Chapter 10

James turned the knob on the lamp, brightening the tent as the flame grew. It still seemed a waste to him, keeping the lamp lit all night, flame low and shielded. Still, he had to admit not having to fumble with lighting the thing in the dark was a godsend. He wasn't even sure if he could, at this point, use the firelighters these people had.

'These people'. They were his people.

"That's it, Marik. Drink up!"

Ewa sat in a well cushioned chair beside the bed, the baby feeding happily from the ox horn full of milk. James was getting used to these late night feedings. He suspected most Kings did not put up with such things, tossing the royal brat into some nursery far away, with the mother, bringing in another bed playmate for the duration. Maybe that would be the case with him, someday. For now, though, the novelty of just spending the night with a girl, the entire night and not just an hour or two stolen while the house was empty, made such inconveniences not worthy of thought. Besides, the kid was a quiet waker, and Ewa a light sleeper. There was no loud wailing to demand food, no screeching awakening him from deep sleep. No, the baby started to fuss, and Ewa instantly awoke to tend to him. James could probably even slip back into sleep after the minor disturbance.

He didn't.

They were alone. Truly alone. The camp, apart from the two guards outside the tent (and sentries farther out), was asleep. They could talk freely.

Among other things.

Placing the lamp on the royal desk, James bent down to a small wooden chest on the grass floor, its outside charred. It had appeared that evening, Ola again sending sarcastic gratitude to all those who had "rescued" royal belongings in the chaos of abandoning the Keep. Why the staff had not rescued more, given the value of all of this, he didn't know. Knowing the late King, had something about his possessions ... well, maybe they thought the stuff was cursed. Or bad luck.

His hand hesitated over the lid.

"Captain Putaski talked to me today, James."

James stood, turning to Ewa. She was looking down at the baby, long black hair, again loose, falling down over her bare breasts. Beautiful. And ... wild. Nude, with her hair like that, she seemed like a creature of the forest. He could picture her running through the trees, white skin flashing as she passed behind the greens and browns of nature. He loved that look.

"And what did our Captain want?" Bending down again, he picked up the small chest, standing to place it on the desk beside the lamp. Some of the char came off on his hands. Shaking his head, he wiped his hands together, trying to get it off.

"He ... wanted to make sure I understood my position."

James turned to her again, frowning. Ewa's voice was bitter. It was never bitter. Even when talking about the other women in camp. He quickly went to her side, a hand touching her bare shoulder.

"Your ... position?"

"Yes."

What in the world ... James suddenly understood. He squeezed her soft shoulder.

"He's picking brides out for me."

"The Captain," Ewa said, voice overtly formal, "reminded me that the King must marry a girl from one of the major families. That I am ... entertainment, until court is re-established. Any child I have will be a bastard."

"No he won't."

"He will not be your son, or daughter. They'll see to that."

James closed his eyes. The idea of even fathering a child with this girl- and she was still a girl- terrified him. You did not do that. Yet, neither could he not share his bed with her. Not now, lack of birth control be damned. She made him feel...

"And I don't care," Ewa said. She trembled under his hand. "I want to bear your children. I want to be with you. Even ... even if..."

"I love you." He did. Or thought he did, and what was love, but how one thought they felt?

"I can't be Queen..."

James knelt down, a hand going to her thigh. Her legs parted without a thought, as they had for him since that first night. Ewa's eyes met his. He smiled.

"You are mine, Ewa. Whatever name they will or won't call you, you are mine. Our children will know we love each other, love them. Marik, too. If I have any power at all as King, you will be by my side for as long as you wish."

"Forever," she whispered.

"Forever."

Shanna dipped her glasses in the river, swishing them around a bit. Stupid things. They got so dirty. And she always forgot she wore them. She'd be wondering why the world was no longer sharp and clear, then, Oh! Dirty glasses!

Mind you, not having them would be worse. Seeing was a very good thing, in her book. What would she do if they broke? And they would, someday. Glasses didn't last forever. Heck, this was probably her fifth pair. She'd have to see if they could make them here. Copy hers.

At least she wasn't stuck with contacts.

The camp was awakening behind her. Shanna was tired. Sleep had been ... slow in coming, restless and fitful when she had slipped into the land of dreams. She could not remember any of her dreams, just impressions of confusion, anxiety. Shanna did not need her unconscious mind to tell her that. What she saw and felt while awake covered those areas quite nicely.

Drying her glasses on her shirt, she slipped them back into place. The world became clear, sharp. Deceptively so.

"You're awake early."

Piotr's voice came from behind her. She turned, smiling. He smiled back. Something ... had happened last night. Something magical. They had not even kissed, yet she felt more intimate with the young man than she had with anyone ever before. Kissing would come. She knew it.

"You too."

"One of the joys of being a soldier." He was dressed in just pants, his chest bare, muscular. She noted his feet, too, were bare. Before she could stand, Piotr came over, sitting beside her on the grass. "Did you sleep well?"

"No."

He nodded.

"I dreamed last night. Of your home. It ... WE came from there? Poland is there?"

"A Poland is there. I know little of it, other than the biggest war in history started because Germany invaded it."

"Did we win?"

"Not at first, but all the good guy countries declared war on the evil Germans and we beat them back."

"Well, without us there, it's understandable Poland was under defended."

Shanna could not help but raise an eyebrow at the grinning teen. A cocky guy, this one.

"I'll let you think that."

"Do you still want to train this morning?"

"Yes. Let's do it." She stood, enjoying the way his eyes took in her graceful form. "I feel like whacking something."

The charred wooden box contained two books.

James sat at the desk, lamp lit in the dim morning light. Ewa still dozed lightly on the bed, the blanket half covering her bare form. Marik, awake but not fussing, lay in James' lap, playing with the fingers of his left hand. The King had tossed on shorts, mostly as there would have been something very wrong with putting the kid next to his bare wang. James was no pervert.

The first book, small, leather bound, seemed to be a diary. Who by, he couldn't say, but obviously someone in the Royal household. Perhaps even his predecessor. James would have to go through it, divine what secrets he could. The handwriting was horrid. About, really, what you might expect from someone no teacher had dared correct too harshly. He was not impressed.

The other volume ... well, James had no idea what it was. It was about nine inches by six, two to three hundred pages held between battered, light brown covers. There was no title. No author. On the thin pages ... the writing wasn't Polish, or English. Or any other language James could magically understand. The letters looked almost English, but not, with weird curved shapes and what looked like the number 8. Almost every page had illustrations, brown lines filled in with green, brown, blue. Plants, mostly, strange things he'd never seen. Flipping through, he stopped at one. A tree, with a flower blooming from the top. He knew that one. They had passed it, days ago, on the road. Were these plants from this world?

He flipped through. Later pages added bad drawings of nude women, often springing from plants. One series of pages contained concentric circles of nude women, holding stars, around fish, horses, scales.

Well, it was no Kama Sutra.

James felt there was something here. The book had been next to the diary. Had been important enough to be kept in a, mostly, fireproof box, and to be rescued. Yet, it had been secret enough to NOT be rescued by those taking charge after the King's death. He wondered who had returned it. That would be someone to talk to.