The Commander's Desire (15 page)

She must trust her brother above the enemy
Commander.

An idea swam to the surface. Perhaps all of
this was a convoluted plot the Prince wielded to force her hand, to
test the validity of the peace agreement.

The Prince was clever. But that clever? And
why had he given her as bride to the Commander in the first place?
A further test of the peace? A way to wreak further agony within
her, sister to the man the Commander had murdered?

Elwytha would not put any of these wicked
plots beyond the Prince’s scheming machinations. But they did seem
just the tiniest bit implausible.

She closed her eyes, feeling more confused
than ever. Her cheekbones began to ache, and she realized she’d
been clenching her jaw in frustration.

She moved her lower jaw from side to side in
order to relax it. Only one thing remained clear through it all.
Her family. Thor. She had to stay true to her clan. Nothing else
mattered. They were the ones she believed, and her brother was the
one she trusted. She could believe no lies of the enemy.

As for the Commander… She thought through
their confrontation again. He had insisted that he wanted only the
truth. What if she had told it to him the first time he had asked?
Would things have played out differently tonight?

Did it matter? Ultimately, and once again, he
had forced her to bend to his will. He was a brute beast. He cared
only about accomplishing his own goals. He cared nothing at all for
her feelings.

More thoughts tangled to the surface, making
her head ache.

At supper, the Prince had said Richard had
lied about the battles. The Commander claimed he was innocent of
her brother’s blood. She also knew Richard plotted treachery
through her, to their enemies.

If only she could escape this untenable
position. What was the truth?

How could she ever know?

* * * * *

The next morning Elwytha ignored the
Commander as she left her chamber. She still felt angry about last
night’s confrontation—for the way he’d forced it upon her, and for
the indignities she had suffered at his hands. He cared nothing of
her wishes, as usual. Now he watched her exit, and made no effort
to stop her. Good. Since he now had his answers, mayhap he’d leave
her alone.

Elwytha spent a dreary morning circling the
castle grounds, surreptitiously watching the guard rotations at the
armory. She still needed to assemble three blades. Her brother
still trusted her with this mission; no matter her confused
feelings about it. She would accomplish one step at a time, and
then, when it came time for the final battle…then, perhaps justice
would be served.

* * * * *

Elwytha was angry with him. The Commander
wasn’t surprised. He strode now toward the armory. He had pushed
her hard last night. If agitated enough, he’d known she would act
and speak impulsively. It had been the only way to force her hand.
The only way she would admit the truth of the lie between them.

He regretted handling her so roughly. But
when he had seen the dagger in her hand, and the hatred burning in
her eyes, he had reacted as if in battle—to subdue his foe, no
matter the cost. Thankfully, he had regained control of himself on
the bed. On top of her.

No. She could not be pleased by any of
it.

But now, he thought grimly, opening the door
to the armory, he knew the formidable wall facing him. This morning
he would begin questioning his men. He felt certain, however, that
none of them had taken the blade. They respected him. In fact,
several had nearly laid down their lives in battle, protecting him,
as he had done for them. He could not believe one of his warriors
had stolen the sword, and then plunged it through Thor’s back. Nay.
Not without order of the Prince. And he knew the Prince did not lie
to him.

No. Already the Commander felt sure the
answers lay in another palace.

* * * * *

After a meager lunch, Elwytha rested upon her
bed, hand over her eyes. She felt the beginnings of a headache and
wished only for succor. But sleep evaded her. Perhaps she should
spy on the armory more. The thought did not appeal as it should
have. Perhaps she would run into her betrothed. Not first on her
list of appealing encounters, to be sure.

A soft knock came at the door, disturbing
her ruminations.

“
Miss, it’s
Hagma.”

“
Enter.” This morning, Hagma
had returned Elwytha’s ‘favored’ brown and gray dresses, as
promised by the Commander. Elwytha wore the brown. Not that it
pleased her.

Hagma entered now, bearing a basket
overflowing with cloth and lace.

Interest sparked, and Elwytha sat up. “What
have you brought?”

“
Means to alter your
dresses, miss.”

Elwytha spied a scrap of crocheted lace and
with a gasp, lifted it gently. “But it’s lovely.”

“
Me mum made it.” Hagma
smiled with pleasure. “She makes much of the lace for the
palace.”

Elwytha pulled out more lace confections, and
then she spied strips of pale linen, embroidered with fine stitches
and beads of many hues. “My goodness,” she breathed. “These are the
finest I’ve ever seen. How much does she ask for such fine work? My
brother will send gold, if I ask.”

“
Nay, miss.” Hagma looked
dismayed. “The Commander told me he will pay for everything you
want.”

Elwytha frowned. It did not sit well, the
Commander paying for anything of hers. She would not be a kept
woman. In fact, she would not be his woman at all. “I insist. The
Commander no doubt has other uses for his coin.”

Hagma looked uncomfortable. “Pray you would
discuss it with him, miss. He has already paid my mother a fine
sum.”

Indignation swelled within Elwytha. Again,
her betrothed had engineered to have his own way. She would have no
say in the matter. “Has he said which fabrics I may use?” she
snapped. “How much lace?”

Hagma looked taken aback. “No, miss. He said
you are to have whatever you wish.”

“
He did, did he?” Elwytha
still frowned. Then she told herself to calm down. Why not take
advantage of the Commander’s largesse? In truth, he owed her family
an unpayable debt. “Very well,” she allowed. “Shall we get started?
Perhaps you could give your opinion on these dresses.” She pulled
out the seven dresses in her trunk and draped them about the room.
Some were made of fine wool or linen, and two were of
damask.

Hagma gasped each time she pulled out a new
one. “Miss! They’re gorgeous, they are. Why do you wish to alter
them?”

“
The bodices displease me. I
would raise the neckline thusly.” She pressed the lace to a
burgundy dress, raising the “V” neckline five inches.

Visible horror rounded Hagma’s eyes. “Surely
not, miss.”

“
Yes. Will you help me, or
not?”

“
Well yes, if you insist.
But why…how could they displease you? Surely the Commander would
approve of you wearing them as they are.”

“
The Commander is why I wish to
change them,” Elwytha retorted. “I feel…shy to have him look upon
my countenance.” Verily, a stretch. More like she wished for armor
to shield herself in every way imaginable.

Hagma giggled, obviously surprised. But she
squelched it when she saw Elwytha was not smiling. “Yes, miss, I
understand. But he will be your husband. He will wish to look upon
you.”

Elwytha wanted to roll her eyes. Certainly he
would. And this was the entire point. However, Hagma had to
understand her reasoning. She’d not forgotten the Commander’s
demand that the maid approve all alterations. Likely, he believed
Elwytha would create hideous masterpieces of her gowns if
unsupervised. Not a bad idea.

“
Yes, Hagma, I know this is
true, but…” she heaved a breath and acquired a tortured,
embarrassed whisper, “I shall have to wear them to
supper
. I do not wish the
ogling stares of all those knaves.” She affected a delicate
shudder.

Truly, if she had a blade, the knaves would
learn to keep their eyes in their heads. In any case, the louts
bothered her not. But Hagma need not know these truths.

Hagma giggled and nodded. “I understand,
miss. How much were you thinking? My mother may need to make
more.”

Elwytha and Hagma measured lace and colored
embroidered strips on the garments, and discovered no more lace
would be needed, if Elwytha raised the bodices only two inches.
After trying on her burgundy grown and draping the red beaded
embroidery on, she agreed this would be sufficient.

Hagma smiled. “It will look nice, miss. A
good choice, I say.”

Elwytha had to agree. She loved her dresses,
and at heart did not wish to mutilate their pleasing lines. She
sewed the embroidery on the burgundy, and Hagma sewed a fine lace
on a green gown.

“
Enough for today,” Elwytha
decided, when they had finished. She wished to check the last
rotations at the armory before supper. She felt refreshed now for
her task. She touched the rich burgundy fabric of her dress. “I
think I’ll wear this tonight. What do you think?” Suddenly
uncertain, she desired the honest opinion of another
female.

Hagma smiled. “It does a wonder for you. Your
dark hair makes it look dramatic, it does.”

Pleased, Elwytha smiled, feeling more
confident in her choice. “Thank you, Hagma.”

“
I will return on the
morrow?”

“
Tomorrow afternoon,”
Elwytha agreed. Hagma took the basket, including the needles and
scissors, with her. Elwytha didn’t mind being denied these possible
weapons. She found herself looking forward to wearing a colorful
dress again. Perhaps it would brighten her frame of mind. Verily,
she needed all the brightening possible while subjected to her
betrothed’s attentions.

* * * * *

Elwytha slipped out to the armory a few
minutes later. She had guessed that the guards changed rotations
every three hours. Now to verify her theory. If correct, they
should change about now.

She casually strolled across the grassy
courtyard, peering at the armory out of the corner of her eye. Yes!
A new guard now switched with the old one. A pleased smile curved
her lips. Now to find the weakness in their chain. The slothful one
who dozed from time to time. She smiled to herself, anticipating
the challenge ahead. The sport of outclevering the guards and
swiping weapons appealed to her much more than sewing lace on
dresses.

She dared to sweep past the armory one last
time, memorizing the location of the door and two windows.

“
Elwytha.” The Commander’s
deep voice startled her.

Jumping a bit with guilt, she stared up at
him, dismayed. He stood close beside her. How had he approached so
stealthily? He had done it once before, too—in the bathing room
when she’d first arrived.

His hand curled around her arm. She glared at
it. All of the anger from last evening swelled again, with shocking
swiftness. She raised a freezing eyebrow. “Kindly do not touch
me.”

“
You’re angry with
me.”

“
How clever you are,” she
snapped.

“
I’m sorry for how I treated
you last even.”

“
You forced your will upon
me. But that’s your way, isn’t it?” she challenged. “You disgust
me. I want nothing to do with you…a murderer, and an abuser of
women.”

His head snapped back, as if struck. “I had
no wish to abuse you.”

“
And yet you did.” Elwytha
felt shocked by the fury vibrating through her. “I will not trust
you, ever again!”

“
No!”

If she didn’t know better, she’d think he
sounded anguished. But her wishes mattered not at all to him.

She spun on her heel.

“
Elwytha.” The deep voice
commanded her attention. “Please,” he added.

“
What have you to say to me?
Verily, nothing I want to hear.”

“
I am sorry. Please forgive
me.”

She turned back, hands on her hips. “How can
I forgive you, my brother’s murderer?”

“
I cannot prove my innocence
yet. But know I planned last night for one purpose
only.”

“
Why?” she curled her
lip.

“
To clear the air between
us. You hate me. I had to know why, or I could not fix
it.”

“
You can’t fix it. You can’t
change the past. And your brutish behavior only makes me hate you
more.”

“
Elwytha.” The word sounded
rough.

She glared. “You care what I think of
you?”

The great man steadily regarded her.
“Yes.”

She folded her arms. Why was she listening to
him? Why did she care what he said? Why did his sincerity reach out
and twist through her soul?

“
Then do not manhandle me
again.”

“
I will not. Unless you
attack me again.”

She bit her lip. “Fair enough.”

“
I would not hurt you,
Elwytha. I did not intend to last night. I will not ever. Unless
you pull further treachery upon me.” The Commander’s warning gaze
held hers.

“
All right,” she said,
surprising herself. “I forgive you for manipulating me last night.
But I cannot trust your word concerning my brother.”

“
You will.”

How like him to be so confident, so arrogant.
She gave him a thin smile. “So we are back to where we
started.”

“
No. Now the truth is out.
Things are not the same. And they will not remain the same.”
Determination steeled his features.