Zandria Reclaim: Captain of Nine Armies Over The Woman He Loved

He went out the door without locking it on purpose. His anger was put to the back of his mind when his eyes found Trink still standing by the doorway to the suite. The children were gathering behind her gawking at him as if some demonic feat had been done. He calmed himself striding toward them, making his paces strut a bit. The twins actually brightened then, knowing things were safe, now. They went for the room to check on their mother. He finally got to meet his preferred company. "Shall we?" he asked.

"Oh, of course, by all means," Trink replied placing her hand in his palm for him to lead the way. The boys were all excited over this display of courtship. They were coming of age for this kind of game, and were impatient to experiment yet. It was an art that had to be done by the playbook in order to successfully tame a socialite in these parts. The twins emerged from the room, walking quickly to follow behind the filing troupe that went through the doorway. They were in the privacy of the suite when the door closed. Denthe and Aithen went and retrieved playing instruments from the cases resting in the corner of the room. The twins took their seats at the table in anticipation of the recital. Roen cleared his throat. He took a swig of wine to wet his throat and cleared it again. Then, he nodded to his brothers to begin. One plucked the strings of a lute, the other began the lilt of a violin. He counted the notes. "This song is dedicated to you," Padrad said, putting his left palm on her should blade, while his right palm was still holding her hand. Roen began to sing with his newly acquired deep voice, having broke it just last summer. The lyric was harmonized with the tune from the mountains.

"Ever since you had been gone.... My heart began to cast away warmth.... Waiting on the snowy mountain paths.... Wishing to walk back memories of the past.... With my eyes I glared over land to no end.... Blistering my face in the knifing winds...."

The interlude was just as romantic as the voice of the singer. They began to dance, though the space between them began to shrink as they sank into each other's embrace. The twins peeled their eyes away from Roen and stared at the couple as if romance was transpiring before their very eyes, though it was intended to inspire their imagination. The tempo picked up on the next verse.

"Still remembering your promise never to keep me from finding you

But like southern geese flown away following them so far gone were you Love like a kite lost on the wind with that broken string Couldn't reach that promise you promised to wear the ring I waited on the biting snow top covered summit's bittern Lost my mind wondering for reasons where you've been Love like a kite lost on the wind with that broken string Couldn't reach that promise you promised to wear the ring...."

The song ended, but not the dance. Padrad released her hand running his palm over her arm, up the shoulder, caressing the bare skin of her neck and around to her nape. He kissed her with lust tingling on the back of his tongue touching hers. She broke away to catch her breath. He teased her with soft kisses down her neck, causing her to gasp with gentle moans of arousal. And then, she pressed her warm sweating fingers to his lips prying his mouth off. Her stern stare at the gawking young audience only displayed a woman's lust in stark seduction. The boys were gulping in their saliva as if they were ready to dive into practice. She returned her gaze to her lover sadly. "Tonight is politics. I can't stay up past midnight." "Most unfortunate," Padrad remarked, pressing his nose to rub on hers, letting his breath warm her lips as he pulled her hand away. "Please, Padrad." The way she said his name made him want to dive into her deep and slow. He reluctantly retreated, lowering his head as disappointed as could be. He led her to the table to sit adjacent to him. The boys put away their music instruments with care, then returned to the table. Roen was already filling glasses with wine before taking his seat. Once all were gathered, they raised their glasses. "To the Game of Houses," Padrad said. They toasted, and sipped. And the conversation began. The first topic was none other than Gorran's Houses.

"Grace is at the top now." Padrad was confident in his statement. "We have the support of Falcons and Cranes financial-wise. All else is just a matter of maintaining the armies and provisions." "That is good progress, indeed." "I know you're in a predicament, Trink, but I will accommodate as need be." "That's very reassuring. Considering Falshire is on the rise at the moment. The Houses must band together to keep a strong resistance." "Easier said than done. Old grudges are keeping us apart. Trade deals are not enough to pull ties together." "Leaning toward Falshire just might not be a bad deal right now." He chuckled dryly over the impossible. "Where should we start with that notion? We're not exactly on friendly terms since the last war fought." "I don't know... Depending on where the real threat is, there just might be a compromise." "I trust Falshire as much a lamb would to a hyena pact. They are maritally tied to Tarenne as is. How is Legran these days?" "The King of Tarenne is doing very well, having shed his Pruzian origin and Gorran fiefdom." "Yes," he drew out the word. "We were almost successful in ascending our title to princedom had he only agreed to indoctrinate our fiefdom of the four Houses." "The stars map the way, but people can't map fate," she lamented. "Well, if we could only change our fate in some form or another...." He eyed the prospective troupe with potential in intellect as well as martial art skills. "I wouldn't mind gaining a princess or two." "Father, I doubt you can put hope in us yet. We are still young." Roen was poignant as ever. "It helps to make friends. Especially at your age, you are less guarded against than when you come of age fully." "Yes, the young people are more accepting than their parents," Trink added with a wink. "Must we? I much prefer older women." She let out a laugh that could dance on stars. "Are you sure you want to christen your manhood that way?" "I have no qualms about it when the woman is as beautiful as you."

"Hey, she's mine. I found her first." Padrad put in jealously. "Aw, don't hold that against me on account being born a junior." "Your son is very cute," Trink remarked to Padrad's face, adding: "By my standard anyway. He may be too advanced for the debutantes." "And he hasn't been christened yet. At least... that is what I believe to be true." Roen crimsoned at this point, hiding behind his food. The others were not laughing. They were thinking about their plans to win a date for the ball or at least, make friends as suggested to have their presence take root. Each had at least one specialty as far as qualities went. Talland focused on history and was a passive lordling, though he was good with his sword. Any who under estimated him would be in for a surprise during a duel. Revvine, the raving beauty entering her bloom was a debutante from her House. She was guile and feminine; her shyness belied her true nature. Her work was in all manner of fragrances. Roen was the sultry ever clever young lord, master of charms beguiling his serious bearing. Denthe was simply the middle child that had his mind filled with facts and justice, though he would plot as much as their father would to gain his goal. He had the gift of music, and was expert in twelve disciplines of musical instruments. The youngest was Aithen, who enjoyed slingshots and rocks. He had the making of a full archer yet. Those were the full introduction of the troupe through Padrad. Trink listened acutely on their resume. Such young talents before their eyes. They behaved as normal teenagers do, but they understood their roles in politics and the need to promote their House in this war in order to be recognized. In fact, that was how all the Gorran Houses raised their children. Dinner ended into a late part of night. While the other teenagers went to their rooms to sleep, only Padrad and Talland were the ones staying up to escort Trink into a carriage. The trip was short but it served a purpose. The lordling brought out his right palm for her to read. She held his hand, tracing a finger along the lines of his heart, mind, and life. "Your mother never betrayed her land. She underwent kin-take at the will of your father." He froze and stared at her, perhaps in shock at the way she said it. "What does that make me?" "You are destined to be Lord of your own House. The fate of stars traces that path for you. That much I can see." It was so dim in there, only snippets of moonlight slipped through the windows when they didn't travel in the block of shadows. "Do not neglect your sister. She may fall under the same fate if you are not careful in the ways of political warfare."

"I have stood in Father's way once. I don't know if I can do so again." She looked up at Padrad with a stare as one who understood. Talland came on his knees toward her, turning up his head like a child looking up to a maternal figure.

"Master Talland...."

"I will come of age in a few years. Tell me, please. Did you witness the kin-take?" Padrad was about to jump up to grab him, but she gestured for him to stop and shook her head. He sank back in his seat, expression conflicted. She drew Talland into her arms in a warm embrace. "Never do such a thing, Master Talland, if you wish to hold the loyal heart of a wife. Cage a woman and she will certainly plot your demise."

The boy wept soundlessly, sniffling softly the while they rode to the part of the palace where her residence was addressed in an apartment. It housed the guards as well as servant maids in separate rooms. They walked her to the entrance. Talland gave her yet another hug before returning to the carriage. Padrad faced her under the bright moonlight. She smiled then, looking back. He held her hands, leaning forward pressing his forehead to hers till their noses touched. Tilting, he kissed her fully on the lips, finding himself enveloping her body in his arms, rocking her a bit and wishing she didn't resist him. That was a short good-night kiss. He watched her go in, and waited for her to actually peek out from her window with a kiss blown his way before departing. When he boarded the carriage, his nephew was morose in mood, though when they began to move, the lordling looked out the window with a great longing at the woman who waved from her window.