Chapter 6

"I need to see the King."

The two guards looked back at Shanna. There was some confusion in their eyes, the uncertainty of having someone talk to you in a strange language. Understandable. Shanna felt she had worn that expression all morning, ever since waking to the sound of the entire camp slowly coming alive. On the guards, though, it was mixed with the certainty of only having to take orders from people that weren't her. They did not move from the entrance to James' tent.

Shanna tried to hold her temper. Tried not to glare. They were just doing their job. It was not their fault.

Whose fault was it?

This early in the morning, the next person to cross her path.

She stepped back, the guards responding by moving their spears, or pikes, whatever they were, from across the closed tent flap. What were her options? One, she could just wait. His royal highness would have to come out sometime. Two, she could yell for him. It was just a tent, after all. The guy WOULD hear her. That would probably not be the most diplomatic choice, breaking perhaps centuries of royal protocol. With her luck, waking the King was a hanging offense.

The tent flap moved. Option three: ambush the first person to come out.

A thin, pale hand lifted the heavy fabric, revealing the dark-haired girl Ewa. Her eyes widened. So did Shanna's. That boy king moved fast. The teen looked as disheveled as any woman would after an interesting night, hair unbraided and loose down her back. Ewa's expression, after a moment's shock, hardened. Shanna almost groaned in frustration. She was NOT going to compete with this girl for James. Had zero interest in James. Nor did she want to get on the girl's bad side. She needed friends. Or at least non-enemies. Letting out a sigh, Shanna smiled as best she could, motioning with her head back inside the tent, pushing her glasses back up as the movement slid them down her nose. Ewa stood there, considering. After just long enough to make Shanna nervous, the girl looked behind her.

"Wasza Milosc, twoja ciemnoskora towarzyszka jest tutaj."

"Tell her to come in," a sleepy voice said. "Have them bring us both breakfast in here."

"Wasza Milosc." Ewa turned back to Shanna, body language now friendlier, and maybe a bit embarrassed. Shanna nodded to her.

"Thank you, Ewa."

Ewa nodded her head a bit shyly. Shanna had been caught coming out of a guy's room by his sister, so understood. She stepped aside as the teen moved quickly past her. She turned her attention back to the guards.

"Excuse me."

James was sitting on a cot, shirtless but at least in some pants. A folding table was set up in front of him, large porcelain bowl causing the fabric top to sag. The King looked up at her, a washcloth in his left armpit.

"Good morning."

"Morning."

She caught movement to her left. Ewa's younger brother was going through a wooden chest, picking out a blue shirt and holding it up to examine it. Shanna blinked. The kid had been in here with the two of them? Maybe he had woken the pair. Oh, that had to be an embarrassing scene for all involved!

"Have a seat," James told her. Looking, she saw him motion to a desk chair nearby. She walked over, moving the chair out and sitting on it backwards, sweat pant clad legs straddling the back. The kid's eyes almost bugged out as he looked at her. James laughed. "That's not the most lady-like thing, you know."

"That's the problem. They brought me dresses to wear."

"So?"

She frowned.

"You can't ride in a dress."

"If you hike it up high enough." James held a hand up, laughing. "I know. Probably worse than going sidesaddle. You are a girl, you know."

"Not their kind."

"And we're not going to be introducing women's lib just quite yet. I don't know how things are here, but just getting 'rape is bad' culturally accepted may be the best we can do this generation."

Shanna nodded. Only a fool would not notice those looks, what they meant. She could defend herself, somewhat, but her self-defense teacher had told them that if a strong man wanted to rape you badly enough, he probably could unless you caught him off guard, or got lucky. And if they were trained soldiers? Submitting would be most women's best option.

"I can fight, somewhat. Have some training. Can you pass that along?"

"I'm passing the word that you're part of my royal party, naturally. Off limits."

"Thanks." A small wave of depression hit her. She was going to have to rely on him for everything. Protection. Communication. Hell, her clothing and food. She did NOT like that. What happened to the independence of college? Shanna did not like handouts.

"Maybe," James continued, handing his towel to Felek and accepting a clean shirt in return, "we can make you some kind of Amazon guard for me. Have some of the soldiers beef up your training."

She regarded him for a long moment as he slipped the tunic over his head. Having carried the water basin away, Felek returned to stand next to James, running a comb through his hair. She shook her head.

"No offense, but ... SERVING you is not a goal I have."

"Anything you do here is going to do that, in some way. But I get your point."

The tent flap opened. Ruta entered, holding a silver tray, which she moved to place before James. Behind her a woman entered, middle-aged, with a wooden tray with wooden plates. Shanna saw her eyes become disapproving as they fell on the chair straddling teen. Marching over, the woman placed the tray of food on the desk behind her. Shanna smiled.

"Thank you."

The woman gave a slight smile, not a nice one. Turning to James, she bowed before leaving. Ruta stayed, standing next to Felek. Shanna had to grin. The two kids made a good couple.

"Dig in," James said, picking up a silver fork. "The kids can't eat until we finish, and the camp will break up soon."

"Gotcha." Standing, she sat back down facing the desk, and began to eat.

The slap to her bottom came as Shanna was adjusting the stirrups on her mount. They had given her a different saddle than the day before, although luckily the same horse. She froze as she felt the large male hand hit her left butt cheek, the sweat pants and panties offering little padding. She had expected this. Shanna had watched movies, after all. Even news reports from places like Egypt of women groped and raped at "peace" rallies kind of prepared her. Yet the actual fact of it left her stunned. Holding back the response she wanted to give, she turned her head.

Three soldiers had walked by her. They were strong. Well armed. Laughing. Picking a fight with them would be stupid, King's protection or no. And, well, while she hadn't been "asking for it", Shanna knew full well her ass looked damned good if she bent over in these pants. Compared to the other women, she was taunting these men.

Shanna had a brief mental image of her brown skinned body nude on the grass, surrounded by dozens of hunky male Polish soldiers. She shook it off. That was one of those fantasies that should so STAY a fantasy. The line between orgy and gang rape was probably nonexistent.

She looked around. Many men were giving her glances. Hard glances, full of promises that they could give what she wanted, or at least what they wanted her to want. Her eyes went again to the mode of dress of the other women packing the camp. Would wearing a dress be so bad?

"Dziewiecdziesiat dziewiec!"

One of the Winged Hussars she had rode among the previous day was shouting, seemingly at her. That wasn't her name, though, and they should know it. It wasn't like it was hard to pronounce. She turned back to her horse.

"Dziewiecdziesiat dziewiec!" Closer, this time. She turned, back to her mount. Three of them stood before her. Strong. Handsome. Condescending. Condescending armored angels, red and white feathered wings rising above their heads.

Oh, she so wanted to smack those smirks off their faces.

"My name," she said, sweetly, "is Shanna. Are you smart enough to remember that?"

The one in the middle, with a bushy black mustache, pointed at her chest, grinning.

"Dziewiecdziesiat dziewiec."

Dziewiec ... oh. Maybe that meant ninety-nine, the number on her shirt. OK, that was funny. Not so funny was the man's still outstretched hand. One step forward, and he'd be copping a feel. She was NOT going to allow that. Could she grab his hand, bend back a finger? No. His free arm would probably club her in the head. Hand to hand combat was not an option.

Reaching behind her, Shanna slipped a knife from a sheath on her saddle.

They saw the movement. The arm dropped. Their expressions became ... harder. Less gropey, more rapey, although still somewhat playful. It would be a playful rape. Smiling, she brought the knife up in front of her, a finger lightly testing its edge.

"I really, really hope you all don't think this is foreplay." Shanna considered throwing the knife between the one man's boots, but that would leave her without a knife. It would be movie showing off, not practical at all.

"I hope we're not interrupting anything."

At James' voice, the soldiers came to immediate attention, expressions the funniest "we did nothing" look she had seen not on a cat. Turning, she saw him approaching with what she supposed was now his support staff. The two guards from the tent were behind him, eyes even from this distance seeming to dance at the discomfort of the Hussars. Felek and the young girl Ruta walked beside Ewa, her long black hair again braided. That had to be hard to take care of. That gay secretary or whatever walked just behind them, with a few other men she guessed were HIS assistants. And, at the King's side...