Part 1
Her blonde hair floated across the top of the pinkish water. It was clear when she got in, but today was a bloody day and victory was theirs. She had six hundred men under her control, or what was left after the battle, and they had fought long and hard today. She was waiting for those numbers, but the bath felt so good. She dipped her head under the water again and scrubbed it hard, for some reason, blood is hard to get out of hair.
"Jennaseea." The deep male voice called.
"I am bathing!" she responded loudly and deeply. "Do you have the numbers?" she asked. Markden had been her envoy for a long time. He looked much like her, golden hair with eyes the same crystal-clear blue as hers. He was taller and broader than her and was built to swing a blade or do anything else she required of him.
"No," he replied quietly. "And the Chieftain wants to see you."
She sighs. "Come back when you have the numbers and tell my father, I'm bathing!" she yelled the last part for anyone close to her tent. She wanted no interruptions, the water was hot, and her muscles were sore. The voices around her tent diminished and she grinned. Somedays, it was good to be the princess. She knew she would have to get out eventually, but she stretched her neck, shoulders, and back. They had taken the brunt of the work today and cutting down men, is hard work.
She stepped out of the bath and dried herself with a soft leather skin. She put on her linen dress, her leathers were getting washed, she hoped, and the linen felt soft and a pleasure to wear. She didn't put the overdress on and let the linen float around her body. Taking the bone comb off the table, she ripped it through the long hair, it was warm in her tent, and it would dry fast enough.
"Jennaseea." It was a whisper at the tent flap.
"Get in here Markden," she said and sat in her fur-lined chair.
"Your father has gone, but they have captured a man on the outskirts of the battlefield, and they are preparing to kill him," he quickly and glanced at her dress.
"Stupid brutes, we need information." She sighed loudly. "Go get me this man."
"You will get dressed?" he asked with his hand on the tent flap.
"In time, get me the man." She smiled at him. He knew her too well. He shook his head and darted out of the tent. She questioned men before and knew the importance of keeping promises. She removed fingers, and even though it worked very well, it was easier to lure men, but then again, they weren't that smart.
She looked at the overdress and even considered putting it on, but she was enjoying the freedom of not being bound in clothing. She set a stool by her center tent post, she watched the men dig it and knew how deep it was buried in the ground. It was also close to the foot of her bed. Her tent flap shook. "Yes." She called out and turned to face the opening.
"Jennaseea," Markden said as he came through the opening and stopped short, blocking the entrance. He stood there, glaring at her, she shrugged one shoulder at him and grinned. He shook his head and moved into the tent. Two warriors followed him with a man slumped over between them. His head hung down, hair the color of a raven's wing hung in his face. She pointed to the stool and the warriors set him on it and tied his hands around the post at his back. They looked her over, nodded, and left. Markden stood with his back to the tent opening.
"Leave me," she said quietly.
"Not if that is all you are wearing," Markden growled at her.
The stranger's head came up and he looked at her. His eyes were pure black and they widened, as his mouth opened slightly. His face was bloody with reddening bruise marks and they showed her how brutally he was beaten.
She turned and looked at Markden. "Go get me some hot water, he needs to be cleaned up."
"I will not leave you alone, with that." Markden pointed at the man.
"You will do what I say," she walked toward him. "Or I will decorate my tent with your head."
"I favor you is all," he hissed leaning close to her.
"I killed men on the battlefield today, I think I can handle one man, tied up, in my bed-chamber." She turned quickly, her almost dry hair striking across his chest, and walked back to the prisoner. He held his hand's palm up behind her for just a moment before he turned and went to get what she requested.
She sat on the foot of her bed and looked at the man. "What is your name?" she asked and reached out to touch his hair. He held very still, as she ran her fingers through the thick, soft pelt.
"Rockashen," he whispered and refused to look up at her. She stroked his hair again, and he shuddered.
"You're safe here," she whispered to him.
He started to laugh softly. "I am in the warrior princess's tent, and I know, I will die."
Markden took that moment to come in with a bowl of water, and a leather cloth. He walked right up to her and set it at her feet. "You did not ask my permission to enter," she warned him. "Now, go bring us food and drink." She glared. He knew better and he did favor her. She even sent for him when she wanted company, but to enter her tent, without consent, would get him killed. She stood, taking him by the elbow, and walked him to the tent flap. "Do you wish to die today?" she whispered.
"I wish that you were not alone, with that," he said pointing at Rockashen.
