Record of Ashes War

Chapter 29 - A Mistake

Cart loads of looted iron were being sent back to the garrison of Arcaeus Peak. Xenarian riders were sent across the border to ensure no follow up attack was being made. Over a third of the Empire's army had managed to retreat. Kalin didn't command for his soldiers to chase into the cold waters. The bodies of all fallen were set ablaze to avoid causing pestilence. Xenarian casualties numbered a few dozen at most. An overwhelming victory. All made thanks to Sar'tara. The woman was still surrounded by many singing her praises.

"So my eyes did not deceive me," Rask said as he came to stand by Kalin. "Those were the Ivory Hussars, no? And she brought them down near single handed."

"I'm still in awe myself." The story-like image of her riding into the horizon, loose strands of her hair that hadn't been braided billowing in the wind, and her seamless movements, still clear in his mind like an imagination he so desperately wanted to be true. Except it was true. Kalin just had a hard time believing it. "Grab yourself a drink or two but keep eyes all around. Do a quick head count of every unit. Make sure no assassins remain. The men should be allowed a night to celebrate. We return to the garrison at dawn. There no longer remains a reason to protect the burnt forest."

"Yes, Your Grace," the large man said, bowing.

Kalin returned to the Xenarian encampment. Evening was quick to fade by the time the soldiers returned. Barrels of ale were brought out. Campfires roared to life. Songs were sung and jokes were made. Kalin made his way to the medic tents where a handful were being treated for minor scratches. Sar'tara wasn't in her usual tent.

"Looking for me?" she asked, tapping his shoulder from behind.

She was wearing a wide smile. She knew her actions to have saved the day. Her gleeful expression beckoned at him to make compliments just as a child seeking recognition. Words of praise were begging to escape Kalin's mouth. He kept them imprisoned. Her actions were reckless. And she'd also disobeyed him. The Serene army thrived on obedience for the command structure, and she'd firmly lodged a wedge in that gear. "Do you understand what you've done?"

"Am I getting promoted?" she asked, her smile growing ever more childish and adorable.

He shook his head. "Was that the reason for such thoughtless actions? You aren't even a formal part of this army, let alone attaining promotions. I had told you to stand still and watch! Had you been a soldier, you'd be getting court martialed for disobedience regardless of your achievements!"

"Court mar-shall?" she asked, frowning at his unexpected response.

"Punished," Kalin explained. He expected her to pout but her expression darkened instead. "I won't discredit your actions, Sar'tara. They may well have saved hundreds of lives. I can't even wholly call your actions reckless. Your skill with the bow is better than any I've ever seen. You had confidence in yourself, I could tell. But you were rash regardless. Had their horsemen been even slightly faster, you would have perished for nothing, taking the memories of your family to your grave." And leaving me with just an imagination of your beauty and mastery.

"You were worried about me, Kalin Serene?"

"Is it not natural for a leader to worry for their subjects?" Kalin's mouth dried. Subject? Sar'tara? She was more a free bird, carried by the wind when it suited and moving against it when it didn't. A free bird that he wanted to keep at his side.

"Yes. I suppose…" she whispered, looking away, faded memories lingering at the corners of her eyes. "How am I to formally join your army?"

He sighed aloud. For all her childish mannerisms and naivety, the one thing at the forefront of her thoughts was still vengeance. A thought keeping her from being whole. Not with all of Xenaria mobilized was it guaranteed that the Thousand Sun City could be felled. He couldn't tell her that. "For starters, there's some paperwork to be done. We can get that going tomorrow. I suppose it won't be too odd for you to start in a higher position, given that everyone seems to be lauding you a hero. Though some may have qualms with a woman leading them…"

Doubtful. She'd already won over the entire encampment. He had no doubt she'd win over the garrison before long. And she had always been a Xenarian. Accepting her as one of their own shouldn't be a problem for the soldiers.

"Why is that?" Sar'tara asked. "Are there not many women among plains dwellers? I see none among your fighters."

"Women aren't known to be fighters," Meredith said, appearing from the side. Kalin flinched at her sudden appearance, one hand halfway to the sword at his waist. She curtsied briefly. "Your Grace, do you wish for the physics to look you over?"

Kalin shook his head, looking away. His attention had been entirely focused on Sar'tara. "Look after her for the night, Meredith. There's no telling what the men would do once drunk." He walked away and headed for the command tent. Sar'tara continued to question the physic.

Kalin exhaled. He wondered what the court would be like if Sar'tara were to be introduced as a noble lady. He relished the thought of outraged reactions. She was beautiful as well as strong. Which made her twice as attractive. He let the thoughts slip away. It was better to distance himself from her before he fell further. The battles of a court were entirely different to that of the field. The nobles would eat an oblivious outsider alive. He wouldn't let Sar'tara be subject to such torture.

Kalin entered the command tent to find a new pile of papers and letters left at the small table along with a plate of cheese and ham. Rask had also left him a full barrel of ale. A cruel joke. There was nothing better than drinking on a field of victory. Or so everyone said. Everyone knew him as a lightweight when it came to holding liquor. A single glass of wine was enough to tip him off. The rumors had spread like wildfire after a fated night at a gathering where Princess Dahlia and her attendants had pushed a drunk Kalin into a fountain. He shook his head at the memory. That had been nearly three years past.

He nibbled on his food, barely making dents in them with his eating utensils while skimming through the papers. Reports of resource stocks, the happenings within the capital, and most dreaded of all, even more marriage proposals. He hated proposals. It took time to craft polite refusals to match each one. The vast majority of them came from minor unknown Houses. But a poorly sent letter would send rumors throughout the court. Rumors that the minor noblemen would use to defame the duke and increase their own social standings.

Kalin ran a hand through his hair, pausing to tug on it as if that would remove his burdens, wondering when the royals, High House Lakris, would send their own proposal. He thought it inevitable. He wondered if Dahlia was simply waiting to ascend the throne. "Should I just send one to her?" he mused. Her social standing was the only one higher than his. Perhaps she was waiting for him to send the proposal.

Kalin rubbed his temples. He wished he could have gotten away from the stupidity that was the court. Wished there was some way to absolve himself from petty duties without sullying the Serene name. Serene. How ironic. His thoughts drifted to Sar'tara once more. The image of her childish smile and forest green eyes like a still portrait in his mind. His own eyes drifted to the barrel. Kalin shook his head and rid himself of his thoughts. "Might as well drink myself to sleep," he grumbled. Multiple wooden mugs had been left by the barrel. He felt his temper rise. There was no need to play the joke that far. A single mug could easily be refilled anyway. He lifted himself from the chair, groaning at the exhaustion in his knees. Twenty-eight and I'm already feeling old…

The tent flap was pushed aside and Sar'tara ducked in. Her single braid had been untied, an even split of her smooth dark hair hanging over the front of both shoulders. "Yes?" Kalin asked, both annoyed and relieved at her presence. Half of him wanted to spend the night in conversation with her. The other half wanted to curl up under a blanket and leave all his headaches to plague him the next morning.

Kalin met her eyes. His headaches melted away.

"Nothing," Sar'tara said, sitting down on a mattress made of sheets and blankets. She put a blanket over her shoulders. "Do you people not use furs? Your cloaks are nice but they aren't warm enough for evernight."

"Evernight?" he asked, whilst pouring himself a drink. She stared at the motion curiously, seemingly more interested in the tap from where the drink fell rather than the drink itself.

"The evernight season. When nights are long and frost sometimes falls from the sky."

"Ah. Winter season then."

"So you have different names," she noted. "We call the warming days the period of rebirth. Then comes the period of growth. Followed by the fading period when leaves change color and trees begin to shed."

"For us, our warming days would be the sowing season, and then summer, followed by harvest and finally winter." He noticed Sar'tara's eyes fixed on the mug in his hands. They followed it as he took a sip. "Would you like some?"

"Yes."

He raised a brow at the quick response. Shrugging, he poured her some, laughing internally at the usefulness of the extra mugs. Sar'tara took a cautious sip, then proceeded to down everything in a single breath. Kalin now had both eyebrows raised.

"Should you not be drinking outside with everyone else?" she asked.

"No. I'd rather the Flames scald me before I let them catch me drunk."

"Really? But your drinks are so soft," she said, holding out the mug. "I hardly feel a tingle at the back of my throat. I'd drink that whole container if it would fit inside me."

Kalin frowned. Soft? He wondered what manner of drinks the woman had in her home village. Whether a tribal people could even make drinks. He shrugged and filled her mug. "I'll have someone set up another tent for you in a bit. I suppose Meredith and the other physics could use some rest after today."

"Another tent…What for?"

"For you to sleep in, of course."

"There's room enough here though?"

"Well, yes… But this is my tent…"

"Do you have a problem with me sleeping here?"

"Ye— I mean not exactly." Kalin looked down at the foam in his mug. It would be uncomfortable. A discomfort his heart was strangely willing to put up with. "You have been given a single tent to use yourself since we found you."

"And I don't like it," Sar'tara complained. "You isolate me as if I'm an outsider. How am I to gain everyone's trust if they don’t trust me? Everyone praises me as I walk by. But no one asks me to sit down. No one asks me for a conversation. No one tries getting to know me like you have done! You did this to me by the forest also. You kept me from the rest and watched over me all night instead of sleeping yourself. Now, you take issue with me when I've risked my life slaying your enemies. My enemies. I want to be one of you! I want to be a Xenareen! I'm not going to kill you in your sleep!"

"Xenarian," Kalin muttered. She didn’t seem to hear. From what he knew, she grew up in an entirely female environment. She had no understanding of what most would consider common sense. He considered sending her to sleep with the female physics and asking them to better explain the situation, but wasn't sure if she would be offended. He downed his mug and put it away. It was better to not drink further if she planned to sleep in his tent. Just a single mug and he could already feel his senses begin to blur. She's only sleeping here. Nothing will come of it.

Sar'tara rose to get her third fill. Kalin handed her his mostly untouched food portions and she stuffed them in her mouth, ignoring the utensils and chewing with puffed cheeks much like a chipmunk. It was distinctly unladylike. But also amusing. She was someone he could feel at ease by. Someone who he didn’t have to put up false airs for. He didn't need to be a nobleman here. Didn't need to be the duke of Xenaria before Sar'tara.

He picked up a piece of yellow cheese by hand and bit into it, staring at her, her green eyes gazing longingly at the disappearing ham in her hands. Kalin shook his head at himself. Sar'tara had no eyes for him. She was oblivious to the relations between a man and a woman. He stripped himself of his armor and weapon belt and tossed them to the edge of the tent, causing them to clatter. He tucked himself under the sheets of blankets and hoped to fall asleep before she joined him. His brows furrowed as she joined him almost immediately, the food in her hands magically having disappeared. He rolled on his back and tried not to look at her.

She frowned. "Is my presence really that bothersome, Kalin?"

He swallowed hard. Everywhere he went, it was 'Your Grace' this or 'My Lord' that. The way she said his name with her slight accent resounded within him, echoing in his chest. He turned to her, losing himself in the forest that was her eyes for a moment. "It isn't bothersome," he finally managed to say.

She gave a slight smile and closed her eyes. A long moment passed. Lines of irritation began to show on Sar'tara's face. "Your actions do not match your words, Kalin. I promised I wouldn’t kill you in your sleep. Yet I feel your gaze upon me still. You need not stare at me all night long."

He felt his face flush. "That's… you're just beautiful is all," he grumbled as he turned on his back. He felt her shuffle about. She rested her head on her hand with an elbow to support. Her face was much too close to his. Her subtle exhales tickled his sides. "Was that an excuse, or honesty?" He didn’t answer. Her eyes narrowed. "Describe my beauty to me if you're being truthful."

Kalin's mouth dried. He couldn't think of a way to answer. Couldn't think of what to equate her beauty with. There was a sweet lingering scent of ale upon her lips. His mind went blank and his hands moved without him realizing. He caressed the side of her head and kissed her.

Sar'tara blinked as he pulled away. "Was that a show of affection? Does my beauty truly mean that much to you, Kalin?"

He felt his body grow hot. He forced her on to her back and put both his hands beside her head to support himself. Just another kiss. Nothing more. She didn't seem to mind the first...

Sar'tara stared up curiously. She wasn't making a single move to stop him. Kalin couldn't think straight. Desire consumed him. Honor deserted him. He pressed his lips against hers. She put an arm around him. His fingers ran down her bare sides, feeling the outlines of her ribs before sliding to the front and caressing her carved abdomen.

His senses returned briefly and he jerked away from her. "No… I can't. Shouldn't. I'm… sorry." His heart was racing. He turned away from her. The primal desire within him screamed at him to turn back. Another kiss? What am I doing...? The first time was wrong ienough!

Sar'tara pressed her breasts against his back. Her heart was racing as well. She reached around and placed a warm hand on his chest. Tendrils of heat pierced the drum within. "Sorry for what?" she whispered. "I was not disliking that. Please continue. Show me the length of your affection or I will label you a liar and leave."

Leave? He didn’t want that. He turned to face her again. To apologize and explain himself. To...

The alcohol in Kalin's blood removed from him the last bit of mental restraint. He found his lips locking with hers once more. The sound of her soft moans vibrated throughout the corners of his mind. Everything beyond that point became a blur.

***

It was still dark in the tent when Kalin awoke. Dawn had yet to arrive. He sat up running a hand through his hair to soothe a headache. His throat was parched. A single mug of ale had been enough to cause a hangover. He had a slight recollection of kissing Sar'tara. Of undoing her clothes and then his own. His heart grew heavy and a terrible feeling of guilt overcame him. He sat up instantly to see her sitting cross legged, drinking from a mug with her back to the barrel of ale. "I… last night?"

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

Kalin stood up, tugging at the ends of his face with his palms. "Did something happen last night?" He knew the answer, but he refused to accept it.

"No?"

No? Really? He breathed a sigh of relief. He walked back and forth to steady his balance. He desperately needed water. Or a cold cup of milk. Either would do.

"You plains dwellers have an odd way of showing affection. Though, it was not displeasing. I rather enjoyed it."

"What!?"

"Did you find it displeasing? It did not seem that way to me. Strange. I felt as if there were a fire in my belly when you were done. Your affection has more strength than your drinks."

Kalin stared mouth agape, frozen. His face grew hot. She had no idea what she was saying. What he had done to her.

"Now that I think of it, I suppose I wouldn't mind doing that again. I think I might want to, even. If you thought so highly of me before, why didn’t you do something like this earlier?"

"Sar'tara…"

"Is this common among plains dwellers? Would anyone else do this with me also if they admired me as you do?" She took a slow sip from her mug. "You… do admire me don't you?"

Kalin finally found control of his limbs. He rushed over to her and gripped both of her shoulders. "Flames no! Do not ever do that with anyone else!" Else? It was wrong enough with me!

Sar'tara cocked her head to the side. "Why not?"

"Just don’t! Or… Or I'll expel you from Xenaria and leave you alone."

Her expression turned grim. Her figure seemed to shrink as her arms trembled. "You-you would not. You would not leave me alone!" she cried.

"Yes. You’re right. So please just listen to me. Don't do that with anyone else. Ever!"

"But it's alright if it is with you?"

No! "Yes," he said, disobeying his own thoughts. He swallowed hard. His feelings were a mix between guilt and happiness. He felt a terrible attraction to her. But he knew it to be nothing more than lust. He had prided himself on his dignity. On his responsibilities as a leader and as a High Lord. He looked down on other nobility that abused their powers or spent their wealth on indulgences. He had the option of marrying Sar'tara. But that would bring a host of troubles. The court would be thrown into chaos. The soldiers could tease all they wanted. But no one in high society would accept the duke marrying an outsider with no lineage to trace back. She would forever be labelled his mistress and his honor would be tainted. She would be hounded and shunned her remaining life.

Sar'tara's eyes still held a sliver of fear. The glint of forming tears at their edges recalled her tragedy. "It's alright. I won’t leave you alone." The words came out of his mouth. But a small and hateful part of him did not believe it.