Tala idly stretched, examining her fine white fingernails (sans gauntlets) while she waited to see if her guards would come back with Sheb in tow. She propped out a hand mirror and examined her face-as good looking as ever-and wondered if Pasha would like to see her hair done this way...no that way. She always wanted to look her best for him, because he was the only one who cared for her. So many voices and faces, so many masks she had worn-Tala mused, that maybe her own desire to be perfect in his eyes was her self trying to be reassured that deep down she remained the same, and no one else.
Hmm...she thought, after this war ended-whenever it did-she would have to be fresh, with new clothes, new hair. Something symbolic, for she was a dramatist at heart, but something that meant something to him, as well-and only him.
Then, the doubts began-not surprisingly with Nikephoros stern, almost toneless voice.
And we don't want him stuffed full of arrows or to be without his head, do we?No, we don't want that. Not at all. She visibly winced at the thought-at a half glimpsed long, cold future without him, no companionship but a string of selfish, grasping men-each poorer than the last, all in vain to recapture what they had at this moment. The lies and deceits, gathering on her ever so slowly, like poisoned gas in a mine-until her conscience died, or she did.
Surely, the Gods would not be so cruel to her, she prayed...but, the cold voice in the back of her mind said that every wife and lover who had sent a man to war must be praying the same thing-if Pasha had to widow another woman on her account, or die himself and leave her alone (oh so very alone), what side could the Gods take? It begged another thought-what Gods existed that would allow it to come to pass in the first place?
Tala shivered.
..and was shaken by her morbid reverie, by a certain commotion-apparently the camp was rousing itself, finally. Nikephoros had settled, and his orders had begun to firm up the army, which had gotten unfocused during the march, as it often did. The battle to come might be short and bloody-or long and boring. Time to find out which.
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"Send for the Marshal, Baron Thunderblade, and Baroness Alanis and her tactician..."
'Tala' recieved the message with a nod. 15 minutes later, she walked into the Queens tent with her helmet at her side, alongside Nikephoros, whom she had begun accompanying beforehand and speaking to about strategy.
"Marshal Nikephoros, I've heard the commotion-do you think the enem.."She fell silent upon seeing the Queen though, opting for a quick bow.
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Topic: You Are King II: Tales of the Storm Coast (Winter 416a) (Read 238672 times)