�You will behave?� he said.
�Father! Can�t someone else do it? Rubiella? Graceilla? Wennie?� she asked hurriedly.
Her father shrugged. �I would have in an instant. Would I risk my bar and life on your childish whims? You know nothing!� he said forcefully. He softened as her eyes hardened. �Chief Commander in Arms Aminta asked a soldier who you were. I don�t know why. He found out you were my daughter and asked.�
�What?� she squeaked. �You are risking my life for money.� Her father grabbed her arm. �I would strike you if I was not a strong man. I have never risked you. I have protected you. You always push yourself into danger,� he said angrily. �He asked about you? Why?�
�Maybe because of my features,� she said. She saw him flinch as it always did. He squeezed tightly on her arm enough to make her wince.
Connor grabbed her father�s wrist and held up in his other hand his empty mug. �I hate to break up this lovely father-daughter moment but I do believe I am beginning to unpleasantly sober,� he said with a smile on the tail end of the statement.
�My apologizes, sir. I will personally bring you the finest ale, on the house!� said Cahira�s father quickly. He released Cahira and grabbed the glass from Connor�s hand. Soon he disappeared into the back in search of above average ale, not too good and not too bad.
�You like to cause problems, lass. It isn�t your best feature,� he said.
�The Commander Chief in Arms asked about me,� she said. Connor smiled. �You asked about him?� he asked.
�No! He asked about me! Wait? What did you mean by that?� she demanded as blood rushed to her face.
Connor waved a hand. �By the brook, you asked if he returned,� he said. �A little twisted love story brewing here?�
She narrowed her eyes. �Hardly. He came after Rhian and Badir. I tried to stop him,� she said.
�And neither of you perished?� he asked.
Cahira stepped back with a puzzled look. �He gave me my life,� she said.
�Now did he? That is interesting,� he said as he gave her a once over. �Pretty, you could very well pass in a city for a One God�s child. Tsk, not in court though. You don�t give off noble air, then again neither does he�. third wife, perhaps?�
�Excuse me?� demanded Cahira.
�This is where the intelligence comes in, my dear. You are going to meet him,� said Connor.
Cahira shook her head. �No,� she said.
�Yes. You said you wanted the Old Ways back, aye?� he demanded.
�I don�t understand,� she said confused.
�Who better to whisper sweet nothings in the ear then the head of the serpent entwined around our little village?� he asked.
�You aren�t serious! Are you?� she demanded. �It isn�t like that!�
Connor put his arm around her shoulder. �Listen, lass, think of it as recon. A little this a little that and the information comes pouring out of his mouth,� Connor suggested. Cahira shoved him. �I will not be a whore!� she snapped back at him shoving his hand. She turned to face her bright red-faced father. They both began to stammer at each other in embarrassment.
Connor smiled and grabbed Cahira�s hand. �Think about it,� he mouthed then kissed her hand. He took the ale from her father�s hand with a dancing twirl. �Thank you,� he said, as he turned and walked to his table
Xandra had a swan tail fan in front of her face. It was perfumed but still the stench of the uncivilized world assaulted her nostrils. She would swoon if she thought any man worthy of catching her. The trip from the capital to the nasty little outpost had taken a week and now she was tired. She had barely enough time to have her maid servants retouch her hair and make up then quickly change into her new gown. It was a tightly fitted bodice of fine lace dyed to a cold silver blue like the sea and billowed out into 28 layers of the same fabric at her waist. Navy blue bows with a white ocean oyster pearl were placed at every fold and connecting each was an elegant chain of silver with 6 small ornate rose shaped bells hanging from the chain. The bodice exposed most of her ample pale chest touched up with powder to make her cleavage seem even fuller and connected to a thin strip of stiffened white silk around her neck that stood up two inches from her chest and 5 inches starting at her shoulder bone. Instead of sleeves she had see through lace gloves of white that buttoned above the elbow with a white ocean oyster pearl. It was a sad fact that the grand gown would only grace the eyes people who actually gave money to watch her brother-husband cut off a man�s head.
Nerys was at her husband�s side. She had too quickly freshened up and changed her gown before joining Caden in the village square. Her dress was made of satin and was her finest worn only once before at the announcement of her betrothal to Caden. Xandra said it was in bad taste to wear the gown again after such a public viewing before. However, Nerys didn�t think any of the soldiers or villagers were at the banquet. Even Caden wasn�t there. It was similar to Xandra expect with black bows on scarlet satin and without the little fuzzes of bells and chains. Her neck collar was also black satin and her gloves were black lace with ruby buttons leading from her wrist to mid upper arm. Xandra always complained that her taste in clothing was too dark. However, it was an execution. One wouldn�t want a butterfly instead of a raven to see them to their deaths.
Looking out into the crowd, Caden didn�t see the tavern owner�s daughter. He had expected the rebel girl to show. He found himself disappointed that he didn�t. He had been on patrol when he saw her last, happy to see her alive. It hadn�t even been a whole day but his mind kept coming back to the small girl holding the dagger. There was so much passion in her eyes. She intrigued him to no end. Why had she been willing to face a charging soldier with only a long dagger? Why hadn�t she run when she had the chance? Why did she look like one of his people? Yet, why did she fight for them? Who was she? What had placed the hate so dark and deep in her eyes? Why wasn�t she afraid? Why did he even care? He had seen other women fight before. He had seen other women hate before. He had seen women with passionate eyes. Why did he keep her long dagger?
He heard the trumpets and looked to the gate of the fort. Slowly being drawn by jackasses was the wooden cart of Regent Heir Ewald. The man was shirtless and covered with bruises and scratches. His pants were stained with his own piss forced from him by fear. He had tears streaming down his face. Caden could look no longer at the village�s hero in all his defeat. Vomit rose in his throat and he felt as eyes fell upon him. The jeers arising from his troops mingling with the shrieking swoons of village women, Caden looked into the crowd and saw in the eyes of his enemy defeat. He should feel joy. This was a victory, their hope was a shameful crying stooge drenched in his own sweat and piss crying as he begged for mercy.