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Marian heard the soft scrape of pottery. Quiet footfalls. The thought crossed her mind to open her eyes, but sleep still claimed her limbs. She was tired to her very bones. She wanted to hide.
Years ago, she'd hidden. To the dismay of the whole house, she'd spent a day locked in her room and cried as only a disappointed young maid can. She'd lain abed and sobbed for love, for the handsome earl, for the things his title brought that she would no longer have, for the increased burden on her father, and most especially she wept for herself because she was being asked to set aside her plans; to turn her life upside down for the sake of someone else's sense of duty and honor. She wept for how nothing was going the way it was supposed to.
Just like now. Marian sighed.
"I'm so sorry, my lady. I did not mean to disturb you, but as you're awake," the maid began to drone. "Will you have breakfast and select a dress, my lady? A fine new one was delivered just this morning to replace…" the maid hesitated. "To replace the one… the damaged one."
Marian recalled that day of cajoling and threats, pleas and bribes. Finally, her father had tired of it, and he came to her room.
Sir Edward had knocked only once, then let himself in. Life goes on, Marian, he'd told her. Life goes and on and so must we. There was no mistaking his meaning. Her mother had died when she was a child, and Edward had not dropped from the world- he'd had a daughter to raise, an estate to manage, tenants to see to, and the law of the land to uphold.
One hour, he'd said. She could have one more hour to grieve, then life would go on.
"The dress is a lovely blue, my lady. It may even match your eyes, such a color."
She could do it, but not yet. Marian raised the blanket over her head. "One hour, please. Come back in an hour. I'll get up then."
The maid rustled about, muttering apologies. When Marian heard the door close, she curled into a ball in her warm blankets and let misery overtake her.
…
Marian allowed the maid free reign over her hair. As a result, it was a delicate pile of coils that the maid had fawned over her when she finished.
Unsure of what to expect when she left her rooms, Marian held her head high and walked as much like a queen as she could muster. Winchester's bonds had broken her skin, not her pride or honor. If her father could rise from ashes, then so could she.
"Marian." She could hear his voice in her bones as much as her ears.
Her breath caught. She would rise.
Marian turned. The dark circles under his eyes did nothing to dull their intensity. She did not miss they way they drink her in, the pride that illuminates them when he sees that she wears his gift publicly. For a moment she though he might rush to her, but there were soldiers at his side, surrounding him. His soldiers. Loyal to him. They would be loyal to her, too, if…
Nothing was going the way it was supposed to.
Everything is a choice.
Everything is a choice.
Rather than excuse herself or wait for their dismissal, Marian smiled and walked to Guy. The soldiers made room for her, stepping aside and standing straighter. One fussed with his chain tunic, another scuffed at his boot. No less than three of them checked their belts, and Marian hid her grin against Guy's shoulder as she slipped her arm under his.
…
Marian held still as Guy carefully applied fresh salve and began wrapping her wrists once more. The sun was out and lit bright slashes across his rooms where he'd kept the medicine chest. She sat at the table, rather than by the fire where he'd read to her. Marian was not quite prepared to think about that.
"They look better today," she said.
He glanced up from his work. "They do. They're clean, so they'll heal fast." Guy tucked the loose end and tossed the used bandage in the fire. He gently spread salve over her other wrist, his touch lighter than she would have imagined.
"How fast?"
Guy paused, his fingertips against the inside of her wrist. "Your father is well enough. Wait another day or two and we can use lighter bandages. Hide them with ribbons." His jaw clenched and Marian recalled the chilly violence he was capable of. Capable, but in control of.
He'd killed for her, but only on her order. How far was she down this path?
Marian remained quiet and let Guy finish wrapping her other wrist. When the second used bandage was fed to the flames, she spoke. "You saw my father last night?"
"Yes," Guy leaned against the mantle and prodded the logs. "We spoke at some length. Do not fear, he knows nothing of this."
Marian watched the bandage flare as the salve melted into the flames. "Of what did you speak?"
Guy set the poker back in its stand and stared into the fire. "A great many things."
"Oh?"
He turned and began to pace, arranging his few decorations as he spoke. "We spoke of his coming death. Law and customs." His voice grew hard. "Locksley." Guy selected a wooden case from a shelf and brought it to the small table where Marian was seated and opened it. "We spoke of you." His hand trembled as he removed a slim ivory piece. "Do you know this game?"
"My father plays," Marian said as she watched Guy set out the pieces. "He tried to teach me but I preferred riding horses. Who taught you?"
Guy set the case aside and sat across from her. "My mother. My father gave her the set when she came to England."
Marian hummed. It made sense; a complex game for a complex man. "Your mother must have been a very intelligent woman."
"She was."
With her attention on the board, Marian avoided Guy's intense scrutiny. The board had always captivated her—the contrasting patterns, tiny sculptures, and knowing who else played the game had meant more as a child than what was happening on the board.
Marian held up a game piece. A work of art, really. "Light and dark."
Guy nodded. "Anything will do, really. Some play with dates and almonds," he noted. "The winner takes the lot."
The ivory piece Marian set down made a soft tap. "I understand Richard plays. Does John?"
"He plays games, but not this one," Guy said cautiously. "He prefers more… immediate results."
Marian could feel the earth shifting beneath her feet, unsure on her ground. "Are these games usually long?"
"That depends," Guy looked up at her from under his lashes. "It depends on the players, and the stakes."
Marian's face felt warm. It was quite possible that they no longer spoke of the game. "Dates and almonds?" she said, tilting her head.
Guy made the tiniest smile. "Very quick."
Marian swallowed hard. "And for a kingdom?"
He was slow to answer. Without speaking, Guy rose and walked away from the board, away from the table, but his path carried him in an arc around the room. Marian kept her hands in her lap, wrenching at her fingers as she watched Guy pace the room, clenching his fists behind his back.
Had she gone too far? Was her question too close to treason? Men had been hanged for as little under the sheriff. Guy's steps drifted behind her where they paused, only feet behind her chair. Whether it was from her early conditioning in poise, or her stubborn streak, Marian refused to turn in her chair.
A slide of fingertips at her neck, the shyest touch. "What sides, Marian? And do they play for maneuver or capture?"
She could not help it. She turned toward the touch, a streak of warmth in this cold, cold game. She'd stayed a free agent so long, carefully neutral, as inert as possible, only to cut off her options. By not appearing to take a side, Marian was herself both dangerous and in danger. Now she had one last decision to make. One move. Her breath came hard.
Another touch. "Marian?"
Regret has no shape but void. Void is nothing. Nothing is dangerous and Marian cannot allow it to ruin her home, her country, the land of her family and people. Nothing is chaos and is can only be defeated by order. Law brings order.
Marian reached forward and plucked a game piece from the board. Her mouth was dry but she had no wine for courage. She formulated her words with care. Forethought befitting a lady, a noblewoman.
"Can we not play on the same side?"
Guy goes still. His boots shuffle on the stone floor. The stroking touch at her cheek is soft and gentle. "Not in the game."
...