Fate War: Alliance (28 page)

“Damn,” she said, as the wedge slipped again, and clattered into the mess of her workbench, sending springs and screws to the floor. It barely missed Sprocket who growled, openly hostile to the Fate mech she was working on. She pulled off the goggles, and tossed them down a little harder than she should, running her fingers through her hair.

“Temper, temper, Princess.”

Her mood improved drastically as Cole’s arm snaked around her waist, and his earthy scent permeated her frustration. God, she’d never tire of his closeness.

“You forgot your tea,” he said and set the cup on her work bench, leaving his other hand free to sneak under her shirt.

“Do I have to?” she sighed as he cupped her breast, and the other began unbuttoning her pants. “You make me drink it every day and it tastes like tree bark.”

“No, you don’t have to.” He slipped his hand into her pants and moaned into the side of her neck when he found her already aroused. “But it’s for your health, and besides, I put extra honey in this time.”

Cole stepped away, taking his warmth and scent with him. Sam was left standing in the middle of her shop flushed and alone. “What the slag, Cole?” She turned to see him sitting on her swivel stool arms crossed, grinning sheepishly. She was not amused. “What is this, payback for last night?” She jerked her pants back to position, and began buttoning them feverishly. “Because I said I was sorry.”

“No!” He jumped from the stool, and his arms were around her, holding her still. “No, I was just teasing you about the tea.” She rested her ear to his chest, his chin on the top of her head. She tried to let the rumble of his words sink in when he said, “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

And she wanted to believe it, but it happened again last night. Even after weeks of making love to him, and giving of herself freely, there were times she would blank out. She had gotten over many of her insecurities, but there were sometimes, especially he was above her, her mind and body would just shut down. She hated coming back from that to see the concern and disappointment in his eyes. Knowing she let him down, hurt him deeply, but she couldn’t control it. They simply had to avoid certain things.

Last night they decided to try again, though. Sam was more than content with the myriad of things they
could
do, but for some reason Cole was determined for them to be able to do this one thing. Sam knew it wouldn’t work the second he mentioned it. Something about him on top of her just didn’t work, and she failed him again.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a while. “Last night was my fault. I should just leave it alone, Sam, but…never mind. I just wanted to see if it was still a problem.” He pushed her away a bit and kissed her forehead. “Now drink your tea. Captain Jensen should be here soon. He said he was going to try you on the bow and arrow today.”

****

Cole rubbed his tender ribs. He was already out. They might be using wooden swords, but wood still bruised. The sparring started with him, Jensen, and Sam against the five other garrison troops that came with the Captain. He tried to push down the rising jealousy as he watched Jensen and Sam work in tandem to take out the remaining foes. They had a connection and it chaffed. They danced fluidly deflecting blows for each other, and wordlessly attacked in sync. Sometimes Jensen would bait an attacker, just to have Sam close the trap, all done without a single word between them. When Cole was on their team, he was just in the way.

The Captain and his men used long swords, but Sam had two smaller ones, one in each hand. It was apparent early on in her training that strength wasn’t her strong suit, but rather agility. Using the double short swords, she had even defended successfully against all of them once.

Jensen swept the last opponent’s sword to the side, purposely leaving himself open to a counter attack. The opponent took the bait, never seeing Sam as she spun from behind Jensen, down to one knee, and planted both swords dead center of the soldier’s chest. The stricken man stumbled back a few steps, clutching what would be a nasty bruise in a few hours.

Sam bounced up, a huge grin on her face. Cole clenched his jaw when Jensen slid his arm around her shoulders. He cringed at the almost imperceptible squeeze of the Captain’s hand on her arm. Yes, Captain Jensen was becoming way too familiar with the Princess, his wife.

“Let’s move on to archery!” Cole yelled, but that hadn’t been his best idea either. Now he watched the good Captain wrap his arms around Sam as he showed her how to steady the bow. Cole had already shown her, and she still missed every shot, most arrows not even making it to the target. Jensen stepped back, and Sam let loose the arrow, which fell pitifully short.

The men all laughed and teased Sam, even Cole found himself smiling, until Sam turned. He knew this look, and doused his good humor instantly. The other soldiers were not familiar with her anger.

“Shut the slag up, ashpans!” she yelled, and stomped off with the bow. Remorse temporarily shoved his jealously aside when he realized Sam must be as frustrated as he was about last night to react that way to the men’s good natured ribbing. He should have called off the training, and talked with her, held her, something other than ignoring the problem.

“Sam,” Jensen cooed, and tried to take her arm as she passed.

“Let her be,” Cole growled as jealousy interrupted his momentary sanity. “A word.” He motioned for the Captain to follow him out of ear shot of his men, while Sam disappeared around the back of the house.

He crossed his arms, and glared up at Jensen. The man was almost a full head taller, and twice as wide as Cole, all muscle of course. Now that he had the man’s attention, he wasn’t sure what to accuse him of.

“I think you and the men are getting a little too comfortable with the Princess,” is what he decided on.

Captain Jensen bowed his head and nodded. “I’m worried about her, Sir,” he stated as if giving a formal report. Maybe Cole had been wrong about the Captain’s actions, but it was his place to worry about Sam, not the soldier’s.

“I appreciate that, but I think she’ll get over the men’s teasing.”

“No sir, I…” Jensen looked over Cole’s shoulder. A muscle bounced in his jaw while he thought. “Permission to speak freely, Sir.”

Cole nodded his agreement. “I wanted to teach Sam…sorry…Princess Samantha how to defend herself, seeing her blatant disregard for her own safety.” Cole felt an icy subtext directed towards him in that statement, but he let it pass. “It became obvious that she could excel in battle. Forgive me, but it was fascinating, and I wanted to see exactly what she was capable of. Now…” Jensen’s hardened gaze locked Cole’s in its seriousness. “…she scares me.”

“Ha!” Cole laughed, and relaxed his kingly reprimand stance. “She scares me too,” he said, and slapped Jensen on the shoulder.

“Sir.” Cole sobered as the soldier straightened, and furrowed his brow. “Sir, when she fights…” Jensen wouldn’t look at him again. He continually searched the horizon for his next words. “…she enters some kind of trance.”

“Yes, I call it her tinker trance. Go on,” Cole encouraged, the man was clearly upset.

“Well, she fights perfectly, making the exact strategic decisions that have to be made, but…” This time when Jensen met Cole’s gaze, his worry was palpable. “…she fights without conscience. She takes no stock of the people around her. Her decisions are purely in the interest of self-preservation. Sir, I worry that if Sam…Princess Samantha…were ever to engage in actual conflict the repercussions would be devastating. Not just to her opponents, but to her soul when she sees the aftermath of what she’s capable of.”

Cole let the weight of that settle before speaking. “Well then, we better make sure she’s never in actual combat.”

“Yes, sir,” Jensen agreed darkly.

“What are the chances of that anyway?”

“Clinker, Sam, what’d you do to that bow!” One of the soldiers yelled, bringing Cole and the Captain’s attention around.

Sam was storming across the lawn to the archery target with the bow and arrow she left with. From this distance, it looked broken in a few places with the addition of at least a few cogs and wheels. What else she had done to it, he couldn’t be sure. She came to a stop at the firing line, notched the arrow and pulled back on the string. Cole’s jaw dropped as she pulled back to full extension with ease. She let loose and the arrow flew; still missing the target completely, but the arrow planted itself in a nearby tree. Upon examination the arrow was permanently stuck over a hand length into the bark.

“What the hell did you do to it?” Jensen yelled.

“I made it better,” Sam retorted and slapped the contraption against his chest for inspection, then stormed back toward the house. She took no notice of the back slaps, and whoops that followed her there.

Cole ran after her, and caught up at the porch. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, and spun her around to face him. She crossed her arms and shrugged her shoulders, pretending to watch the men examine their new toy.

“I can feel you glowering at me.”

“Sam,” Cole sighed and wrapped her in a hug. “I wasn’t glowering at you. I promise. I was…” He cleared his throat. “…jealous of Captain Jensen.”

“What?” Sam pulled away from him to study his face, searching for the truth.

“It’s true!” Cole affirmed. “You always let me die first when we spar.” Sam laughed and finally returned his hug.

“I’ll let him die first next time, okay?” she teased.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

They stood there in silence, for a few moments and Cole could feel Sam’s anxiety melting away.

“What do you say we go upstairs and work on our little problem,” he whispered seductively.

Sam immediately tensed, and he knew he’s said the wrong thing.

“Clinker, Sam, that’s not what I meant.” She tried to pull away, but he held her fast. “It’s not a problem. Forget I said that. I love you.” Her struggling ceased, but her back was ridged against his arms. “I love you, no matter what, okay?”

She nodded her head. “I love you, too.” Her voice was muffled in his chest, and she didn’t relax into him like she would if he was forgiven.

Cole was contemplating what he should say or do to make this right when a shout went up from the group of soldiers. An Arboreal rider barreled down the lane, and a sinking dread settled in Cole’s stomach.

“Stay here,” he told Sam, and released her to go meet the frenzied rider. The messenger and horse skid to a stop, pelting the gathering of soldiers with gravel. Jensen grabbed the frothing horses reigns while the rider dismounted.

“Prince Cole?” the panting and sweaty man asked, holding up a golden, intricately etched message tube.

“Yes,” Cole answered, and removed his signet ring. He forced his hands to steady. Nothing good ever came in these things.

“What is it?” Sam asked beside him. Why didn’t she listen and stay on the porch. There was no telling what news this was.

“I don’t know,” he said as he inserted the ring and twisted. The gears turned, and the lid released. Cole quickly took the parchment from inside. “Slag,” he let out in a slow sigh as he read.

“Jensen! Gather your men!” Cole ordered, and turned to Sam. “The Fate have invaded our neighboring country, Nakona. Refugees are pouring into Arborea, and plans must be made for our coming defense. I’ve been summoned to the castle. I leave in the morning.”

Octavious pulled at the reigns, and Cole tried again to turn his mount around. The horse snorted and pranced in tight circles, flicking his ears in defiance. This was the tenth time in the last hour the beast had tried to return to the manor. Cole and the caravan of soldiers were making poor time getting to the castle due to the creature’s antics.

“Ha!” Cole yelled, and kicked Octavious’ sides. Either Octavious was in need of some serious refresher training, or the horse was picking up on Cole’s own desire to return. He was almost sure it was the latter.

Finally, he trotted past the column of fifteen soldiers, decked out in their full red coated military uniform; swords clinking in time with the sway of their mounts and pistols gleaming in afternoon light. Taking his place at the head of the line with Captain Jensen, Cole’s hand absently touched his waistcoat pocket. He never carried a watch. Time never meant much. But now he stroked the faux time piece that resided there.

Cole had awoken the previous night, and Sam was not in bed. A quick check out the bedroom window told him she was tinkering in her shop, light spilling from the open door. She was angry at being left behind. It broke his heart to see the tears in her eyes his decisions caused. He couldn’t let her come. The capitol would surely be the first point of attack, and he couldn’t have Sam in that kind of danger.

She pleaded. He refused. He found her in her shop this morning, standing, staring, waiting for him. She handed him the plain brass pocket watch with a sad, shy smile. “So you won’t miss me so much,” she said.

“Thank you.” He kissed the top of her head, and tried to hug her, but she pushed away.

“Open it.” Her cheeks flushed with the demand.

Cole examined the piece, noticing a crystal in the center of the case, and found a clasp along the edge. He pressed down, and the watch sprang open revealing not a clock face, but an image of Sam. A quite provocative image of Sam.