Hal - The Duellist #1

Chapter Forty-Nine: Red Velvet

Hal stretched back lazily, arms folded behind her head, and watched with undisguised amusement as Meracad enveloped herself in one of Franc's silk robes.

"We really must find you some clothes. You'll get lost in that."

"It will do for now. Franc said he'd find me something more suitable."

Meracad leant over the bed, kissing Hal with the same intensity that had defined their lovemaking earlier that day. Except that then they had been frantic, desperate. Awakening after hours of exhausted sleep, they had torn at each other's clothes, clinging together, overwhelmed by the extremes of intimacy and joy that their passion had invoked.

"I missed you." Hal closed her eyes, savouring the pleasure of physical contact after being deprived of it for so long.

"I got that impression." Meracad ran her finger over the outline of Hal's ribcage, trailing her hand across her stomach, hips and thighs. The duellist inhaled sharply, throwing her head back for a brief moment before seizing Meracad's wrist.

"Enough!" she exclaimed. "Franc will be wondering where we've got to!"

The merchant's daughter stuck out her lower lip in mock petulance. "I think he can guess."

Hal frowned, pulling at a thin cord which was wrapped around Meracad's wrist. "What's that?"

"What do you think?" Meracad loosened it a little. A tiny translucent sliver fell down above Hal's face, swinging like a pendulum.

"The shark's tooth! You remembered it!"

"Of course. It was all that kept me going through these months ─ the memories it evoked."

Unwinding the cord, Hal turned the strange token over in her hands.

"Such a stupid gift," she said at last. "It should have been a sapphire or a diamond. But I never could save the money I made from duelling."

"Well, you don't have to worry about that now, do you? Now you're Franc's heir."

"No, I suppose I don't."

Rising, Meracad slipped across the room to gaze out of the window. Hal observed her, taking in the folds and drapes of silk as they hung from the girl's slim frame, her fair hair now streaming loose down her back. Rising, the duellist pulled on her shirt and padded barefoot across the room to stand behind Meracad, wrapping her arms around her. The late afternoon sky was a crisp blue and the autumn sun still carried enough power to melt the snow, releasing for the time being its grip on the landscape. Water plunged in heavy erratic drops from the rooftops and gutters onto window sills and panes of glass. She bit her lip, resting her warm forehead against the chill lead of the lattice work.

"What's wrong?" she asked, sensing Meracad's mood change, her levity giving way to uncertainty.

"He'll come for us," Meracad said at last. "He won't rest until he's found us. I know him."

"We'll be ready." She rested her chin on the girl's shoulder, hoping that she sounded more confident than she felt.

"He has every right to come. Every right to take what's his."

Hal froze, her embrace tightening. "I know what it is you want to tell me," she whispered in Meracad's ear.

"You know? How?" She twisted around in Hal's arms to face her with anxious eyes.

"You were sick. When we ran from the fortress. And then you pretended to be pregnant. The pretence seemed like too much of a coincidence. Does he know?"