Disclaimer: The characters in this story are copyrighted by other people. I am using them without permission but with no intent to harm.

A/N: This tests the "M" rating here and there. Reader discretion advised!


Truces

As soon as she saw him, Nel realized her surprise was misplaced. He had, after all, been in her bedroom before. Still, this time it was broad daylight. Although he did his share of skulking in the shadows, he was a soldier rather than a spy and therefore lacked her own stealth skills. Hopefully no one noticed him entering her private quarters. And very hopefully none of the domestic servants had happened across him sprawled carelessly on her bed, long limbs encased in light battle armor and head tilted forward, unsheathed katana resting at his side. She couldn't imagine what the Queen would make of such a report. Or Claire.

She closed the door behind her sharply. Briefly she debated locking it, but she felt vulnerable and opted to leave a quick escape route. Not that he had offered her any violence since the war ended and their forced alliance began, but old habits died hard and she did not trust him.

He did not turn his head at her entrance, but one of his long-fingered hands lifted from its resting place on her bedcovers, gently cupping the katana's hilt. He made no other acknowledgment of her presence. Nel could discern no tension in his body or in the fingers so lightly cradling his weapon. Yet she could feel the weight of his gaze upon her, and knew that he was using his shaggy bangs as a cover for a sideways glance. Perhaps he would have been a good spy, after all; without her runeological training, she would not have known he was looking at her.

If he could be casual, then so could she. Nel set her hands against her hips and leaned her shoulders against the door. "Nox," she prompted.

"Zelpher," he drawled, mocking her use of his last name.

"Obviously you beat us back from the caves."

"Obviously the captain of the Black Dragon Brigade would. I've been waiting here since daybreak. I would have given you a lift, had you asked."

"Fayt was angry. He needed to walk it off."

"I don't believe I mentioned giving him a lift." He turned his head just enough for her to see the bright gleam of his eyes through his shaggy bangs. "For that, you would have had to ask nicely."

"What do you want, Albel?"

The long fingers wrapped themselves more securely around the katana's hilt. "What a curious question," he murmured. He unfolded from the bed with the sinuous grace that marked him as a swordsman. Albel Nox was not a large man, but he was tall, and he was imposing, and suddenly Nel's room was a great deal smaller than it had been before. "My lover vanishes weeks ago without a word, without a trace, then one day I look up from my solitary training and there she is, standing behind that brat of a boy. And what does she have to say to me? Nothing. Not a single word. So ... what do you think I could possibly want?"

He had always been able to cut with his words as well as his sword. All the nobles of Airyglyph were good at it, but Albel's precision use of language and inflection made him especially adept. Nel narrowed her eyes and stood her ground. "First of all, 'lover' is putting it a bit strong–"

"Oh, I beg your pardon. Do you prefer 'fuck toy'?"

She checked, but just for the second it took her to realize that she had never, once, heard him swear except when he was in bed, and usually then he really didn't know what he was saying. "–and, second;" she continued through her teeth, "it wasn't as if I had much of a choice. I was caught up in a battle between Fayt and the Vendeeni and wounded with an off-world weapon. They had to take me to their ship to heal."

"Their ... ship?"

"Yes. I've been 'in space', as they call it. I've been to other worlds. I learned –" and here Nel stopped, because she still didn't understand exactly what the Creator was, only that Fayt's little group represented the last hope in preventing the Creator from destroying the galaxy. "I've seen so much," she finally finished.

"I've seen how they communicate through the air," Albel replied coldly. "You could not get a message to me? Your commander, Claire, said you were last seen heading toward the Kirsla Ruins. I nearly tore the place apart looking for you."

It had not occurred to Nel to ask Fayt if she could use his technology to contact anyone on Elicoor, or even that anyone would notice that she had vanished. With the war over and her purpose lost, leaving word did not seem necessary. When she reported to the Queen upon her return, the Holy Mother said she believed she would never see Nel again. Nel had wondered at the rebuke in her leader's voice. Albel was not the only one angry with her.

And he was very, very angry. He was quick to snipe at people, but Nel had fought at his side often enough during recent months to know he was not a man who lost his cool easily. There were spots of color high on his pale face, and his bright eyes were sparking with temper. She had only seen Albel look like this once before, after it took the combined force of Fayt, Cliff and herself to defeat him outside the Becequerel Mines.

She slid her hands down her hips toward her thigh guards, where her daggers were sheathed.

He saw, of course. In such a small space, it was hard to be subtle with her movements. There was a strange twist of emotion across his usually-expressionless face before Albel turned his back to her, sheathing his sword with one swift movement. He stood in that negligent way he had, weight shifted over one hip so that the line of his body formed a smooth curve, arms dangling loosely. It was a deceptive stance. Nel knew he could draw in a flash from that position. She drummed the fingers of her right hand against the cloth encasing her dagger before deciding against drawing her own weapon. He watched her from the edges of his eyes, head turned just enough for him to glance back over his shoulder. The silence was stifling. She was still puzzled over this odd visit of his, and not sure what she should say to him. "I did not realize Claire sent you to look for me," she finally offered. "I'm sorry you had to waste your time like that."

He gave that soft, irritated snort that he usually reserved for people who were being especially dense. "It does seem to have been a waste of time," he agreed. "Are you flying off to the stars with the young fool again, then?"

"I don't know what we're going to do next. It's pretty strange being back. Everything's changed, and yet this room is just as I left it. It's all like a dream, except I don't know if the last few weeks were the dream, or if I'm dreaming now."

"Hmmm." The grunt had a non-committal quality to it. Albel continued to eye her over his shoulder. "Tell you what. Should you decide that you'd prefer being awake to sleeping, I'll be at Crosell's Lair. Search me out there."

"I'll let Fayt know. I'm sure he will want to duel with you again before he leaves. He has to get stronger before we go to fight the Creator, and you're the only one in his class."

There was a flash of white as he rolled his eyes. "Oh, by all means bring the rest of the maggots. I'm sure they'll enjoy a repeat of me wiping the floor with their boy leader. I'd love to make my dramatic exit here, Nel, but you're blocking the door."

Her gaze wary, Nel stepped away from the door. It put her closer to Albel, too close, really, for although she had not thought of him at all during her hectic time away, it didn't mean she had forgotten. Here, in this room with him close enough for her to breathe in his scent, it was all too easy to remember.

Even though she expected it and was braced for it, Albel made no attempt to touch her on his way out. He simply nodded in her general direction and lounged through the door with that peculiar boneless stride of his. He didn't even slam the door behind him. It was all very ... odd.

As odd as the memories now flooding her mind, refusing this time to be banished to the recesses of her mind.