King's Conquest (The Crown of Estoir)

~~The Arlingtonian (2)~~

Ethan pulled away and lit the candles nearby. After a while, he asked, "What do you think of Arlingtonians, wench?"

The harshness in his tone made her wince. "I heard women over there are lawmakers and have more freedom over their property, person and marriage. It sounds like utopia." Wistfulness entered her voice as she rambled to the stranger. It had been a long time since she had a decent conversation in Ishtar. 

His eyes bored into hers as if prying to unravel all her secrets.

She mumbled, "Also, their crown prince and its people—" Her voice faltered. She wondered if it was safe to express her passionate views on a foreign country that, although part of Greater Estoir for more than a hundred years, had been once the cesspool of turmoil.

Then there was the matter of the blue and white Arlington doublet on the chair. Who was its owner? Was he servicing under Estoir's army?

"You look as if you have more to say." He cocked his head.

 "The rumours are that the crown prince creates trouble from time to time. Why would he do such a thing and upset the harmony in the empire?" She voiced her thoughts against her judgement.

Ethan's lips tightened as he sauntered past the trestle table to the hearth. Before she could realize what he was doing, he stripped his tunic off, revealing a flat stomach, which rippled with corded muscles.

She gasped aloud and averted her eyes.

"You blush like a noblewoman, Lyra. I have met many wenches as a soldier in the Royal Guard, but you are unique. You can read and smell clean, too clean," he remarked.

She bit back her reply. He was her Uncle's Royal Guard. She felt it in her bones that he was someone important.

"There is no need to act with modesty. I am sure you must have seen your fair share of naked soldiers in the castle and indulged with them somewhat."

Her eyes snapped to him. He now knelt by the hearth and stoked the fire. A wave of heat washed over the room as the fire roared higher. But the cold dread inside her didn't abate. She was alone with a strange man who was half-naked no less. What if other sentries and warriors showed up and decided to dry themselves off in front of her?

Her governess had admonished her to guard her modesty against such men's depravity. The battering rain outside had quietened into a drizzle. She contemplated risking the journey back to the castle through the mud and puddles. 

"It would be foolish to go outside right now," Ethan told her.

Did he read people's thoughts or was she easier to read? Arianna blinked, unsettled by his perusal. Her breath caught in her throat as their eyes locked. This man reminded her of the leader of a wolf pack: powerful, sinful and proud.

Past experiences that had led Arianna to live to its fullest had taught her not to put her trust entirely in strangers. Her hand inched toward the dagger hidden beneath the folds of her gown. This man, who had just consoled her earlier, was dangerous.

"Warm yourself by the fire or you will catch a cold," Ethan interrupted her musings.

Threading her way to the fireplace, she knelt across him, taking care not to stare at his stomach. Chuckling, Ethan twisted his body to open an oak chest behind him. Retrieving a blanket, he threw it at her. "Here, this will keep you warm."

At the gesture, Arianna eased her grip on the knife and relaxed when he said, "Arlington is, indeed, beautiful in winters with its snow-capped mountains. You seem to know a lot about their culture and their hate for Estoir."