"Very well, then. I suggest we begin the preparations as it will take some time for my servants to prepare it," Truls cleared his throat, noticing the exchange. "Each of you has a long journey ahead come tomorrow, after all," his tone dropped subtly.
"Indeed," Elhael stepped in, getting the attention off the Harutian prince. "Although most of us may travel the same distance in opposite directions, the Rhydian Pass is a narrow and dangerous one at that," he continued.
"I can only imagine the perils that may lie along the way," Leona began. "I will send a prayer to the gods for your safekeeping on your journeys home," she put a hand across her chest and bowed. "Thank you, Your Majesty," Elhael and Bashir said in unison, although her eyes quickly snapped to the latter when she heard his voice.
By the Graces, it's difficult to be around him with him present, she mentally noted Truls standing to her left.
"Very well. I will have Fulco see to the preparations for the feast, while these fine gentlemen and I discuss a few final things before they all depart," Truls waved himself off as he turned away from the group.
"I will be with you in a few moments, as I would like to speak to Her Majesty for a brief moment," Bashir smiled at Leona, who could only nod a response. Truls shrugged indifferently before continuing to walk away. "We shall head towards the market. Join us when you can, my lord," he said over his shoulder as Elhael and Mads followed at his sides. Bashir bowed as he watched the others head off, already deep in conversation.
"I have a favor I'd like to ask of you, my lady," Bashaa turned to face her. "And what might that be, my lord?" she asked calmly, hiding her surprise as best she could as his son moved in closer.
"You see, my son was only able to arrive on the morning of the council, and, unfortunately, missed the tour we received of the castle given to us by Fulco. He has always wanted to come to Coltend to visit the magnificence of the great castle," Bashir began with a warm smile.
"You want me to give him a tour myself," Leona completed his request with a knowing nod. "Y-Yes, precisely," he grinned, returning the nod.
Be still, my heart. He saw right through me, and now the sly dog is trying to get me alone with his son. He's smarter than he looks, but I wonder what he's really after, she swallowed dryly.
"I would be delighted to give him a tour, my lord," she said, trying to maintain her composure.
"This is wonderful news! Allow me to give you my thanks for such an honor," Bashir said excitedly as he lightly clapped his hands. "There is no need for thanks," she said and smiled at him nervously. "Oh, but there is!" Bashaa said stubbornly, causing Leona to chuckle nervously, allowing her inner lack of composure to show a little. "If you insist," she bowed slightly, regaining her composure.
"Please, enjoy yourselves. We will meet you in the market when you're done," Bashir bowed before he left to catch up to the others, leaving them alone.
Well played, Bashir, she mentally scoffed.
"Shall we, then?" Bashaa asked in his thick accent and held out his arm for her to take. "Of course," Leona replied, feeling her heart skip a beat. She was as red as a tomato and quickly found that hiding her true feelings would be more of a struggle than initially thought after a few minutes of walking together in silence.
"Walking in silence when in such good company would be an absolute waste," he began as if reading her thoughts plastered on her cheeks in bright red paint. "It would, indeed," she replied charmingly.
"To be brutally blunt, and bluntly brutal, I simply have to ask: Why were you staring at me so fervently just now?" he asked. "By the Graces! You don't waste a second, do you? Frankly, I'm astonished as to why you'd want to know at all," she scoffed, feeling her composure whittling away.
"It is painfully obvious that I am the wife of the great King Truls. That fact alone should have steered your gaze away from me," she stated with little confidence in her own words. Bashaa tilted his head. "The great King Truls…" he repeated with similar derision in his tone but quickly chuckled with a shake of his head.
"Well, in my culture, it is common not to wait around to speak one's mind. It helps to avoid… confusion. Therefore, I am doing only what my culture and people have taught me. I apologize if that was inappropriate," he said apologetically.
I didn't know their culture was like that, she thought.
"In that case, it helps make your question make a little more sense," she said. "However, to answer your question just as brutally blunt, and bluntly brutal: I am very interested in you. You're a very handsome man. Your father has obviously picked up on that, which is why we're walking together per his little ruse," she said wryly.
"Ah-hah!" he exclaimed, showing off his bright smile. "You see, I had figured as much, though I wasn't sure. I thought it would be better to ask you as soon as I had the opportunity, although I will be leaving in a few days," he said.
"So, you knew. The whole time?" she squinted her eyes. "Yes, that is correct," he replied. "And did you and your father plan for us to be alone like this?" she asked, with a bit of indignation in her voice.
"Not exactly. I simply assumed there would be some form of tour for me, though I didn't account for the possibility of it being with the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," he replied, causing her to blush with his praise.
"My head might explode from all the compliments if you continue like this," her eyes widened as she put a loose hand to the open part of her chest, knowing he would look.
Because, of course, he did.
"I'd rather it didn't," he turned and looked deeply into her eyes. "For the world would suffer such a loss, that I do not honestly believe that it would ever recover," he said. "What makes you think that? You barely even know me," she retorted.
Keep your composure, woman! Leona shouted internally.
"I know a strong woman like a hound knows its prey," he replied with a sly grin.
And there it goes; my composure is floating away in the wind. Perhaps I should wave as it passes by, she thought, feeling her heart begin to race.
"Now that is interesting. Where did you learn that?" Leona asked, taking note of every word he would say next. "When your father has a harem of women at his disposal, and you are but a small child who does not know much about the opposite sex, you tend to learn a few things through observation or listening," he replied.
"Something few men are capable of, apparently," she said in compliance with his last phrase, getting a low chuckle from him. "A man must know how to do a few things if he is to succeed in life: how to battle, hunt, manage his property and money, and, of course, how to treat a woman," he lifted a finger for each thing listed as nervous butterflies flittered within her gut.
"These are all, with the exception of the last, things that require only a small degree of skill. People can be trained to do those things. However, knowing how to treat a woman not as an object, like most do in my culture, but as a person requires an entire shift in perspective," he continued, raising a knowing eyebrow at her.
"What sort of shift?" she asked plainly, reading his expression. Respect and privacy, rights, and confidence; these things are vital to give, as they are due, to an equal," he concluded smugly. "Color me impressed, Prince Bashaa. I'd never expect that from someone who grew up with a harem at his disposal," she said with an upturned lip.
"I aim to impress; particularly when my opponent is the great King Truls Wishert," he shrugged, making something shift in her mind as soon as the words left his mouth.
Immediately noticing the tall wooden doors that led to the wine cellar to her left, she quickly grabbed his hand and began to drag him in that direction. "Where are you ta-..." his words cut off as she put a finger to his lips. "Shhh, just shut up and follow me," she said hushedly, checking over her shoulder for anyone who might see them.
It was lit by two torches nearest to the doorway. On each pillar supporting the racks of enormous barrels of wine and other spirits, there was an unlit torch for each one. Meads, wines, vodkas, and ciders were neatly organized and labeled accordingly with stamps of ink or brands charred into the wood.
They stepped through the door, their eyes taking a short time to adjust to the room's torchlight.
"This way," she said, leading him between racks and shelves that held the countless wooden barrels. The sound of their footsteps was dampened by the barrels in the dark, chilled room.
She stopped herself by leaning up against one of the nearby barrels, staring at Bashaa. Her inviting eyes were straining to see him properly, but she managed. He said nothing, as he could feel her intent, and moved in to kiss her by putting one hand on her waist and the other on the lower half of her face.
While they were kissing, he undid the laces to her dress, following its movement down her body with his mouth to her waist. As he moved back up her body, she undid the sashes that held up his pants, hearing a buckle hit the floor.
She turned around, leaning against the barrel, and no sooner was his pelvis meeting her backside with his hands on her hips, but they were quickly interrupted by a noise coming from the far side of the cellar.
"What was that?" she whispered, using her hand to stop him momentarily. "I'm not sure," he replied, pausing his thrusting movement for a few heartbeats. "It's probably something small, judging by the sound of it," he continued after listening for a few seconds. "If you say so," she said, and they continued what they had started a few moments ago.
About half an hour later, they finished and had to put their clothes back on in the dim light. Bashaa fumbled with the laces, attempting to replicate the knots Clare had tied earlier.
"That will have to suffice," he said, tying a knot he often used on his horse's reins. "Pray no one notices the knot," he said with a shrug. "That's comforting," she replied sarcastically before peeking out of the cellar through the crack between the frame and the door, seeing not a single soul about them.
"We're clear," she whispered back to him as he followed her out, taking her arm as if nothing had happened. A few minutes of walking and awkward conversation later, they were back in the main throne room. The tables were already being set up for the feast later on that evening, but they did not find the other lords.
"Truls must still be in the Market," she concluded, breaking the silence between them when she noticed none of the royal guards were nearby. "We'd better hurry to them. Otherwise, suspicions might arise," Bashaa said, intensifying the pace of his gait. "I'm certain they already suspect enough," she muttered.
She was only a little shorter than Bashaa, but felt a degree of difficulty keeping up with him, especially in the clothes she was wearing. "I really hope you have a plan to explain our elongated absence. After all, a tour of the castle couldn't have taken that long," Bashaa said nervously, making her squint at his obvious display of mistrust in her.
"Of course, I do. We go to the market, find them, and tell them that we had no idea where they were and that we spent the entire time looking for them. A half-truth, if you will," she lifted her arm with a palm facing upward suggestively. "Lead the way," he said with an assertive nod. "We both know where I'd lead you if I had a choice," she scoffed quietly through a thin-lipped grin that he matched.
They made their way down a few flights of steps that eventually led to the main market. They looked out over the hundreds of small tents and booths that were the organs of the market itself. The racket produced from countless shopkeepers and clients yelling at each other to haggle for better prices resounded across the enormous courtyard. The market had a wide variety of supplies such as meats, hides, fauna, flora, precious stones, and jewelry hung in tent-like stalls or sealed in glass cases.
"I think I might know where he may be," Leona said, looking out over the horde of people under the midday sun. She took him by the hand and walked into the crowd of people. Without guards to pave the way for her, she finally felt what it was like to be a regular person in her own skin.
Rubbing up against countless sweaty and grimy people, as well as breathing in the same air as maybe a hundred others, took a toll on her psychological health, but she pressed on.
"Through here," she called back to her companion, turning down the market's main street, where, at long last, there was a little room to breathe a drag of fresh air.
"I pray I never have to cozy up to a hide seller to get by again. The stench on that man," she wrinkled her nose, still feeling the man's sweat dripping down her cheek. "That is because you only just missed the butcher himself. I swear he smelled worse than a thousand carcasses left in the sun to rot," Bashaa added wryly as though it were a contest to see who had suffered the most, but she only laughed at the concept.
"We'd better keep moving," she regained her composure after adjusting her dress. "Agreed. They might cause a rabble, or worse, if they find out you're here without your guards," he cautioned.