Double-Edged Words

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

It was late at night. The music played by the royal orchestra was now a low hum as the guests turned in for the night.

"You paint? I always wanted to learn how to paint, but my parents thought it was a waste of time." The Grand General's wife, a tiny, soft-spoken woman with a perpetual sleepy gaze, told Leyla.

With a smile, Leyla responded, "Yes, I do. I learned from a friend of mine. You can come over to the manor one day, and we can teach you if you want."

The Grand General's wife hid her delicate smile behind the shawl wrapped around her neck and shoulders. The pile of fabric swallowed her whole torso, reducing her to a walking mound of fine wool. "I would love that. I would really do."

At their sides, the Grand General and I stood avoiding each other's gaze. Unused to being in each other's presence out of the battlefield.

"Iskander," Leyla placed her hand on my arm to get my attention, and my body stiffened. Not because of her touch but the sound of my name. Iskander? Why is she using my name? Is she mad at me? "Iskander," Her hand tugged my sleeve.

Inwardly shaking off my initial shock, I responded, "Yes?"

"How about we invite them to stay with us next weekend?"

"Uh." My gaze darted from her face to the Grand General's wife, back to her face.

The Grand General's hand flew to his wife's lower back. "Darling, let's not impose ourselves on them."

Meeting the general's eyes for the first time in the past hour, I responded, "No, no. It's alright, sounds good. It's just next week..." In unspoken understanding that our wives were unaware of our current orders, we chorused, "We'll talk about it later."

The woman glanced at each other with curious eyes but ignored the strange response and continued their conversation.

Around us, servants busied themselves with the cleanup. Once or twice, they would glance in our direction with eyes that urged us to leave.

Nudging Leyla towards the large doors that led to the hallways, I muttered, "I think we should continue this conversation outside."

The women's voices were amplified in the quiet, high-ceilinged halls. Trailing behind them, the Grand General and I walked side by side in awkward silence.

Is she angry that I made her dance with me? Or maybe she's upset that I left her alone for a while. My eyes were glued to Leyla's back, trying to find the cause of her displeasure.

The sudden sound of the General's voice broke the silence. "It seems we'll be seeing each other quite often from now on."

With eyes still on Leyla's back, I responded, "Yes. It seems so, Grand General."

"Fergus Brando, you can call me Fergus."

Turning my head to look at the man, I nodded. "Iskander."

"How long have you been married?"

"Five years and you?"

"Ten." An awkward smile cracked his face and his hands clasped behind his back. Every several steps, a hand would rise to scratch the back of his head, and his throat would clear. He seemed very uncomfortable with the silence.

"What's your wife's name?" I asked.

"Emmie."

"Mine's Lehylany, but we call her Leyla."

He nodded, "Do you have any kids?"

The remnants of a two-night-old dream surfaced in my mind. Leyla, I, and our children—a boy and a girl—having a picnic in the manor's garden. Will I ever get to see that in my lifetime? No, I don't think so. A wistful exhale precedes my words. "No, you?"