UNSHEATHED

Chapter Twenty Three

A week later, Elena closed her apartment door with relief. It had been a rough day. She was obliged to stare down not one but two community leaders who appeared not to believe a woman could manage an army, or for that matter, that Castillon might actually need one.

She flung her jacket on the chair closest to the door and kicked off her riding boots next to it. She unbuckled her sword belt and let it drop to the ground on the same spot.

Elena could handle most situations with reasonable grace, but her patience was sorely tried when she had to defend herself for being Trillas among the Hilliri, and also for being female among the Trillas.

Even with the authority of the Prince behind her, she frequently met with resistance. No one would have openly challenged the Prince on their plan, but they found it easy to express their resentment when standing in front of her. Neither Joran nor Liran had been available this last week, so she had attempted to make her rounds alone.

She couldn't return and complain about them to the Prince. That would make her look weak. So she took what she had learned of diplomacy from watching her father at court and also from her years as a special agent negotiating on behalf of the Empire to leaders in far-flung regions. She dug deeply into her reserves of patience. It was easy with soldiers, they had to obey, but leaders had ideas of their own and a will to express them. In the end she managed to convince the leaders that they had to obey their Prince and follow his commands, rather than trying to assert her own authority. That she would have to earn at a later date.

The windows were open in her rooms, and a crisp breeze blew in and refreshed her as she poured a large glass of Xeras Cadiza and sat on a large lounger in the main living area. She was acquiring a taste for the stuff. It was sweet, but stronger than Estallese wines. A single glass was enough to take a significant edge off her mood when she needed it, two glasses, which she rarely allowed herself, were enough to make her act a little silly.

A knock at her door brought Elena out of her musings. A firm confident rapping which made her think it might be a man. She wondered who it might possibly be, since she seldom had visitors of any kind.

She emptied the glass and rose from her comfortable spot, sighed and made her way to the door. She opened it to find the Captain Sandro leaning against the door frame. It was too casual a pose to mean business, and smoldering look in his dark eyes was one Elena was very familiar with.

"Good evening Captain. How may I be of assistance?" She tried to keep a neutral tone. He had warmed up to her since the day she had returned with news of the death of the guards who had accompanied them to visit Ergin, but not by that much.

He smiled and winked at her.

"Good evening, er, Captain Valeria."

She realized he probably didn't know her first name.

"It's Elena."

He looked relieved. Elena bit her lip in order to suppress the urge to smile.

Sandro stretched his hands out across the door frame and leaned in. "Elena, that's nice." He cleared his throat. "Elena, it's nearly sundown, and I thought we might enjoy each other's company this evening." He let an azure coloured cloth dangle in front of her.

Confused, Elena gazed at the cloth. It clearly had some meaning for the Captain, but she was beginning to feel uncomfortable about having this conversation in full view of the hallway and anyone who might pass by. In her homeland of Estallium, women pretended to be virtuous, so it was her habit to be carefully discreet with men.

She stood aside of the door and waved him in. It wasn't the best idea, but Elena was sure she could manage the Captain if it became necessary, and he didn't appear to have been drinking. He entered with a swagger that made her roll her eyes at his back. He wandered around her living area checking out the view from the window and the smell of the flowers in the vase. She poured him a glass and refilled her own.