LUCIA, THE SLAVE PRINCESS

CHAPTER SIX

The trip to the northern territories was long and tiring, and Lestor had no time to think of his little servant. He had left her under the care of Talos and asked Silas to keep an eye on the both of them.

To his amazement, Silas reported that Lucia was weathering the trip surprisingly well. Her small and delicate form seemed amazingly resilient, and she kept up her end of work willingly, even taking on some of Talos chores if the older man needed to do something else.

Silas had admitted a grudging admiration for the small girl. The girl seemed to possess a quick mind, and often attended to things before others even realized they needed to be done. Her unobtrusive presence enabled her to serve without notice, and her eagerness to be useful was endearing to all who saw it.

It was hard to believe that she came from Val's seed. That insidious bastard!

They arrived at their destination in good form, having been careful not to tax their resources or people. They needed to be ready to fight if the occasion demanded it, for the northern border was disputed by the barbaric tribe, Hibernian, the war-like tribesmen of old. Now that almost all of provinces had been united, and Val's rebellion having been the last, they could finally stand united against the Hibernian's threat.

That's why their troops needed in the North, to add the numbers of the garrison already posted there.

When the town of Newark saw that it's the unfathomable General Lestor's troop arriving, they cheer will all they might, and welcome the weary troops who had kept back the hostile presence of the Sakstyr Empire.

But more than anything else, reinforcements were greatly appreciated, particularly such a goodly portion of the Princess army itself, along with the presence of General Commander Lestor, a legendary figure among the soldiers, brother to Princess Ara herself, the one who would become Queen when their aunt stepped down.

The matriarchal line of their family ran straight and true down through the long and gloried history of their people, an unbroken line of queens from the time of the ancient ones.

Lestor was happy to arrive here and have his old rooms back. He was damn tired of pavilions and tents and the constant moving around. It was a welcome relief to know that he would be here for some months. His sister would press on with a smaller force to the capital to return to the Queen’s side and continue her training as heir. And Val, as prisoner, would go with her. Lestor would miss his sister, but this was home to him, not the ornate palace that made him feel stifled and irritable.

Here was room to roam and good companions. Solid, military-minded men and women with no political aspirations to make them miserable bastards. He had no head for politics, or patience for it. Here was the foundation of the kingdom, the good strong base, and here he was the happiest.

It was good that they arrived when they did, for only two weeks later, an early snowstorm arrived with driving fury, encasing the mountains around them in snow that lay thick and heavy in the valleys.

All travel ceased, and it was a time of peace, for the Hibernian's were no more able to move than them. Most people of the fortress stayed within the warmth of the buildings, taking the time to repair armor, sharpen weapons, and rest from the rigors of travel or the battles of the months before. Tempers were soothed, and peace reigned for a brief period.

Lestor enjoyed this change. There was little to do, no disputes to settle, and nothing but paperwork to wrestle. It made a nice change of pace.

On this day, he was passing through the corridors from the feasting hall where he had just finished breakfast. He had noticed the absence of Lucia at the servant’s table, and wondered where she could be. He often found himself worrying over the little girl, and it annoyed him to no end. There was no purpose to such a thing. The girl was a mere slave, his personal servant, nothing else. Nothing that could be important enough to ponder for more than a moment.

Still, he often asked Silas about Lucia’s welfare, and surprisingly enough, Silas usually knew. He too seemed to keep an eye on the girl and seemed to have taken a liking to her despite her birthright.

Lucia’s gentle, and warm nature seemed to make quite a few converts. After a while, one stopped noticing her odd coloring and blue eyes, and started seeing beyond them to the timid, sweet soul that lay beneath. Which is pretty good to an extent because it will help the poor girl to become more open to them.

Lestor's steps were silent upon the carpet runner that ran the length of the corridor, which is just right, so he could surprised Silas, who was leaning against the doorpost of one of the entrances to the main courtyard of the fortress. He was staring outside, arms crossed over his chest, a small smile playing over his lips.

He jumped and swore as Lestor laid a hand on his shoulder.

Lestor grinned a little at the sudden outburst of his younger brother, then he playfully cuff him on his ears for a moment before rubbing his head affectionately.

Growling, Silas straightened his hair into something approximating neatness and glared at his brother.

“What holds your attention so much that you missed a coming attack?” Lestor teased.

Silas flushed a little, still grumping, then waved a hand outside. “I was watching to see that Lucia does not stay out too long. She seems to love the snow and cold, and I don’t want her being foolish and played with it until she got herself sick.”

Lestor raised a brow, surprised that his brother would be concerned for a mere slave, a daughter of the enemy no less. He glanced outside, then caught his breath, blinking in amazement at the sight.

Lucia was outside in the snow, pawing at the ground, and as the two brothers watched they gasped in amazement when a swirl of wind caught the snow on the roof, and playfully dropped down upon the girl.

Lucia laughed, and flung her arms wide as though to catch the flakes. She danced with the wind and snow. Both seemed to embrace her, so that for a few moments it was hard to tell which was living, breathing creature, and which the elements. It was as though she were one with the weather, and despite the fact she only wore so little, she seemed so oblivious to the chill that had kept others inside all day.

For once, her coloring did not seem strange at all. For once, it was truly beautiful. She did not seem to get tired too , it was as though the touch of the snow gave her wings, and she's dancing with complete grace that few others could have not matched.

The wind tugged at her long hair, and they flowed in silver clouds around her. The elements seemed to recognize her, welcome her, and for once there was nothing of subservience in Lucia’s posture. She looked so graceful, almost like she was one with a greater force than the other themselves, touched by the wind goddess herself.

At last her foot came back to earth, and Lucia stood motionless, eyes closed, face set in lines of such joy that it made Lestor's breath catch for the emotion of it. The young woman bowed from the waist to some unseen presence, then turned for the archway where Lestor and Silas stood.

She paused then when she finally saw them, her smile fading, making Lestor regret the loss, then she continued forward, smiling again, though more shyly now.

“My lords,” she said softly. “Did you need something from me?” her eyes seemed to fill with worry that she had forgotten some chore. Very different from what she looked before when she's playing just a moment ago.

Lestor had to try twice to speak, for he could not seem to shake the magic of what he had just witnessed. At last, he cleared his throat, and laid a huge hand upon his little servant’s shoulder.

“We were just concerned for you in the cold. But I see you seem quite fine in it.”

Lucia’s whole body relaxed, and she looked surprised. “I relish the cold, my lord. I find it much more comfortable than the heat of summer.” She smiled a little more, obviously a little abashed that they had even thought of her.

She looked at Silas. “Thank you.”

Lestor was suddenly surprised by a surge of something that felt suspiciously like jealousy. And the mere thought that Lucia appreciated Silas’ concern more than his make him angry his seeing red.

What nonsense was this?

Lestor could not even speak for his confusion, could only watch as the two interacted. Silas tousled Lucia’s hair with a grin, obviously having long since overcome his distaste of touching that odd color mane.

Indeed, although Lucia’s speech was obviously tinged with respect for Silas' position in their people's hierarchy, he was easier with him than with Lestor, less aware of her every word and action having to seem subservient.

Lestor gritted his teeth, unable to prevent a frown from forming.

His younger brother held much charm and had many lovers. Did he think that he would be able to claim Lucia as well?

Lestor's skin twitched, and he pinched his own waist in irritation. The girl was the enemy, and ugly to boot. Surely Silas would not…

But Lestor himself was having trouble seeing Lucia as the ugly prisoner they had captured. Over time, she become easier on the eye, becoming almost exotic rather than disgusting. With better food, and less stress, Lucia had begun to fill out, had become less leggy, more lithe than thin. Her upper body was starting to regain muscle. And some of her natural curves started showing. If she had the same color as them, she would have been overwhelmed with suitors. Her face had filled out also—less sharp cheekbones and more flowing lines now. It would be only a matter of time until many would overlook her coloring and see the body and face as fair rather than as a curiosity.

Lestor frowned more fiercely.

“Lucia, come,” he said more forcefully than he intended.

Both his little servant and his brother looked at him with some surprise, but Lucia lowered her eyes submissively and came to him.

Silas eyed his brother with nothing but puzzlement for a moment, until a wicked grin curled his lips.

Lestor frowned at him, but for once his ferocity did not seem to cow his younger sibling. Those wicked eyes seemed to see all too much for Lestor's comfort.

“You are moody all of a sudden, my brother.” Silas' tone was light, but his eyes bore into Lestor's with uncomfortable intensity.

Lestor found himself taking a step back in unconscious defense, his body twitching in irritation.

“What?” he asked.

Silas' lips quirked, and his eyes shone with mischief. “You don’t usually have such mood swings. Are you feeling quite all right?”

Lestor felt a flush rising to his cheeks and cursed under his breath.. He could not remember the last time he had blushed.

“It is just cold here in the hallway. I have things to do elsewhere now.”

Silas raised one eyebrow and folded his arms over his chest as his eyes flitted from Lucia to Lestor.

“I am sure you do…” The innuendo was clear enough even to Lestor, who drew himself to his full height and scowled down at his shorter brother.

“Come, Lucia.” He swung on his heels with what little dignity he could muster and stalked off down the hall, while Lucia followed with a worried glance at Silas.

Silas broke out into laughter, making Lestor scowl with more intensity. His little brother, so mischievous, was bound to make something more out of this than needed be, when there's really nothing going on. Right. Nothing.

Lestor looked at his little servant, and he felt something different in the way he sees her. There should be nothing to it, as always. But right now he does not know what to think...

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