Work-in-Progress Wednesday: Princess of Dorsa, Ch. 5

Okay, guys, good news!  I have a title at last!  You are reading the Princess of Dorsa.

But, uh…

Is anyone out there actually keeping up with this story?  What do you think so far?  Or are you only going to give me crickets?

This is Chapter 5.  Catch up to the story with the links below:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

* And by the way, the featured image was borrowed from a fantastic artist over at DeviantArt.com.  The handle is Lord Hayabusa357.

—

5

Sunlight woke Tasia from a deep and heavy slumber some hours later.  She blinked sticky eyelids open to find Mylla still breathing deeply beside her.  The girl looked innocent and child-like while asleep, more like Tasia’s younger sister than a lover.

Tasia sat up, pulled her robe around her to block the chill.

The candles in the windowsill from the night before had disappeared, and the round table where she and Mylla usually had their meals was set with fresh flowers, a carafe with teacups beside it, and two dishes with silver covers over them.

The chambermaids had come and gone, then.

Tasia wondered if the food on the table was the morning meal or, judging from the strength of the sun, the noontide meal.  It wasn’t unusual for her and Mylla to sleep through the arrival of the morning meal and wake just before noontide, but given that they didn’t go to bed until nearly dawn, Tasia wouldn’t be surprised if they’d slept through both.

She stretched, winced when her bare feet touched the cold floor.  She crossed from the bed to the table, lifted the metal cover above her plate.  The steamy smell of roasted hen, garlic, and wilted greens immediately struck her nose and made her mouth water.  Definitely the noontide meal.  Tasia replaced the cover and plucked a grape from the bowl between the dishes, popping it into her mouth absentmindedly.

She wandered to the window, looked down at the people bustling to and fro in the courtyard below.  It was the same courtyard where her mother had kept the exotic birds she’d brought to the palace when she married the Emperor, and Tasia saw one of them now, its snow-white form flitting from the tree to the cobblestones below.  It hopped around, cocking its head, no doubt searching for the seeds her mother used to spread.  Tasia wondered if the bird, like her, expected to see her mother glide into the courtyard at any moment, apron pockets filled with birdseed.

A knock at the bedchamber door startled her out of her musings.

“Princess?” came a muffled male voice.  Whoever it was knocked again, and Mylla stirred with a grumpy groan, rolling over without opening her eyes.

Tasia tightened the robe at her waist, straightened her hair, and walked to the door with an assured step.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“Cole of Easthook.  Along with someone I wish to introduce you to, Princess.”

Tasia opened the door.

Cole stood in the doorway, one hand on the hilt of his short sword, scarred face inscrutable as ever.  Next to him stood a tallish, serious-looking woman.  She was dressed in the uniform of the palace guard, but Tasia knew there were no women in the guard.  She’d heard there were a handful in the city guard, along with a few score in the Imperial Army, but there were no women in the palace guard.  There never had been.

But there the woman stood in a palace guard uniform anyway, the black padded leather uniform looking fresh and smelling of oil.  The silver-pommeled short sword and silver-pommeled dagger hanging from her hips appeared equally fresh and shiny, as if they’d never been used.

She stood slightly behind Cole, taking in Tasia with inquisitive black eyes that matched her uniform but contrasted with her rich bronze-colored skin.  Tasia could tell in a single glance that she was an easterner — but not from the northeastern mountain provinces like her mother.  The tanned skin, the gentle folds around her eyes, the high cheekbones:  They all marked her as a southerner, maybe even a nomad from one of the desert tribes.

Was it more surprising to see a woman in the uniform of a palace guard, or a nomad? Tasia couldn’t decide, and she found herself staring at the woman without decorum.

“Good midday to you, Majesty,” Cole said with a perfunctory bow.

Tasia tore her attention from the guard to Cole.  “Good midday, Cole of Easthook.”

Cole indicated the woman.  “This is Guard Joslyn of Terinto,” he said.  “After discussion with your father earlier today, it is decided that she is to be your personal guard from now on.”

Of Terinto.

If Tasia had needed any confirmation that the woman was a desert nomad, there it was.  The barely conquerable, barely rulable territory stood on the southeastern edge of the Empire’s reach, consisting mostly of vast and empty desert with two deep ports and a single road leading out of them.  Normally, one wouldn’t give an entire territory when stating someone’s place name.  One would cite a smaller patch of earth, like a specific town or city — such as Cole of Easthook, the grimy little seaside dive just east of the capital.  Or Natasia of Port Lorsin, had she been born a commoner.  But to name someone as being “of” an entire, empty territory… only the homeless, tribal people of the desert wastelands were named in such a way.

The nomad Joslyn of Terinto hesitated, then gave the princess an awkward bow.

Tasia’s heart sunk.

So.  Her father and Cole had found a way around the problem of having a male guard in her private chambers after all.  They’d sifted through the bottom dregs of the army’s ranks and created themselves a female guard.

Tasia did her best to hide her disappointment.  “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Guard Joslyn,” she said to the nomad.  She held out her hand, palm-down, as a royal or noble-born woman did when meeting a servant for the first time.

Joslyn glanced at Cole for the briefest of moments, but then quickly dropped to one knee, took Tasia’s hand, and kissed it stiffly.  “It is my honor to serve both you and the Empire, Princess,” she said, the words as stiff as the kiss had been.  She rose again.

Behind her, Tasia heard bedsheets rustle, and Joslyn’s eyes flitted towards what Tasia assumed was a sleepy, half-awake Mylla.  Although nothing in Joslyn or Cole’s face suggested judgment, Tasia felt suddenly defensive for her young handmaid.  She determined to get the two guards to leave as quickly as possible.

“Joslyn is a distinguished infantry veteran who has served the Empire well as we fight to protect our borders,” Cole said.

Tasia gave a curt nod.

The Empire’s fight to protect (and expand) its borders was never-ending, of course, with war following war for as long as Tasia could remember.  Terinto itself was a border territory won through one such a war, its land declared part of the Four Realms when Tasia was a toddler.  Terinto might be considered a part of the Four Realms by men like Cole and the Emperor Andreth, but the desert people were ferociously independent, and some of the more stubborn nomadic tribes still gave the Imperial Army trouble from time to time.

Distinguished infantry veteran.  Tasia studied the woman soldier, searching for a reaction to Cole’s proclamation.  Had she ever had to fight against her own people?  A nomad slaughtering other nomads?

But if Cole’s words about Joslyn “protecting our borders” impacted her, she didn’t show it.  Her face remained impassive.

So she was a well-heeled nomad, at least.  Domesticated, one might say.

“The Empire appreciates your service,” Tasia told the guard.

“She saved General Galter of House Keltior’s life as he lay wounded in battle in a battle with the barbarians only a month ago,” Cole said.  Joslyn remained still and silent.

Would she always be so silent, allowing Cole to speak on her behalf?  But perhaps she was just being polite and cognizant of her station.

“How impressive,” Tasia said, though there was no mistaking the mocking edge in her voice.

The muscles of Cole’s jaw clenched almost imperceptibly.  Almost.

“Your father has ordered Guard Joslyn to remain at your side at all times, day and night,” he continued.  “She will not leave you except upon his order or mine.  Or upon death.”

“I see.”  Tasia locked eyes with Joslyn.  But instead of respectfully looking away as a commoner should, the woman held her stare without so much as flinching, almost as if she was returning Tasia’s challenge with one of her own.

Then it seemed she suddenly recalled who it was she stood before.  Joslyn shifted her eyes hastily away.

Good.  The guard knew her place.  Or could be taught it.  There was that, at least.

“The furthest away from you she is permitted to be is in your antechamber,” Cole said, gesturing behind him.  “Which is also where she will be staying.  I already had the chambermaid arrange a bed for her.”

“Very well,” Tasia said to Cole, resigning herself to her fate.

Once you determine there is no immediate triumph to be had, you accept your circumstances and begin your probe for other routes to victory, said Wise Man Norix in her head.  He probably hadn’t intended for his lesson to be used this way, or for his royal pupil to manipulate the very person who had been sent to protect her.  As the Emperor’s senior advisor, Norix himself was probably partially to blame for this new scheme of her father’s.

Cole gave a swift bow.  “Good day, Princess,” he said, and left without further commentary, closing the bedchamber door behind him, leaving Joslyn of Terinto behind to stand awkwardly in the doorway.

The curt, unadorned politeness was the one thing Tasia liked about Cole; he understood his role and seemed to have little or no interest in expanding it.  He didn’t strive to curry Tasia’s favor for his own gain.  Nor had she ever seen him strive to curry anyone else’s favor, for that matter, not even her father’s.  Despite years of being caught in the center of warring palace plots and intrigues and rivalries, Cole remained a simple, plainspoken soldier, doing his duty to protect the royal family and the various other high-born lords and ladies who, like Mylla, made the palace their home for a time. Cole unraveled the plots, quelled the intrigue, and dissipated the rivalries, all while somehow remaining out of them himself.

Tasia didn’t like him, but she respected him.  With any luck, this new hand-picked guard would be like him.  If not… Tasia would employ the Wise Man Norix’s advice and search for other routes to victory.

Tasia looked the woman up and down.  “So,” she said.  “A female member of the palace guard.  You might be the first in the Empire’s history.”

Joslyn inclined her head.  “I might, my Lady.”

“I am the Princess, not a lady,” Tasia corrected.  She turned, indicated Mylla, who was sitting up in the bed, holding her night robe closed.  “Mylla of House Harthing, my handmaid until she comes of age and marries, she is a lady.  When you meet a princess, you call her ‘Princess’ or ‘Highness’ or ‘Majesty.’  Not ‘Lady.’”

Joslyn said nothing.

Tasia locked eyes with the guard, but for a second time, the woman didn’t flinch.  She stayed as frozen as a courtyard statue.  Tasia found the stillness unnerving.

“Come,” Tasia said.  Giving commands always helped her disguise any unease.  “You may as well make formal introductions with Lady Mylla, as she is with me often as not.”

Joslyn followed Tasia across the room to the unkempt bed.  Too late, Tasia realized the harness end of the dildo was half-visible, sticking out from beneath the sheets.  She met Mylla’s eyes, glanced quickly at the dildo.  Mylla followed her gaze, subtly pushed the leather contraption completely out of sight.  If Joslyn saw the exchange, she gave no indication.

The guard gave Mylla a rough, unpracticed bow, and the girl extended her hand in the same manner that Tasia had earlier.  Joslyn bent and gave it a swift kiss.

“Lady Mylla.  I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“And I am pleased to make yours,” Mylla said.  She cocked her head to the side.  “You’re well-spoken.  For a desert nomad.”

For the first time, Tasia thought she saw some kind of emotion flash through Joslyn’s dark eyes, but it passed so quickly that she would be hard-pressed to say if it had actually happened or if it had only been her imagination.

“Thank you, my Lady,” Joslyn said.

“I hope you understand that I expect you to defend the Lady Mylla’s life with the same fervor that you would defend my own, should it ever come to that,” Tasia told Joslyn.

The guard gave a single nod.

Mylla smiled at Tasia.  “Shall we eat, Princess, before our food gets cold?”

They settled in for their meal, both doing their best to pretend the guard was not still in the room as they chattered and laughed.  The guard was just another servant, Tasia reminded herself.  And like any other servant, she would be seen and not heard.  Tasia and Mylla might as well grow used to having her in their presence.

“Tell me about that boy I caught you at in your bed last week,” Tasia said.  “What was his name again — Lars?”

“Who?  Which boy?”

“Which boy?”  Tasia giggled.  “How many of them are their, Mylla?”

“You’re one to talk,” Mylla said.  She chewed her lip thoughtfully for a moment.  “Lars… oh — do you mean Willem?  The son of the Ambassador from Gart Red?”

“Willem — yes, that might be it.  The one you met at the Midwinter Ball?”

“Yes, that’s Willem.”

“Ugh, I don’t know why you bother with that one, Myll.  He’s terribly dull.”

Mylla smirked.  “Maybe.  But he has a great ass.”

Tasia shook her head.  “But honestly, he has nothing to talk about besides his hunting dogs.  How can you take someone so boring to bed?”

“It’s never stopped you before,” Mylla countered playfully.

“Mind your tongue, Myll,” Tasia said, glancing in Joslyn’s direction.  She might be just another servant, but even servants had ears to hear and mouths to repeat what their ears had heard.  And who knew what orders Cole had given to Joslyn.  For all Tasia and Mylla knew, she could be as much spy as guard, ordered to report everything she saw and heard back to Cole or the Emperor.

“Sorry,” Mylla said grumpily, following Tasia’s gaze.  The guard had posted herself next to the bedchamber door, eyes focused on nothing in particular.

Once you determine there is no immediate triumph to be had, you accept your circumstances and begin your probe for other routes to victory, Tasia thought again.

How would she free herself from the guard’s watchfulness?

She couldn’t openly disobey her father, which made it unlikely that she could get rid of Joslyn anytime soon.  And even if she did, they would just drag another female soldier from the Imperial ranks somewhere, christen her Tasia’s new guard.

But perhaps Joslyn of Terinto could be gradually won over, the same way Tasia had gradually won over the night shift of the Sunfall Gate guards.

She broke off a bunch of grapes and extended them to Joslyn.  “Here, Joslyn,” she said with a warm smile.  “Have some grapes.  They’re fresh from the vineyards just outside the city.  Probably picked this morning.”

Joslyn shook her head.  “Thank you, Princess, but I ate with Cole and His Majesty the Emperor at the noontide meal already.”

Tasia sighed.

In her experience, men — along with boring boys like Willem who thought themselves men — only understood the kind of victory that came decisively, on an open field of battle.  But while most men looked for their black and white victories, most women had to have the patience for a slower victory, the kinds of victories won in parlors, dining halls, and bedchambers.  She would be patient and win this small piece of Terinto gradually.

Tasia shrugged.  “Suit yourself.  But they are here if you change your mind.”  She smiled at Joslyn and pulled a grape from the stem with her teeth.

#

After the girls had eaten enough and gossiped enough, Mylla busied herself with making the bed while Tasia chose her clothes for the day.  She glanced over her shoulder, eyes finding Joslyn.  The guard still stood by the door, stone-faced as ever, watching the afternoon proceedings with what appeared to be indifference.

She’d been dressing and undressing in front of servants all her life.  Doing so in front of the new guard would be no different.  But since Mylla had joined her service three years ago, the girl was the only one (besides the various sons of lords and ambassadors Tasia took to bed) who had seen the Princess bare.

No matter.  She was the Princess.  There was no need to feel self-conscious.

Tasia stepped to the foot of the bed, directly in the guard’s line of sight, and let her night robe fall to the ground.  In her peripheral vision, Tasia could still see the guard, carefully focused on nothing.  Exactly as an unobtrusive servant should be.

Not long after Tasia finished dressing, she sat on the stool before her vanity, letting Mylla brush out her hair.  A soft knock came at the antechamber door.

“Shall I see who it is, Princess?” Joslyn asked immediately.

“Please do,” Tasia answered without turning around.

Joslyn momentarily disappeared, closing the inner door behind her as she walked into the antechamber.

“The Emperor’s errand boy, your Highness,” Joslyn said when she returned a moment later.  “He says the Emperor sends for you.”

Tasia’s stomach clenched uncomfortably.  She had been expecting her father to call on her.  She knew their tense, pre-dawn conversation had only been the beginning of the aftermath to her brush with death the night before.  It was time to steel herself for the meeting to come.

“Fine,” Tasia said.  “Send him back with the message that I will be along shortly.”