Chapter 13

Insomnia was usually the least of the First Counselor's problems. Between attending endless counsels and managing the affairs of his own estate, Adrian was most often than not ready to drop into a deep sleep when he finally got to bed. But he just couldn't, not tonight, regardless of how many times he told himself that he needed the energy for tomorrow.

He rolled onto his other side and pulled the sheets over him. His manservant would grumble about the mess he made tomorrow morning. Groaning, he sat up in his bed, giving his pillow a few vicious punches. He blamed one particular female for all his trouble. It was entirely her fault that he was in this situation. He just couldn't get the taste of her out of his mouth. She was sweet and innocent, her inexperienced mouth moving under his. He kept it light, for he didn't want to scare her. Gods know, he wanted so much more. If he wasn't mistaken, she wanted him too. But each time he tried to push further, she drew back into her protective shell. It was unbearably frustrating. Cursing the woman, he left his bed, giving up on sleep.

A few floors below him, the object of his cursing was experiencing the same thing. Miriam stared at the heavy canopy above her bed, barely able to make out the silver embroidery by the moonlight that pooled at her floor. Her lips still tingled when she remembered his kiss. He was her first, but she honestly didn't know what to think of it. Of course, she had heard the other village girls talked about it in hushed tones and occasional giggles, but she was always too preoccupied with her training to give it much thought. None of the village boys ever showed interest, and even if they did, Ethan always warned them off. Miriam grew up with Ethan, and both of them trained in swordsmanship under his father's vigilant eye. Though they were the same age, Ethan took on the role of an older brother, especially when it came to courtship. Not that Miriam minded. She had more than enough to keep herself busy.

Adrian's kiss was quite... unexpected. His lips were dry, but soft. When he pressed deeper, she had wanted to... to what? Wanted to rub herself against him. She most certainly knew enough about these things to know where kisses lead. She grew up on a farm, hadn't she? It was just a brush of the lips, she told herself impatiently. Why should it make her stomach quiver and her knees wobbly? Miriam shivered in her bed, feeling another tingle down her spine. Why did he kiss her? She wasn't trying to flirt with him. Every encounter between them had been purely business. He needed her skill, and she delivered it. There could be nothing more between them. But what did the kiss mean? How would this change their strange relationship?

Truth to be told, she was frightened. The way she had reacted to his kiss was wanton. She had felt his hardness against her, and she had felt her breasts pressed against his chest, but she made no move to step back. It gave her a delicious feeling to know that he wanted her. It wasn't like her to feel these embarrassing things. Gods, she was acting like a shameless whore. She should have pushed him away immediately. In fact, that was exactly what she was going to do next time (provided that there was a next time.) She would immediately put a stop to this folly.

Too restless to remain in bed, she jumped up, searching the darkness for her trunk. Despite Fanny's protests, she insisted on keeping an old pair of trousers and tunic. They were Ethan's old clothes, but they fit decently well on her frame after slight alterations. She wrapped a length of fabric around her midriff, binding her breasts. Buckling her sword to her waist, she left her room after binding her hair up messily with a piece of leather.

The white glow in the far east was barely visible when Miriam stepped out into the arena. Tipping her head up, she could see the stars twinkling their last hour before the sun would chase them away. The summer morning was still chilly with hint of moisture in the air. Satisfied with the night's bounty, a bat returned to its home, gliding silently across the sky, a mere shadow among shadows. Nodding to a guard by the gates, she strode to the soldiers' quarters, where there was an arena for practicing swordsmanship.

She wasn't really surprised to see him there. Rather, she wondered if her unconscious mind lead her to him. Leaning against the wooden rail that fenced off the practice arena, she allowed herself to admire his body for the first time. As arrogant and insufferable as he may be, he was still a remarkable specimen of the other sex. Although Miriam was more accustomed to the burliness of the farmers in her village, she could certainly admire the slimmer, but muscular shoulders that marked a well-trained swordsman. Despite the cool morning, the back of his tunic was already plastered wetly against his skin. His waist tapered to the narrowness of male hips.

He was running through drills to stretch his muscles. Patiently, he went through every attack, perfecting his strokes until he streamlined the motion. The air whistled each time his blade sliced through powerfully. Miriam suspected that if he were to use those attacks in battle, they would delivered the maximum force without hesitation.

Swinging agilely over the fence, she approached him. Hearing the crunching sand beneath her feet, Adrian whipped around, still in the trance of his imaginary foe. His black hair curled with his perspiration, some dripping into his eyes. He blinked, then wiped his face with the back of his hand. "What are you doing here so early in the morning?"

"Good day to you too," she retorted. After a pause, she said, "I couldn't sleep."

"Neither could I."

"So I see," she said dryly.

He had hoped that the exertion would ease his mind from the thought of her, but it seemed now unlikely. Slashing her sword twice experimentally, she asked, "Do you mind company, my Lord?"

Adrian glanced at her in mock suspicion. "Methink you might like nothing more than sinking that blade into my flesh."

Summoning a recklessness she never knew she possessed, she reached out and patted his cheek. Pouting a little, she said, "Don't be scared, little one. I won't hurt you. Not too much."

He snorted, brushing her away. Solemnly, they circled around, each holding the traditional stance. She saluted him with her blade, then charged forward with an attack. Adrian was faster than she expected, faster than even Jordan. He dodged her attack easily, swinging one back at her. Using the force of her landing, she twisted in time to blocked it, though her whole arm vibrated with the contact. She pulled back quickly before he could use his height and weight to press her back. Panting, she feigned left then thrust to the right, but he wasn't fooled.

They fought, equally matched but with strengths in different areas. Miriam was agile on her feet and used her stature to her advantage. Whatever she could not block by sheer strength, she dodged or deflected. Though Adrian was quick for someone his size, he was a fearsome opponent because of the solid strength behind his attacks. After the first crossing of the blades, Miriam knew that she could not possibly fight him stroke for stroke. Meeting his attacks squarely took much of her energy. Miriam knew that if she didn't disarm him soon, she could not last long.

Adrian started a series of attacks, and Miriam had no choice but to parry. He pressed her back, forcing her closer to the fence. He knew that he was wearing her out, but he was still very alert. One mistake could seriously injure either one of them, and he rather not draw the blood of the woman he cared about. Images of Miriam's body, bleeding and disfigured, appeared in his mind. His gut wrenched at the thought of her being hurt. Just then, she used the contact of the blades as a leverage to spin around to his back. He leaped aside, a cold sweat breaking across his skin.

Embarrassed that she caught him so off guard, he struck out, lashing at her with unbelievable force. When their swords met, he felt her blade spinning out of her hand. Before he registered, he felt her leg making contact with his knees. She hooked his knees so quickly that he collapsed onto the ground, stunned. Miriam was also low on the ground, but she was perched on her hands and feet. Streaks of dirt stained her face, she panted as she kept a wary eye on him.

He made an effort to lift his head from the ground to look at her, but lay back down in the dirt with a thump. His lungs were bellowing, and he closed his eyes against the growing light in the sky. His hip throbbed with a dull pain, which Adrian suspected to be bruised by the next morning. Nonetheless, his mouth quirked, finally letting out a shout of laughter.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw her face above him, lined with concern. "Are you alright?" she asked anxiously. "Did you hit your head too hard?"

Still catching his breath, he said, "No, not at all. I find your tactic... amusing."

He thought her scowl funny as well, though he wisely kept his laughter to himself. She slapped his arm impatiently before retrieving their swords. Heaving himself up with difficulty, he did his best to brush the dust off.

"It was quite brilliant, your defence," he started, "but you shouldn't depend on it always. Sometimes you need a blade to defend yourself, even after you've knocked him down. You never know if he might throw a hidden dagger at you or the like. It is preferable, of course, to keep a sword in your hand."

He nodded his thanks as she handed him his weapon, hilt first. "In the event that your leg sweep did not take him down," he continued, " you've left yourself at his mercy, vulnerable to any casual sweep of his blade."

"I know that, Adrian," Miriam snapped. She blinked, seemingly surprised at her harsh words. He was only trying to help, and she knew her faults in swordsmanship. It must have been the lack of sleep, and not the kiss, that was making her so peevish. She bit her lip and said in a more subdued tone, "I'm sorry, Adrian. I should not have lost my temper."

He shrugged, then grinned at her. "I know when I'm being obnoxious," he said. "Let's practice a few more rounds before we break our fast."

"Yes, that sounds agreeable."

An hour later, both soaked with perspiration, they called a truce. Adrian was the better swordsman, but Miriam thought at the very least she had made him work for his victory. They sat by the side of the arena, cleaning their swords with rags before sliding them back into their sheaths. So many times Miriam wanted to ask him about the kiss, but the words always lodged in her throat. Summoning her courage while praying to the gods, she turned to Adrian and opened her mouth, only to find him staring at her as well. She almost choked on the air that she forcibly gulped back.

"Uh," she stammered, "I need to pick up something from the glass smith."

She stood up quickly, hoping that it didn't look like she was running away.

"Miriam, wait," he said, jogging to her side. "I'm coming with you."

She spun around, studying him for awhile. "Don't you have the morning counsel soon?"

"Yes, but I have some time."

The sleepy stable boy yawned as he walked past them, stretching his arms out above him. They could hear the clinking of the pots as the soldiers' quarters stirred to life, a whiff of smoke sweeping past. The guards looked at the sky, shifting from foot to foot trying to keep warm as they waited for their fellow guards to relieve them at the end of their shift. A maid's quiet footsteps echoed down the hall as she carried a bundle of firewood to someone's bedroom.

As they neared the glass smith's shack, Adrian touched her shoulder briefly to indicate that he wanted her to stop. Her eyes were wary, as if she knew what he wanted to talk about, but he must talk to her. The tension between them this morning had nothing to do with their practice.

Her heart beat wildly in her chest as she wrestled with her own breath. She thought she knew what Adrian wanted to say to her, but she didn't want to respond the way she knew she must. He would hate her for sure, but she had no choice. It had been decreed ages ago, when Healers first emerged, that women who chose this practice must remain mateless. To rebel was to lose her privilege as a Healer, to lose everything that defined her person. They must not be any more than friends, regardless of how they may feel about each other, for she could not live without her art. Nonetheless, her heart sank when she glanced at his nervous, yet excited face.

"Miriam, I know you are wondering about last night," he started. "You must know that I did not kiss you for casual amusement. I would never seduce you with dishonourable intention or seek to ruin you, please believe me. I care about you, more than you probably realize."

He took her hand, rubbing her fingers gently to warm them, his eyes warm and earnest. She was silent, carefully forming her words before saying, "What are we, Adrian? Are you not a lord? Am I not peasant? What can possibly form between us?"

His grasp tightened. "If I have your permission," he replied softly, "I wish to court you. Will you walk with me this eve?"

She sighed, her head bowed in guilt that she must extinguish such glorious hope. "I must tell you something, Adrian, before you decide to court me," she said. "It is incredibly important..."

Just then, the door of the shack boomed open. Adrian saw a stout man who stood with his arms crossed over his broad chest. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing a pair of biceps as thick as the trunks of young trees. The scowl on his face was as dark as the apron he was wearing, which was stained with soot. Chewing on some tobacco, he spat before saying gruffly, "Well, are you two going to keep me waiting or will you come in already?"

Miriam shouted, "We'll be right there, Uncle Marcus." To Adrian, she said, "He's a little deaf. Must have been from years of working near the loud furnace."

Adrian saw the man duck back in, muttering to himself about the impulsive nature of young 'uns who have absolutely no concept of time.

"He's only a grouch in the morning," Miriam assured him, pulling on his elbow. "He's really not that bad." Adrian cast on last wary look at the door before following.

"I see that your time at Pelicana had been well-spent," he said, raising a quizzical brow. "You have befriended the Master Glass-smith, whom I have never met, though I've stayed at the castle most of my life."