Previously in Silk Road
"Princess..." Quatre began, this time in English, in between his own bites. "The Khushrenada family may be the regents ruling Sanc, your home country, right now. But it is your cousin who has her sights set on your throne."
Ch. 8
Relena's tongue danced against the roof of her mouth. The thrill of the new spices she was tasting, along with the questions she held back, were enough to make her salivate, and then some.
The dangerous Japanese man that sat next to her, was enough to drive her mad.
His eyes, a rare deep blue, bore into hers as she struggled to keep up with Quatre.
"So we are hoping to get you back to your family so you can claim your rightful place." Quatre smiled. There was something about the closed-lip grin though, that didn't sit right with her.
What did he say? Back to herfamily? She had no family, right?
She kept quiet. They obviously thought she was someone else. A princess of some sort, that much was clear. But Relena recalled what she had heard Heero say to Wu-Fei. How Heero had insinuated that this entire situation was nothing but a scam. Was Quatre in on the fraud?
The man staring at her obviously was.
Heero couldn't bear to break eye contact with Relena.
He was waiting to see any flickers of recognition, any sign that perhaps she could remember something about her past. Ever since he noticed her bristle at the sound of the Khushrenada and Catalonia family names, he was even more aware of every bit of her body's reactions.
Heero found himself staring at all facets of Relena's face, memorizing the curve of her cheekbones and theflush that crept across her skin. He enjoyed staring at her, making her uncomfortable. He enjoyed how she wouldn't break eye contact either, like a wild animal, daring him to get closer.
The longer he stared, the more it felt like the tavern was melting into nothingness around them. Even Quatre had faded into obscurity.
Relena's eyes, narrowed and serious, were just as he had remembered them. Somewhere between green and blue and gray. Genius swirled within the smattering of gold around her pupils. Her wheels were indeed turning; both confusion and strategy clouding her irises. He remembered one of the last times he had seen her stare at him like that, they were both eight years old.
They'd been sparring with wooden swords in the gardens at her family's palace. Relena had been slightly taller than him then, and quicker, too. She fenced with the grace of a noble in the Chinese Wudang style that summer, the product of their visiting martial arts teacher. Heero was stubborn, and kept two hands on the hilt like his mother had taught him. He was not the teacher's favorite.
But as usual, Relena was. And he remembered how jealous he had been of the attention he received from their instructor. He remembered how he watched with envy as Relena grasped every step with ease. Their instructor had struck him with reeds across his back for refusing to comply again. He ordered the two to spar, and encouraged Relena to abandon any sense of mercy. She was keen to follow orders.
The two parried and went hit for hit, Relena showing off her swiftness with an artful dodge here and there. But what Heero lacked in precision, he made up for in patience, and soon his young opponent was winded and gasping for breath. That was when he made his move, raising his sword with both hands, and bringing his arms down for a chopping swing above her shoulder.
"Enough!" Their instructor shouted. "Lord, you are not to go any further. The princess must not be harmed." Heero remembered being angry that day, and crying himself to sleep after their classes ended for the night.
Heero wondered: did Relena have any sense of how mad she drove him when they were little?
As Heero stared at her from their booth in the tavern, he could feel her edging closer to the brink, to that precipice of memory. Perhaps the more he did try to "fool" her into thinking she was the lost princess, maybe she would remember that she actually was. Perhaps there was an upside to Wu's plan after all.
She relished in the feeling of him watching her, as much as she tried to keep up the appearance of modesty and piousness. The intensity of it all burned her, warming her from the inside out. A welcome reprieve from the dry cold of Stone City.
The taste of their meal coated her tongue, and immediately she wondered if his tongue would taste the same way in her mouth.
She stiffened as she felt her face grow hot. How do you pray a Hail Mary again? Was there a novena to chase away the demon that was her bubbling desire for her kidnapper?
Quatre cleared his throat. His earlier hunches were being validated every moment he wasted studying the crackling spark between Heero and his "Princess." Something was brewing here, and soon they'd have to play a game of ethics.
Plus, he was starting to feel like a third wagon wheel.
They were at the tavern for a reason that day, to see if any of Quatre's gray market contacts were passing through Tashkent. He'd expected a group of alchemists and barbers at some point, headed west after a trip to India to re-up on supplies. This particular tavern had been a regular resting place along the journey, at least that's what Quatre was hoping was still true. It had been some years since he was a member of the Maganacs.
Would his former brotherhood recognize him? How would they feel about his traveling companions? How wouldtheyjudge Wu-Fei's plan?
When he saw his old mentor Rashid enter the tavern, he knew he was either in for a stroke of good luck, or judgment.
"What is it?" Heero broke the tension.
Quatre couldn't help but smile to himself, it was kismet. Today was the day the mentor of his youth would appraise him for human trafficking. Quatre, a former student of medicine, who had taken an oath to do no harm, was about to offer to sell a woman to a prestigious scholar, philosopher, surgeon, alchemist- the man who essentially raised him. Before Quatre ran away to sow his oats.
"The barbers have arrived," he said.
A/n: It feels like every time I post an update, it feels like the world is on fire.