The servant who had led him to the room had wandered off, promising to bring back wine and some bread, so Will didn’t even look up from his fingertip exploration of the coverlet’s thickness when a faint knocking came at the door. “Come in.”
“Forgive my intruding, Lord Norrington.”
Will’s head came up and he turned, having recognized the voice. As he saw her, however, he hesitated. He knew it was Sayce because of the silver-and-amethyst mask, but without that he’d not have identified her. Instead of her red riding leathers, she had donned a simple gown of deep blue and loosely belted it with a knotted white rope. Her shoulders had slumped slightly and her eyes were downcast. She bore a silver tray with a pitcher of wine and a single earthenware cup, along with a small round of bread and some cheese.
Will crossed quickly to her and took the tray. He set it on the table between the chairs at the fireplace and turned to welcome her, but she’d already sunk into one of the chairs. “What’s wrong, Princess?”
She shook her head and her red hair veiled her face for a moment. Tears ran from beneath the silver mask and dappled the breast of her gown. Sayce pressed her left hand to her mouth, then swiped roughly at the tears.
“Please, Will, forgive me. I didn’t want to do this in front of you.”
“What is there to forgive?” Will sank to a knee before her. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“Physically, no, but in my heart.” She sniffed, then raised her gaze enough to look into his eyes. “My father, he was terribly angry with me for having gone off. He has accounted the deaths of each of the Lancers to me, personally. It didn’t matter that they volunteered to go. I will have to apologize to all of their families—I planned to anyway, you know I would have—and I have been stripped of my rank. He almost disowned me.”
The sorrow in her voice sank fangs into his heart. Will started to twist the ring she’d given him off his finger, but she closed her hands on his. “No, Will, no, you keep that. That estate was mine to give, and I am happy it is yours. I do not regret what I did, not a bit of it. I did what I did to save Muroso. You’re here, and that is all that matters.”
“Princess, I can’t keep it.” Will swallowed hard, scarcely believing his own words. Had he stolen the ring, he would have considered it his by right, and would have claimed to the grave that it had been passed down to him through generations and that any hint of theft was a gross insult. “Please, I am not suited to being a lordling.”
Sayce smiled. “You are far more noble than those born to it. I have seen this. You have changed my way of thinking, you know.” She shifted again, and her smile broadened. “And here, when I am despairing, you make me laugh. You make me feel… you make me feel happy.” She gave his hands a squeeze. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t…” Will fell silent for a moment, finding himself tongue-tied. It was more than that, though. An odd flutter ran through his belly. Heat rose, and he could feel his cheeks burn. His mouth went dry. He stood slowly, drawing his hands from hers, both reluctantly and knowing, somehow, that he had to.
He turned back to the pitcher and cup. “Would you like some wine, Princess? There’s only one cup.”
Her voice softened. “If you would share your cup with me, I would be honored.”
Will nodded mutely and poured. He didn’t like the fact that his hand was shaking as he poured, and fought to hold back the tremor. He set the pitcher back down, turned, and, extending his left hand, offered her the cup.
She made no move to take it. Instead, her hands rose to the back of her head, where she slipped the knot holding the silver mask on. Sayce drew it off timidly, then looked up at him. “Will, do you think I am pretty?”
He could say nothing. The bruise on the left side of her face had faded to yellow, but in no way marred her beauty. Her straight nose, high cheekbones, and strong jaw combined with blue eyes, fair skin, and red hair to make her a vision of loveliness. When she had worn the courtesy mask while recovering he had seen much of her face, but its lace had hidden the playful spray of freckles over her cheeks and nose.
She immediately glanced down. “You don’t have to say anything. Your silence says it all.”
“No, wait, Princess… no.” Will started forward and some of the wine sloshed. It didn’t hit her dress, but drenched his hand and sleeve.
And then she was there, placing her right hand over his left, gently and firmly covering it, steadying the cup. Her left hand met his outstretched right. Her fingers wove into his and brought that hand to her lips. She kissed the back of his hand softly, and again.
“Princess…”
Her voice came breathlessly. “Will, you saved my life. You will save my nation. You have changed the way I think about life and the way of the world. I went to Meredo looking for someone to save the world I knew, and found someone who has given to me a whole new world.”
She eased the cup from his left hand, then drank. She smiled, then kissed him. He tasted wine. Her hair brushed his face and her body pressed against his. The wine, her scent, the soft clinging of her dress to his legs, even the pressure of the belt’s knot, joined the sensation of her lips on his to all but overwhelm his senses.
Will circled her waist with his left hand and drew her more tightly against him. More than just his body responded to her. For the first time in forever he didn’t feel cold—he felt about ready to combust. And as her thighs shifted against him, she could not fail to notice his response.
In his mind, while this was sudden, it seemed so appropriate. He was a hero. She was a beautiful princess. He had saved her life. He would save her nation. Why would she not love him, not want him, not want to show her gratitude to him? That was the way of things. Such unions had been recorded in hundreds if not thousands of ballads and certainly would fit in the cycle of songs about Will, the King of the Dimandowns.
Yet even as part of him was seeing her affection as his due, another tiny part rebelled. He had already seen that life was not a cycle of songs. While he had saved her life, while he did like her, why would she like him? Because he was kind to his men? Because he shed his blood in her defense? Those things could be said of countless people, and the majority of them would have been citizens of Muroso. In some ways it made no sense, but the emotions and desires roaring through him gave him no time to think.
She deepened her kiss and they moved together away from the fireplace, a toward the bed. How the cup ended up on the bedside table Will was uncertain, but her unburdened right hand sank fingers into his hair, her fingers redolent of spilled wine. They tightened in his hair, tugging a bit, getting him to lift his chin so she could kiss his throat and beneath his left ear.
Then the bed caught Will across his hamstrings and he sprawled back. He started to sit up, but Sayce pressed him down with a hand to his belly. As he relaxed, she withdrew her hand and her dress came off over her head, leaving her naked save for the loop of white rope slanting down across her waist.
He had thought her beautiful before but, standing there naked, she simply took his breath away. Delicate breasts peaking at rosebud nipples were dusted with freckles. From strong shoulders through the narrows of her waist and the flare of her hips, her creamy flesh seemed almost luminous. She brought her left knee up to the edge of the bed, and he marveled at the play of muscles on her thigh.
“Do I please you, my lord?”