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All content of this story is copyright {2014} by Returning_Writer_Guy and is my intellectual property. This is purely a work of fiction and fantasy and not based on any truthful events. No individuals were harmed as none of the individuals in these stories exist. This story is not to be redistributed under any circumstances without my express written permission.
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When Silmaria came back to herself she was laying on a soft, large, comfortable bed. A bed that size should have been draped in silks and finery, but instead was covered in simple, practical sheets of cotton and a heavy, warm wool comforter. The glow of a fire and a number of candles cast shifting shadows and orange light against the ceiling and walls.
Silmaria fought not to panic; she had no idea where she was.
The Gnari girl sat up to get a better view of the room. It was a simple and largely unadorned room and not especially large, but it seemed bigger than it was due to its near emptiness. There was a fireplace across the room from the bed and a well banked fire had recently been started and was now chasing the chill from the room. Over the mantle of the fireplace hung a small plaque displaying House IronWing's coat of arms, and a portrait of a young couple posing together dressed in fine clothes. The man sat behind the woman, his hand resting on her brazenly exposed shoulder while she sat before and slightly lower than him, her hands folded demurely in her lap.
A large cedar chest sat at the foot of the bed, and there was a thick rug in IronWing navy blue trimmed in silver set before the heavy door to the left of the bed, a small table with two plain chairs in the upper left corner of the room, and a rack displaying a set of armor to the right side of the room accompanied by a rack holding a large greatsword in a finely made leather sheath, and just below it, a simple, sturdy longsword.
The room failed to hold her attention, however, once her eyes found Lord Rael, grabbing up another log and placing it on the fire in the hearth. She realized she was in the man's room...in his bed no less. She felt herself flushing, which was ridiculous considering how many men she'd slept with and allowed to bed her down, but flush she did. She swallowed her initial urge to run from the room then and there, and cleared her throat to say, "My Lord?"
Rael stood and faced her, but made no move to close the distance between them. "Are you well, Silmaria?"
She bit her full lower lip, nervous and uncertain, unsure why, and really, really hating that look of concern and sympathy in his eyes. "I'm fine. What happened? Why are we here?"
"You fainted," Rael explained calmly. "It's okay. It's a pretty normal reaction, under the circumstances. We're in my chambers. I needed to take you someplace quiet and away from prying eyes. Everyone is panicky enough already. Are you all right now?"
Silmaria swallowed, nodded, and hastily hopped off the Nobleman's bed as if it were about to burn her. She straightened her dress, then realized it was still smeared in blood. Her hands had been carefully washed clean while she was unconscious. She tried very hard not to think about that.
"What about your wound, my Lord? Have they been tended?" Silmaria asked as she returned her gaze to the Nobleman.
Lord Rael waved a hand dismissively. "No, but it's nothing. I'll tend it myself. You may go, it's fine."
The two regarded each other as the room and the silence stretched tense between them. For a moment, Silmaria was relieved that he'd given her exactly what she wanted, and she almost turned to go.
Then her eyes met his, and she saw truly. There, in that intense, intelligent gaze he pinned on her, was a challenge. It was unspoken and subtle, but it was there nonetheless. He knew he made her uncomfortable and awkward, Silmaria realized now, though she doubted he knew why. But he knew, and she could tell from his eyes, he'd given her a way out of this situation, and he fully expected her to take it.
The very notion struck a defiant cord in her. He didn't think she could put aside her own concerns to do her duty, was that it? He probably thought her too weak and delicate to rise to the task. Well she'd be damned if she would give him the satisfaction of being right!
"I'm fine, my Lord. If you would please sit, I can tend your wounds," she said at last. She even managed, with a rather large effort, to keep her voice calm and composed.
Rael considered the young woman closely. Her response and her voice were polite and reasonable. But he'd commanded and led men long enough to know defiance hidden under a disguise of obedience when he saw it. He could tell the Gnari was complying because she was too stubborn to admit she'd rather be anywhere from here.
Her dress was stained with dried blood and yet she stood tall and proud, her chin tilted back to meet his eyes. Her arms were crossed under her full breasts and her tail was cutting the air behind her aggressively. He doubted she was even aware of it. Bright, wide emerald eyes stared up at him and he saw the fire behind that gaze. She was lovely. Beautiful. And, even more intriguing, she was strong.
"You don't like me," Rael said, deciding to drop pretenses and take the direct approach.
His words clearly caught her off guard; her surprise flitted across her face. Then she stared at him with a look of reserved suspicion. Still, to her credit, she did not try to deny it. "It's not my job to like you, my Lord. It's my job to serve you."
"That's true. But I wouldn't want someone to serve me who didn't do it gladly."
Her smooth brow furrowed and she stared at him as if he were mad. "How many servants do you really think are truly happy being servants, my Lord?"
"A fair question," Rael conceded. He tilted his head ever so slightly, giving Silmaria the uncomfortable sensation of being studied. "Have I done something to make you dislike me?"
Silmaria wasn't about to answer that question. "Maybe I just don't like Humans," she shrugged one graceful shoulder.
