Dryads and Nymphs

Chapter 27-The Unspoken Promise

Maryse was looking at him with her lips parted, her cheeks rosy from the flush. It contrasted wonderfully with her violet eyes and almost-black hair, Salem thought, If only she would stop looking at me as if I have come back from the dead.

They were sitting on the grass, facing each other, in silence. The sky had turned ink blue, casting its bluish light over them. Salem felt his head pulse as a headache began.

“Why did you do that?” she asked, her voice hushed as if someone would leap at them suddenly from the surrounding trees.

Salem stared at her, frowning lightly. “Did you not want me to do it?” he asked incredulously. Maryse looked confused. “No, it’s not that. Why? Why did you do it?” she tried to explain, with the exasperated air of someone who was trying to explain an incomprehensible idea to a not very bright person.

Salem shrugged. “I wanted to. I didn’t exactly devise a plan, or consider tactics. I just did.”

Maryse clutched her head in her hands. Salem sat forward frowning. “Aren’t you happy?”

Maryse looked up at him surprise. “I told you I loved you,” Salem clarified.

She looked at him with softness, before getting up. “I know,” she said, then began to walk away.

“Wait,” Salem called. “Where are you going?”

Maryse turned back to him. “Don’t think it changes anything. I’m still not joining the uprising. I was walking away before and I’m walking away now.”

Salem got up and ran behind her. She turned, clearly exasperated. “We’ve been through this before.”

“Listen to me before you decide anything,” Salem said, raising his hands in surrender. She crossed her arms over her chest and nodded for him to go on.

“You are uneasy about killing defenseless unarmed people,” he said, “but that’s with a bow. In a fight, with a sword, you fight with the other who’s also equipped with it and probably has more practice. That’s as fair a fight as possible. And you have the skills for it. You can learn how to wield a sword. It’ll be—well, not easy—but you’ll be more favorable towards it. What do you say?”

Maryse eyed him doubtfully. Salem felt his face stretch into a grin, as he added, “Or we could do what we did before—punching each other and everything. This time I’m prepared and I think you are too.”

Maryse blushed furiously at his words, but didn’t move to hit him. Instead, she nodded,. “Fine,” was all she said.

“Excellent,” Salem said, “That’ll probably earn you a few more lessons with me. Lucky you.”

This time Maryse did hit him—though it was a light slap on the arm—before she turned to walk away.

*  *  *

Ariana leaned back against the tree trunk. Aron was getting ready to go to some part of the woods where part of his army had set camp. He had been sent by his father to overlook their operations. In a distant part of her mind she was alarmed that the King’s army was so close to the, and could discover them at anytime, but the major part if her mind focused on Aron.

She recalled that after that one emotional moment: when she had told him not to go, and Aron had said that he wouldn’t because he belonged with her, they had turned somewhat normal. They hadn’t continued any of their lessons, but had just sat there, talking sometimes. None of them had mentioned the fact that Aron still had a deadline hanging over his head like a sword. A sword which could cut them apart.

Aron turned from his horse, and smiled at her, his smile tainted with sadness, and apology. Ariana got up to bid him farewell. “I have to go,” he said, walking towards her.