Picking up the book, Killian ran until the forest hid him.
And then he ran some more.
26
They discovered your daughter’s body in the Emperor’s chambers. She’d been knocked around like a toy.
— Confidential report to High Lord Peragion Telmarran, 522 Y.E.
"PLEASE, you’re not going to leave, are you?" Varana said.
Miro turned away from the window. He’d been watching the town hall, recently appropriated by the army’s command. Varana lay on her side on the soft bed, her head raised on her elbow. Her dark Halrana curls spilled in a cloud around her; her eyes were smoky brown. She had the cover pulled up over the lower half of her body but the rest was open to his gaze, her breasts heavy, stomach flat.
Varana caught his gaze, "Come here, come and lie with me. Please, my bladesinger."
"Don’t call me that," Miro said.
She pouted. "Don’t you want me?"
Miro walked over to the bed and sat next to her. He began to stroke her thick, lustrous hair, watching how it glistened in the flickering light of the candle. Candles were becoming popular now, with essence strictly rationed by the military. It was still fairly light outside but the thick stone walls the Halrana favoured let in little sunshine.
Miro wondered if there would come a time when even candles were seen as a luxury. He shuddered.
"Oh, my baby. You’re cold. Come." Varana raised the cover, offering Miro a tantalising glimpse of her body. "Come in, join me."
Miro didn’t move, just continued to stroke Varana’s hair away from her face, playing with the wispy tufts at the back of her neck. He wondered if life would ever return to normal. Had it ever been normal?
After the battle the army had licked its wounds on the edge of the Wrenwood. The bladesingers were still furious. There had been terrible arguments between Prince Leopold and Blademaster Rogan, who had seen some of his best men lost due to poorly scouted terrain and a dangerous battle plan. The Prince kept pointing to the victory as justification. The Blademaster said that if that was the price of victory, there would be no soldiers left by the end of the war, and no bladesingers left by the end of the season.
The rain had finally stopped. The injured were sent home, the dead burnt on the pyres. The army had decamped, and with a much better idea about how to organise a column, they had moved deeper into Halaran. The billowing smoke of the funeral pyres was a reminder of their first taste of a major battle.
Word finally arrived from High Lord Legasa in Mornhaven. His armies were mostly intact, the men restless. They were shut away from the west, blockaded by the forces of Torakon and a horde of the legion. High Lord Legasa proposed that Prince Leopold and the bulk of the Alturan forces, together the elements of the Halrana who had joined them, should attempt to break through and link with Mornhaven and the Ring Forts. With lines of communication and supply opened from Mornhaven to Sarostar, they would be able to regroup and begin the re-conquest of Halrana territory.
Prince Leopold dithered, eventually sending a messenger to High Lord Tessolar back in Sarostar, requesting advice. He had decided to billet the men in the town of Sallat while they waited for a reply.
"What is it? What are you thinking? Are you leaving?" Varana said.
"No, I’m not leaving you."
Miro’s hand continued stroking her hair, and then as if of its own accord, began to stroke the pale skin of Varana’s shoulder. He caressed Varana’s shoulder blade and his fingers moved to the small of her back.
"Mmm," she said, arching her back like a cat. "That’s nice."
Miro leaned down and softly kissed her parted lips. "You’re nice."
Varana smiled in happiness. It was what he liked about her, her completely unguarded nature, the way she spoke what she felt and showed her emotions openly. She was perhaps five years his senior, but she acted like a little girl, responding to a harsh tone with tears, to a smile with laughter. She reminded Miro of Amber.
"What are you thinking about?" she said.
"Hmm? Nothing."
"Tell me."
"No, it’s nothing. I was just thinking about… about the Prince."
"You were kissing me, and thinking of another man?"
He laughed. "No, nothing like that."
Miro continued to stroke her, his hand travelling from her back over her hip, feeling its curve. She had the most curvaceous body — her breasts full, her nipples large, thighs soft and white.
"Mmm," Varana said. She rolled onto her back and grinned impishly at the obvious suggestion. Miro smiled along, his hand tickling her flat stomach.
Miro bent down and kissed her left breast, before taking the nipple into his mouth, pulling on it gently. Becoming filled with arousal, he stood up and threw off his clothes, before moving onto the space Varana made for him on the cushioned bed.
Miro resumed where he’d left off, kissing her breast, the smell of her bringing forth his passion.