The Commander's Desire (6 page)

“
Very good. And miss…the
Commander wishes you to join him in the main hall an hour
hence.”

“
He does?” He did, did he?
Elwytha narrowed her eyes.

The maid curtseyed and retreated on her
errand.

Elwytha decided she would meet the Commander
in the hall as he decreed. Otherwise, he may attempt to employ some
unspeakable horror to bend her to his will. All the same, she would
make the experience as unpleasant for him as possible—and, if quick
enough, would accomplish an errand of her own at the same time.

She swiftly dressed in an old, brown woolen
frock she wore for weapons practice back home. Worn and misshapen,
it suited her purposes perfectly. And, since her coils last night
had been received so well, this morning she would devise a new,
even more unbecoming style for her hair.

Elwytha lifted her hair out in different
directions, peering intently into her scrap of a mirror, until she
hit upon the very idea. She set to work plaiting as fast as her
fingers would allow.

When Hagma arrived with her breakfast, she
gasped when she saw Elwytha, and very nearly dropped the breakfast
tray. Her eyes circled in horror. “Miss,” she said hesitantly, “do
you require…assistance?” She set the tray on the dresser.

“
No, Hagma,” Elwytha said
gaily. “Thank you.”

Hagma pleated her hands, and after a moment
curtseyed. “If you are sure, miss?”

“
Go, Hagma.” The maid
scurried out, and Elwytha grinned wickedly to herself. Soon the
Commander would cease requesting her company. All the better,
because she needed to apportion time to hunt for her blades. This
morning she would steal a few moments. The sooner she found them,
the better, should the Commander behave toward her in an uncouth
manner. Brother’s plan or no, she would not be mauled by that
brute.

Yet again, Elwytha tried to guess why her
brother wished her to wait two weeks to kill the Commander. Perhaps
to build up trust, so she could attack the Commander by surprise,
in secret, and thence escape quickly, before anyone would
notice?

That thought caused an uncomfortable knot to
form in her chest. It reeked of murderous treachery, which she had
not thought about too deeply of late—not since arriving in the
enemy palace. But she reminded herself that the Commander was a
murdering, cowardly knave, responsible for stabbing her brother in
the back. He deserved the same sentence.

She shoved these uncomfortable nigglings to
the back of her mind and finished her hair. Elwytha moved the tiny
mirror all around so she could see her masterpiece from every
angle. She giggled. Ropes of hair stuck out in all different
directions. She looked like Medusa, with snakes for hair.

Magnificent. The Commander would be unable to
stomach her countenance. Content, she sampled her breakfast.
Delicious.

When finished, she exited her room. Again,
the Commander’s chamber was empty. She felt some surprise that he
allowed her to freely wander his room and the halls. Did no
suspicion darken his thick brain? She blithely disregarded the
intelligence she had sensed on more than one occasion. Nay. A fool
he must be. And she would take full advantage of her enemy’s
weakness.

A few minutes remained before he would expect
her in the hall. Now she’d use warrior skill and cunning to root
out her blades. Head turning quickly left and right, she sidled
into the hall. All clear. Now to locate the room where she had
bathed and been robbed of her blades.

Elwytha skulked left, sure that that was the
way they had come. It just happened to be the same direction as the
great hall. Good. If needed, she could sprint to her assignation to
hell if time ran short. Her feet were swift, and the baggy dress
afforded ample yardage for running.

Elwytha’s steps slowed. Here the hall split
three different ways. Which direction should she go? Elwytha rued
the fact that she’d closed her eyes while draped down the
Commander’s back. Sadly, humiliation had dulled her thinking
abilities. A mistake not to be repeated.

While she hesitated, uncertain which
direction to turn, a fresh stab of inspiration struck. After her
initial meeting with the Prince in the throne hall, the Commander
had led her to the bathing room. She had memorized every turn of
the hall during that trip. Now she had only to return to the
Prince’s hall and she’d be able to retrace her steps to her
blades.

But where was the throne room? That hall had
been huge. It must be hard to miss. How large could this castle be,
anyway? She decided to turn left, since she knew the great hall lay
to her right. Fleet of foot, she sprinted down the corridor.

“
Elwytha.” The Commander’s
voice rumbled down the hall, catching her. She froze. Toad’s nails!
Frustration churned inside her. Reluctantly, she turned and faced
him. A slam of fear stabbed her.

He wore a fully armored thick leather jerkin,
studded with metal, making him appear more massive and intimidating
than usual. No helmet, however. Why would he dress thusly to meet
with her? The question flew out of her head when she spied his
expression.

Shock and disbelief flitted across his
misshapen features. Her hair, in all of its glory, had accomplished
her goal. She smiled then, with true pleasure.

Then…was that a smile? Did amusement lurk in
those light, heathen eyes? Nay. Surely not!

* * * * *

The Commander looked at Elwytha with her
flashing eyes and wide, challenging grin. Clearly, she had found
her ugliest dress for their meeting this morn. He had wondered if
one could top last night’s. And she had fashioned her hair in a way
sure to turn a man’s stomach.

Creative, the different ways she thought up
to displease him. It amused him. He had never met such a spunky,
entertaining female before. No doubt it would dismay her to learn
that her rebellious attempts to annoy only intrigued him more. He
found himself anticipating their morning together even more.

He grinned, and a frown wrenched her brows
together.

“
Does your hair pain you?”
he asked.

She frowned harder. “Why would it? It’s the
latest fashion. No doubt a brute such as yourself is ignorant of
such matters.”

He did not reply to this nonsense. “I ride
the perimeter this morn. You will come with me.”

Rebellion flared in her eyes. “I wish to go
nowhere with you. Leave me at my leisure.”

“
Your horse requires
exercise.”

She drew a quick breath. “My horse…is here? I
believed him sent home with the guard.”

He did not answer. Instead, he placed a hand
upon her small waist, urging her toward the doors. Elwytha
stiffened and moved speedily ahead, clearly revolted by the
contact. It didn’t surprise him, although his choice to touch her
had been deliberate. He wanted to accustom her to his touch, so
when their marriage night came, it would not terrify her.

However, if her response now was any
indication, much work would be required to accomplish the goal of
gentling her to his touch.

* * * * *

Much as the Commander’s demands displeased
Elwytha, the thought of riding her horse lifted her spirits. The
beast had been her close friend and companion since she was
eleven—ten long years. If only she could ride alone, without the
Commander’s unwelcome presence!

Never mind, she told herself, spying the
stables ahead. Her steps quickened. Perhaps on her steed she could
flee from him; at least, for a little while. Her horse was the
fleetest of foot in her brother’s stables.

Eagerness pumped in her, and at the stable
she darted to find her beloved steed. There! A white head. A whinny
of welcome.

Finally, a friendly face, horsy though it
was. She ran and flung her arms around him. “Sir Duke,” she
whispered, pressing her cheek into his white neck. Emotion choked
her. He turned his head, snuffling her hair. “I’m sorry. I have no
apple.”

With careful, loving hands she saddled her
horse and led him from the stable. The Commander waited astride a
great black steed. It stood a hand higher than her own, and
snorted, its nostrils flaring. The black eyes rolled, showing bits
of white. A magnificent animal.

Elwytha swung astride her horse, not caring
overly much that it was unladylike. Who had she to impress? And
she’d ridden thusly all of her life. The Commander showed no
surprise at her conduct. But why would he, apparently unschooled in
the finer social graces?

Sir Duke cantered sideways, toward the black
beast, as she gathered up the reins, and the Commander’s horse
skittered sideways, too. His hooves nervously danced.

Elwytha said, “Your beast is half wild.”

“
He’s broken. He requires
only a gentle word and a firm touch.”

“
You use no whip to subdue
your animal?” Richard and the horse trainers at home approved the
judicious use of the whip to break animals.

The Commander had calmed his steed and now it
stood snorting, flesh quivering, a short distance away. “Nay.” He
regarded her, his mouth suspiciously twitching at one corner. “A
beast is much like a human. Both can be gentled without force.”

Elwytha drew a quick,
indignant breath. “Are you likening me to a
horse?
”

“
You speak the words. Not I.
Come.” He nudged his animal into motion, heading for the edge of
the wood.

Fury gathered in Elwytha’s bosom. He believed
he could tame her like a horse? Nay. He could well think again. In
fact, two could play at that game. It appealed to her as much as
torturing him did. Perhaps she could wield the two together.

She smiled. Yes. He would receive nothing but
unremitting torture from her until she slew him with one final,
fatal blow. By then he would welcome death. Her mind spun with
these pleasant possibilities as they crossed the drawbridge.

Before them rolled gentle green hills,
bordered by thatches of dark forest. One stand of dense trees lay
to her left. Ahead, a rutted lane lined by heather and raspberry
bushes led to a tiny village. It appeared a good wind might blow
the shacks over. Small figures moved about the fields, no doubt
tending the wheat or barley. Elwytha saw no cattle or sheep, but
knew they likely roamed the hills with their shepherds now.

The black stallion entered the wood. Fall had
ripened the leaves of the ash and oak into deep golden and orange
hues.

Although Elwytha followed several paces
behind the Commander, in a seemingly submissive manner, her mind
quickly devised an alternative plan. She itched to be rid of his
company nearly as much as she desired to vex him.

First, though, to tend to the ropes of hair
flopping about her head. True, they had dismayed the Commander at
first. Unfortunately, he had smiled afterward, as if she were an
amusing child. She untied them and slid her fingers through the
plaits, freeing her hair.

Perhaps it had been a childish plan. All
future plans must accomplish far more important goals—namely,
retrieving her weapons and measuring her enemy’s strengths. Then no
surprises would remain for their final, fateful meeting two weeks
hence.

She continued to smile, however, as she
pulled out the last bow. Vexing the Commander had buoyed her
spirits; a necessary, fortifying requirement, since apparently
she’d be shackled morning, noon and night to her enemy. In
addition, clever plans would need to be formulated in order to
frustrate his unknown, untenable plans for her future.

There. Her hair felt better now, flowing
freely down her back. A cool breeze kissed her face and slid
through her tresses. The end of the wood approached. Ahead, she
spied what she sought—rolling, grassy hills.

At last, her horse cantered into open
sunshine. Elwytha drew a breath of fresh, sweet air. Far ahead, she
saw more forest; her destination. Home lay a half day’s ride beyond
those trees.

The Commander slowed just as Elwytha leaned
low over Sir Duke’s neck and pressed her knees into his sides. “Go,
Sir Duke,” she whispered. With a joyful jump, her steed leaped into
motion. Wind sailed through her hair as Sir Duke galloped faster
and faster. Primitive joy soared through Elwytha. Home lay just
beyond those woods. A place of peace, comfort, and shelter from her
enemy.

She turned her head to see if she had left
the Commander behind. Nay. His black steed followed by a mere two
horse lengths. He leaned forward in the saddle, but she saw no
urgency in his pose. No slapping the reins against the horse’s
neck. It was as if they merely accompanied her joy ride.

Frowning, she tried to ignore his presence.
Instead, she focused on the sweet breeze, the rush of grass beneath
Sir Duke’s hooves, and the crisp feel to the fall air. Soon, the
russet leaves would fall. Would she be home before then?

Would she ever make it home?

Fear drove her knees more urgently into Sir
Duke, and he doubled his stride, hooves flying over the earth.
Adrenaline pounded through Elwytha as fears meshed and tangled
inside her soul. If only she could reach that stand of trees…. If
only she could go home! A small cry gathered in her throat, but she
swallowed it back. Sir Duke needed direction to keep him on course,
and to keep them both safe.

Still, the Commander followed several lengths
behind, allowing her to set the pace, and making no move to
overtake her. Elwytha felt Sir Duke’s lungs laboring and his heart
pounding as they approached the wood, and knew she needed to spare
her steed. She eased up and the horse slowed to a glad canter. He
had enjoyed the run, no doubt.

She urged him into the sun-dappled trees. The
forest here consisted of thin saplings and low bushes.
Unexpectedly, Sir Duke pulled up, snorting, flanks quivering.