Warlord's Ward

A Chance

Warlord laced his fine cloak with the velvet lining around his neck and headed for the chamber door. Pausing just before it to turn and give me a look. "I have to go. I must rejoin the King's guests for dinner."

His shoulders slumped as though this were something he dreaded.

And why is he bothering to explain to me where he's going and why? It seemed a bit odd.

Then he turned and yanked the door closed behind him, but the corner of his cloak caught slightly, and the door creaked back open slowly.

I held my breath and didn't move. Hope surging through me. When he didn't return and close it, I about died of shock.

A way out.

I grabbed my torn old dress, the nearest thing I had and threw it on, tying the laces up the front tight enough to hide where it was torn.

I crept to the door and eased it open to peer down the stairs immediately outside of it. Catching sight of his black cloak whipping around one of the corners below.

I followed on hesitant feet. Afraid to miss this opportunity. My bare toes stretched for the first step, somehow fearing that if I left the sanctuary of his chamber, a worse fate could befall me in this castle.

Could there be something worse?

Even I knew that ending up in King Detry's bed could prove far worse than being in Warlords.

Could.

But freedom was on the line.

I have to chance it.

***

I dragged a hand along the wall since it was so dark. Thinking that if I tripped on a step, I might be able to catch myself before falling too far. I swallowed hard. Staying far enough back that I hoped Warlord wouldn't sense me behind him.

I still feared that when I reached the bottom, I might find him waiting there. Leaning against the wall with that amused half-smile on his face. Ready to rain down torment on me for defying him.

What if this is a test, I'm preparing to fail. I paused on the steps and looked back up toward the open door. Wondering if I might make it back without anyone noticing.

He has to know I'm out. He always knows everything I do. I chewed my bottom lip and looked back down.

So close... I could already see where the stairs leveled out to the stone floor that would lead to the corridors in the second level.

To a possible escape. I couldn't resist. On shaking legs, I made my way down. Peering around the curling wall to observe the empty corridor. I took my time looking under every dancing torch to verify Warlord wasn't lying in wait for me like the dark predator he was.

Nothing.

So, I crept out on tentative feet. Padding down the hallway. As I drew near the staircase, I sunk against the opposite wall to stay in the blackness.

Below, I could hear the clink of glasses and cheerful laughter. The marble floor below was swirled in white and gold. Making it seem infinitely huge. There were laughing figures below. I ducked over to the wall and peered down over the railing like a mouse watching for cats.

I saw Warlord below in a crowd of young men praising his prowess and there were a few clinging women rubbing his shoulders and one touched a curling lock of hair admiringly.

Why are they all touching him.

He was all bright grins. Lifting his wine glass in cheers. I noticed his hands were darkly gloved and he was making no effort to touch anyone.

Does he truly feel what others are going through? I remembered him telling me that and the tortured expression on his face.

Do the gloves help?

***

The Dinner bell chimed, and everyone moved into one room to the left of the stairs and as my eyes traced their movements, I glimpsed the barren servant's stairs against one abandoned wall. Far from view of the guests.

I was so curious about this strange side of Warlord that I found myself clambering down those steps to peer around the wall into the Dining Hall. Knowing that at any moment I could be caught by real servants.

But I could pretend to be a serving girl if needed. I envisioned myself pulling off such a ruse perfectly until the moment I had to serve Warlord something and his gaze landed on me.

Would he beat me? Drag me off to the tower? Or let me play the little game long enough to amuse him. It was hard to tell with him, but my guess was the latter option.

He tends to always do what seems the least likely for a man in his shoes.

***

As I leaned around the wall, I saw him taking a seat at a table which seemed to go on forever.

A banquet table.

And the meal set out had my mouth to watering. Quail eggs and steamed beans and carrots. Sweet potatoes glazed in brown sugar. A huge boar with an apple in its mouth and berries spilling from its jaw which ladies plucked and delicately nibbled.

I leaned forward. My stomach growling as I realized how hungry I was. But my attention was diverted, when a small, gorgeous blonde reached over and caressed along Warlord's arm. "I'm so glad you could make it Killian. You know how dreadful I find these little soirees when you're not here."

"I'm afraid I don't do much to liven them up." He rumbled in return. Giving her a sparing glance before lifting his silverware to his plate.

"You always do." She crooned. Giving him a long look and clenching his forearm.

He shook her off and gave her a warning glance.

What's that about? He doesn't like her touch?

She seemed pretty enough.

"As I've told you before, Alicia, I've no interest in continuing our arrangement any longer."

"Well, the King says otherwise." She batted her lashes. "You know what an important ally I am." He set his silverware down a bit forcefully and gave her a hard look. His jaw ticking.

He lurched up from his seat and I scampered back to the top of the stairs, sensing he would head this way.