Fate War: Alliance (18 page)

“I think he likes you.”

“I think
you
like me.” he pertly replied, remembering what Sam said about Sprocket’s reaction to her moods. The laughing left, but her smile stayed beneath her rosy cheeks.

“Sprocket Home,” she commanded cheerfully. With a discontented whir, Sprocket hopped back to Samantha and settled over her heart.

The smell of campfire and sounds of comradery wafted on the summer breeze as they broke from the thicket into the familiar meadow.

“Prince Cole.” The Captain saluted, followed by similar salutations from his small group of men. Cole nodded in acknowledgement, putting the Arboreal soldiers at ease as he dismounted. He clasped hands with the captain hoping there wasn’t a protocol for this, and if there was, that he wasn’t botching it too much.

“Report, Captain…?” Cole cringed inwardly. He hated sounding like such a piston pumper, not knowing the man’s name. He was the typical soldier, broad shoulders, slightly taller than Cole, crisp red uniform coat and short, neat brown hair.

“Captain Jensen, Sir,” he filled in the gap for Cole. “The Garrison received word via transagram this morning. General Crom is dispatching a crew to secure and transport any recoverable Fate mech and the mechmen to Perspicia for investigation, Sir.”

“Mechmen?”

“Yes, Sir.” Captain Jensen nodded. “That’s what the men have been calling the mechanical men.”

“Men? Wha…?”

Captain Jensen’s attention slipped past Cole and growing alarm creased his brow. Cole followed his line of sight to see Sam inspecting something on the ground near the tree line. He hadn’t even noticed her dismount.

“Sir, she can’t be there.”

Cole ignored the Captain and crossed the short distance to Sam. As he got closer, he was shocked to see her stooped over the bodies of the dead Fate soldiers. Decomposing bodies were really not something a woman should see.

“Sam, I don’t…” Cole started as he approached.

She was not just looking at them, she was touching them.

“Sam!”

She continued with her inspection as if she hadn’t heard him.

“Sam?” he pleaded, standing next to her.

There was something familiar in her movements. She looked at the dead men and their mech the same way she studied him last night. Her head cocked like a curious puppy, she traced the outline of a pair of goggles with her eyes. She tilted her head to the other side and examined the pistol, then the sword.

“Sir, she really can’t…”

“Shhh.” Cole held his hand up to stop the Captain. Like last night, he felt it was important not to interrupt her trance. “She’s your Princess. She can do whatever she wants.” He added as an afterthought.

“My Lord! I didn’t – Forgive me.”

“Shhh,” Cole silenced Captain Jensen again.

Sam searched the entire body, moving stiff pale limbs and touching the exposed hands. Her explorations revealed metal fused over the soldier’s heart. Angry red lines snaked from the edges of the bolted plate. The man’s finger tips were also fused with silver discs. She then turned her trance-like gaze to the mechman.

She reached into the pack slung over her chest and pulled out a screw driver and large wrench. Once at the mechman, she set to work repairing the damage done the day before.

Cole asked her this morning if she could fix the damage to the mechman. She said she could, but needed tools and a few supplies. Sagewood may not have running water, but the town did have a small tinker shop.

Cole remembered his mother taking him to a candy store once when he was a boy. The colors, shapes and smells had been overwhelming and never ending. That was what the tinker shop was to Sam. She had to touch and explore everything. The stooped old man who owned the store ran quickly out of patience with her bombardment of questions, grumbling about the need to retire under his breath. She must have asked, “what’s this”, a dozen times. She hadn’t been afraid to ask, to be curious. Cole was almost certain it was pride that swelled his chest at her confidence in the tinker shop.

Now it brimmed with anxiety. The higher she climbed, the tighter Cole’s stomach clenched. Each foot hold she missed sent his heart to his throat. She sat on the “hip” ledge of the mechman and removed what looked like a fat ink pen with a spring grip and a roll of thin silver wire. Squeezing the handle on the pen for a moment, she then went to work on the panel she had destroyed. An acrid thread of smoke wafted from the tip as she worked it over a piece of wire.

Finally, she made it to the control area where the head should be and settled herself in the chair. The trance began again. After a while, she reached toward something and then pulled her hand back like touching a hot pan. The trance broke with a nervous laugh.

“Booby-trapped.” She smiled down at him and began her descent. Once on the ground, she beckoned Cole and Captain Jensen to the corpses.

“Look,” Sam said, breathing heavy from her exertions. She lifted the corpse’s hand. “See. It’s a key.” She pointed to small metal discs that were embedded in the fingertips of the soldier. “If you try to turn it on without these, something happens. I’m not willing to find out what.” She dropped the hand and stood, wiping her hands on her pants.

“I’ll make sure all the men know to be careful,” Jensen said and trotted off to his comrades.

The lighthearted Sam from the morning was gone; worry lined her eyes instead of laughter as she looked up at the mechman.

“What’s wrong?” Cole silently willed her not to slip back, to stay herself.

“Um…” Her hands were on her hips, still trying to catch her breath from the climb. “Jasper designed it.” Her voice cracked when she said his name, the pain of betrayal evident. Cole put an arm around her waist and pulled her to his side. She leaned into him without hesitation. “Why would he do that? Work for the Fate?” she pondered aloud.

“Maybe it’s not his mech.” Cole soothed.

“No. It’s his. I know.” Her pronouncement was final. “I – I worked as his apprentice when I was a child.” Cole caught her glance. She was making sure he wasn’t too shocked. He was, but not for the reason she supposed. He managed to keep his face blank, and she continued. “I would know his work, his style anywhere. Cole, he was more like a father to me than my own. He helped me hone my abilities. I thought we were – friends.” The tone in her voice moved from hurt to anger. “I just don’t understand why he would leave. Why he would work for the Fate.”

“Zeb said he wouldn’t have left of his own free will,” Cole thought out loud.

“Zeb?” Sam switched from anger to excitement. “How do you know –”

“Princess,” Captain Jensen interrupted as he returned, giving a courtly bow. “Pardon, but can you fix the other one?”

“Other one?” Cole and Sam asked in unison.

“A few of the men followed their trail. There’s another mechman a few hours to the west. It looks to be in much worse shape.”

“I guess that explains the soldier on foot.” Cole suggested. “Why don’t you have the other one delivered to my manor?” Turning to Sam he asked, “You can fix it, right?” He thought she might enjoy having the mech to tinker with, but her response dazed him.

She jumped to the tips of her toes and brushed her soft lips to his cheek in an innocent kiss. Now she stood there, cheeks blushing around the hand that covered her mouth. He was tired of waiting. It was the only invitation Cole needed.

He spun her around to stand before him. One of his arms wrapped around her waist while the other pulled her hand from her mouth easily. Cole searched her eyes for fear and found only anticipation. Releasing her hand, he brushed his thumb lightly across her lips, cradling her face in his palm. He was vaguely aware of Captain Jensen shifting his weight and clearing his throat. Slag it. It was now or now. His nose brushed hers. He felt her breath escape through waiting and parted lips, warming his own. Then he was there, tasting her honeyed lips, breathing her in. He pulled away. His head was spinning as he fought his own desires, but her lips followed and claimed him in return. Gently. Purely. The moment was over too soon. They watched each other, still embraced, testing the reality of the kiss.

“We have a long ride.” Cole tried to say, but had to clear his throat and try again.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Let’s go home.”

Sam watched lazy motes of dust dance in the blushed ray of sunlight sneaking through the gap in the burgundy curtain. She had been awake since before dawn, too rested to sleep, even though they had arrived at the manor well after dark. Two nights. Two nights and no nightmares, two nights in Cole’s arms. She smiled and tightened her grip on his hand, securing his arm around her waist, enveloped in his smell of rain soaked earth and sage. Peace. She never imagined he could bring her peace. Her mind had never been so still.

In the morning light, the differences in their quarters at the Castle and the manor were evident. Where the castle was cold stone, this room was of wood and white plaster. The only stone was the fireplace at the wall opposite the bed. The furniture was more delicate, less harsh. The atmosphere just seemed lighter, like the release of pressure after a thunderstorm.

The pattern in Cole’s breathing changed, and she knew he would wake soon. What would today bring? A look at her new home, certainly. Another kiss, maybe. She closed her eyes and relived the moment, examining each detail anew; soft lips parting hers, a shadow of stubble prickling her chin and cheek. His tongue brushing, tickling her moistened lips. An unfamiliar ache awakening in her stomach.

“Good morning, Beautiful.” Cole yawned and drew her into him, kissing the top of her head.

“Good morning.”

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, feather light lips brushing her ear. She almost forgot to answer, distracted by the lightning bouncing between her ear and unknown, unnamed places in her core.

“Yes.”

“Are you ready to explore the manor?”

No, she wasn’t. Sam wanted to stay right here in his arms and for him to continue trailing tiny kisses down her neck, but her stomach answered for her. Its disgruntled growl chased away Cole’s embrace and provoked his laughter.

“Better get breakfast.” He chuckled and kissed the top of her head again.

After they dressed, Cole showed Sam the second story where their rooms were. He pointed out the different guestrooms and washrooms that comprised this level. Again, unlike the castle, the white walls and carpets softened the home. Paintings of landscapes and other still-life adorned the walls instead of portraits of ancient rulers and their conquests, both battle and the hunt.

The house had gravity-fed plumbing from a nearby river and a boiler as well, he explained. She tried to concentrate, but felt awkward in her dirty riding pants and Cole’s button down white shirt. The manor boasted many servants, and their princess should not be seen like this. Her things had already arrived, but Cole had sat on each trunk she attempted to open, barring her from the contents. When she threatened to call out Sprocket, Cole wavered only a moment, but called her bluff. He did promise to send for more
manageable
clothing, though.

Sam’s anxiety compounded when Cole led her down the back stair case. Clattering pans and utensils confirmed the presence of people. Completely ignoring her distress, he continued to the kitchen. Her stomach growled again as the savory smells of fried meats and baking bread reached her.

For all the noise, there were only two people in the room. A young girl washed dishes, and a short roundish woman hummed tunelessly as she scurried about the kitchen.

“Nana!” Cole called over her ruckus.

“Oh!” She startled, placing a hand over her ample bosom. “Lord Cole. Oh, welcome home!” The gray haired cook wobbled to Cole and crushed him in an embrace. She pulled back and looked him up and down, tisking. “Have they not been feeding you? Ack. A whole kitchen full of cooks in that castle and they can’t keep a Prince in proper form.”

“Hello, Nana. It’s good to see you too,” Cole patronized. “I’d like to introduce you to Princess Samantha.”

“Hello, Nana.” Samantha offered her hand, feigning a confident smile. The old woman looked beseechingly to Cole, her face blotching red and purple. She twisting a handkerchief mercilessly in her hands looking as if she might explode.

“Oh, go on, Nana.” Cole mollified.

“Oh, my dear!” She ignored Sam’s hand and wrapped surprisingly strong arms around her in an embrace. Nana’s head came just to below Sam’s chin, and her sobs rose above the din of boiling water and banging pans. “It’s so good to have you here. Finally, a lady at the manor.” The teary cook dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief and released Sam. “We’ve waited so long for you and you’re so beautiful.”

Why did Sam unexpectedly feel like she couldn’t bear to disappoint this woman, a servant?

Nana looked back and forth between Cole and Sam, eyes widening in excitement. “And you’re in love!” The woman’s wails redoubled, then she pulled both the prince and princess in a three way hug. “It couldn’t be more perfect,” she sobbed. Cole just shook his head and pat the round woman on the back.

“Okay, Nana. Okay.” Cole said, attempting to pry the cook’s fingers from his waist. Sam’s stomach growled again, and Nana released her grip.