Chapter 2
Mí na Samhna 20
632 AAD
Cain,
As of now, Mother wishes for us to be moved to the Northern Palace. From there she thinks she can better assess the threat and put her best researchers on it. She wished to leave Az and me behind but we convinced her our magic might be needed. Don't be angry. If Az is going to rule one day, she needs to know what's going on in her kingdom and she needs me at her side to be safe. We will head that way soon after the Solstice Ball. If there continues to be a lull in attacks, and you can be spared, Mother has requested you to lead us back North.
DG
Cain crumpled the corner of the letter he held in his hand. He didn't want the royal family anywhere near this until he had gotten a better handle on it. Since her return, the Queen had been taking a very aggressive, hands-on approach to her rule as if trying to make up for the last sixteen annuals.
It's going to lead to a goddamn mistake.
Cain threw the letter back on his desk, trying to decide how to go about dissuading the move when he noticed the second sheet peering out from the envelope.
Another of DG's sketches...he thought, reaching for the work.
His train of thought completely derailed as he examined the heavy weighted paper in his hand. The sketch was simple enough, done in grey pencil of a woman appearing to compose a letter. She was clad only in a dressing gown, the right sleeve having slipped off, exposing the graceful arc of her neck along the bend of her clavicle, down to her shoulder. There was a gentle dip in the V of the neck line, hinting at the slope of her breasts and the lower portion of the robe was partially open revealing her leg from calf to mid thigh as it tucked against the side of her chair. A few tendrils escaped her pinned hair and her profile was unmistakably DG's.
Cain's relationship with the princess was...complicated. And for a man who liked things black and white, complicated was almost intolerable. At their first meeting, as he stumbled out of the suit, he hadn't thought much about her except she didn't appear that bright. It was an unfair assumption, but all he knew at the time was she had brought a stick to a gunfight and kept giving him vacant, wide eyed stares. He found her lack of pragmatism annoying and her naivete a liability.
All he wanted was find Zero but she, using the tatters of what was left of his honor, got under his skin. It became easier to follow her after discovering she was the long lost princess, their goals now at least somewhat congruent, and her little acts of bravery, selflessness, and ingenuity started to impress him. Twice he came to save her only to find she had already saved herself. As a man isolated from the touch of another for so long, he should have found her affection overwhelming and unwanted. He didn't. And so it was after ten annuals of nothing but rage, he started to feel human again.
When he caught himself nearly seeking out her attention, he decided he had to leave, taking the job of General over the also offered job as Head of Royal Security. He was confused, a man locked in a prison for nine annuals set loose on the world with no purpose. He had to find his place, get his head on straight, and put her out of mind.
She saved you from hell. You'd follow anyone who did that. It is not her you want. You're idealizing her. You can't have these thoughts. You aren't fit for her and she would never love a broken man like you.
These words became his mantra, repeated to himself in moments of loneliness, to still the twitching in his hand that wanted to reach out to her. And so he left...but then the letters started. His replies were always short, formal, trying to put emotional distance to match the physical one, but DG was relentless. She good-naturedly mocked his formal tone, remarking on the ceiling tiles or blades of grass at Finaqua, and Cain couldn't bring himself to break this little connection, his soul too battered to destroy this little sliver of happiness. And now, as he stared down at DG's self portrait, he felt his ears burn hot as his eyes grazed over the sketch again, unconsciously committing it to memory. He hated the way it made his heart speed up. He hated the longing the reached up from the dark, faraway corner he banished it to. A small, annoying voice in the back of his mind commented that if he couldn't even throw the other sketches away, he would likely have to be buried with this one.
That might be sooner rather than later if Ahamo ever gets wind of this.
He swallowed hard and folded the picture carefully, tucking it into an inner pocket in his vest. He told himself it was to protect her privacy and his neck should anyone discover he had such a personal portrait of her Royal Highness but even he didn't believe it.
Several more weeks passed without any further incidents at the Northern camp and it set Cain's teeth on edge. Something big was coming, he could just feel it and a sinking part of him thought it would coincide with the return of the Royal family. He had communicated as much to the Queen but she had replied that the Gales would not quake in fear and wait for the threat to come to them. Normally, Cain appreciated a straightforward approach but he felt this was reckless and short sighted.
He and DG continued their letters, her drawings resuming their innocuous themes. Sometimes, when it had been a while since he looked at it, he'd convince himself that the sultry nature of the sketch was all in his head. But then he'd take it out of its hiding place and all uncertainty would vanish once again.
She never mentioned it and neither did he.
Dumannios 1
632 AAD
Cain,
Mother is sending her official summons. If you leave within the next two weeks, you should be able to make to the Solstice Ball. Tell me, do they make formal fedoras? If not, we could attach a bow-tie or corsage to fancy yours up.
You strike me as a gerber daisy kinda guy.
DG
Dumannios 7
632 AAD
Your Royal Highness,
No.
Cain
Dumannios 16
632 AAD
Cain,
Start packing Tin Man. I need an escort.
DG
Cain rubbed his forehead in agitation. The thought of leaving his men behind made him uncomfortable despite the sudden cessation of the attacks. And then to be locked into a ball...he'd rather stay and fight. He hated formal events and all the frippery involved even when it was just common folk. The thought of doing it with royalty made his lip curl, no matter how fond of the royals in question he was.
He pulled out DG's latest artistic offering and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. It was a sketch of him.
There he was, standing tall and looking powerful... with a goddamned gerber daisy tucked into his hat. Cain scowled, deciding this paper would make great kindling for his fire tonight. He would set out for Finaqua in the morning.