| Phase 14 He fights you a little as a ploy to make you do that? Apparently. That sounds like Bart. Once a prince, always a prince. He seems to enjoy it so much that once he�s King he might hire me as his official hair care specialist or something ridiculous like that. Don�t do it next time. That�ll teach him. I rolled my eyes. That would, but the problem is that I use it to calm him down and make him go to sleep. I can�t do it for every little thing or he�ll catch on. I think I�ll just knock him out next time. Fei nodded and a jokingly cruel grin appeared. Good idea. We can mutiny. I snickered. Bart swore he didn�t like people touching or playing with his hair, but that evidently didn�t apply to me. Every time I did he either fell asleep or turned me sideways to do the same to me. It seems to be a drug to him. If he won�t go to sleep, all I have to do is start petting his head and running my fingers through his hair and boom, he�s out. In total truth, Bart never did get to drink himself stupid. Instead, we hung out in the lounge area until about eleven at night (ten is the usual lights-out, but Sig made an exception this time). Fei and Citan had already retired to bed and I fell asleep listening to Bart and Maison talk. It wasn�t that boring, but I was weary from Bart�s excitement (it had this way of projecting itself onto me and wearing me out instead of him). *>*<* Bart stopped suddenly at the door to the gunroom. �I just know I�m forgetting something . . . Kris!� He ran back down to the lounge area. Kris was there still, leaning against Sigurd, who had a protective arm around her. Bart rolled his eyes at the scene. �No wonder I forgot them. They�re not making a sound!� He gave Sigurd�s shoulder a few shakes. � Sig. Wake up.� In the next instant he was on the floor, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. �What the hell?! Where did that come from?!� Cautiously, a rather angry Sigurd peered over the back of the lounge sofa at him. � Don�t touch---� As he watched Bart lay on the floor, stunned, he realized what he�d unconsciously done. � Young Master!� He helped Bart up. � Please forgive me! It was a reflex---� Bart waved it off and wiped at the corner of his mouth with his thumb to remove the blood. � It�s okay, Sig. Only a gut-punch to my dignity. Just one thing though . . .� � Yes?� � Do I have competition?� Sigurd did not understand. � Sir?� Bart nodded toward Kris. To hide his blush of embarrassment, Sigurd scolded the prince. � Young Master!� Bart only laughed at him. � It�s true! It�s true! Hey Maison! Check this! Sig likes---!� Maison leaned over the rail. Downstairs, Sigurd had Bart in a headlock and a hand over his mouth to keep him from speaking. Bart wriggled and pushed frantically at Sigurd, struggling furiously to tell Maison what he�d �discovered�. � Young Master, Kris is trying to sleep. You must remain quiet so you don�t wake her.� Bart managed to get free for just a moment. � But Sig likes---!� � Young Master, it is rude to share information that is not appropriate for others to hear at the time.� Sigurd nodded his agreement, smirking cruelly down at the still thrashing prince. � True what Maison says, Young Master.� Bart jerked his head free and glared up at Sigurd. � Then maybe you should've heard that when you told Kris about the time I fell off Brigandier�s repair shelf into a trash can because you pushed me!� he snapped angrily. � Only you left that part out!� � Young Master! Master Sigurd! Please do not get into another fight! You�ll wake Kris, she�ll strangle you both, and I cannot say I�d blame her!� Sigurd and Bart quit their tussel. Bart went to Kris and picked her up. � You just stay away from her, Sig!� The other snorted. � Kris is too young for me and you know it!� � Oh please! You know you want her!� Bart called from the top of the stairs. Sigurd�s face reddened lightly. � Says you!� With a final laugh Bart exited, carrying a (surprisingly) still sleeping Kris. Sigurd sighed and went upstairs. Maison gave him a cup of warm tea and he stared into it for a bit. � He�s right. Don�t you think, Maison?� � That is not for me to judge. I do not know your feelings for Mistress Krista and I will not pry. If you wish to share your thoughts, however, please do. I will try to help in any way I can.� � When we found her,� Sig began, � I knew it was for an important reason for someone. I mean, one does not enter the desert half dead and without food and water and live for a week.� � Yes.� � So I became a self-appointed guardian, like you and Bartholomew. I knew that someday her role would be fulfilled, though I still have no idea what it might possibly be. I made a vow to myself that I would watch and protect her until that time came. But recently . . . recently I�ve had this feeling that I�d seen her before. Not in this lifetime, but somewhere else in some other time.� � Unfortunately, I cannot relate to such a quirk of . . . recognition. But if I may suggest, the young master may feel the same. Which might explain his latest behavior shift.� � I�ll keep that in mind.� A pause. � He has gotten rather possessive about her, hasn�t he?� � I believe �rather� is a bold understatement. If anyone, you in particular, mentions her, he becomes stiff. As if he�s waiting for the chance to attack.� � Has she noticed?� � I do not believe so. Not yet, at least.� � She�s not going to like it when she finds out.� � I agree. Any other woman would be flattered, but she would only get angry over it. Would you happen to know why that is?� � Kris has always taken care of herself. She is self-sufficient and I think she feels inadequate when she is protected. Feels helpless, or that others believe her to be helpless.� He snapped his fingers. � That�s it! She feels that others will view her as helpless! That would make her think that others thought her to be an easy target for something. As good a fighter as she is, she tries to deter it whenever she can. It must have something to do with what happened to her before we found her in the desert.� � That sounds like a reason to me.� � Hm . . . I�ll have to warn Bartholomew about that.� � Which brings me to ask you when you plan to tell the young master?� � . . . I don�t know. Soon, I hope.� He finished the tea. � Thank you, Maison. I think I�ll say good night.� � You�re welcome, Master Sigurd. Good night.� Sigurd left and went to his room. He had hardly taken his coat off and dropped it on the bed before he sensed a familiar presence behind him in the nearer corner. � Yes, Lyn?� A soft laugh. � Sharp as ever, I see.� The pale, transparent figure moved to stand beside him. � I can tell something�s bothering you. Sit down and tell me about it.� He sat, but said, � You wouldn�t understand.� � Oh?� She stared at him. � . . . You�re worried about what Bartholomew will do when he finds out . . .� She frowned as he suddenly closed his mind off to her and queried further. � What? What are you worried about Bartholomew finding out? He�s not that jealous about whatever it is, is he?� � You have no idea.� � Then give me one!� she snapped. � I�m not an ignorant child!� He knew that he couldn�t outwait her. Lyn was the queen of patience when it suited her and it annoyed him sometimes that Kris was the same way. � It�s about Kris?� Lyn asked, catching the stray thought. He nodded and gave up holding out against her. � You love her?� Lyn croaked in a dazed whisper. � Bartholomew�s going to kill me!� he wailed quietly. Lyn shook her head and held out her hands playcatingly. � No no, this is okay, Sigurd. There�s nothing wrong with you. I just should�ve thought of this before now. I hadn�t anticipated this, but it�s all right.� � What do you mean, �it�s all right�?! Of course it isn�t!� She had him lie down and then sat on the edge of the bed and held his hand to calm him. � No, I�m not crazy. Listen. I can explain this.� � You go right ahead,� he spat half hysterically as he flung his free right arm over his eyes. � I�ll just lie here and think about what I�m going to do once I�m dead!� She shook her head again. � No, listen to me.� � Fine. Talk away.� � I was alive five-hundred years ago in Nisan. Besides my brother, Lacan, and Mother Sophia, there was a man named Roni. He was King of Aveh and we didn�t get along too well in the beginning, but near the end of the war--and our deaths--we realized that we loved each other.� Sigurd waited and when she didn�t speak again he lifted his arm to look at her. � So? Am I supposed to clap? That wasn�t exactly the best story-telling I�ve ever heard.� Lyn snorted and Sigurd let his arm fall over his eyes. � As you know, Kris is my descendant. Bartholomew, I have discovered through research through Kris, is Roni�s descendant---� � Which explains his avidity.� Lyn nodded. � It would. But since you are Bartholomew�s brother---� � I am not.� � Fine. If you want to be so specific, half-brother---� He raised his arm again. � Where did you get that?� Lyn shrugged and looked at the wall. � A little bird told me.� His arm went down again. � Continue.� � As I was saying, being Bartholomew�s half-brother, I can only assume that some of Roni�s affection for me somehow transferred to you and so you have feelings for the current version of me; Kris.� � Whoopee.� � . . . I wonder why that happened? It never did before . . .� Sigurd propped himself up on his elbows. � Now that you�ve told me this, tell me how to fix it!� � You can�t.� � Lyn!� She shrugged helplessly. � I can�t change your feelings and neither can you. The most unfortunate problem now is that Bartholomew would not understand if we told him this and explained the situation.� She paused thoughtfully. � I could explain this to Kris and have her do her part to keep it from escalating.� � But Lyn, I�m---!� � You are not.� � I nearly am!� � Sigurd, Analore is an accepting person. I�m sure that if the situation is explained to her, she will not get angry at you for little things like kisses. I mean, you cannot possibly say that you love Kris so much that you want to marry her as well, am I right?� He shook his head. � Yes, but I don�t want her to be so far away that I never see her.� � Well that won�t be a problem.� � How so?� � As we�ve both observed, Bartholomew is--to put it lightly--jealous of Kris. He won�t let her traipse off into the desert once this is over like he did last time.� � He let her go last time?� � Oh, come now, Sigurd. Don�t tell me you think he missed her departure by several hours.� � I know he didn�t. He said he saw her on radar.� � If she was on radar, then she was close enough that he could have run out and retrieved her if he�d wanted. It was an unconscious thing that he let her leave, but he was also sub-consciously sure that she�d come back.� � Are you attributing that to Fate?� � No. I�m attributing it to the love they shared even then, though they didn�t know it. Her heart wouldn�t let her stray too far for too long and if she had, he would have felt compelled to find her at one point or another.� � Bloodhound.� � Exactly. And as a conclusion to my unfinished statement earlier, he will not let her disappear like that again. Whether you win back the capital or not, she will stay with him. And since you don�t seem to have a particular destination in mind, you will remain as well. Simple as that.� <--Phase 13 Phase 15--> |