Author's Note: All right, here is the next part of the last chapter. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for all of the reviews :). If you would like me to reply to you, and you don't have an account, please leave me an e-mail address. I would like to personally thank you.
Chapter 32: Part 2
Gatty left the third meeting of the Allied Minds with a migraine. Who knew so many guymelef-sized egos could fit in one throne room? Thirty foreign men, Gatty, Van, Lord Folken, Lord Dryden and Sir Allen had sat around a long rectangular table commonly used for banquets, arguing about the economic states of their countries, military losses, new boundaries, and war reparations. They wanted Zaibach to pay; they wanted Basram to pay. Hell, in Gatty's opinion, everyone had contributed to the destruction the fight brought on; they should all pay. Gatty, however, would have to hand in an IOU.
He was broke after buying that paint set for Lord Dilandau. Shesta had sprung for the canvases. Guimel and Dallet buying Lord Dilandau fancy breeches and silk pyjamas had made the rest of them look bad, thus starting the Who can get Lord Dilandau the best present? competition. Gatty and Shesta were winning now, but the evening of elegance Miguel and Viole were putting together for late next week was going to put them all to shame. After a month of confinement, Lord Dilandau's first outdoor venture would be his first...er...second date, and Miguel and Viole could and would take all the credit for it.
"I don't know about you, but all that bickering made me hungry." Gatty grinned as Van caught up with him.
"You wanna grab something from the mess hall, or go up to Lord Dilandau's room and order service?"
Van sighed, looking over his shoulder at Sir Allen who was walking behind them with Lord Dryden and Lord Folken. "It depends on where Allen's having breakfast this fine morning. Have you noticed that he appears everywhere Dilandau and I go? We go to the library, there's Allen. We go to the music room, here comes Allen. 'Hey kids, what are you up to?' Celena's dragged him off a few times, but she can't keep doing it."
Gatty pretended to cough to mask chuckles.
"You ok?" Van patted his back.
"Oh, yeah, just swallowed wrong." Gatty managed to sound choked up.
Sir Allen lurking after Van and Lord Dilandau was castle entertainment. Half the staff assisted him, tipping him off to where Van and Lord Dilandau would be, and the other half helped Van and Lord Dilandau escape. Gatty and the other Slayers were part of the other half, as were Celena, Lord Folken, Dr. Marie, Pearce, Lord Dryden and Princess Millerna. Lord Dryden took special delight in finding ridiculous tasks for Sir Allen to do for him to keep Sir Allen from bothering Van and Lord Dilandau.
There were daily bets on where Sir Allen would spring from, and whether Lord Dilandau or Van would finally snap and draw weapons. Celena always betted on the weapon drawing. Violent woman that one, and she got more violent when it came to people messing with her little brother. Sir Allen seemed bewildered by it, like he couldn't understand Celena condoning Lord Dilandau having a relationship if she was that protective of him.
It rather stumped Gatty too. Celena seemed hot and cold around anyone who took up too much of Lord Dilandau's time, meaning sometimes she glared at Gatty, Shesta, Dallet, Viole, Guimel and Miguel. She spent more than enough time with Lord Dilandau, though. And after an hour of being in each other's presence, they were questioning the other's parentage, throwing things, and screaming: Get the hell out of my face!
So, what made Van special enough to not deserve a Celena-glare?
Gatty caught Van by the arm. "Let's take the stairway down into the basement and come back up behind the Old Queen's parlor. I don't think Sir Allen will expect us to go that way."
Van nodded, following Gatty as he veered away from the group. Sir Allen walked past, growling at something Lord Dryden was saying with a large smile on his face. Gatty smirked as Lord Dryden gave him a subtle wave. Lord Folken's eyes rolled over to them and he chimed into Lord Dryden and Sir Allen's conversation, seeming to agree with whatever it was Lord Dryden was talking about.
Gatty and Van entered the kitchen, slipping past cooks and kitchen staff. A basket of fruit, jam, butter, and bread was passed to them along with a plate of hot biscuits and a thermos of something hot. Gatty and Van accepted the gifts, Gatty looking over his shoulder for familiar faces. How did these guys know they'd come through the kitchen? Unless this was something they had prepared for Lord Dilandau anyway... but that seemed too convenient.
Pearce leaned against a wooden counter near one of the many stoves, nibbling on a pear. A beautiful woman stirred something on the counter beside him, pausing to offer him spoonfuls of the mixture. Pearce raised a brow at Gatty and Gatty smiled back.
Pearce, creepy as hell, but good to have around in any situation, whether it be battling zombies or catching breakfast on the run. But how the hell did he know that Gatty and Van were going to come through here, the time they'd be doing it, and where they'd be going? Gatty shuddered.
"What's wrong?" Van asked. He held the basket and pushed open the door to the stairwell that led to the basement. Musty air made Gatty wrinkle his nose.
"Nothing." Just glad Pearce was on their side.
"Oh." They hurried down the stairs and Gatty swiped a torch from the wall when they reached the grotto. He took lead, since he knew where they were going. Queen Camille's rooms were roped off and off-limits to servants and nobles alike. They were in shambles, the carpets threadbare, the oil paintings peeling, the furniture falling apart, the floor boards rotting. That wing of the castle was an accident waiting to happen and had been in the stages of being renovated for over 30 years. King Aston never got around to it, and Lord Dryden had more pressing matters to deal with. There was also the fact that he couldn't care less; probably didn't even know about the place.
"Hey Gatty?" Gatty swung the torch around to catch Van's face in the light. "You ever wonder why Celena seems to be so ok with me while Allen's going nuts thinking I'm perverting Dilandau?"
Gatty blinked. "Yeah." In fact, I was just wondering about it. Van was having a Pearce moment. "She doesn't seem to like when anybody spends too much time with Lord Dilandau, but for some reason she's ok with you."
Van hummed. "Really? She's ok with Folken too, and Allen, and Marie. She's only a little weird when it's you guys, but I thought you guys had some kind of... personal thing going on. I didn't know it wasn't mutual."
Gatty frowned, pondering what Van said. He... noticed that now, that Celena didn't seem bothered by Folken either. It was just...
"I think you all make her feel left out. I mean, when you guys all get together you're this unit that I know I'll never be part of, and I'm ok with that. Celena technically was part of your unit at one time, right? But you don't treat her like it."
Gatty grunted. "She wasn't really. I mean, she was, but..." Gods, this was hard. Celena was with them, she'd partially led them, and had completely led them at some points, but... When she'd made her presence known, they hadn't liked it. Perhaps she was a comrade, but she wasn't a favored one.
Though, even disfavored comrades were part of the group. Gatty felt like a heel. He knew what it was like to walk into a room of people well acquainted with each other and be the odd man out. Celena didn't care that they spent time together, maybe she just wanted to be able to sit and join them. No one had been mean to her or anything. In fact, Celena and Dallet got on quite well, and they went drinking together every now and again with Guimel, but nobody else joined them. Part of that could be because she was a woman. Gatty hadn't drunk with Refina either... but she was still part of the team and they'd found other things to do with her in tow.
Gatty would have to talk to the others about it.
"Hey, did I step out of line?" Van asked, sounding concerned. "I just wanted to help."
"No, no you're fine. Gave me something to think about and all." Eighth door on the right. Gatty used his shoulder to push the door open, grunting as the door groaned and caught. Next time, he would prop it open with something. This was a pain.
"Watch your step, Van. Some of the stairs are bad. Walk where I do."
Lord Dilandau and Viole had found this staircase and the rooms two weeks ago. Lord Dilandau couldn't leave the castle, but he surely didn't stay in his room. He and Viole had explored every nook of the castle and were still finding secret passageways and staircases. Dr. Marie wasn't pleased, but between letting Lord Dilandau and Viole play indoor explorers or having Lord Dilandau sneaking outside, she kept her mouth closed. Princess Eries thought it was cute and told Lord Dilandau so long as he stayed out of King Aston's wing, he was free to roam wherever he wanted.
"Gods, how long has it been since anyone's used this hall?"
"Hm, probably since the Old Queen died decades ago." Gatty hung close to the wall, and kicked the door to the stairway closed. "Hug the wall, Van."
The red carpet on the floor had faded to a dull rose color. They entered the foyer. Stale powders and perfumes stank up the room and the floor screamed as Gatty walked on the paper X's Lord Dilandau and Viole had taped to the floor.
"Geez, Dilandau and Viole come in here a lot?"
"They like to draw in here. They said something about the way the light comes in through the back windows."
A large tarp was spread in the center of the floor and red fabric was stretched over it. The expensive paint set Gatty had bought sat in a moth eaten chair, neatly covered and waiting for Lord Dilandau's return.
"What's that?" Van asked, nodding at the tarp
"The sails for Guimel and Dallet's stupid boat. You haven't seen the boat guts they keep in the small hangar? They work on it, or rather Dallet works on it, when he can."
"Dallet's really got his hands full, lately, huh?" Van said. "We all do, with the clean up, and classes, but he does all that plus other stuff. I don't know how he keeps up with it all."
Guimel chuckled. He didn't know how Dallet kept up with it all either, but the grease monkey came crawling back to bed happy, and filthy, every night, so no one said anything. Guimel told them that playing in the guts of the new Silvers Folken had commissioned was the equivalent of sex for Dallet.
"It's really cool how Dryden listened to your idea about building new melefs for you guys. It's not good for Astoria's best team to be without their best weapons for too long."
Gatty shrugged. Dryden would pretty much do anything any of them asked to keep them in the country. No one was going to tell him that they'd planned to stay and help Astoria anyway. It was their home now.
"Well, with certain allies," Gatty didn't name names, castles had many ears in strange places, "proceeding very strangely, we can't be too cautious."
Basram and Godashim were being especially suspicious, and Basram had monster bombs. They assured everyone the bomb dropped during the war was the only one, but Gatty didn't buy it and neither did Lord Folken.
"And then there's Zaibach. The country's in pieces without Dornkirk, but some of its generals, soldiers, and sorcerers are still out there. We'll catch them if they start trouble," Gatty said. He didn't like thinking about Madoushi at large. Whatever generals and soldiers were left could eventually be rounded up, but the Madoushi needed to be dealt with as soon as possible. Gatty didn't want to hear about them hurting people, experimenting on them, anymore. Maybe he owed them for giving Lord Dilandau a life of his own, so that Gatty could meet, serve and befriend him, but was it worth all of the torture Lord Dilandau went through?
Gatty felt awful. He always thought 'yes', because he didn't want to think about where he might be if it wasn't for Lord Dilandau. He might still be with Zaibach, dead on the battlefield or in hiding. He probably never would have had a real reason to fight for anything. He'd chosen to join the Zaibach military to get away from home; he fought to make Lord Dilandau proud, to avenge and honor fallen comrades, and to protect countries that housed people precious to him. Would he even have had precious people without Lord Dilandau?
So... maybe he should thank the Madoushi or better yet, Celena. Celena was the one who couldn't stand Lord Dilandau and delivered them both to the Madoushi. Hm. Another reason to include Celena in group fun: if it wasn't for her, there would be no group.
Van yelped and Gatty turned to see the boy king half off an X with a foot sunken into the floor. "I told you to step where I stepped. Pass me your stuff."
Gatty took the biscuits and thermos from Van and waited for him to free his boot.
Van tugged at his leg and ended up taking off his boot to avoid a twisted ankle. "Folken won't take the crown from me."
Gatty frowned. "What?"
"The Fanelian crown. He's the oldest; he should be king. He's smart and knows about politics and economics, but he says he doesn't deserve it."
Well, Folken hadn't been in Fanelia for a long time and did order to have it destroyed. Even if he hadn't wanted to do it, Folken didn't try to stop it. "He has to do penance, Van."
"And after that?"
Gatty glanced at Van as he rubbed his ankle through a thick sock. "I don't know, Van. Wait and see. He hasn't been home in years; the people don't know him anymore, and..." Lord Folken's supposed to stay with us.
"Wait and see." Van laughed bitterly. "I've done a lot of that lately, Gatty. I don't want to do it anymore. I... I'm too young to be king. I've only just now figured out and gotten what I want. How can I explore what I have with Dilandau, if in a few months I have to return to Fanelia to be king? Kings don't get time off. When will I ever see him? Allen's not gonna let him come with me. He might come visit, but what kind of time will I be able to make for him?"
Gatty set down the food and tiptoed over the X's to Van. He knelt in front of the boy king. "Van, calm down. You're forgetting who you're with. Lord Dilandau's not some needy woman. He understands that you're a king and you've got business. He knows you'll eventually go back to Fanelia. He wants to come out and help you and Folken set up." He's not staying; Folken's not staying, but they'll be there for a while.
Gatty didn't think adding that last part was necessary.
"And then what?" Van sounded miserable. "Maybe he's not a needy kind of guy, but what if I am? I want to see him more than once a month."
"Van, even if you were going to stay here, you might not see him once a month, after he's back on his feet and busy."
Van groaned. "Ah, Gatty. I want this to work."
"Then make it work," Gatty said. "Soldiers hook up all the time. I kept a girlfriend for 2 years that I only saw once every 3 months. I think that might be why we stayed together so long, that and she never found out about the other girls I saw on the side. But, away from all that, the point is we made it work. And I know other people who've done similar things."
"Once every three months." Van looked heavenward.
"Van, wait until you get there, ok? It'll be months, before anyone's packing to go anywhere. And you're forgetting your big brother's having our Silvers rebuilt, new and improved. Faster engines, better designs. With guymelefs like that, crossing borders takes hours. If Lord Dilandau really wanted to, he could see you everyday."
"As if Allen would let him..."
"As if anyone could stop him from doing something he really wanted," Gatty said with a snort. "Now get up, so we can get this stuff to Lord Dilandau's room before it gets cold. You know he hates cold breakfast bread."
Van sighed, then smiled. "Right." Van slipped his boot back on and Gatty gathered the food, passing the basket to Van.
The door stuck on the way out and Gatty had to kick it open. He grimaced as the door splintered a bit. "Damn." That one would come out of his stipends if anyone noticed. The Slayer stairway was empty. The others were probably out with their cadets. Gatty would take his out that evening.
"Hey Gatty?"
"Hm."
They approached Lord Dilandau's door.
"Thanks for talking to me back there. I know I get on your nerves."
"You don't." He didn't. Gatty didn't mind talking to Van. He and Lord Dilandau were...heaven forbid...cute. They weren't the usual couple. They didn't snuggle or hold hands. They played darts and Lord Dilandau taught Van to gamble. They read the same books, trading titles, so they could discuss them later. Sometimes, Van would go out with his team on a surveillance mission, and return with strange artifacts for Lord Dilandau to sketch stories about. One was so good Viole wanted to turn it into a short play for the currently missing Surfside Players.
Van grinned. "You're a good friend."
Gatty smirked. He liked to think so. Friends meant everything to him. Van opened the door ad Gatty followed him in. The curtain was gone, and Gatty found it weird to see who was in Lord Dilandau's room as soon as the door opened, especially when the who was...
"Ah, Van, Gatty, I was wondering when you two would get here. Dilandau said you'd probably bring breakfast. He's in the bathroom washing up."
Sir Allen sat at Lord Dilandau's table wielding a felt pen and parchment. He tucked the pen behind his ear as he stared at them expectantly.
Gatty pretended to cough again as Van moaned.
Gatty would never get tired of this, and when Van finally did have to go home, Gatty and the others would probably accompany Lord Dilandau on a few of his trips to see Van. Gatty was going to talk to the others about doing a better job including Celena in their circle, and maybe he'd do the same for Van too. What was building between them all was special, and nothing short of war, hell not even war, could tear it down.
Shesta dismissed his cadets after they passed through the castle's main gates. The boys saluted and dispersed like kids being let out of class. Well, Shesta supposed his border patrol group wasn't as interesting as Miguel's search unit or Dallet's scavenging team. They'd drawn duties from an old boot, and Shesta and his cadets got stuck with the strip no one wanted to draw.
Border patrol was a messy, annoying job. There were so many stragglers left over from the war, some military deserters from other countries, some people who had fled the war and were trying to return, and the rest, homeless wanders, nomads. Everyone had to be able to identify themselves, and some of the people were unable to speak the common language. Those people were escorted to a special shelter just outside the capital, full of translators. Now, since the gods loved Shesta, he and his group always stopped travelers with no identification that spoke languages that made the translators scratch their heads. When this happened, Shesta ended up filling out books of paperwork about where he found the people and their demeanor and dealing with temporary housing forms.
For 8 hours, Shesta and his boys marched through the outskirts of Palas, neighboring cities, and the shore, while their friends got to play detective and hunt up missing people, or comb the battlefield, looking at busted war tools and seeing what could still be used. It was hot, boring, and by the end of the day, everyone was cranky and in need of a bath. But it was a valuable lesson to the cadets. They had a bit of a glorified image of what soldiers did, having become soldiers during a time of war and studying under Lord Dilandau and the Dragonslayers. They'd never seen the humbling tasks, and some of them thought they were above them.
I'm not even above them, Shesta thought with a silent snort.
"Yo, Shes, what's up with that face? You look ready to bite someone."
Shesta had entered the hangar. Viole sat on a metal table, looking out of place in the throng of sweaty, greasy mechanics, in clean tan breeches and a purple silk shirt. He nibbled a peach, juice dribbling down his chin that he wiped with a short sleeve.
"I might." Shesta stopped beside his friend. "Why are you all dressed up?"
Viole grinned, wavy bangs falling into his eyes. The rest of his hair was pulled back in a neat, low tail. "Miguel and I are going to try out restaurants in North Astoria."
North Astoria? The war hadn't reached that far, so everything was probably functioning as if nothing had happened, but this was hardly the time for Miguel and Viole to be going out on... dates. "Viole, don't you have work..."
"It's for Lord Dilandau and Van's date next week. Everything around here is still all screwy, and we don't want Lord Dilandau to be thinking about work when he should be focusing on where and how he's going to kiss Van."
Lord Dilandau's date? Shesta's brows rose. That was right. Viole and Miguel were trying to beat Shesta and Gatty's gifts to Lord Dilandau. Shesta and Gatty's gifts had topped Dallet and Guimel's, but Viole and Miguel just might beat them all. Shesta had seen one or the both of them carrying around thick notebooks filled with dates and events. They'd even reserved the Crusade with Gaddes, Kyo and Reeden as the on-board crew, and hired a baby–er–man-sitter for Sir Allen on the big day. Shesta didn't think Sir Allen would be pleased, if he found out his date for that evening was being indirectly funded by Lord Dryden.
"How goes patrol?" Viole offered Shesta a bite of his peach, and Shesta waved it away. Gross. He shared space, clothing, and germs with these guys, but he drew the line at sharing spit.
"Geez, prude much. You act like we never shared anything before. What about that wonderful virus you so kindly..."
"How many times do I have to say 'I'm sorry' about that?" Shesta snatched the damn peach and took a big bite, ignoring how wet the peach felt as his lips and tongue brushed over the fruit. It was juice... juice from the peach, not spit, he told himself.
Viole raised a brow at him and Shesta growled deep in his throat before swallowing. Truth be told, no matter how snappish Shesta got about it, he still felt guilty about getting Viole sick. The virus had struck Viole harder than it had Shesta, and it had taken him a week longer than Shesta to recuperate. The guys teased the hell out of Shesta about it, calling him "Plague Carrier." Shesta hoped they would casually forget the name over time, but Viole's lingering cough was an annoying reminder.
"If I have to fill out one more Place of Origin form, I'll scream, Viole, and my cadets are just asking for me to teach them what it's like to fence with prosthetics." Shesta was being a bit hard. Not all of his cadets were begging to be sliced limb from limb, just the disobedient bastards that had run off to war and come back with their tails between their legs. Lord Dilandau didn't want to cut them from the team until all the grunt work was done, because he believed the more hands the better. However, Lord Dilandau didn't have to work with their ungrateful asses. They came to work with smug expressions, undoubtably thinking that the Slayers were overlooking their discretions without punishment, because the Slayers needed them. Seventeen boys in all had returned, bowing their heads in unfelt apology and asking to be let back into class. Celena had taken the most arrogant of them and opted not to draw from the boot, but to make up tasks for them herself.
All five of her cadets quit the first day. Shesta wished he could send three of his five to her. Celena looked a bit glum with no one to torture. Shesta repressed a shudder. He remembered when it had seemed Lord Dilandau was out to torture them a year ago aboard the Vione. Only it wasn't Lord Dilandau, it was Celena.
"Man, Shes, you're gonna wrinkle if you keep screwing up your forehead like that. Is it really that bad?" Viole took back his peach and turned it over to a side no one had bitten. He winked at Shesta as he took a bite.
"You little..."
"Ow!"
"Keep your eyes off my ass, if you like em' in your face!"
Voices and clanging in the hangar died a bit as attention shifted to a burly mechanic/ melef pilot cringing away from a slender, blond boy with a ponytail. Shesta squinted.
"Is that Celena?" Viole asked.
Shesta sighed and rubbed his face. "Yeah." The scene ended with Celena kneeing the guy in the groin and stomping off toward Dallet's corner of the hangar. She and Dallet were quite cozy with one another, which annoyed Guimel because it was no secret he couldn't stand "the crazy broad". Shesta always chuckled when Guimel knocked on doors to let them know he and Dallet were going drinking, and Celena had invited herself, with a sour look on his face. Viole laughed and told Guimel he didn't like Celena because she'd cut his hand off before it got near her pants.
If no sex was Guimel's problem, what was Shesta's? Try as he might, he found he couldn't stand Celena either. She was crass, as were Dallet and Guimel. She was annoying, as was Viole. She was bossy, as were Lord Dilandau and Gatty. She was arrogant, as was Miguel. She was cranky, as some liked to say Shesta was. All of her more endearing qualities Shesta ignored in his good friends, so why couldn't he ignore them in her? Maybe because... maybe because she almost made Shesta hate Lord Dilandau once. Maybe it was because underneath everything she let them see, Shesta sensed she had a nasty core.
She didn't care that the Gorgons, her handpicked team, had died. Her excuse was that they were disloyal and useless. But, they were still her men, her team. She'd led them to slaughter and left their bodies on the field. She hadn't blinked an eye when she was told how the Second and Third String fell. She didn't care; she'd scolded Lord Dilandau for caring when they'd been... together.
"Man, that guy's brave," Viole commented. His tone was cool, dark blue eyes slightly narrowed. Shesta wondered if Viole was a closet member of the 'Pitch Celena Back to Zaibach' Club. Viole would never come clean about not liking Celena, Shesta knew. Not when it could get back to Lord Dilandau somehow. For all they fought, Lord Dilandau was crazy about his sister.
"So," Viole brightened, and nudged Shesta, "patrol. Have you... maybe run into anyone... or seen..."
"Heather?" Shesta finished. Viole smiled, sitting up straight for any news, and Shesta looked away. He couldn't stand watching Viole's eyes dim every time he told him he hadn't heard anything about Heather or her acting troop. Shesta asked every wanderer they came across if they knew of the Surfside Players. The ones that spoke common shook their heads, and the ones that didn't, Shesta held up a picture that Viole had sketched. Shesta didn't want to say it, no one wanted to say it, but Viole might have better luck asking Captain Zane's and Captain Roget's teams, who were in charge of the unclaimed casualties, about his missing girlfriend. Those teams had bodies brought to them from as far as the Western Borders and scouted East for suitable burial grounds.
"Nothing?"
"Nothing. I'm sorry, Vi."
"Sorry? About what, Shes? You're doing what you can for me. It's not like you're a bounty hunter or something and I'm paying you to find her." Viole's laugh was hollow. "Besides, I still remember what you said about trusting her family to take care of her. Maybe they're just hiding really, really good."
Hiding from what? Shesta refrained from asking. "Yeah, that could be it."
Viole set his peach down beside him and yawned big. "The days seem like they're getting longer, but there's still no time to sleep. Sometimes, I feel like there's no end to this. I miss just working with Lord Dilandau and a handful of cadets on fencing and having our nights mostly free to roam."
"Yeah," Shesta agreed. He and Gatty used to go to sports bars and play darts and watch wrestling matches between foot soldiers and pilots. He also missed their group outings.
"But, I remember the Vione, when training days were awful and I just wanted to die. I thought that time would never end too, but it did, and this is no where near as bad. We're doing good here and people acknowledge us for it. I really can't get too down about a job where I feel like I'm making myself a better person. And when the job's done, things will be better than normal. Ah, aside from Folken making us do the school thing again. Nobody had to go to school in Dallet's village, and in Gatty's, most people didn't go anymore after 12. So, I don't see why we have to go."
"What age did people stop going to school in your province, Viole?" Shesta smirked at Viole's glare.
"Twenty-two. Everybody went to university or finishing school, but..."
"You're as noble here as you were there. Face it; people look up to us. We are now the guys mothers point out to their little boys and say: If you're a good boy, you'll turn out like them."
Shesta had actually heard a few women make those kind of comments, and he'd blushed so hard Gatty claimed his ears were red. He was a role-model; they were all role-models, and not just to soldiers. It was strange to see people gazing at him like they looked at Lord Dilandau. In Dallet's village, people had revered all of the Slayers, but there was a gap that was never bridged between them and Lord Dilandau.
"Ai, I don't want to be an example for the next generation," Viole groaned.
"How about a sex symbol? All of the girls at court love..."
"Shut up, Shes. I swear you've been hanging out with Guimel too much. I'll have to let Dallet know how much Guimel misses his company, and maybe he'll kick Celena to the curb for him."
Shesta had been playing a Dallet to Guimel on breaks, when no one else could do it. It was... different to be around Guimel so much, but not a bad different. Shesta realized he didn't know Guimel as well as he should, and wanted to change that. "Do you think Dallet and Celena are...?"
Viole shook his head. "Nah, no way. She's one of the guys to him. Miguel asked."
Miguel asked?
"Miguel's kinda weird around Celena, you know? He used to get all quiet, when she was in the room with him. At first I thought he didn't like her– I mean I... please don't tell Lord Dilandau... but I sort of don't– but I think Miguel's found a new toy."
Shesta almost fell over. One hand gripped the table, the other Viole's knee. "Huh?"
Viole chuckled. "Yeah. His eyes follow her like they used to follow Lady Millicent."
Lady Millicent, the late General Keller's youngest daughter. She was pretty, beautiful even, with a healthy, almost orange tan to her skin that complimented her auburn hair. She was knowledgeable about military science, and on occasion, she and her bubbly friends would sit outside practice, waiting for a Slayer to occupy their time with. Shesta had enjoyed a few afternoons with them.
"How can he compare Celena to Lady Millicent?"
Viole shrugged. "Lady Millicent doesn't know how to hold a sword."
Shesta blinked.
"Miguel doesn't need a dainty lady; he needs an equal." Viole slid off the table, and Shesta almost lost his balance. "Heya, Miguel. Ready to go?"
Shesta's eyes widened as he felt someone at his back. He turned to find Miguel gazing cooly at the both of them. He was dressed as finely as Viole in red silk and black satin, arms folded over his chest. "Why are you two talking about me?"
"Cause you're so darn interesting, Miguel," Viole said. "Don't worry; we weren't talking about your affinity to silk undergarments or anything."
Miguel's face paled, and his expression did a dance that bordered on angry and mortified, before his earlier coolness returned. "At least I prefer mine without lace, Viole."
Viole gasped. "Miguel, no fair blabbing about my fetish. Next you'll be telling people what color I paint my toenails."
Not missing a beat, Miguel said, "Coral."
Shesta shook his head at his friends as they launched half-hearted punches at each other and smiled. "I'm guessing you two won't be back for dinner. Should I tell Lord Dilandau where you are, or am I keeping secrets for you?"
The dark haired nobility of the group grinned. "But don't think you're taking any credit for our awesome gift by keeping your trap shut, Shes," Viole said.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Miguel and Viole crossed the room to their Blues. Shesta sighed. He needed a shower, and some food, and a nap, and– he spied Gatty entering the hangar, calling greetings to a few men– some quality time with a good friend.
The days were grueling, Shesta's nerves were tried by the minute, and Celena... he heard her loud voice carrying over the others, exclaiming over something Dallet had probably said... was not going away any time soon. But, like Viole said, it wouldn't last forever, and when it was over, things would be better than normal. Shesta imagined more nights out, but this time with Lord Dilandau and Van in tow... and Celena tied up somewhere... with a smile.
In the meantime, while Shesta waited for the day he didn't want to run his students through and drown his lack of remorse in alcohol, he was comforted by knowing his comrades probably felt the same way most of the time.
"Hey Gatty," Shesta shouted a few times, catching his friend's attention. "Are you busy right now?"
Miguel stared at the 5-inch tattoo of a serpent winding around a blade on Lord Dilandau's lower back. When had he gotten that? Lord Dilandau was shifting through his closet for the perfect shirt to go with the low rise silver pants Guimel had given him. Miguel wasn't fond of the idea of Lord Dilandau wearing a gift from Guimel and Dallet while accepting a gift from Miguel and Viole, but the pants looked good on him. They would match the silver-blue tunic Van had bought Lord Dilandau on their first date perfectly. That is, if Lord Dilandau could find it.
"I don't see it in here!" Viole called from the other side of the room where he was searching the dressers.
"Look under the bed next. I think Celena stuffed some clothes under there she didn't want me to see after she borrowed them. If she messed up my shirt, I swear I'll kill her this time. I mean it. I'm tired of her taking my stuff!"
Miguel hid a grin behind his hand and watched Lord Dilandau's tattoo dance as he reached for the high shelf in the closet. There were items in boxes on top of the long rank the hangers suspended from.
"Hey, you're getting it mild. My sisters used to go at it about clothes and jewelry and make-up and junk. We're talking shredded dresses, muddy make-up, strings of pearls with no pearls. They used to claw each other and shriek," Viole said.
Miguel snorted. "My brothers fist fought over everything. They stole each others' stuff so much, they didn't know what belonged to who."
"Well, I know what belongs to me, and I wish Celena would wear dresses and make-up and pearls."
"Celena in drag," Viole said, laughing. "She's more manly than we are."
"Someone needs to teach her how to be a damn girl," Lord Dilandau grumbled, snatching something off the rack and whirling around. A pair of thoroughly ripped breeches with complimenting splotches of mud, something yellow, and oil, dangled from his hands. Lord Dilandau waved them. "Why would she put these back in my closet like I'm going to wear them again? She's trying to piss me off. Van needs to call Hitomi back from the Mystic Moon. She wasn't as girly as the princess, but she still acted like she had breasts, dammit. Maybe she could rub off on Celena."
"Hitomi had breasts?" Viole was wiggling under the bed, his head and torso vanished.
"Well, she had places for breasts. You know what I mean!" Lord Dilandau balled the breeches up and threw them at Viole's kicking legs.
"Ow! Hey, no fair throwing things at me when I can't dodge!"
"Says who?" Miguel wished he had something to throw. He went back to polishing the gray leather and silver, metal toes of Lord Dilandau's boots. Miguel and the boots sat on a tarp they'd cut in half to avoid getting the floor dirty.
"Well, I guess I could wear the black shirt Dallet got–"
"No!" Miguel dropped his leather sponge.
Lord Dilandau half turned with a hand on his hip to give Miguel a curious look. "You had a problem with me wearing these pants, and now you're complaining about a very nice, and very expensive might I add, shirt? You have one sort of like it, Miguel, so you can't be opposed to the style. Honestly, if I didn't know better, I'd think you didn't want me to wear it because Dallet..." He trailed off and hummed in amusement.
"All right. What is this? First Guimel and Dallet give me clothes, then Gatty and Shesta buy me paint and canvases, and now you two go out of your way to give me and Van a night out. It's not my birthday, and you know I'd kill you if these are 'So glad you didn't die' presents. You guys having some sort of contest?"
Miguel went back to scrubbing. The boots were clean, shone like new, but nothing could ever be too shiny. Miguel looked over to see that Viole had gone completely under the bed.
"You guys are having a contest!"
"Ah... hey, don't get mad!" Viole pulled himself from under the bed and stood, dusting himself off. "It didn't start off that way."
Lord Dilandau shut his wardrobe and leaned against it. "Explain."
"Well, you see, Guimel and Dallet went and got you those fancy clothes, and it made the rest of us look bad, cause we didn't get you anything. So, then Shesta and Gatty went into a present together, and then they started arguing with Guy and Dally about whose gifts were better. Me and Miguel were left out, so we said we'd get you something too and it'd be the best gift ever, and then... it was a contest."
"Knuckleheads, indeed," Lord Dilandau grumbled to himself, rolling his eyes. Miguel didn't miss the tiny smile on his lips though. "Well, what should I wear then, if I'm banned from wearing anything else from Guimel and Dallet's contest entries?"
"You could wear..."
"Here's your shirt, Dilan. I had it steamed and pressed for ya." The bedroom door opened and Celena stepped in, holding a silver-blue, gauntlet-sleeve shirt on a wooden hangar. The girl had her hair down for a change, and the curls hung an inch past her bare shoulders.
Lord Dilandau stalked toward his sister, snatching the shirt and clutching it to his chest. "What were you doing with my shirt? Stop taking my stuff without asking!"
"Gee, what happened to 'Thanks Big Sis for making sure I wouldn't be wrinkly for my hot date tonight'? Ungrateful brat." Celena folded her arms over her chest and Miguel stared. She wore a man's black undershirt and the thin straps of a white brassiere showed on either side. Celena did have breasts; the shirt's she stole from Lord Dilandau weren't good for flattering them.
"I bet Allen would have a heart attack if he saw you walking around the castle like that," Lord Dilandau said, pulling the shirt off the hangar. "And I wish you'd stop with that big sister, little brother shit. It's getting on my nerves."
"Everything gets on your nerves, Dilan. What else is new?" Celena nodded to Miguel and joined him on the floor, taking one of the boots and inspecting it. "I think you went overboard with the spit shine, Migs."
Miguel winced at the nickname. "They look fine."
"Yeah, they'd be great in a blackout." Celena snorted. She set the boot down and gazed at Miguel under bronze tipped lashes. "You sure this place is safe? There are a lot of deserters that we haven't rounded up yet. I don't want Dilan running into them without someone watching his back."
Miguel nodded. "It's clear. Viole and I staked out the terrain and asked around. Then we tipped some of the officials in the area to play sentry, but be discreet about it. And also, Gaddes, Kyo and Reeden will be nearby. It'll be fine."
"I'd feel better about it, if they were just going to have dinner and come home. You couldn't arrange for a play to be shown here or something?"
Miguel shook his head at Celena's protective streak. Shesta, Guimel, and Viole wanted to write Celena off as a cold bitch, but they couldn't deny that Celena loved Lord Dilandau like a mother bear loved her cub. She had odd ways of showing it. The pure fact that she was helping Lord Dilandau pursue his relationship with Van attested to her feelings. She saw the way Van made Lord Dilandau smile.
Unfortunately, Sir Allen saw it too. "Has Sir Allen already gone?"
Celena rolled her eyes. Miguel had ignored her question. "Yeah, yeah Len left with that floozy a while ago. I told him I'd look after Dilandau and make sure him and Van were never alone in a room with the door closed, and all that good stuff."
"He really asked you to..."
"Oh no," Lord Dilandau groaned. He stood in front of a full-length mirror. The tunic was a loose fit and fell a few inches past the waistband of his pants. The complete outfit accenting his coloring. His silver hair looked smooth as silk and gleamed like precious metal, and his skin was fair as milk with a faint flush, giving him a healthy glow.
Miguel shut his eyes for a moment as a warm feeling spread from head to toe. Lord Dilandau looked like himself again. The dark circles beneath his eyes had vanished and he was gaining weight. All of that was good, but the thing that most pleased Miguel was the spark, the flame behind Lord Dilandau's eyes that brightened almost reddish irises to a deep magenta, had returned. When that spark revitalized, so it seemed, did the rest of Lord Dilandau. He held himself straighter, his chin higher. The weariness that made him drag and slump his shoulders was gone. This was the captain that led Miguel into battle.
"What's the matter Lord Dilandau?" Viole's voice came from behind them. Miguel tilted his head back to see Viole sitting on Lord Dilandau's bed, frowning.
"You can see the mark where that stupid port was," Lord Dilandau said. He turned around, hand hovering just beneath the center of his collarbone. The tunic had a wide v-neck with string on either side that could pull the shirt closed, but most young men wore it open.
"Lord Dilandau, Van won't even see it. Trust me," Viole said with a chuckle.
"I see it!"
Miguel shook his head, eyes going to the pink blemish on Lord Dilandau's skin. One had to be looking for it, or uncomfortably close, to even see it, but Miguel bet Lord Dilandau saw it like someone had run a red paintbrush across his chest.
Celena rose all in one motion, pulling something from her pocket– or rather Lord Dilandau's pocket. Those were his favorite blue breeches. Miguel wondered what Lord Dilandau would do when he noticed.
She stopped in front of Lord Dilandau, and Miguel held his breath. It was always a little–for lack of a better word–creepy, when the siblings stood so close. Their postures and body languages were identical. A silver chain with a small similarly colored medallion dangled from Celena's sturdy hands. She unsnapped it, then fastened it around Lord Dilandau's neck. The jewelry rested against his skin, the medallion falling to cover the still healing incision.
Lord Dilandau looked down at it, then up at Celena. "This is Allen's."
"I swiped it. He wasn't wearing it."
"Maybe he was going to, thief," Lord Dilandau said, but his tone lacked bite. "Thanks."
Celena smiled. "Hey, that's what big sisters are for."
"Shut up! We're twins. You aren't..."
"As I recall, I came out first, making me older than you."
"By minutes!"
"Still older, and that makes you the baby," Celena said with a superior air. She laughed when Lord Dilandau shoved her, stumbling back a few steps and flopping back on her buttocks beside Miguel. "So, do you know what all this evening of elegance entails?"
Lord Dilandau pulled a gray cloak with a black belly from the wardrobe, shaking it out and eyeing it for imperfections. "No. Miguel and Viole won't tell me."
"Gaddes has your event programs. I hand drew them." Viole sounded
proud.
"And thus he proves why he is worthy to be a Dragonslayer," Celena said dryly.
Miguel cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. Miguel was sure Celena didn't dislike Viole, but she made it clear that she hadn't chosen him for the team. She made it clear that she hadn't chosen Shesta, Dallet and Guimel either. Dallet took it in stride, but the others seethed.
"Viole proved his worth years ago when I selected him, Celena. Do remember that, and shut up." The cloak was thrown over one shoulder as Lord Dilandau glared at Celena. Miguel could feel the electricity crackling between the twins.
"Hey, hey guys. Van's probably ready by now. We should go get him. Ok?" Viole came to stand by Miguel, his face pale. "Don't fight here."
Miguel rose, wanting bite his nails at the notion that he might have to get between the twins. If there was a downside to Lord Dilandau's recovery, it was the fact that the stronger he got the less gentle Celena was with him. She was mama bear only when it came to protecting Lord Dilandau from others, not herself. They hadn't come to blows yet, but Miguel feared the day they might, mainly because it would probably be over one of them–a Slayer.
Celena was the first to break eye contact, smirking and tossing her head. "Can't keep his highness waiting, now can you, Dilan? You should go, before Allen remembers he forgot to replace your nightlight and comes back."
She left the room, but Miguel knew she was waiting outside the door for them. He touched Lord Dilandau's arm, feeling the tense muscles. "Lord Dilandau?"
"It's fine," Lord Dilandau whispered, closing his eyes. When he opened them, the anger was gone. Amazing. Miguel had never seen Lord Dilandau calm down so quickly. Lord Dilandau glanced at Miguel, and offered him a tiny smile. "I'm fine."
I'm fine. Lord Folken fixed Lord Dilandau. Everything in his system that made him overreact had been cleansed by Lord Folken and Dr. Marie's previous drug therapies and the marrow that remedied the dangerous side effects of the drugs. There would be no more almost heart-attacks and tranquilizers. No one was surprised that Lord Dilandau still angered over spilled milk and would rather draw a sword than talk to an enemy, that was his personality, but there would be no more random rampages. Not for Lord Dilandau anyway.
Miguel wasn't so sure about Celena. He joined her outside the door as Lord Dilandau sat to put on his boots and Viole asked if he wanted to carry a short sword or dagger in his belt.
"I don't know why I keep doing it."
Miguel almost jumped when Celena spoke to him. She had her back against the wall beside the door; she stared at the ceiling. "Pissing him off, I mean. Yeah, it's fun, but I keep pushing it too far– with everyone."
Miguel leaned on the opposing wall, on the other side of the door. "Don't talk about Viole like that."
"It was a joke."
"They don't come off as jokes when you make them," Miguel said simply. "You're making more enemies than friends."
"I don't know what they want from me. Dallet and Gatty are easy. I can't read the other ones. I never would have thought Shesta would be hard to read. When exactly did he stop being a pansy-ass?"
Miguel stiffened. "He never was. Shesta's not one to cross. Lord Dilandau always knew that. How did you miss it, while he was pointing it out to you?"
Celena snorted. "Sometimes Dilan didn't know what was best, or I thought he didn't. It's hard to be wrong, Miguel."
Miguel nodded in agreement. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Celena watching him. Viole said he felt like a mouse under a cat's gaze when she did this. Miguel felt he was being sized up, but not for a meal. Celena's eyes often rested on him, following him when he strapped on his sword after hours. It had taken a week or so for her to challenge him to a spar.
She was a magnificent partner. It was almost like fighting Lord Dilandau, only her moves weren't so graceful. Celena was all about strength and force when she fought, and Miguel found himself on the floor with her blade to his neck more than once. By all means, he should be horrified by losing to a woman, but Celena wasn't only a woman to him.
There was shuffling near the door and Lord Dilandau came out, followed by Viole. "Ready. So, are you guys going to carry me in a feathery palanquin or can I walk?"
"Dammit, Miguel. I told you we should have ordered that hot pink palanquin with the frills and bows," Viole said, sounding so remorseful Miguel did a double-take. Viole batted his lashes innocently. "I can carry you, if you want."
Lord Dilandau tapped the short sword at his waist. "Don't make me draw. Let's go."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Viole chirped, falling into step with Lord Dilandau as they passed Miguel and Celena. Miguel moved to follow but glanced back at the blond girl. He raised a brow, silently asking her if she was coming.
Celena remained slumped against the wall, her look saying she wasn't sure if she wanted.
"Celena, stop being a bitch and see me and my date to the door like a good big sister."
Lord Dilandau did not stop walking. Celena glared at his back, but pushed off the wall, joining Miguel. They made a curious procession down the hall with Viole babbling about breath spray and onions put in various dishes. Miguel was always amazed at how Lord Dilandau managed to keep his composure when Viole went into motor-mouth mode. He later learned that Lord Dilandau was a master at tuning others out while keeping a menial amount of attention on the conversation, so that he could pick up on his name and 'Are you listening to me?'. He said that he had a lot of practice with Lord Folken.
Gatty and Shesta were waiting by the hangar doors, all grins and cheek. They gave Lord Dilandau punches in the shoulder and made jokes about Van being nervous. Apparently, the boy king had come down to the hangar several times in the last hour in different outfits.
"Why is he so nervous? It's not a blind date," Lord Dilandau grumbled, but chuckled with Gatty, Shesta and Viole all the same. Miguel inwardly seethed. This date was his and Viole's present to Lord Dilandau. It was understood that everyone wanted to see Lord Dilandau off, but Miguel still felt like the others were mooching off their gift. He and Viole hadn't hung around when the others were handing out gifts.
"Eh, you know Van. He's probably nervous about embarrassing himself in front of people who don't know how well he wields a sword," Gatty said. "He's not exactly fancy suit and dinner material."
"I'm really not either, but I think this will be fun." Lord Dilandau caught Miguel's eye and Miguel smiled.
"It's going to be great." Viole pushed the door to the hangar open and Gatty and Shesta ushered Lord Dilandau inside.
The Crusade had been washed, the wood waxed and its sails new. Guimel and Dallet sat on the ramp that led up to the deck, arguing about something and throwing a soiled red rag at each other. They stood when they saw Lord Dilandau.
"The man of the hour! Come 'ere! Let's see what you got on. Old Van might want to change again if his colors don't match yours."
"Hey, shut up!" Van appeared behind Guimel and Dallet, and came down the ramp to meet Lord Dilandau. Van wore a collared maroon tunic with a black belt and black slacks. The jeweled hilt of a long sword peeped from a fine leather scabbard that tapped Van's thigh. Miguel was impressed. The boy king cleaned up nice. He wore his black hair slicked back behind his ears and had his royal crest on his ring finger. Miguel didn't know Fanelians had jewelry, but he was sure the peasants–citizenry–of Fanelia could spare a few ears of corn to make sure their royalty looked the part– some of the time. Probably had it imported, or maybe Van had it made in Astoria. Either way, the ruby with the golden insignia looked good on Van's hand.
"You're wearing the shirt." Van fingered a blue-silver sleeve.
"Yeah, I figured this was a special occasion," Lord Dilandau said, "since we're both clear that this is a date."
Van blushed and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah. So, uh, Miguel and Viole set up the navigation room with fluffy armchairs and snacks and stuff. You want to...?"
Lord Dilandau rolled his eyes and flicked Van's forehead. "Enough with the nervous stuttering. You're acting like we haven't been together for a month."
"We have and we haven't. This is our first time making it completely public. I want to get it right for you."
"There's your problem. I do believe another person other than myself is on this date too. Everything's not on your shoulders, King Fanel, no matter how hard you try to make it be. The only way you can get it wrong for me is to keep acting like a sweaty-palmed first-timer."
Miguel wanted to clap for Lord Dilandau. Van Fanel stood on the deck of the Crusade, blinking in shock while Lord Dilandau stood at the top of the ramp. Guimel and Dallet stood off to the side; Guimel pocketing a couple of coins from Dallet.
Van tossed his head back and laughed after a minute and grabbed Lord Dilandau by the arm, pulling him onto the deck. He threw an arm around Lord Dilandau, and, for the first time, Miguel noticed that...
"Holy moly! Van grew!" Viole shouted.
Van and Lord Dilandau were eye to eye. Lord Dilandau raised a brow. "Van?"
"Hm?"
"I hope you have another pair of boots stashed aboard this ship, because I will not be seen in public with you in platforms."
"Eh? Ah, come on. I'm tired of being the short one."
"Then grow!"
Even Miguel had to laugh at that. This would be a present to remember indeed. Lord Dilandau and Van would dine at Jaber's, a five star seafood restaurant that sat on stilts overlooking the ocean. They'd be served exotic, imported fruits and vegetables as well as the fresh catch of the day.They would then be escorted in a carriage to the shopping district to sightsee and purchase souvenirs, and the night would end with a theatrical production. Miguel and Viole had voted against anything with romance in it and chose an interactive mystery-suspense theater, and tipped the Players to pay special attention to the couple in the second row. 'You'll know them when you see them. Trust us. Lord Dilandau's hard to miss.'
Dallet and Guimel leapt from the deck to join the others as they waved Lord Dilandau and Van off. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Dallet called.
As if that left anything out.
"Hey, when it's time, open your mouths!"
Guimel yelped as six fists came down on his head.
The Crusade rolled out of the hangar as its engines started to roar. Great gusts of wind blew Miguel back into Celena, who rammed into Viole, who rammed into Shesta... Needless to say, they all fell. Miguel glanced around quickly to see who saw and flushed at the guffaws. Soldiers and mechanics hooted at the Slayer pile up, whistling and giving mock cat-calls. It was amazing how quiet and invisible they were when Lord Dilandau and Van had been there. Probably because they knew Miguel and the others would have rounded them up and thrown them out. There was nothing like perverted soldiers to spoil a romantic– well maybe not romantic– but a moment anyway.
"So, what do we do now? It'll be hours before they get back and we can pump Lord Dilandau for the goods," Viole said.
"We should get dinner," Shesta said. Miguel gazed at Lord Dilandau's windblown second-in-command. He'd been looking worn lately, stretched thin, but tonight his light blues sparkled. "This is the first night we've had in a while where we don't have anything scheduled to do."
"Group dinner?" Gatty asked. He looked at everyone, including Celena. Gatty was really trying to make the girl part of the group, and he made himself easier to read for Celena.
"Sounds good. Sounds really good, actually. I'm freakin' starving," Guimel said, twisting to pop his back.
"Yeah, hard work does that to people," Dallet said, ruffling Guimel's curls, then ducking Guimel's fists.
"Any ideas on where to go?" Shesta asked.
Miguel glanced at his teammates, his friends. They all looked so different now, not quite adults, but not boys either. War had aged, but not crippled them. Once bright, eager eyes ready for experience were now calm, clear eyes, full of knowledge. No wonder people bowed their heads slightly when they passed. No wonder why so many counted on them to help fix Astoria. They were more than Lord Dilandau's elite team now; they were Astoria's elite team, dignified gentlemen.
And dignified gentlemen should dine at, "Lady Chastity's."
Guimel groaned and Dallet pretended to choke. "Not that froo-froo joint where we gotta wear cummerbunds and eat with the right utensils!"
"You guys owe me a dinner," Miguel said flatly.
"Yeah, but we want to eat not play 'guess what the hell is this stuff'!"
Miguel grunted and glared, his illusion of dignified gentlemen melting. He thought they'd reached another level in their development, that they had become more than they were.
"But I guess we do owe you a dinner, Miguel." Miguel froze as Dallet offered him a fist to tap, Guimel too. He met both fists, then let his hands fall to his sides.
An arm went around his neck. "Uh-oh, I think we broke him, guys."
Miguel laughed, bowing his head and leaning on Viole as the boy pulled him closer. "What did I tell you, Miguel?" he whispered.
If he didn't think any sound from his mouth might have been a sob at the moment, he would have hissed at Viole to shut up. As it was, all he could do was breathe.
Many arms went around him then, patting his back or ruffling his hair.
"Geez, if I would have known all it took to make Prince Miguel happy was a fancy dinner, I would have done it a long time ago," Guimel cracked. He stood close to Miguel, his scent of mint soap and sweat making Miguel's nostrils flare.
Miguel raised his head to amused stares from his friends and put on his game face. Prince Miguel, huh? "Of course, all of you will have to bathe and change into something presentable before we go, especially you, Guimel. You smell like a..."
"Man!" Guimel finished. "It's better than smelling like peaches and apricots, girly boy! And don't you laugh Vi; you smell like a girl too."
Viole sputtered and Miguel laughed. "Women like peaches and apricots, Guimel. Why do think so many eat out of my hands? Don't think I haven't noticed my depleting repertoire of cologne."
It was Guimel's turn to sputter.
Miguel led the group out of the hangar, smiling as each person passed him en route to their room to wash up and change. Celena hung by him, walking him to his door.
"I suppose I'm invited too, right?"
Miguel nodded. "I don't think Gatty would have it any other way, and... I don't think I would either. You're a part of this group, whether we like it or not."
Celena scowled, blue eyes electric. "What the f–"
"But, you know, I think I may like it."
They stared at each other, Celena, for once, with nothing smart to say.
"So, ah, we'll spar after this?"
Miguel chuckled. "Yes." He wouldn't miss a chance to spar with Celena, day or night.
She ran a hand through her curls, teasing the fluffy ends. Golden tipped lashes caught the light and full pink lips parted. Something warmed inside Miguel, and he felt the urge to move closer to her, to the one who was more than a woman to him.
What was it about her? She was beautiful, but Miguel knew many beautiful women. She was proud, but growing up as he did, Miguel knew those sort of women too. It couldn't be her manners because they were atrocious, or her turn of phrase, which could be more vulgar than Dallet's or Guimel's at their worst. Her fighting skills were excellent, but Miguel was surrounded by good fighters. Only, he wanted to fight with her.
Was that it? Was he attracted to her strength?
Miguel stepped closer and Celena smiled, revealing even white teeth. "So, is what I have on ok? Because I already had a shower yesterday, and I don't feel like getting wet again just to change clothes. And does this Chastity place have finger food? I want drumsticks."
The woman wiped her nose with the back of her hand, waiting for Miguel's response.
Miguel stared. Well, if it was strength he was attracted to, maybe Lord Dilandau had the right idea and Miguel should be looking for a man. There were plenty of single nobleman in the castle, after all.
He shook his head at Celena and went into his room, closing and locking the door behind him. He went to his wardrobe to choose an outfit for Chastity's, wondering if he should pick out one for Celena too and let her keep it. Miguel tossed clothes onto the bed, and after a second thought, he tossed himself onto the bed too. He lay on his side on satin trousers, fingering his bedspread with a soft smile.
Lord Dilandau wasn't the only one getting something from his good friends that night. Maybe Miguel would have stories to tell of the night too.
Prince Miguel, a member of Astoria's elite, dining with gentlemen...
Banging at the door. "Hey Miguel, open up! I wanna use some of your girly spray. Yasmine from the laundry room wants ten minutes with me!"
... well, as close to gentlemen as his friends could get anyway. Some people were hopeless, but Miguel was finally all right with it.
"Just a minute, Guimel."
Author's Note: So... what's the verdict? Like it? Hate it? Don't care either way? Any way, let me know. Please review :)
Viole, Allen and Folken are up next.