title: Elusive Thoughts | Chapter 9
rating: PG
author: Mir
email: incandescence@juno.com
website: http://cathedraldragon.tripod.com/sm/
disclaimer: Sailor Moon, et al. belongs to Naoko Takeuchi,
etc., etc., and so on and so forth ^_^. The other characters
belong to me...for whatever that's worth. I have no money
to speak of, so suing me will not make you rich. Yes, and
this story was inspired by Melanie Rawn's *Dragon Prince*.
Kudos to her, it's an excellent novel.
AN: Just a note about the size of the tent that appears later
in this chapter - When I attended a certain outdoor function
I saw a tent that was much, much bigger than the first floor of
my house. In fact, there are only two tents of that size in the
country! One was being used by Al Gore's presidential
campaign, and the other...well, I was in it. Anyway, it's
enormous...I won't even begin to guess on square footage
because I've no idea. Just keep this in mind - and if you ever
have an opportunity to be in a tent of this size, take it; it's an
amazing sight.
*Chapter 9*
Long strides put distance between himself and the High Prince's dark
purple tent, but Darien couldn't get away fast enough. He clutched the precious
bundle in his arms tightly, praying that Raonus hadn't harmed her in any way.
Justin trailed along behind, nervously glancing back ever few strides to see if
they were being followed - but no purple-clad guards sprung menacingly out
of the darkness.
"Darien, love?" He slowed, eyes quickly shifting down to meet hers.
"Can you take me away, away from all this?" She smiled wanly,desperately
wanting to wrap her arms around her neck but worried that doing so might
throw him off balance - and having them both sprawled upon the ground
wouldn't' help matters.
"Anything for you, sweetheart," Darien replied, telling Justin with a nod
that he should go back to the Desert tents. He turned off of the path and made
his way down toward the river into the quiet midnight darkness. The moon dimly
lit the ground beneath his feet, and the light caress rain moistened his back.
And, as he walked on, the water began to fall harder, drenching the
summer landscape and humidifying the night air. Darien slipped on a patch of
mud, skidding down to the river shore and only barely managing to stay on his
feet. His shirt clung damply to his back, and droplets of water dripped from
soaking bangs. Serena looked up at him through moist lashes, the thought
'there's not a more dashing creature on this entire planet' running through her
head.
"You know, love, you're heavier than I remember," Darien teased,
pausing mid-stride to search for shelter. Am old wooded bridge loomed ahead,
gracefully spanning the rushing waters, and he hurried toward it. Once
underneath, he leaned against the dry supports, sliding onto the ground while
still holding Serena close. "Are you all right?" He inquired softly.
"Besides a monster headache...fine -" she murmured, smiling. "- now that
I'm with you." Darien wrapped his arms around her shoulders and whispered by
her ear. "I'm sorry I didn't protect you better."
Serena shook her head, wincing at the ripples of agony radiating from her
temples. "It's not your fault. I should have known - Raonus was just there suddenly,
with two wineglasses. He handed one to me...and then I can't remember why I
followed him." She averted her eyes, embarrassed. "But when we were about
halfway to his tent Justin intercepted us, looking for me." She paused expectantly,
shivering, and waiting for an explanation.
"I sent him after you because you'd disappeared, and I couldn't find you
anywhere," Darien obliged, his tone tinged with the worry he'd felt when he'd
discovered that Serena was nowhere to be found. The wet bundle in his lap
giggled. "What's so funny?"
"You - you were reeling from all the wine you and Prince Helder inhaled...
and almost blew the charade in front of everyone by drooling over me." She
grinned in amusement, .
"Drooling? Who says I was drooling?" Darien exclaimed with mock
reproach. Serena, finally giving in to what she'd been longing to do, wrapped
her arms around his neck and leaned against his chest, her cheek against to his.
"You can drool all you want to now."
As her lips brushed his, memories of the previous night flashed across his
mind, and he shuddered when he thought how close he'd come to making a
mistake he'd never forgive himself for. Berlyn... "Serena, there's something I
need to tell you - "
"Unless it's that you love me, I'm not interested," she replied, silencing him
with a deep kiss. And as his hands eagerly caressed her back and shoulders he
found himself finally at peace, a sense of completion and finality that had been
missing ever since Ariane's conjure all those years ago. They lay together in the
sweet summer grass, rain beating persistently above them, lulling entwined souls
into the benevolent arms of exhausted sleep.
- - - - - - - - - -
The first thought that jerked him from the blissful realm of dreams was
the awareness that his bed was damp...not only damp - but as if to add insult to
injury - cold and lumpy tool. Darien timorously opened an eye, expecting to
see the blue tented roof overhead, but the only object in his line of sight was a
mass of tangled golden hair.
A fleeting sense of panic contracted his stomach before he realized who
exactly was sprawled across his chest. Her breath was warn and moist against
his neck, and he was afraid to stir, lest she wake. 'So last night wasn't a dream
after all'. He raised one hand to brush the morning dew from his forehead,
elbow knocking against Serena's shoulder by mistake.
She murmured something unintelligible, nodding her head while smiling,
and Darien knew that he'd give anything to know what thought occupied her
unconscious mind. "I always wanted to see you with your hair down," he
whispered softly, his fingers drifting across her cheek.
Her lips began to twitch, and she tried unsuccessfully to suppress a yawn.
"Damn, I was planning on saving the treat for our wedding night," she teased,
curling onto her side beside him. "Um...you smell just like spring flowers."
"I what?" Darien exclaimed in feigned indignation. A moment later his
expression softened, and he leaned forward to burry his nose in Serena's hair.
"Um, you do too...just like the garden in the spring." He exhaled slowly, trying
to relax sore muscles.
She giggled as he rolled over, reaching out to massage his back.
"We're laying in patch of wildflowers, that's why." His shoulders tensed at her
touch, fingers involuntarily closing into fists. But before Serena could draw her
hands away in offense he caught them in his and brought them to his mouth, lips
nibbling her fingertips.
"Come here, beloved. Your hands are freezing." This elicited another
soft giggle from the unashamed offender who wrapped her arms around her
Prince as directed. They laid quietly together until the sun had risen above the
distant horizon, at peace with each other and ignoring the world.
- - - - - - - - - -
The vaulted tent was glowing with strings of white paper lanterns draped
from corner to corner. Expansive flower arrangements seemed to spring
spontaneously from center of vibrant tablecloths - the Princes' colors, of course.
Soft blue silk covered the ground, dark swirls of night and ocean hiding the rough
dirt below.
Arian smiled in smug satisfaction - the Desert's contribution to the festivities
bore a mark of elegant maturity, so much like the young Prince who'd paid
handsomely for the bolts of cloth. Her gaze drifted across the space, appreciating
the delicate Domarian glass goblets, shinning silver candlestick holders from Kerse,
the long flickering Maritan tapers...it was a standing tradition that each Prince
make a contribution to the last banquet, and the event had evolved into a sort of
competition as to who could bring a gift that would outshine the others.
The tent was rapidly filling with minor lords and vassals from territories far
and wide. Each a blazing combination of his seat colors and those of his Prince,
all drifted from table to table murmuring softly, exchanging rumors. For, as the
Princes 'competed' in their contributions to the decoration, they also 'competed'
in their entrances, and it was rumored that the Desert Prince would claim one of
the High Prince's daughters for his own - the bets had been cast, and Ariane
chuckled lightly to herself. 'Those girls never even had a chance, and they were
all the more foolish to think they did.'
Then, as if an invisible hand had smothered the tent with a layer of cotton,
the noisy clamor died on the vassals' lips, and all head turned toward the
darkened entrance. A solitary figure, tall in stature and faultless in decorum,
cleared his throat and pulled aside the heavy tent flaps with a flourish calculated
for effect.
The spectators held their breaths in anxious anticipation. For although the
procedure hadn't changed in over a century, the Princes' entrance was always
shrouded by a vague aurora of nervous excitement - save for the High Prince's
customary climactical finale, the processional order varied from Caucus to
Caucus. Even Ariane had to admit to a certain tingling at the bottom of her
stomach, a feeling that spread along her limbs like ripples across still water.
The herald smiled quietly, as if indulging in some sort of private joke,
then took a torch down from the wooden framework beside him and held it
high in the air. The dulcet chords of commemorative fanfare pierced the
breathless silence, and the herald nodded in recognition of the melody. "His
Highness, Prince Helder of Kerse."
Helder stepped forth from the enveloping grayness of dusk, and the
swaying candlelight settled in the deep mahogany folds of his tunic. He
inclined his head politely to the announcer then took his place beside his
beaming wife at the head of his table.
It was only then that Ariane, having secured for herself the seat which
gave her the best view of the proceedings, realized that she hadn't yet caught
sight of Serena's beaming smile. 'Is she not feeling well?' Her brow creased
with worry - none of the girls had mentioned anything when she'd bumped into
them just after lunch. She shook her head and pursed her lips. 'It's a shame
that Serena's going to miss the closing festivities of her first Caucus...she must
really be under the weather'.
But as she sat in quiet rumination, the trumpet continued to sound, and
one by one the empty chairs were occupied with flowing robes and glowing
faces. A Rejakian Lord paused by her chair to offer his thanks for her
assistance in conjuring fire to the glowing sea of candles, and when she again
turned toward the entrance the familiar Desert fanfare lingered upon the still air.
Perhaps Darien had, in his excitement, merely forgotten that the Princes
always entered alone, or perhaps he'd wished to show his defiance and
independence from the High Prince. Maybe he'd wanted to make the point
that his wife would be his equal at the council table, not only in bed. Whatever
the reason for his breach of protocol, the dinners let out a collective gasp as
the Desert Prince, with his Princess at his side, stepped through the entrance.
Ariane, torn between shock and amusement, brought her napkin to her
lips to hide the smile that was rapidly taking control of her features The Prince
was clad in somber black, a light cape sweeping elegantly behind him. On his
arm was his Princess, a striking contrast in pale blue and white. Diamonds
glittered from her ears and neck, and her hair was wound around her head in
an elaborate arrangement of wisps and curls.
"His Highness Prince Darien of the Desert...and the Lady Serena." If
the guests had not been looking at each other in surprise they would have
noticed Darien wink discreetly to the herald before guiding Serena to her seat.
He avoided Ariane's questioning gaze, and instead took Serena's hand
underneath the table while sipping delicately from his wine glass.
When the High Prince swept into the tent on the dying chords of the
trumpet, nothing could be said about his appearance except that it was a
complete anticlimax. He scowled at the herald who was nervously stammering
the announcement and tugged irritably at the long, billowing sleeves of his shirt.
His stride was brisk and purposeful as he moved toward his violet-hung table,
and his frown deepened as he passed those of rich Desert blue.
The crows expected him to address them, and he did so with uncharacteristic
reluctance, eyes piercing the dancing shadows but never lingering on any single
face for more than a moment. "It is always an honor to share this last dinner with
you," he began, his tone cold and forced. "We come together to commemorate
the close of another successful Caucus and to raise our glasses to the future, an
uncertain future but one filled with golden opportunities..."
As the High Prince droned on, Darien leaned close to Serena and
whispered in her ear, "I'm not sure whether I like the way he said 'opportunities'."
She nodded in agreement, shivering when she recalled the feeling of his hands
resting upon her shoulders. 'It's a good thing Darien will never know just how
close Raonus was to losing his temper and completing the job he'd brought me
to his tent for.'
- - - - - - - - - -
And so the evening progressed - uneventful save for the occasional
inebriated Lord who had to be led staggering back to his tent. Ariane watched
the wine in the bottom of her glass slosh back and forth as she tilted the crystal
from side to side. For all her resolutions to go easy on the early courses, she
had once again overeaten, and the rich desert sat heavily in her stomach. It had
been a chocolate mousse tort douched in light raspberry sauce and garnished with
mint - simply irresistible.
She could still hear the whispered comments flowing fluidly from one
end of the room to the other. It was on the lips of every vassal, every Lord,
and every servant.
"My, was just me, or did Darien really usurp the High Prince tonight?"
A man wearing Domarian green commented as he leaned across the table to
reach for the dish of nuts. "And Raonus was furious. I could see it in his eyes,
damn scary he is when he gets that look sometimes," another vassal replied.
"I say he deserves it," a third piped in. "But don't tell anyone I said that. Don't
wanna lose my lands because of me and my loose tongue."
But even as the rumors flew around the room like insects fluttering
from flower to flower, the subjects of the debate sat side by side with eyes
only for each other. "Oh Goddess, I couldn't eat another bite if you paid me
to." Darien pushed his plate away from him, the half-eaten mousse tort
sitting forlornly in the center.
"Are you crazy?" Before the plate had moved more than a half an
inch another hand shot out and pulled it back toward the edge of the table.
"There's no way I'm going to let you waste good desert." Serena retrieved
her fork and began to demolish the dark, creamy mass.
"Are you sure you're not going to be sick when I spin you around on
the dance floor?" Darien retorted, gazing dreamily as the mousse disappeared
before him as if by magic.
"Me, sick?" Serena used the side of the fork to scrape the last of the
raspberry sauce from the plate, then licked her lips and delicately brought
the white napkin to her mouth. Fortunately, Darien couldn't see the smile
she was hiding underneath it. "I dare you to try to make me sick."
"What kind of dare is that?" The Prince replied wearing a dramatically
perplexed expression. "Why would I want to make you sick?" He waited,
but when she didn't reply his mouth began to twitch at the corners, eyes
narrow ever so slightly. "Alright, you're on. What do I get if I win?"
"More to the point, what do I get if I win?" Serena said in a voice
just above a whisper. "I don't plan on losing, you know." She dared him
with her eyes to contradict her, and Darien noblely rose to the challenge.
"Me neither, beloved. Me neither."
*end of Chapter 9*
- - - - - - - - - -
Yes, a bit of a cliffhanger (I don't normally like them, but I figured I'd better
stop here or else I wouldn't get this out by Friday and you all would have to
wait yet another week for it).
Again, many thanks to those who have written to me about this story and my
others. This includes Jessica [Moonflower], Jen, Moncia, Rosey, Lady
BlackDragon, Missy, Kelly, Tiffany, Tianya [Niya], Allison, Rebecca,
SMoon485, and Gina [Princess Chibi Luna]....I can't thank you enough for
your words of criticism and encouragement.
- Mir 02.09.01
.
rating: PG
author: Mir
email: incandescence@juno.com
website: http://cathedraldragon.tripod.com/sm/
disclaimer: Sailor Moon, et al. belongs to Naoko Takeuchi,
etc., etc., and so on and so forth ^_^. The other characters
belong to me...for whatever that's worth. I have no money
to speak of, so suing me will not make you rich. Yes, and
this story was inspired by Melanie Rawn's *Dragon Prince*.
Kudos to her, it's an excellent novel.
AN: Just a note about the size of the tent that appears later
in this chapter - When I attended a certain outdoor function
I saw a tent that was much, much bigger than the first floor of
my house. In fact, there are only two tents of that size in the
country! One was being used by Al Gore's presidential
campaign, and the other...well, I was in it. Anyway, it's
enormous...I won't even begin to guess on square footage
because I've no idea. Just keep this in mind - and if you ever
have an opportunity to be in a tent of this size, take it; it's an
amazing sight.
*Chapter 9*
Long strides put distance between himself and the High Prince's dark
purple tent, but Darien couldn't get away fast enough. He clutched the precious
bundle in his arms tightly, praying that Raonus hadn't harmed her in any way.
Justin trailed along behind, nervously glancing back ever few strides to see if
they were being followed - but no purple-clad guards sprung menacingly out
of the darkness.
"Darien, love?" He slowed, eyes quickly shifting down to meet hers.
"Can you take me away, away from all this?" She smiled wanly,desperately
wanting to wrap her arms around her neck but worried that doing so might
throw him off balance - and having them both sprawled upon the ground
wouldn't' help matters.
"Anything for you, sweetheart," Darien replied, telling Justin with a nod
that he should go back to the Desert tents. He turned off of the path and made
his way down toward the river into the quiet midnight darkness. The moon dimly
lit the ground beneath his feet, and the light caress rain moistened his back.
And, as he walked on, the water began to fall harder, drenching the
summer landscape and humidifying the night air. Darien slipped on a patch of
mud, skidding down to the river shore and only barely managing to stay on his
feet. His shirt clung damply to his back, and droplets of water dripped from
soaking bangs. Serena looked up at him through moist lashes, the thought
'there's not a more dashing creature on this entire planet' running through her
head.
"You know, love, you're heavier than I remember," Darien teased,
pausing mid-stride to search for shelter. Am old wooded bridge loomed ahead,
gracefully spanning the rushing waters, and he hurried toward it. Once
underneath, he leaned against the dry supports, sliding onto the ground while
still holding Serena close. "Are you all right?" He inquired softly.
"Besides a monster headache...fine -" she murmured, smiling. "- now that
I'm with you." Darien wrapped his arms around her shoulders and whispered by
her ear. "I'm sorry I didn't protect you better."
Serena shook her head, wincing at the ripples of agony radiating from her
temples. "It's not your fault. I should have known - Raonus was just there suddenly,
with two wineglasses. He handed one to me...and then I can't remember why I
followed him." She averted her eyes, embarrassed. "But when we were about
halfway to his tent Justin intercepted us, looking for me." She paused expectantly,
shivering, and waiting for an explanation.
"I sent him after you because you'd disappeared, and I couldn't find you
anywhere," Darien obliged, his tone tinged with the worry he'd felt when he'd
discovered that Serena was nowhere to be found. The wet bundle in his lap
giggled. "What's so funny?"
"You - you were reeling from all the wine you and Prince Helder inhaled...
and almost blew the charade in front of everyone by drooling over me." She
grinned in amusement, .
"Drooling? Who says I was drooling?" Darien exclaimed with mock
reproach. Serena, finally giving in to what she'd been longing to do, wrapped
her arms around his neck and leaned against his chest, her cheek against to his.
"You can drool all you want to now."
As her lips brushed his, memories of the previous night flashed across his
mind, and he shuddered when he thought how close he'd come to making a
mistake he'd never forgive himself for. Berlyn... "Serena, there's something I
need to tell you - "
"Unless it's that you love me, I'm not interested," she replied, silencing him
with a deep kiss. And as his hands eagerly caressed her back and shoulders he
found himself finally at peace, a sense of completion and finality that had been
missing ever since Ariane's conjure all those years ago. They lay together in the
sweet summer grass, rain beating persistently above them, lulling entwined souls
into the benevolent arms of exhausted sleep.
- - - - - - - - - -
The first thought that jerked him from the blissful realm of dreams was
the awareness that his bed was damp...not only damp - but as if to add insult to
injury - cold and lumpy tool. Darien timorously opened an eye, expecting to
see the blue tented roof overhead, but the only object in his line of sight was a
mass of tangled golden hair.
A fleeting sense of panic contracted his stomach before he realized who
exactly was sprawled across his chest. Her breath was warn and moist against
his neck, and he was afraid to stir, lest she wake. 'So last night wasn't a dream
after all'. He raised one hand to brush the morning dew from his forehead,
elbow knocking against Serena's shoulder by mistake.
She murmured something unintelligible, nodding her head while smiling,
and Darien knew that he'd give anything to know what thought occupied her
unconscious mind. "I always wanted to see you with your hair down," he
whispered softly, his fingers drifting across her cheek.
Her lips began to twitch, and she tried unsuccessfully to suppress a yawn.
"Damn, I was planning on saving the treat for our wedding night," she teased,
curling onto her side beside him. "Um...you smell just like spring flowers."
"I what?" Darien exclaimed in feigned indignation. A moment later his
expression softened, and he leaned forward to burry his nose in Serena's hair.
"Um, you do too...just like the garden in the spring." He exhaled slowly, trying
to relax sore muscles.
She giggled as he rolled over, reaching out to massage his back.
"We're laying in patch of wildflowers, that's why." His shoulders tensed at her
touch, fingers involuntarily closing into fists. But before Serena could draw her
hands away in offense he caught them in his and brought them to his mouth, lips
nibbling her fingertips.
"Come here, beloved. Your hands are freezing." This elicited another
soft giggle from the unashamed offender who wrapped her arms around her
Prince as directed. They laid quietly together until the sun had risen above the
distant horizon, at peace with each other and ignoring the world.
- - - - - - - - - -
The vaulted tent was glowing with strings of white paper lanterns draped
from corner to corner. Expansive flower arrangements seemed to spring
spontaneously from center of vibrant tablecloths - the Princes' colors, of course.
Soft blue silk covered the ground, dark swirls of night and ocean hiding the rough
dirt below.
Arian smiled in smug satisfaction - the Desert's contribution to the festivities
bore a mark of elegant maturity, so much like the young Prince who'd paid
handsomely for the bolts of cloth. Her gaze drifted across the space, appreciating
the delicate Domarian glass goblets, shinning silver candlestick holders from Kerse,
the long flickering Maritan tapers...it was a standing tradition that each Prince
make a contribution to the last banquet, and the event had evolved into a sort of
competition as to who could bring a gift that would outshine the others.
The tent was rapidly filling with minor lords and vassals from territories far
and wide. Each a blazing combination of his seat colors and those of his Prince,
all drifted from table to table murmuring softly, exchanging rumors. For, as the
Princes 'competed' in their contributions to the decoration, they also 'competed'
in their entrances, and it was rumored that the Desert Prince would claim one of
the High Prince's daughters for his own - the bets had been cast, and Ariane
chuckled lightly to herself. 'Those girls never even had a chance, and they were
all the more foolish to think they did.'
Then, as if an invisible hand had smothered the tent with a layer of cotton,
the noisy clamor died on the vassals' lips, and all head turned toward the
darkened entrance. A solitary figure, tall in stature and faultless in decorum,
cleared his throat and pulled aside the heavy tent flaps with a flourish calculated
for effect.
The spectators held their breaths in anxious anticipation. For although the
procedure hadn't changed in over a century, the Princes' entrance was always
shrouded by a vague aurora of nervous excitement - save for the High Prince's
customary climactical finale, the processional order varied from Caucus to
Caucus. Even Ariane had to admit to a certain tingling at the bottom of her
stomach, a feeling that spread along her limbs like ripples across still water.
The herald smiled quietly, as if indulging in some sort of private joke,
then took a torch down from the wooden framework beside him and held it
high in the air. The dulcet chords of commemorative fanfare pierced the
breathless silence, and the herald nodded in recognition of the melody. "His
Highness, Prince Helder of Kerse."
Helder stepped forth from the enveloping grayness of dusk, and the
swaying candlelight settled in the deep mahogany folds of his tunic. He
inclined his head politely to the announcer then took his place beside his
beaming wife at the head of his table.
It was only then that Ariane, having secured for herself the seat which
gave her the best view of the proceedings, realized that she hadn't yet caught
sight of Serena's beaming smile. 'Is she not feeling well?' Her brow creased
with worry - none of the girls had mentioned anything when she'd bumped into
them just after lunch. She shook her head and pursed her lips. 'It's a shame
that Serena's going to miss the closing festivities of her first Caucus...she must
really be under the weather'.
But as she sat in quiet rumination, the trumpet continued to sound, and
one by one the empty chairs were occupied with flowing robes and glowing
faces. A Rejakian Lord paused by her chair to offer his thanks for her
assistance in conjuring fire to the glowing sea of candles, and when she again
turned toward the entrance the familiar Desert fanfare lingered upon the still air.
Perhaps Darien had, in his excitement, merely forgotten that the Princes
always entered alone, or perhaps he'd wished to show his defiance and
independence from the High Prince. Maybe he'd wanted to make the point
that his wife would be his equal at the council table, not only in bed. Whatever
the reason for his breach of protocol, the dinners let out a collective gasp as
the Desert Prince, with his Princess at his side, stepped through the entrance.
Ariane, torn between shock and amusement, brought her napkin to her
lips to hide the smile that was rapidly taking control of her features The Prince
was clad in somber black, a light cape sweeping elegantly behind him. On his
arm was his Princess, a striking contrast in pale blue and white. Diamonds
glittered from her ears and neck, and her hair was wound around her head in
an elaborate arrangement of wisps and curls.
"His Highness Prince Darien of the Desert...and the Lady Serena." If
the guests had not been looking at each other in surprise they would have
noticed Darien wink discreetly to the herald before guiding Serena to her seat.
He avoided Ariane's questioning gaze, and instead took Serena's hand
underneath the table while sipping delicately from his wine glass.
When the High Prince swept into the tent on the dying chords of the
trumpet, nothing could be said about his appearance except that it was a
complete anticlimax. He scowled at the herald who was nervously stammering
the announcement and tugged irritably at the long, billowing sleeves of his shirt.
His stride was brisk and purposeful as he moved toward his violet-hung table,
and his frown deepened as he passed those of rich Desert blue.
The crows expected him to address them, and he did so with uncharacteristic
reluctance, eyes piercing the dancing shadows but never lingering on any single
face for more than a moment. "It is always an honor to share this last dinner with
you," he began, his tone cold and forced. "We come together to commemorate
the close of another successful Caucus and to raise our glasses to the future, an
uncertain future but one filled with golden opportunities..."
As the High Prince droned on, Darien leaned close to Serena and
whispered in her ear, "I'm not sure whether I like the way he said 'opportunities'."
She nodded in agreement, shivering when she recalled the feeling of his hands
resting upon her shoulders. 'It's a good thing Darien will never know just how
close Raonus was to losing his temper and completing the job he'd brought me
to his tent for.'
- - - - - - - - - -
And so the evening progressed - uneventful save for the occasional
inebriated Lord who had to be led staggering back to his tent. Ariane watched
the wine in the bottom of her glass slosh back and forth as she tilted the crystal
from side to side. For all her resolutions to go easy on the early courses, she
had once again overeaten, and the rich desert sat heavily in her stomach. It had
been a chocolate mousse tort douched in light raspberry sauce and garnished with
mint - simply irresistible.
She could still hear the whispered comments flowing fluidly from one
end of the room to the other. It was on the lips of every vassal, every Lord,
and every servant.
"My, was just me, or did Darien really usurp the High Prince tonight?"
A man wearing Domarian green commented as he leaned across the table to
reach for the dish of nuts. "And Raonus was furious. I could see it in his eyes,
damn scary he is when he gets that look sometimes," another vassal replied.
"I say he deserves it," a third piped in. "But don't tell anyone I said that. Don't
wanna lose my lands because of me and my loose tongue."
But even as the rumors flew around the room like insects fluttering
from flower to flower, the subjects of the debate sat side by side with eyes
only for each other. "Oh Goddess, I couldn't eat another bite if you paid me
to." Darien pushed his plate away from him, the half-eaten mousse tort
sitting forlornly in the center.
"Are you crazy?" Before the plate had moved more than a half an
inch another hand shot out and pulled it back toward the edge of the table.
"There's no way I'm going to let you waste good desert." Serena retrieved
her fork and began to demolish the dark, creamy mass.
"Are you sure you're not going to be sick when I spin you around on
the dance floor?" Darien retorted, gazing dreamily as the mousse disappeared
before him as if by magic.
"Me, sick?" Serena used the side of the fork to scrape the last of the
raspberry sauce from the plate, then licked her lips and delicately brought
the white napkin to her mouth. Fortunately, Darien couldn't see the smile
she was hiding underneath it. "I dare you to try to make me sick."
"What kind of dare is that?" The Prince replied wearing a dramatically
perplexed expression. "Why would I want to make you sick?" He waited,
but when she didn't reply his mouth began to twitch at the corners, eyes
narrow ever so slightly. "Alright, you're on. What do I get if I win?"
"More to the point, what do I get if I win?" Serena said in a voice
just above a whisper. "I don't plan on losing, you know." She dared him
with her eyes to contradict her, and Darien noblely rose to the challenge.
"Me neither, beloved. Me neither."
*end of Chapter 9*
- - - - - - - - - -
Yes, a bit of a cliffhanger (I don't normally like them, but I figured I'd better
stop here or else I wouldn't get this out by Friday and you all would have to
wait yet another week for it).
Again, many thanks to those who have written to me about this story and my
others. This includes Jessica [Moonflower], Jen, Moncia, Rosey, Lady
BlackDragon, Missy, Kelly, Tiffany, Tianya [Niya], Allison, Rebecca,
SMoon485, and Gina [Princess Chibi Luna]....I can't thank you enough for
your words of criticism and encouragement.
- Mir 02.09.01
.