FOREVER KNIGHTS: #4 Battling Black Roses

Biting her cheek, she shrugged. “I wish never to speak of that again.”

Or perhaps it was.

A drawn-out pause hung between them before he said “Fine. As you wish it.”

“I hate Marod.”

Me too.

“I don’t think you’re capable.”

“You’d be surprised.” She gave him a dark look that implied she may feel that way about him.

She’s never looked at me like that. It cut him to the quick.

He sighed. “Only you can decide what kind of queen you’ll be.”

“How could that possibly be?” She threw her head back, making her hair dangle to the rocks behind her. Head hanging, she gave him a side eye. “Do give me one of your lectures Alazar. I was dearly hoping for one.”

Vicious.

“Ouch. Why such a viper today?”

“Everyday.” She corrected. “Marod tells me each day.”

He glowered at being compared to the woman.

“I hope, if nothing else, you learn what not to be from her.”

No lecture today.

“Oh, only that? Anything else I should be?”

Better tempered!

He shot her a dark look. “Honest and forthright.”

She sat back up. “Thanks for your many tokens of wisdom over the years, Alazar. You’ve groomed me to be a good queen. Well done.” Her voice was hollow. Condemning.

Hateful?

He gave her a sideways look. “Have I missed something? I’m feeling very much like I have.”

“For someone so wise…” She sighed. “You miss much.”

Like what precisely?

His frustration got the better of him. “Enough of snide words! Out with it.”

Say what you mean, hellcat.

Her eyes zeroed in on him.

“Why don’t you just say whatever waspish thing is hanging on your tongue directly rather than dancing around the source of your ire. I’ve infuriated many a woman but never one I intended nothing but kindness to.”

“Kindness?” She sputtered. “Is that what you call it?”

Yes!

“Call what?” He noted the shrill tone of his voice as he gestured helplessly. “I’ve watched over you. Guided you. And been your friend.”

“Yes. My friend.” She snarled. Looking fit to raise fists to him.

How is that some sin?

“Do we need to go hunt? Would that calm the fire burning in you?” He demanded.

“Yes.” She rose.

Thank God.

Hopping a log, he moved to the darkest part of the trees nearby and retrieved two bows. His own as well as the smaller version they’d built together. He handed it to her, careful not to so much as bump her fingers for fear she might explode.

She’s like a tinderbox ready to catch spark.

“I know where the thunderstorms come from when Marod yanks me about. I’ve caught you many a time standing in the bailey or haunting the corridors when you think you won’t be seen. I’ve felt your presence. I always know when you’re near. Even Marod has learned that beating me leads to her slipping on slick cobbles or one of her loyal men going missing. You’ve kept me safe for certain…But why?”

He reared back. To keep you safe! Why else?

Where is this attack coming from?

She jerked her bow from his hand.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He gestured in agitation. Swinging his bow in his grip.

“I do so love these verbal games.” She spat. Contempt in her tone.

I don’t! What the Hell is going on? Giving her a befuddled study, he watched as she knocked an arrow and sent it spiraling into her practice trunk. It hit center. So, did the second and third. Vibrating against each other. She tossed her hair like a wild mare and knocked another arrow.

She’s going to kill someone. And from the look of her, it may be me. Tentatively reaching over he pressed the end of her arrow down, forcing her to let it slip or lower her bow. Half-afraid she intended to spin it on him.

Her rage was tangible.

What have I missed?

“When did you go from such a lovely child to an embittered woman?”

“Ah!” She squealed, tossing the bow. “And now I’m a woman!”

Bow hanging limply, he gave a weak gesture as she stormed past him. Mouth moving helplessly.

She walked a distance before stopping to shift angrily from one foot to another. Ripping the bow, he’d so carefully made for her long ago, from her shoulders and launching it to the ground.

We spent a sennight building that. He looked at it sadly. She cherishes it. He winced. Feeling slighted.

Her quiver was quick to follow.

He peered around a tree uncomfortably. What in bloody hell?

“Truly! I know not what I’ve done!”

“Clearly!” She threw her hood back and tossed her cloak on a tree next to her. Yellow hair spilling down her back as she ran a hand through it in frustration.

What’s clear? Nothing is clear!

“I feel as though I never stood a chance in winning this conversation.”

“How does it feel, Alazar?” She raged. Striding from the clearing.

What in Ardae are we talking about? His head whipped to watch her go. He found himself gesturing helplessly.

He slumped against the tree. Eying the discarded cloak, bow and arrows, and wondering what to do with them.

What the Hell was that? Has she gone insane?