Back to Chapter 8
The herald who announced them was slightly confused, but read out the names.
“Prince Fallion Silar Khan and Lady Salam-Dir.”
Falmir turned from the window and looked at the two who had just been announced. Prince Fallion he knew, and had written off months ago. But to have the largest thorn in his side with him?
Silar bowed. Laun stood straight.
Falmir motioned and the wall of servants left the room. He stepped away from the window overlooking the Eastern streets of the Capitol City and slowly walked to them.
“Stand, Fallion. You bring me this prize?”
Silar nodded. He did not wish to say anything for fear of betraying his own conflicted feelings. Falmir did not seem to notice as he looked Laun over. He did not contain his delight, or his surprise as he looked at her.
“You have given me nothing but problems...” Falmir’s eyes narrowed. “Wait. You were on the stage-”
Laun tried to not react, but she felt the corner of her mouth go up. She also felt a blush starting, but kept her eyes on Falmir.
Falmir turned and went to a chest. He opened it, looked inside, started to count. He shook his head and closed the lid. He picked up the heavy chest and brought it to Silar.
“This is the reward, plus some. If, from the various accounts I have heard, she is anything like the rumors, you had your hands full getting her here.” Falmir handed over the chest, slightly disappointed when it did not crash to the floor out of the foreign Prince’s hands.
Falmir turned, not waiting for any response from the one who had just collected the bounty. “You are smaller than I thought you would be. Though-” he looked at her belly and smiled, “larger, too. My man did not mention that you were pregnant.”
He waited for her to say something. She did not. It unnerved him slightly as the woman before him was not crying, was not begging for anything. Even the strongest of the men who had been captured and brought to him had been sniveling cowards. This young woman was not.
Falmir did not notice when Silar stepped limping to the back of the room and slipped out. The big, striking man with the seven pointed crown on his head only had eyes for the young woman in front of him. His eyes kept going down to her belly, the simple tunic and skirt the Sand Master had given her accentuating her belly with a deep, oxblood red rope belt at her raised waist over the blue tunic.
Laun kept standing. She had her knees bent just a little and just looked at Falmir as he looked at her. She did not move, she did not waiver. She tried to keep a bland face, even though she wanted to have a knife at hand to slit the man’s throat.
Falmir paced slightly, looking at her from several angles. He was amused that she was trying to put on such a front for him. It unnerved him that she was so quiet. Her eyes never left him, she did not turn away in fear or false modesty.
“You slipped somewhere and let yourself be captured.”
Laun allowed one lowering of her head to him and then was upright again. Falmir stopped pacing and faced her. He put his hand to his chin and rubbed it, showing a slight frustration.
“I will allow you to go back to your Lands, Lady Salam-Dir, if you acknowledge me as the rightful King of the Midlands.”
Laun shook her head once. She saw a twitch at the corner of one eye. He put both hands on his belt, a missing sword obvious as he slightly missed trying to rest his palm on something that was not there.
“This will not end well for you, Lady. I can just put my own people on your land and claim it.”
Laun smiled. It was not a simple or kind smile.
“From what my man told me, you are a woman of contradictions. I see you have a core of stone in you. I am surprised you have not made any demands for yourself or your people since coming before me.”
Laun tried to calm the sneer that was trying to curl her lip as she said, “I am in a bad position to try to demand anything, Lord Falmir.” His eyebrow went up, but he did not say anything. “I would not try to impose my own will on you, or where I am, just to try to bluster something out of you.”
Falmir had a surprised look on his face. “You are nothing like I expected. None of the reports told me you were so...reasonable.”
Laun shrugged, feeling the road still in her back, though the night before had loosened many things... “There is nothing to be gained by being unreasonable, sire.”
He smiled. “So, you do accept me as your King?”
Laun kept a steady eye on Falmir, watching for his reactions. “No. I accept you as my Father.”
Falmir was struck by the notion, moving half a pace away from her. “Who are you?”
Laun drew herself up fully, gaining more than an inch as she straightened her knees. She looked Falmir in the eye, though she was still only chin high to him, and said, “I am Laun Dresden, Lady of Salam-Dir.” She wanted to say Princess of the realm, but it would not have been good to tip the sticks in his favor.
His eyes narrowed and widened. “Dresden.”
Laun nodded once and pressed the small advantage she had. “My mother was Lennie Dresden, the one you forced yourself onto, and then forced into silence.”
Falmir turned away. Laun saw that he was very disturbed and was having conflicting feelings about what was happening. She saw one hand go down in front of him where she could not see, but she was very used to that motion at the household. He was adjusting himself.
Falmir was disappointed in himself for a flash of lust went through him when he remembered how he took her mother and forced her to keep quiet with a threat of the Dresden family being stripped of their rank and possibly killed. Her whelp was in the Palace, standing strong and very obviously having been taken by someone. Before she had called him father, he had been considering taking her himself. But now...
The large man turned. He had composed himself and stepped up to her. He looked at her and saw the Hawkwell nose and his mother’s eyes. They were framed with the Dresden face and skin and those eyes were unblinking as they looked at him.
There was a scratching at the door. He rounded on the noise and roared, “What?”
Laun hoped that he had not seen her flinch at the volume. He stepped away from her as one of the household staff dressed in the dark blue and grey stepped in and whispered something to his master.
Falmir turned red as he suppressed a rage that was instantly upon him. “Please tell the Ambassador that I will receive him at the time I said, no sooner.”
The servant looked frightened and Laun could hear, “...will be angry and-”
“He is not your King. I am. Now go and tell the bastard that I will see him later. Not now.” Falmir waved and turned, dismissing the man without a second thought.
Laun tried to not have either of her reactions show. She was frightened for the anger he had shown. She was also amused at the frustration. Laun thought quickly and put aside the comment she wanted to say. She wanted to survive this encounter before she tried to use her skills on him.
He was angry and he paced for a moment before returning to look at the woman before him. Woman? She had to be less than twenty, but her baring said that she had years of training, the calm look on her face betraying nothing of her feelings beneath. That dark Prince must have done one hell of a job to get her out of the Salam-Dir lands.
Falmir looked around and saw that Prince Fallion had left. There was another flash of anger, but then the dismissive motion again and he forgot it.
“When I had the message from...your host, I was thinking he was trying to force my hand on a matter. But you are in front of me.”
Laun had started to bend her knees again, the strain on her back getting strong. She tried to keep a bland face.
There was another scratch on the door. Falmir turned, gripping his hands in fists. He called out, “Yes?” with controlled anger behind it.
As a man strolled in, taking Falmir’s attention, Laun took her own stroll and sat next to the throne on the small platform that was there. She arranged her skirts to hide her belly and leaned on the side of the carved wood arm, keeping her eyes down but still watchful.
Falmir crossed his arms as the Ambassador from Rosemond slowly came in. The red rosette of ribbon on his chest glared from the black of his garb. The gold tracings on his leather gloves matched the design on the black velvet vest he wore. His hair was short, but had a forced wave to it, a touch of black around his eyes to accentuate the blaze of blue staring at Falmir. There was a trace of dirt on his boots, but everything else on him showed no dirt or wear.
The Rosemond Ambassador pulled his gloves off from his fingers, putting the folded things in one hand as he used the other in a flourish of a bow.
Falmir waved his hand at the man. “None of the niceties, Ithian. What do you want?”
The man stood and smiled. Laun knew that smile, it was one Dreng tried to pull on her when he was hiding something. His arms went out to the sides and he had his palms up. Laun suppressed a smile as a flash of something familiar went through her as he said, “Why, King Falmir! I just wished to relay the wishes of my King and country to you, our ally. Your Majesty does not need to be concerned, but I do have my instructions...”
Falmir backed up a step but did not turn from the Ambassador. “Tell me the message, Ambassador Ithian.”
There was a crinkle to the man’s brow as he said, “My King would like to know when he will be receiving back his troops, or the payment you had promised for their use.”
Falmir turned red but did not yell. “You know full well that I do not have the whole of the Midlands under control. Damnit, I hardly have the Capitol City under control. The contract was for three months after I had all the lands. I will not pay that one until I do. Your nobles now sit on more than half the lands.” Falmir looked like he wanted to say something else, but held his tongue.
Ithian turned and saw Laun on the dais. “Who is this charming creature, Falmir. You should have introduced us when I came in.” His voice had dropped and Laun heard the edge to it.
Laun turned her head to the side and looked up at the man, a coquettish giggle coming out. She held out her hand and said sweetly, “Thank you, sir. I’m called Laun. I am pleased to meet such a distinguished gentleman.”
He took her hand by putting his fist under her open palm and kissed the back of her hand, Falmir fuming behind him. “She is of no concern to you, Ithian.”
The Ambassador’s eyebrow went up as he saw Laun bite her lip playfully in her smile. “Falmir, I did not know you went for this type.” He kissed her hand again and let his hand fall.
Laun let her eyes fall again, looking at her hands in her lap. She kept the smile on her face and knew that the Ambassador was still looking at her, her cleavage showing with just a trimmed slit down the front of the tunic over her rounded breasts.
“Now I understand why you did not want to see me, your Majesty. Pressing state policy, I see.” Laun had seen little flecks of silver in the black around his eyes, reflecting the light and catching her interest, as it was meant to. She glanced up and back down, seeing that the Ambassador was focusing on Falmir and his reaction.
“She-” Falmir stopped himself. “Please go. I will talk to you later. At the scheduled time.” His voice had dropped and was not calm, but gave the impression that he might be.
The Ambassador bowed to Laun and then to Falmir before leaving. The door closed and Falmir started pacing yet again.
He stopped and stood over Laun. “Even here, you give me troubles.”
Laun looked him in the eye, tilting her head slightly. “He has been playing this game with you for a while. But I doubt he has heard anything from Rosemond recently.”
“How the hell would you know that?” Falmir put one booted foot up on the edge of the platform and leaned on his knee.
She shrugged. “He would have to explain why all the payments you have made to him disappeared.” She looked back to her hands. “But I shouldn’t have to tell you that. It is very obvious.”
The red in his face increased as his breathing became a bulls snort. Then he closed his eyes and shook his head. He stepped away from the throne and turned his back on Laun.
She almost felt bad for him. He thought it would be a snap of his fingers, a thrust of his sword, and he would be king. It was what happens after the coup to attain the throne that makes the ruler, and he was being overwhelmed. Laun was glad she did not want his position.
Laun stood up, supporting herself on the arm of the throne. She smoothed out the front of the tunic under the belt and waited. Falmir turned back and paused.
“Sire. I am at your mercy. Do with me what you will.”
Falmir could not speak. It was as if the Princess Lady Tressa was standing there, at her place by his father. Her voice was calm, quiet. It did not waiver. Her hand was placed on the arm of the throne as Falmir had seen his sister’s hand over his father’s countless times in the past. Before she had died. Before the Gods had taken her from him.
It took him a moment. His plans to desecrate and display the bitch that led Salam-Dir had just been shattered. “I will have you escorted to guest quarters.” His voice was still low, but there was a tired quality that Laun heard as resignation. And she was going to live.
There was a pull on a cord in the corner and servants, all dressed in the particolored blue and grey, stepped in.
“Take her to the top guest room. The green one.” He looked at her belly. “Get her anything she would like.” Again, it looked like he wanted to say something, but he stopped himself.
Laun stepped down from beside the throne and curtseyed as deeply as she could. Her head went down and stayed down when she stood. She followed the servants who motioned to her and a long journey through the halls and corridors of the Kings’ Palace began.
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