Chapter 12

James could not help but let out an annoyed sigh as the three women approached.

He blamed himself for their appearance. James had thought of the older daughter while talking with Shanna, so naturally the universe would send her walking across his path soon after he re-entered the palace. That's just how things worked. The blonde Lusia was with her dark haired mother, and younger sister, whose hair matched their mother. If one did not know better, it could be assumed there were different fathers involved. Maybe there were, but given the husband was blond James was willing to believe it was just normal genetic randomness.

The three stopped where they were in the hall, curtsying with well practiced grace. Resigning himself to at least a moment's conversation before making his way to that evening's dinner, he stopped before them, bowing his head slightly.

"Ladies."

"Your Grace," Lady Jasinski replied. Her head came up, regarding him with confident eyes. "We have not seen you much these last few days."

"Business," he replied. To be truthful, he usually forgot they were around. He had offered the family a few unused rooms in the palace, temporary lodging. There was no point sending them off to live in a tent while more permanent housing was created. A thought crossed his mind. "Your husband has returned to the mainland?"

"With our son. He felt we were better off staying here, for now." Of course he would. James knew where Ludoslaw and his son would be sleeping, and it was no place for well-bred ladies ... at least, the ladies in question would think so. James nodded.

"I trust your accommodations here are suitable. I will see to arranging housing for you in the city as soon as possible."

"No hurry," she said, too quickly. James caught both of the daughters rolling their eyes a bit. That amused him. So too did the mother quickly changing subjects. "Your Grace, if I may be so bold, it occurs to me that while you have met my daughters, you have not been formally introduced to the young ladies. Perhaps, if it pleases you..." Lady Jasinski trailed off, obviously seeing something on his face. So. This one, too, wanted to toss her daughters into the Queen sweepstakes. He couldn't blame her, but that made it no less annoying. He glanced at the girls again. Those blue eyes of the eldest seemed to laugh. Not at him, but at all around her. The younger, not even as old as Ewa's little brother, had eyes more innocent but no less lively. He had a thought.

"Lady Jasinski," he said, turning to the woman. "I'm on my way to my usual evening meal with my closest companions. Perhaps you and your daughters would care to join me?"

"Oh! Of course!" She glanced at the two girls beside her. "If you will give us time to freshen up..."

"Nope," James said, grinning. "I'm hungry, and this is not a formal meal. Let's go."

He motioned them to proceed. Ewa would be upset, but what better test for the blue eyed Lusia than to have her face Ewa's wrath?

If nothing else, he'd have his entertainment for the evening.

Shanna approached Piotr's quarters with dread.

She could delay this. SHOULD delay this. She should just go home, eat, get some food in her belly. Maybe come back in the evening. Or tomorrow. Tomorrow would be perfect...

Shanna entered the Mounted Royal Guard's common room. Only one of his men was there, Godko, a lithe brown haired soldier not much older than Piotr. All his men were in their late teens, if still strong and well trained. His father had probably not wanted the young Piotr to feel unworthy of leading true adults. A training wheel, she felt, he no longer needed. Not that these were poor soldiers. Not as good as hers, true, but...

"Shanna."

Godko's greeting was less formal than usual. More, there was a tone she was not used to from the man. She paused, frowning, arms crossed over her chest.

"Evening. Piotr here?"

"Yup." His head motioned towards the closed door. Again, his tone. She nodded.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." His eyes never met hers. Not liking this, she moved across the room. Now it felt like the teen's eyes were on her. Shanna had a crazy desire to whirl, catch him in the act. That would be childish, though. Stupid. Reaching the door, she knocked.

"Piotr."

There was a pause. There was never a pause. Unless he was asleep? He shouldn't be. Piotr wasn't one to nap. She placed her hand on the door handle, just as his voice came from inside.

"Come in."

He was standing before the small room's one window, looking out at the stable yard. The quarters were neat, functional. Those of a single soldier, whose focus must be kept on defending the King. Shanna's self designed "fort" was a palace by comparison. She didn't feel guilty about this, although at times she felt she probably should. The small, thin bed was neat, although from the slight wrinkling of the blankets he obviously had been sitting on it earlier. Stepping into the room, Shanna closed the door behind her.

"Hi."

He turned as the sound of the door latching filled the silence. His face was one of sorrow, disappointment. Shanna's heart sank. This ... this was not going to be good.

"Rumors are spreading, I see," she said, trying to keep her voice light. His head cocked a bit, mouth almost a frown.

"Are they true?"

"Which ones?" She shrugged. "I'm an evil Elf loving bitch, apparently, which we both know is true on all counts. What have you heard?"

"You were in town? With Anelie?"

"Yeah. Did some shopping. Saw the announcement of the Royal Dance go up."

"Were you holding her hand?"

Shanna blinked.

"I..." She tried to remember. Had she held the girl's hand? She had thought about it. Maybe she had. And ... if she had, so what? She frowned. "Why?"

"I thought you were MY girl."

He was jealous. The guy was jealous. Well ... shouldn't he be? That was why she had come here, right? To deal with all this, to be honest with him.

Only Shanna had not expected news to beat her to her fiancé.

"Look, Piotr ... it's only Anelie. You know how she is."

"Oh, I know how she is. I know she's crazy about you. Follows you everywhere. Probably wants you to dump me and marry her, or something perverted like that."

"That ... that's not perverted."

He was silent. Anger built in Shanna. She had been over this with him. About Ola being gay, about it being OK. Had he just been humoring her? Or had she been foolish to think a few words could overturn deeply held cultural norms? She crossed her arms over her chest.

"So what the fuck is the problem?"

"Are you my wife?"

"No." His eyes shot open. Shanna realized what she had just said, realized it had NOT been what she wanted him to hear. Her hands shot up, palms out, voice pleading forgiveness. "I mean, not yet! We're not married yet!"

"You're acting like we're not even together!" Piotr stepped forward, fists clenched. "Tell the damned girl 'NO'! It's not that hard! Do you see me with any of the young girls chasing after me? No! I send them away at the first sign of flirting, because all I want is you! Why can't you do the same?"

Why couldn't she?

"Look..." She stepped towards him. "I'm sorry. This ... it's a misunderstanding, that's all. Anelie said she had never been to a Ball, and I told her she could go. She thought I was asking her to go as my partner. That's all."

"So you're going to correct her, right?"

Shanna's hands found themselves on his chest. He stayed still, eyes hard. She swallowed.

"I can't do that. It will devastate her. Can't ... can't she come with us? Please? The three of us." She slid one of her hands up, cupping his clean shaven cheek. Piotr reached up, taking her hand in his.

"Do you love me?"

"Yes!" She did. Shanna loved him. He squeezed her hand.

"Do you love HER?"

Shanna hesitated. Piotr's eyes widened. His grip strong, he removed her hand from his face. His free hand took her other wrist, pulling that hand away from his chest.

"I love you, Shanna," he said, almost whispering, "but you can't have us both."

"But..."

"It's over, Shanna."

Shanna stood outside the closed common room door, back against the wood paneled wall.

Stupid.

She was so stupid.

One fight. One fight, and it was over.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She wasn't going to cry. Wasn't. Those weren't tears in her eyes, weren't tears flowing down her face. She was not going to stand outside her man's door, bawling.

Pushing off, she staggered down the passage.

James suspected it was the presence of the three kids which kept things civil.

They were friends, for one. James had not realized this. Six year old Gizela had been playing with both Felek and Ruta for the past few days, the two preteens more than ready for a new playmate. Their laughing and giggling across the dining room table did much to diffuse any tension. Lady Jasinski sent many scolding looks towards her daughter, but seemed loath to actually say anything in the King's presence.