Wicked Hunt

Chapter Six, Part II

Rafe: Warring Hearts

Rafe studied the two men, not fooled for a second. "Or the Black Stag will...?" he prompted, his eyes meeting Donal's questioningly.

Donal clamped his lips tightly shut, and Gritt responded smoothly, "Assist her in her hunt for the way out of course."

Rafe decided not to press the topic. His head was staring to hurt, as it often did when he spoke with lords or nobles at events like this. There were always too many innuendos, too many hidden meanings behind their words. Why couldn't people just speak plainly?

"Well, gentlemen..." Rafe began.

"You haven't told us your thoughts on the girl, Commander Walsh," Donal said, not letting Rafe off that easily.

He pretended to gather his thoughts, although he already had his opinion of the princess formed since their first meeting. "I think she's weak," he answered. "I'll probably be sent in to search for her and find her curled up and crying, barely a step from where she's been left."

Perry Gritt sniffed. "Yes, this is no place for weakness. We all must make the harsh choices, those that may call morality into question. One must learn that in Verlic, or they'll never be taken seriously," he mused abstractedly. It was as if the man were referring to something else other than the princess. Was rebellion finally brewing in the west? Rafe thought of a way to stealthily ask the question. Coming up with nothing, he remained silent.

"A good turn out for the wedding regardless of the views on the young princess," Donal observed. He glanced around, but Rafe wondered if he was using the opportunity to look for someone in the crowd. Was he planning on meeting someone? If so, then for what purpose? The Commander shifted his weight again. He hated not knowing.

"Isn't the girl's last name Laurel?" Gritt asked suddenly. He thought a moment, then chuckled. Instantly, Rafe knew why.

"What?" Donal asked. He lowered his empty wine glass and caught Rafe watching him. Quickly, the Commander averted his gaze.

"Her surname. Isn't it Laurel?" Gritt repeated. The insinuation was evident, just waiting for one of them to say it out loud. They all knew what it implied.

"Those are usually the flowers that bloom first in the springtime here," Donal offered. The Commander frowned. That was not what Perry had been alluding to, and they all knew it. Were these men too polite to say it out loud?

"They're the first to die in the winter," Rafe said harshly. Gritt's jaw clenched, and Donal suddenly became extremely interested in a small chip in the base of his glass. Seeing them squirm a bit made Rafe genuinely smirk. If they'd been expecting an eloquent conversation with veiled words dripping in sweetness, they'd come to the wrong man.

Maybe now, they'll leave me alone.

Luckily, he was rescued. Rufus came up on the other side of him at that moment, seeming to emerge out of nowhere. He looked concerned and leaned his head closer to Rafe. "Some of the men got into a bit of a... disagreement with several guards." He clasped his hands together anxiously.

"And?" the Commander pressed. He gripped his glass tightly, felt the blood rushing to his head.

"Dorius may have broken a man's nose..." Rufus let out a nervous laugh, but Rafe was not smiling. Seeing the Commander's frown, the man instantly stopped.

"Everything all right?" Donal asked from behind him.

Rafe took a deep breath and faced the two men. "Apologies, my lords." He bowed his head. "I have some business to attend to."

"Of course," Gritt said. "A leader's work is never done." The look he favored Rafe was steeped in hidden meanings. He was suggesting something, but Rafe didn't have the time nor the desire to read into it further. He'd done his duty of mindlessly chatting with the guests. Now, it was his time to escape. Dorius's idiocy had provided him with an excuse. That didn't mean he was going to go easy on him.

"Excuse me." Rafe emptied his cup over the railing, handed it to Rufus, and began walking back into the lounge on the upper floor of the castle. Two lovers, intimately whispering to one another in the doorway were forced to part as the Commander abruptly forced his way in between them. He ignored their outraged murmurs and looked over his shoulder to see if Rufus was following him. The burly man made a hasty apology to the pair and then scrambled after the Commander.

The lounge was sparsely decorated with hunting gear and animal pelts. A bearskin rug dominated the floor and a collection of wooden chairs stood around it, mostly empty. Although the women had all been allowed back inside after being forced to bless the field by the castle, few had accepted the offer. It was no secret that Clive's attitude toward the fairer sex was one of annoyance. Many of the women were all too happy to remain outdoors where they were able to easily escape rather than become cornered. Rafe only saw three women in the entire room, and he supposed he couldn't blame them. Other guests bustled by the long food table, picking through the meats and cheeses reproachfully. The only thing anyone seemed interested in was a keg at the other end of the room. There was a small crowd gathered around it, eager to enjoy the Rodanthan wine sent by the princess's brother, King Dominic.

"Where is he?" Rafe asked Rufus lowly, referring to Dorius. Over the past few weeks, he'd been having some obedience issues with the man. Apparently, the punishments had not made an impression. A mistake, Rafe thought bitterly, soon to be remedied.

"He's in the Great Hall," Rufus squeaked. He fiddled with the cup. In his oversized hands, it looked like a doll's toy.

"Rafe," someone called distantly behind him.

Excitement at putting Dorius in his place sent Rafe's heart into a gallop. He could feel his breathing hitching, his blood pumping in his ears. Distracted by the upcoming confrontation, he nearly missed the familiar voice call out to him as he placed his boot on the top step that would take him downstairs.

"Rafe?" the voice said again, an edge to it now. He stopped, and Rufus ran into his back. The cup clanged to the ground, echoing loudly off the stones. The voice was distinctly feminine, one that had, at one, time seduced and bewitched him. Now, all it did was plunge a knife of dread into his heart. "Commander Walsh, don't you want to see your daughter?"

Well, shit.

Slowly, Rafe rotated and pushed Rufus away from him. Two, silhouetted figures, clad in shadows came closer, peeling away from the dark corner at the end of the hall. He stepped away from the stairs and cleared his throat.

"Commander," Mira greeted with pointed politeness when their eyes locked. He hadn't even seen the rest of her, hadn't glimpsed what she was wearing or what her hair was pinned up with. Every time they met, he was instantly drawn to her curious, shining emerald eyes. Where Perry Gritt's had been dimly hiding between his wrinkled lids, Mira's stood out starkly in her pale face. They were large, luminous things that one could rarely look away from. She stared back at him; eyes slightly narrowed in anger. Despite herself, her lips quivered, and one corner twitched to reveal she was not as displeased as she seemed. "It has been too long," she added. His glance traveled down to that soft, mischievous mouth. She pursed her lips, and he blinked. Slowly, everything else came back into focus. He had lost control around Mira once before. He would not make that mistake again.