A Novel Romance
I put down the romance novel Yuki had given me.
It was no good, worth nothing, fluff. Pure fluff.
This parchment, obviously written for court ladies with nothing to think about, merely detailed the escapades of a dashing liberated woman who falls in love with the mysterious dark man, who she doesn't know if she can trust.
What was the point in that?
I had clearly reasoned that he was a flirt, leading on all the ladies, so, why was this so-called Lady Marianne still making her interest in him so obviously known?
Not that flirts weren't of interest to me. Neal is, no, was, a flirt, and I fell for him back in our Page days together. Cleon was "flirty" mentioning… wolfhounds? In the snow?
And Dom, well he was king of the flirts, and currently embroiled with Lady Annette of Southerwall. I myself had heard them in a back corridor one evening, and backed away, awfully slowly and quietly. I still hoped – quietly.
I picked the book up again. I then knew that I was hooked on this hopeless novel. The Protector of the Small in love with that fluffy writing for court ladies; what a scandal!
Lady Marianne sat cautiously on the garden bench, her skirts sweeping out around her. She was slightly flushed from the brisk stroll she had taken, but upon seeing Sir Alain, she became much more so.
"Good morrow, 'milady. You obviously fare well." His voice was booming and laced with intent. His eyes glinted as he noticed her rosy cheeks.
She tilted her head, wiping the lustful expression from her face. "And you? You fare well, my dear sir?" She flicked her hair back, and looked out from under her eyelashes. She had never tried to flirt before, but there was this amazing sense of power in her movements.
"Not as well as I would – until I do this."
He lifted her chin and placed his warm gentle lips upon hers…
I groaned. What an idiot! What a dork! How could Lady Marianne be kissing him already? It was barely a quarter of the way through the book! What happens in the rest of it?
That's when it dawned on me.
This book, it depicts, dare I think it, canoodling.
I slammed it shut, and tucked in the back of my side draw. There was no way I was reading any further into this mess. No way whatsoever. Female guiles begone!
---
I saw her leave her rooms, carrying her practice glaive carefully in one hand. I waved her best friend on from across the corridor, and we moved in, waiting until she was safely down the stairs, before running up to the door.
He threw some green fire into the lock, before I attempted to turn the handle.
"Ow!" I exclaimed, a sharp pain pricking my hand. "Watcha do that for?"
He giggled like a girl and threw magic in the lock again. I heard it click this time, but still left the turning of the handle to him. He shrugged wryly, and walked into the room, as I followed, closing the door silently behind us.
"So," I asked. "What are we doing… here."
He grinned raising his eyebrows. "I thought you'd like a chance to inspect your crush's surroundings." His green eyes glinted briefly, until his cheek caught my punch. "What was that for?"
I shrugged. "No reason. Plus, you do know me and Lady Annette are very, very," I winked, "close." Annette was dashingly pale and beautiful, with soft blonde hair and sweet blue eyes. I truthfully thought her an angel. Not that Kel wasn't nice; Neal just had crap timing.
He started sweeping through draws and cupboards, as I sat silently on her bed. I wanted no parts in this clear search of her room. But then I got curious. Carefully I reached over pulling the drawer from her bedside table.
Neal grinned. "There's the spirit. I need blackmail material."
I rummaged through, a small collection of charms and bracelets, and up the back, two carefully bound books.
"Meathead, I found something. Let me remind you first, this is wrong."
He came and sat next to me, as I leafed through the first one. It had only been recently placed there. I recognised names, and scenarios, and concluded it was a romance novel from about a year ago. No girl, I mean, woman, I have ever dated has not spoken about these.
I passed it to Neal and began on the second book. The handwriting was neat and small, and the dates were quite recent.
Diary –
Today is your first day as my new diary, after returning from duties at New Hope. I hope your memory is sincere, and that the Goddess will impart on me the time and duty to fill you in with what is most relevant.
Diary –
I don't want to write this here, but I think I like the Sergeant. He is very… dashing. I guess that's one way to put it.
I skipped to the most recent entry.
Diary –
Dom is involved with our dearest Lady Annette of Southerwall. I am disappointed. I guess I was still hoping it might be me and him. Hoping is trouble. Hoping is going to be the death of me. The romance has been novel, very interesting, and tame… though the love, I could do with some love. Will write more later.
She likes me? She has some inkling of liking me? Meathead could not see this. If he did see this, I would die of embarrassment and she would die of it too. Meathead would reap damage. I quickly tucked it in my tunic, and picked up another book off her bedside table.
He never noticed.
He looked up at me grinning. "This is so unlike Kel. Who gave her this?"
Flicking to the front page, I sighted the name Yukimi.
"Oh," Meathead mouthed. "She's not up to the good bits yet."
"You mean the bits you read?" I raised my eyebrows as I spoke.
He was growing redder by the minute. "Never, never touched them."
I shrugged, placing it, and the replacement book, back in the drawer. He showed me all sorts of little things about Kel – her lucky cats, her small Yamani paintings. Sadly, I loved every minute of it – even the seed bowl, which had been given to her by Qasim.
As we left the room, I felt something move in my tunic. It poked me in the stomach and was obviously of a non-naturalistic form. The diary! I turned around, just to see Neal close the door. I couldn't risk going back, but she would die knowing I read this.
Where to from here?
---
As I strolled back down the passage way, I passed a rather awkward looking Domitan of Masbolle. Despite this, I still felt me stomach flutter and my head lighten.
"Sorry I can't chat, Kel, running an errand." His reply was full of avoidance. I had little doubt that it was something to do with that love of his. Not that she was all that bad, I was just jealous.
My stomach continued to flutter as I unlocked my door, slamming it carefully, finally letting my face show the blush. I had to write something, just had to.
Pulling the drawer open, I pulled out the romance novel, and then, then, where my diary was meant to be, I found my history of sword makers.
My diary was missing.
My glaive was placed carefully in my rack, and then I stormed after the most likely culprit, dearest Meathead.
He sat calmly in a chair, and smiled at me when I walked in. His nose reminded me of Dom – who will now be banished from my thoughts.
"Neal, were you in my room recently?" I asked, ever so sweetly.
He blushed. Yuki was not training him well.
"Well," he moaned, "I did notice the lovely romance novel you have been reading. You're nowhere near the good bits."
How I wanted to slap him, for going through my stuff and for being suggestive in one whole sentence – but I dug my claws into my side, and asked, "So you didn't see a lovely book with writing in it?"
"No… should I have?" He was getting interested. I couldn't have this, so smiled again, out of character for me.
Shaking my head, I laughed, "Good." He frowned as I left – surprised by my show of emotion, but much too distracted by the romance novel.
The door shut and I ran through a list of suspects. Owen, too jolly nice, Seaver, on the border, Esmond, wouldn't cope under the pressure, Cleon, in Kennan, Lerant, not near capable of keeping it secret… Dom.
Ok – so maybe I should have been suspicious in the passage way.
I walked briskly, hoping to catch him in the barracks. With no precedent, I barged in and up to his bunk. How happy I was that he was the only person there.
"Wolset, if that's you sneaking up on me, you are nowhere near as good as Lady Kel…"
---
I had to hide this book, before Kel caught me. I leant over rummaging under my bed, trying to find the loose floorboard I knew was there. Footsteps sounded lightly behind me, so I assumingly thought Wolset was up to no good.
"Wolset, if that's you sneaking up on me, you are nowhere near as good as Lady Kel…" I stopped, turning as the boots appeared in my peripheral vision.
There were not standard Own issue boots. These were not men's boots.
"Protector…" I was caught red handed. "You want your diary presumably?"
She sat down next to me. "Yes." It was yanked out of my hands, and I stared into endless hazel eyes. "And I want to know why you have it."
I felt like I was drowning, and mumbled the whole tale.
"Neal wanted blackmail material and forced me to come under the belief that I have a crush on you, and then I looked in the drawer, my apologies, and when I realised it was your diary I didn't want Neal to have it so I shoved it down my tunic, and that's it."
Kel smiled at me, actually understanding every word. "Thanks, Dom."
I was so embarrassed. She was so understanding, and beautiful and caring. Annette had nothing on her – not that either would even come close to knowing that any time soon.
"So, did you read it?"
I glanced at her. "Me?" then I lied, "Never. I only saw the first page."
That's why when she went to leave, I quoted Sir Alain.
"Is that all I get for thanks? No kiss?"
Wrong thing to say, Dom, the wrong thing.
---
Dom mentioned a kiss. How could I resist. That was all I wanted to do, ever since walking in the room. My face was beet red, as I strolled back across leaning into his chest, dropping the diary.
"A kiss – you say?" Why was I doing this? I was acting exactly like Marianne in the books! I was flirting and running my hand down his arms. And just after the decision to stay a virgin until I was married! I don't know what drove me, but some sort of innate desire and confidence beat every modesty I had just had.
Plus – he did return my diary. And not read it. I think.
He looked into my eyes, and I was drowning in the sapphire sea. And he leaned in, and our lips met, and I was so happy to be there just for that one moment.
We stepped back slowly, and he tilted his head. "So?"
I smiled sweetly, still red. "I need to go read more romance."
And then I headed straight to the room, considering taking the window in, though, I risked getting thorned by the roses below it.
Quickly
---
She kissed me. And she forgot her diary. But, she kissed me!
And I don't know what to do now! Laying on my bunk, I picked up her diary. I couldn't just keep it there – a dead weight, a reminder of the kiss; a reminder of everything we both kept away from. Everything that could get between us.
I'm sure she thinks I was just a flirt, just looking for a kiss. But, what was in her "un-read" diary. Well, I think I should really read it properly this time.
---
It's getting dark, and I've lit the candles around the barracks, nearly up to the last entry in the diary. Wolset tries to take a peek at the book, but I stuff it up my shirt very quickly.
"Oh, come on Dommy! It's probably some corny romance you quote lines from," he whined, always looking for a little bit of the action.
I smirked and replied very sarcastically. "Of course Wolset! Go drown yourself."
People came and went; Wolset dacked a new recruit (which resulted in a very pale butt – how amusing we men are!) and then in walked a few ladies. Well, I didn't notice them walk in, but they were there. Because, here comes Annette, in a low cut, high breasted dress, and rips the diary from my hands.
Flicking through she read slowly (graceful, but a little slow). And then she drops it, slamming her heel on it.
Her face is falsely sweet. "Reading Lady Keladry's diary, Domitan?"
"Well – um, yes, Queenscove needed blackmail material…"
"And of course, you'd never," she ran a finger under my chin, "think of following through? I mean, who could love a harlot like that bitch."
Thank goodness all the men in the Own were there. Kel was one of us, theoretically. The glares she got, that's what gave me courage.
"Maybe I will. Because I'm sure if she was a harlot, she'd look a lot more like you."
Oooh. Murmurs; bright red faces; angry eyes. What a fight! If there was a way to end a relationship, that was it. A girly humph was all I heard, before she left.
---
Wearing my shift I turned over my sheets ready to get into bed. I reached for the romance novel (which I was now halfway through, and trying very hard to stop getting involved with) and marked my page, placing it in my draw. Then I reached for my diary.
My diary! Dom still had it!
There was no way I was going out in these clothes. So I grabbed a sheet of paper and began to write – I had to write, I was going insane.
Diary –
I love Domitan of Masbolle. I love him.
That ball of paper would be the death of me, I screwed it up and threw it towards my desk.
---
What sane person bangs on someone's door in the middle of the night?
I got out of bed in my shift and opened the door. He came hurtling in, slamming it behind him.
"Kel – I decided to return your diary after musing for many a moment." He shoved it forward like an awkward school boy into my hands. "And I read it. Not for blackmail, because… because you never talk." He strolled towards the window. I had nothing to say.
Opening the diary to the last entry I looked in reading something in red ink. It says 'love.'
---
There is a ball of paper on her desk, which is compelling in shape, and oddly placed. Opening it, I read the word 'love.'
And so I turn, ignorant of time, ignorant of anything else, other than her tall shape, brown hair and hazel eyes. I bound across the room and we…
---
Kiss. Kel and Dom are wrapped up like a parcel around each other, and everything comes out. Every need, or want or fear. It's there to see.
They sit and listen, and talk. They don't need anyone else.
And they agree on more than just basics. It's all sorted.
---
"This is more than just a novel romance, Dom." I say.
"I know." He says.
---
I pry open the door, and sees a happy sight. I close it quietly.
Yuki smiles from behind me.
"Thanks for the tip, about the romance novel and the diary. I was worried about her for a while."
"Anytime, Meathead."
---
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