They broke out of the tree line, the warm morning sun chasing away all the shadows that tried to cling to them. Alia waving to a guard on the battlements before heading in the direction of the not so secret portal.
But hold on, the rest of her words hit home. “You killed a man because he tried to court you?”
“To be fair, it was, as courtships go, a particularly heinous one. Callan was a bard who found his way to us because he’d lost his… inspiration, or muse, or some such thing. Personally, I just thought him lazy. Once he arrived at the Lair and saw all we had achieved, he decided he wanted a big slice of it, and he wanted to do nothing to earn it.”
“He thought by hitching his wagon to you he would get a free pass on working?”
“Yes, in fact, I’m pretty sure he pictured himself reclining on silk cushions, eating freshly baked pastries and strumming his mandolin, whilst we all listened enraptured by his efforts, applauding every note and song he produced.”
“He sounds… interesting.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, he had his good points, he was incredibly handsome for a start, with long raven locks, clear green eyes and to be fair, a beautiful singing voice.” Hhmmm, Talac wondered what was wrong with his gut, suddenly the breakfast pie wasn’t sitting too comfortably. “But the moment he opened his mouth, Gods, the never ending flowery crud that spewed out, it was torturous.” They reached the hidden portal, Alia ducking through, Talac close on her heels.
“Torturous?”
“He wrote a song once describing my hair as sun spun wheat, flowing down a molten golden mead filled languorous river. Oh, and he made up an entire song about a beauty mark beside my mouth, except it was a fleck of manure that I’d picked up from that morning’s ride.”
The laughter that erupted from Talac surprised even him. The look of distaste on Alia’s face as she recalled the memory was priceless. Following her into the stables, entering the sixth stall on the right, a magnificent tan horse shifting nervously upon their entry. Alia making soft soothing noises as she approached, letting the horse smell her before gently stroking the side of its throat. Talac standing at her shoulder studied the horse’s flank, where deep gouges glistened with medicinal smelling herbs. Picking up a brush Alia began to groom the horse, staying judiciously away from its injured flank.
“Killing a man for bad poetry seems kind of… harsh.”
Alia leaned over, speaking quietly. “I didn’t kill him… well, I don’t think he’s dead, not by my hand anyway. I just took him and his mandolin out into the woods one day, gave him a bag of food and some water, advising him that he’d be better off seeking fame and fortune elsewhere. I thought a private banishment was kinder than a public one. His songs were exceedingly bad, and he was incredibly lazy, but I didn’t think he deserved public humiliation… however, when I returned to the Lair on my own, that’s when the rumours began.”
“Rumours and innuendo are oft times worse than a knife or a sword. At least you can fight back physically then. But word of mouth spreads as quickly as a wildfire.”
“And the more you protest.” Alia nodded in agreement. “The guiltier you look. So, instead I said nothing and the legend of the Beast continues to grow.”
“Do you think the Lair populace will be relieved or disappointed when I show my face once more?”
“The majority I think will not care. Unfortunately though, you’ll henceforth have to wear the heavy burden of disappointing a lot of children.”
“Perhaps the blame of my survival will fall upon your shoulders. They might assume you failed to see the act through. Perhaps too smitten thanks to my flattering ways and mesmerising eyes.”
Alia glanced sideways to find Talac actually batting long eyelashes her way. Chuffing a laugh, she patted the wounded horse one last time, gesturing for the Captain to exit before her. The problem was, she did find his grey orbs a tiny bit mesmerising. But her ego couldn’t allow him to have the last word. “You are forgetting how very, very pretty the bard was. No, they will probably just assume I had a bad bowl of porridge for breakfast. No doubt expecting me to have some elaborate back-up plan in place to see you off this mortal plane in the near future.”
They headed towards the main hall. Alia could do with a bracing cup of herb tea, her mind whirring, trying to come up with some reason why Talac should not seek out his friend, Brandth, to check on his condition. Perri said to keep Talac occupied. How could she convince him to not go about his own business?
“Elaborate plan? For little old me? A snare? A trap? How exactly would you bring me down, fair Beast?”
Heat threatened to fill Alia’s cheeks… were they… were they flirting? Talac’s tone was no different than normal but there was a twinkle in his eyes that was igniting all her instincts. No, she was being silly. The master spy and the Beast? Flirting. Preposterous. But perhaps they were becoming… friends.
That would be refreshing for a woman in her exalted position. To form a friendship with someone who was an equal, who didn’t want anything from her. Someone to chat with and maybe swap the odd passing joke. “It wouldn’t be a very good trap if I told you about it, would it?”
“True.” Talac aware of the large number of children hiding behind doors, and clinging to shadows inside the great hall of the Lair. It seems word had spread that the Beast was hunting another victim. It struck him as funny to be considered prey. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been this amused. “What say you and I have a little fun with our audience?”
Alia gave no indication, as they made their way to the beverage table, that she was aware of the many, many small children trying to hide or attempting to look like they were innocently loitering nearby. “Oh. You have something in mind?”
“I do, if you’re willing to play along?”
Intrigued, yet a little wary, Alia nodded. “Okay.” She wasn’t sure exactly what Talac was proposing, but whatever it was it would mean he wasn’t trying to visit his friend, Brandth. So, for the interim, she would play along. Forced to admit, even if just to herself, that spending more time with Talac was no real hardship. He was smart, dryly funny, skilled… ruggedly handsome, and hiding a wagon load of secrets. Perhaps if they spent more time together, she would be able to uncover one or two more.
Alternatively, maybe the master spy was only suggesting they spend more time together so he would have a chance to expose more of her own closely held secrets. Never, she would play along but remain on her guard. Alia was no one’s prey.
* * *
Talac ran as fast as he could, even so, it wasn’t fast enough. The tackle coming from his blindspot. The initial hit hurt, his neck snapping to the side, his shoulder thrust back at an awkward angle. But the landing hurt even more, doubly so when his tackler landed on top of him. All air leaving his lungs at once. Talac had no idea where the ball he’d dropped had gone, and he didn’t care right at this moment, desperately trying to suck air in to inflate his lungs.
The crowds roar of approval at the tackle faded abruptly as the game continued on around him. A dozen players racing by, trying to run the ball down.
