Book I of III: The Swords of the Sultan (41 page)

As soon as the princess said the two words
“spare bedroom,” the colonel unconsciously looked in that
direction, but saw nothing out of the ordinary—Baltor had just
closed the door a split second before.

“No problem, my princess. Would you like me
to accompany you?”

“No, thank you—I can handle it on my own,
thanks,” she said just before she proceeded to the spare
bedroom.

Meanwhile, as Baltor continued to wait in the
room, his curiosity began to swell as to why she had uttered the
word “you” and, most especially, why she had not alerted the guards
to his position.

Despite all his curiosities, however, he
refused to forget his mission here: Restore justice and freedom for
all Pavelus by assassinating the tyrannical Sultan.

What seemed an eternity passed, until
finally, she opened the door to the guest bedroom, entered, closed
the door behind her and slowly began to approach Baltor. Meanwhile,
he waited at the other exit of the room, which location was only
feet away from the balcony.

A few moments after she had stopped in her
tracks about five feet away from Baltor’s position, he began, “Why
did you say ‘you’ like that to me?”

As she began to giggle like a little
schoolgirl, both of her hands covered her veil—still, this act did
nothing to stop the giggling underneath.

He threw up his hands in slight exasperation,
and asked, “Well?”

In between the giggles, she answered,
“You—
hee-hee
—wouldn’t believe me—
hee-hee
—if I told
you.”

He asked with a bit of exasperation, “Can we
get serious for one moment please?”

“Fine then—you want me to be serious?” the
princess asked, while straightening out her composure until her
back was arched straight back, lifting up her chin until it was
parallel with the floor, and placing her hands delicately by her
sides while lightly grabbing the folds of her dress.

She even asked with the eloquence of a
princess, “Is this much better for you, kind lord?”

“Yes, thank you,” Baltor said seriously with
a nod. He then asked, “Now, please tell me why you said ‘you’ like
that to me, and why you didn’t alert the guards to my
presence?”

“Well, I dreamt about you coming and rescuing
me when I was a little girl,” the princess informed just as
eloquently and seriously.

“Come on,” Baltor said in exasperated tones,
while throwing his hands up in exasperation, “That’s preposterous!
You obviously have no clue as to the reason why I’m even here at
all, much less do you know who or what I am. So—why don’t you tell
me the truth?”

Both of the princess’s jet-black eyebrows
rose into sharp angles at that. She sucked in a gasp of air through
her nose, walked over, leaned her face until it was inches away
from his face, and then gently snapped, “In my dream, you weren’t
so mean.”

His heart had strangely begun to
flutter—perhaps by those gorgeous and angry eyes of her that
strangely captivated him so—and for a few moments, he didn’t know
what to say at all.

Finally, as a question popped into Baltor’s
mind, so too did it come out of his mouth, “How old are you?”

Suddenly that look of anger was completely
gone from the princess’s face and that what replaced it was a look
of shyness—she, after looking at the ground for a few moments,
looked back at Baltor, and evenly replied, “I’m seventeen, almost
eighteen.”

“What’s your name?” After having asked that
question, Baltor suddenly remembered the answer, but thought that
he would sound foolish if he abruptly called out the answer now or
asked a better question that had just popped into his mind, which
question was:
Why didn’t you alert the guards?

“Brishava” was her expected response a few
moments later. “So how old are you?”

“I’m twenty-one,” Baltor said just before his
eyes scanned over toward the door for a second, in order to ensure
that it was still closed and everything was still okay—it was, even
if for a moment.

Immediately Princess Brishava began to look
around uncomfortably herself, but before Baltor could ask if there
was something wrong, she said, “Listen, my father’s going to be
looking for me soon—believe me when I say that he’s very protective
of me. Right now, I need to go and get ready for dinner, but I can
guarantee you that there will be no royal dignitaries coming into
this bedroom tonight, so you will be safe right here until I get
back.”

As soon as the princess saw the confused look
on Baltor’s face, she explained, “Right after dinner is over, I
will tell my father that I’m rather tired and wish to go to bed
early, and then I can come back here, and we can talk some more,
okay?”

Instead of answering the princess’s question,
Baltor finally asked the first real question he now had the
opportunity to ask, “What makes you think that I’m here to
‘talk?’”

As she had already arrived at the door, but
before she opened it to leave, she said rather confidently, “I have
my strong suspicions why you’re here. Please, before you do
anything rash, talk to me one more time first. Promise?”

While sighing very reluctantly, Baltor said,
“Fine—I promise.”

Without another word, she left.

Just to be on the safe side, he hid himself
in a closet, and patiently squatted. His patience seemed to pay
off, as it seemed that an eternity had passed until he heard the
door reopening. He looked out the closet doors, and was quite
relieved to see that it was the Sultan’s daughter and not some
roaming guard.

He observed that she now donned a silky-blue
gown intermixed with reflective-gold fabric that was much more
concealing, and a matching veil that covered her face.
Additionally, he saw that her hair was now pulled tightly into a
bun, which then delicately splashed down around her shoulders, and
finally curled back up into the air about another inch.

“Hello?” she asked a bit timidly.

He opened the door to the closet and took a
step out. “I’m here, just like I promised. Now, what do you want to
talk about, your Highness?”

Most unexpectedly, she ran over to him and
leapt into his arms, giggling all the while.

Though he was a very powerful man, physically
and otherwise, he was not ready for her abrupt move. Subsequently,
he took a few steps back.

“What are you doing?” Baltor asked in shock.
A different type of vanilla-smelling perfume wafted up his
nostrils, no less exotic or wonderful than the first perfume she
had donned—actually, it was an even better smell.

She ripped off the veil, revealing a perfect
button-shaped nose, and a full set of prominent lips already posed
to pucker. Her kisses spread throughout Baltor’s face and neck—all
the while giggling like a little girl.

He asked, “Why—why are you kissing me?”

The princess didn’t answer the question, but
began to kiss his lips again—he found that he was actually
beginning to enjoy all of the sensuous feelings that were coursing
through his masculine body. Never before had any girl kissed him
like this!

Suddenly, she stopped kissing in order to
gently grab his face, guide it to hers, and profess, “I love
you.”

That brought him to reality, and he asked,
“What in the hell are you talking about? You don’t know the first
thing about me.”

“But we shall have our whole lifetimes to
learn about each other, while exploring our infinite love.”

He realized that this princess’s head was
seriously lost in the clouds, and therefore, he decided to show her
the real Baltor.

He confessed, “You want to learn about me?
Well, there’s not much to know about me, woman, except that I am an
orphan, a thief, and a killer. I do have friends, yes, but they’re
all thieves and killers too.”

The princess’s mouth dropped open, aghast,
just before she put her feet back onto the ground. Her mouth had
begun to form a frown, and her eyes then quivered.

The moment that the first tear had poured
down her face, he found his own heart struck, and so he tried to
apologize, “I’m sorry if the truth hurts you.”

“But in my dream—you were not only a mighty
hero, yet also a true leader, Baltor,” she revealed.

His mouth dropped open in astonishment that
she had somehow known his name—he had specifically not said it for
an easy-to-figure-out reason.

“You—you know my name?” he finally
stammered.

The princess’s only answer was to wipe away
the remains of the tear with that pretty hand of hers first, and
then turn to leave.

He grabbed her hand before she could escape
however, and then he asked, “How do you know my name?”

She tried to shake the embrace off, while
answering, “Maybe I do, but from what you just told me, then even
dreams do lie! Please, just let me go.”

He released his grip, but requested, “Please
don’t go yet. I made my promise to wait, so you owe me one. Let me
talk to you for one more minute, and then you can go one way while
I go another, okay?”

She slowly turned around lightly while
nodding her head—Baltor observed that her mascara had slightly
spread out from underneath her tear-stained eyes, which were still
gazing at the ground.

As he gently wiped the mascara stains off her
face with both of his index fingers, he thought, perhaps aloud,
“More and more beautiful every single moment.”

“What?” she asked, just before her head
looked back up into Baltor’s still-staring eyes.

A moment, or an eternity, later, he turned
away to look to the ground. Instead of repeating his earlier
statement, he muttered, “Well, Princess Brishava, it appears that
I’m in quite a predicament.”

“How so, Lord Baltor?”

Ignoring the added lordly title, Baltor
replied, “I’ll be blunt. My purpose for coming here was not to meet
you but to assassinate your father—he is a tyrant that needs to be
stopped! He doesn’t care about his citizens, taxes us at ridiculous
rates, robs us, or tortures or kills us if we can’t pay him—my
parents were murdered by one of his men! But now, there are you,
and I no longer know what to do.”

Even though this princess was four inches
shorter than Baltor, she first gently lifted Baltor’s chin until
they were looking eye to eye. Once they had made eye contact, she
said, “Even though my father tries to hide the truth from me, I too
know that he is a ruthless tyrant…but for you to kill him makes you
no better!”

“Great,” Baltor said with a bit of
frustration and certainly not enthusiasm, “so what do you
suggest?”

Drawing closer with a seductive smile still
wrapped upon her delicate face, she had once again tightly wrapped
her arms around his waist. Just before he felt their lips touch,
she answered, “There are better ways to become the Sultan.”

This time, he could no longer resist her
kisses, and for an unknown amount of time to pass, the passionate
kissing commenced!

Even though quite a bit of time passed as the
two continued to kiss, it was certainly not enough time in the
princess’s opinion—Baltor was the one who forced the kissing to
stop so he could ask, “Like what?”

“Silly,” she answered, “that’s the easy
part.”

“It is?”

She then propped herself forward onto her
tiptoes, so that her lips were a half an inch away from Baltor’s
ear, and then she whispered seductively, “Yes, run away with me,
tonight. Marry me tomorrow. As far as I’m concerned, our honeymoon
can go on for many months, or years.”

Due to her bold marriage proposal, Baltor
could only stand there in shocked silence! While still clasping his
arms, she abruptly rocked back onto her heels, which allowed her to
playfully swing away, so she could give him the up-and-down
look.

A second or so later, once she was again
looking directly into his eyes, she cooed with a very pleased
smile, “After all, you are the finest thing, my eyes have ever
seen…and that is what I truly mean, you absolutely gorgeous
machine!”

The shock inside of Baltor instantly became
replaced by the feelings of being flattered, due to her
“exceptional poetic compliment!”

After all, he had never really thought of
himself as good or bad looking, just average. In fact, the only
person who had ever complimented Baltor on his looks, besides his
mother, a few other girls in the Guild, and this princess, was
Lydia. And even though Lydia had once told Baltor that he could
have his choice on any number of women, he couldn’t have the one
woman he had wanted for so long—Lydia herself.

Now there was this girl he didn’t even know
one iota, except for the fact that she’s the daughter of the man he
had been planning to kill. And now she was asking him to marry
her!

All the while, this princess gave a light
sigh of content, wrapped her arms delicately back around his torso,
and leaned her mouth in until it was an inch from Baltor’s ear.
Once this was so, she then whispered, “Only when the time is right
and we are ready will we come back. It will be then that I declare
to my father that you are my husband, and the next Sultan of the
Sharia Empire!”

Baltor thought her plan preposterous, pulled
away, and said in an almost-too-loud tone of voice, “Your father
will never concede to this—never! I am an orphaned
peasant…literally!”

“Not once you’ve married me. Once you are my
husband, you will become the royalty that I have always been since
birth! Regardless of whether my father accepts us or not in the
end, one day soon he will pass off into oblivion, and you will be
the Sultan. And I, the Sultaness.”

“But—”

She gently cupped her hand over his mouth,
which immediately silenced him, and then she whispered,
“
Shhh
... You are making things far too complex! I know that
I have always loved you ever since my eyes first beheld you within
my dreams as a little girl, but can you grow to love me? Do you
want to take the chance and be with me—to tease out all my girly
secrets, while simultaneously exploring all my womanly secrets? I
have many, I can assure you of that, and they’re all very good
ones.”