Disclaimer: It's probably quite clear that I have no ownership claims to the characters, world, etc. I'm simply playing in the world Ms. Pierce created.
Author's Notes: Written for the Seanfhocal Circle, Challenge #11 at The Dancing Dove.
"Ill Met By Moonlight"
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Altogether, Evin Larse was very pleased with himself. It wasn't every day a man climbed up to a second story balcony. It certainly wasn't a skill included in Rider training.
In the distance, the watchman cried the midnight hour as he rapped quietly on the balcony doors. Right on time, he thought with a grin.
The doors were pushed open wide and he was greeted by the lovely, smiling face of Lady Adella. It was for good reason that she was the latest nominee to the Tortallan Court's list of most beautiful newcomers. And in that nightgown she was doing a very good job of qualifying for the honor.
"Oh, Evin! I knew you'd come!" She simpered up at him, and then hauled him inside by his shirt collar.
He gave a low chuckle. "Do I ever give you reason to doubt me?" he said, settling his hands on her curvaceous hips.
"Never," she replied, looking up at him through long eyelashes.
"Of course not." He pressed a kiss to her pouting lips, drawing a delighted laugh.
"Now what was that message you so urgently wanted to tell me?" she asked with a coy glance.
Evin gave the lady a smile. "I wanted to tell you—"
Suddenly the door swung open with an almighty bang and light flooded into the room. They jumped apart. Evin threw a hand up to shield his eyes, squinting at the silhouette in the doorway. A big silhouette. Wide. Lots of flesh—or muscle.
Mithros, not the father!
"What in the name of the gods is going on here?" the silhouette bellowed. "What are you doing with my wife?"
"Wife?" Evin yelped. He turned to Adella. "You're married?"
She looked at him, coquettishness replaced by chagrin. "Um…yes?"
Evin took a wary step back. If he could get that couch between himself and angry Lord-Whoever…
The husband charged into the room.
Too late.
He took two reflexive steps away, tripped as the rug slid under his feet, and fell backwards over the couch. He landed hard on the floor, but not before his weight shoved aside the table that was placed behind the piece of furniture. Brass candlestick holders and antique pewter dishes rattled to the floor.
The man circled the couch, face red with anger. "I'm going to make you pay, you scoundrel!" he said, drawing his sword.
"I'd rather you didn't!" Evin replied. He searched frantically behind him for anything to defend himself, and his hand connected with a candlestick. It would do. He hurled it at the husband.
"Oh! Look out, darling!" the lady cried.
"I am!" Evin yelled at the same time her husband exclaimed, "Don't worry!"
Realizing there was some confusion as to who exactly "darling" was and that it was not necessarily he, the husband's face became even redder. He launched himself at Evin with a roar, sword raised. The younger man scrambled backwards on his rearend as the sword descended. It bit into the floor between his legs, splintering a chunk out of the wood.
Evin said a quick prayer of thanks to whichever god had just spared his ability to have children.
He clambered to his feet, listening to the curses of the nobleman as he tried to get his sword unstuck from the floor. Backing towards the balcony doors, he heard the sword come free.
"I'm going to teach you a lesson you'll never forget, boy!" The husband's face was distorted with rage and embarrassment.
Evin shoved a chair between them, hoping to slow his attacker's progress. "Trust me, I'm never going to forget this!"
The husband batted the chair aside. It crashed into a potted tree, knocking the plant over and spilling dirt onto the floor. He swung wildly at Evin, who jumped back and shoved another chair his way. The seat hit him at about gut level, doubling him up. The sword fell to the floor with a clang. The husband fell to the floor with not so much a clang, but a startled exclamation as his own momentum carried him down. Snarling, he reached out and grabbed hold of Evin's foot.
The Rider toppled flat onto his face as he was brought up short. He winced as his chin and nose hit stone.
Stone.
He'd made it to the balcony. He kicked free and jumped to his feet, but not before the other man grabbed his tunic.
To his surprise, Evin found himself suspended midair, looking down into the very red and very angry face of Lady Adella's husband. His own collar was choking him, bunched up as it was in the nobleman's beefy fists.
"Now listen here, boy," the husband growled, giving him a shake.
"No, thank you, Your Lordship," Evin said brightly. "It's been lovely, but I really have to go." Then he sucker-punched the man in the stomach, was dropped to his feet, and jumped off the rail of the balcony.
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By the time Evin dragged himself into the Rider mess later than night, his face and backside were bruised, his clothes were ripped, tiny scratches bled on his hands, arms, and face, and he was pretty sure he had leaves stuck in his hair. He didn't know whether to bless or curse the palace gardeners for planting rosebushes under that particular balcony. Not to mention that he'd nearly been gelded and had trashed the chambers of a nobleman.
"What happened to you?" Miri asked, buttering a slice of bread as though his current state was a normal occurrence for someone to see after getting off of the night watch.
"Do you know of a Lady Adella?"
"Isn't she the one married to what's his name, the Lord of Darroch?"
Evin groaned and dropped his head onto the table.
All he heard in reply was snickering.
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