his only child he has given in to the true violent Derven nature that he oppressed for so long.
This new person in front of her begins to quiver with rage; she can tell he is about ready to charge, to throw away his shroud of peace and bring war upon the country that enslaved his daughter. She speaks softly, with fake happiness despite her cold heart, to calm him down, “I am well, father. Please, don’t be upset-this is all just a misunderstanding. The Queen has been most accommodating…”
Her father’s breathing slows at the sound of his daughter’s voice. The King struggles to get a hold of himself. He speaks softly, “I have missed you.”
Queen Sheynne dismounts her horse, along with the rest of her entourage. Clad in black, she floats through the grass like death. She stops just shy of the rope, about fifteen paces away from Mora. The Wardens form a protective triangle around her. Rick stands half way between his mother and the Princess, wanting to choose one over the other but instead remains caught in the middle.
The King, shoulders heavy with grief, turns to the Queen, “Please, release the Princess at once. I will agree to whatever your terms are.”
“I would like you to call off the wedding between Princess Namora and King Irron,” the Queen says coolly, “and it will be necessary for her to remain in Sceaduian custody for a while longer.”
Everyone turns to her in surprise, though none are as shocked as Mora. She can’t even comprehend what a gift the Queen has unknowingly gave her. Not only does Sheynne want her to unite with her son, she will do what is necessary to ensure that it happens though she doesn’t know that the flame of their love has already been ignited due to Mora’s cold affect during the ride.
King Nathanial’s face is white, his voice struggling to remain calm, “What! You have no right to ask for something like that!” When his anger breaks the fragile facade, he begins to burn red, “Not only will the Alumenian army destroy your country, they will be joined by those of Derven!” The once peaceful man is all but destroyed by the thought of his daughter being held against her will in a country that he believes she dislikes. Enraged, he draws his sword, raising it above his head to slash the red rope marking the border.