Fight for the Enemy
first chapter
Alora slowly snapped the balcony door shut. She took a few steps to lean against the rail, and search for him. When she spotted his dark shadow move to the door of her private garden, she smiled. She padded down the steps in dainty white slippers.
She tightened the silken belt of her black embroidery robe as she hurried to the path leading to the finely painted door of her private garden. Alora slowed as her heart beat quickened, when she saw Brandon’s dark form pacing before the door. She watched the set of his wide, muscular shoulders as she crouched down, inwardly cursing herself for not changing out of her white nightgown. She grasped the iron wrought hilt of her new dagger.
She rose and unsheathed her dagger, cringing when a slight whisper escaped. She neared Brandon swiftly, and very quietly.
“You should have worn the dark pants Alora. Not a white nightgown. I am disappointed, you know better. I’m certain of it. Now open this door and let us in.”
Alora straightened and scowled at Brandon. “Can’t you let me have it?” She pointed the shimmering blade at him before bending and securing it in its home. She strode forward and lifted a thin chain from around her neck.
As she grasped a small, golden key and inserted it into the lock, Brandon said, “I do not want to be the giver of false hope, my princess.” He came forward when Alora held the door open for him. “Now, we must discuss you lessons. You are supposed to begin Lesson One, after your ceremony, in two days.” He glanced at Alora and an annoyed look crossed her face. “But, young Alora, you have been receiving your lessons, in secret, at night. As a result, you shall be started Lesson Six. When you officially begin them, that is.”
Alora grabbed his muscular upper arm with both of her hands and yanked him to a stop. “Does that mean you aren’t going to teach me now? If so, and you knew that when you told me to meet you…. Why did you tell me to come?”
Brandon pulled her along as he kept walking. They passed beautiful flowers, and blossoming trees, without glancing at their astoundingly simple beauty. Over the last few months, they’d memorized her whole garden, layout and beauty.
“I did know when I told you to meet me.”
Well…. Why? If not for my lessons, why meet with me? Unless you’re going to train me tonight?” Alora pulled him to a more secure stop and stood directly in front of him. She placed her hands on his shoulders and, trying to ignore the sudden fluttering in her stomach, looked up at him. As Alora grinned hopefully, she hoped it was dark enough to hide the faint, unusual blush that had risen upon her checks.
Alora glared as Brandon’s deep chuckle sounded. “As good as you are at dancing Alora, now is not quite the time,” he grinned and placed her hands firmly on her waist, “But, if you insist.” He twirled her around a few times, then stopped. She wasn’t in front of him to go forwards in the path. If he turned, she would be behind him. Alora whacked him, hiding the giggle that was bound to escape.
“Stop it, Brandon. We have important matters to discuss.”
“Of course, Princess. I give my gravest apologizes for my-”
“Oh, stop it.”
“As you wish Your Most Royal Serene Princess-”
“Brandon!”
“Oh, fine.”
“Thank you.”
“No fun at all.”
Alora sighed. “I thought you were supposed to be the responsible, mature one, O’ Royal Tutor?”
“Must you take the pleasure out of everything?”
Alora didn’t reply.
Brandon ran a hand through his almost black hair as he watched Alora. “So what important matters must be discussed again?” Brandon was more sure this time then last, of the faint blush that rose upon her checks.
Alora didn’t even glance at him as she strode forward, ahead of him, her chin held proudly high. As she reset the pace much faster then what it had been, Brandon let Alora pass him to walk ahead of him. He began to fiddle with her long, silky black hair. After a minute, when she didn’t pull her head away and glare at him, he stopped, and took hold of Alora’s shoulders.
“Let go Brandon. We’re almost there.” Alora said shortly as she was jerked to a stop.
Brandon watched her closely. She seemed more anxious then angry. He let her go. “No silent treatment. I’ll not have it Alora.” he told her, stern as could be.
She nodded as she turned away. “Fine.”
A few silent moments later, they came to a stop at the aged green door to the personal sitting area of Alora’s private garden. Alora’s green eyes flicked back and forth between Brandon and the door. Brandon looked at the door, and noticed that the window, had a veil obscuring it. He stared at it. It had never been there before, Alora like the window to be open…
Brandon shook his head and turned to Alora. “Are you going to open it? Or shall I?” Alora’s eyes went wide. She nodded him ahead. Brandon frowned, but came foreward and gently pushed the old door open. He froze. His eyes narrowed. Brandon’s eye swept the area, the area that looked so… different.
“What happened?” Brandon asked, schocked. He swirled around to face Alora, still standing outside the door.
“You don’t like it?” Alora’s face fell as she finally looked at him. Her eyes were full of hurt, and worry. She stepped foreward and stood close enough to Brandon that he could feel the warmth radiating from her body.
Brandon took an automatic step back, and blushingly he replied, “It does not fit the girl I know. Why has it changed? The whimsical garden, I know, was your place. Now it looks fit to host a party for, for your mother. Were you privy to these, these changes?” He turned and walked around the refurbished area.
“My mother said that it needed to be fit for a queen. Not the imagination of a girl-child. And she said, that because I’m a princess, when I marry, my husband will come here. And live here. With me. So, she said that my garden would be fit to e-entertain my… My husband.”
Brandon didn’t try to reply through the sudden lump in his throat. Instead, he exaimed everything. In place of the large stone fountain, was a large, red couch, decorated with fine gold embroidery. In turn, the pouffy chairs and matching table had been replaced with ornately shaped glass top tabe and the straight backed chairs that were used through out the castle. The other small padded bench that Alora sometimes fell asleep on was replaced by a chaise lounge chair that was certainly large enough for two people to sleep on.
Suddenly a thought sturck him. Alora… Husband. She would be the one sleeping there, with a husband. “Have your parents decided who your husband will be?” He sat on the large red couch and waved Alora to sit and join him.
She stepped in front of him. He watched her beautiful green eyes, he was still awestruck by her gorgeousness. Her long black hair lay in waves on her back, tumbling over her shoulders, almost teasingly. Her black robe, tighter around her slim shoulders then loose over her waist and below. Her nightgown, he noted, was new as well, fit for a marriageable young woman. The gown was simple, thin cotton. It fit snugly around her whole young figure, flareing out mid-thigh to end at her ankles. He tried not to notice the low-cut neck that bared some of her chest.
“Brandon… please kiss me?” She sat so close, their bodies were touching.She took one of Brandons’ hands in both of hers. “Please?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “it would be m-most un.. Unchaste. You are a princess, I’m but a traveling tutor for noble families. And now the Royal Family. Besides that, you are to be seventeen tomorrow, you are eligible for marrige tomorrow. But back to your age. I am seven years your elder.”
He shifted away again when Alora tried to look at his face. “Then you are twenty-three. I’ve gotten ahead in arithmetic as well you know. Compared to Jasmine, or now Lady Gildger, she married three years ago. She was sixteen then and he was…. He was thirty-four. There was an….eighteen year difference between them. Now she’s nineteen, and with child. Several years is not so much.”
Brandon finally turned and looked sternly at Alora. Any other female would have blushed furiously, looked away, wringing hands, and muttering apologizes. But not Alora. She stared steadily back at him, chin up and defiance in her strong green eyes.
“I want to feel what it’s like, Brandon. Before it’s forced.” Her soft voice said simply to him. Brandon shot up and began pacing to and fro before Alora. “Brandon.”
He stopped and turned his back to her. He ran a hand through his dark hair. Alora watched him, then stood and stopped just behind him. She touched his left shoulder and he jerked away violently, as if touched by a brand. Alora moved in front of Brandon, and she, again ignoring the fluttering of her stomach, put both hand on his shoulders.
“Good night, Princess.” Before he could turn away, she moved her hand around his neck, and stepped closer.
“Please Brandon? I want you first, not some lordling, or distant prince who won’t see me or know me as you do. Brandon, please?”
As Alora looked up at him, with her wide, innocent green eyes, his heart was pounding. Pouding so hard he thought it would burst forth from his breast.
He wasn’t supposed to let this happen. His job was to get into the castle and be trusted by the Royal Family. Over the past five months, he’d done just that. He’d become King Dawson’s favorate breakfast guest. Queen Liliane’s favorite market guard. And most importantly, Princess Alora Loretta Sintervive’s tutor and her teacher in the fighting arts. Among his fathers orders, there was not one that stated he had to love. HE would not say it, but he longed to hear his real name on her lips. He longed for her to know the truth of who he was, and be okay with it.
And, the irony of it, by this time tomorrow, Alora would know the truth of it. The truth of who he was, who his father was, and why he came to the castle in the first place.
AS she looked up at him, he could only see what she might be after his father and his men. His heart almost broke to think about what his fathers ‘trusted’ men would do to her.
He felt her arm wrap themselves tighter around his neck. He placed his hands lightly on her waist as he did earlier. But this time, there was no play.
He slowly dipped his head down and gently pressed his lips against hers. Alora pressed closer and tangled his hair in her fingers.
He should pull away. His mind said it, and expected it to be done. Instead, his arms came around her waist so tightly, he lifted her a few inches.
He was dizzy.
Her whole body was tigth and warm against his own. Her bofy heat radiated and warmed him through her thin nightgown. With her closeness, he could feel that her heart was beating as fast as his own. Suddenly, her nightgown seemed much, much too thin.
Forcing himself, Brandon unlocked his arms from around her waist. He reached around his neck to grasp her wrists. He pulled them down, then gently pushed her shoulders away.
He closed his eyes before she met them. Brandon stepped back, turning his head away.
Alora looked down, swallowing an overly-happy smile that she knew Brandon wouldn’t want to see. Once she was sure she had her expression under control, she looked at him.
Brandons’ jaw was clenched tight, his eyes closed. He had taken a step away from her, not even attempting to hide his look of effort. Effort to achieve what, Alora did not know.
“Brandon?” she said quietly.
He almost flinched. “Good night, Princess.” he said tightly. He turned stiffly and swiftly, and left the garden withour looking at her. The door was swinging on it’s hinges.
Alora stood frozen. Her throat tightened and she swallowed hard. She could hear his footsteps, still echoing down as he walked. Away from her. He was leaving her. He had left. He left her.
As she stumbled backwards to sit on the smaller red couch, hot tears ran down her checks. She wished he hadn’t left. She wished she never had asked her the kiss, not matter how wonderous it had been.
She mubly curled up on the chaise-bed. She tucked her legs and arms in her robe. As her eyelids dropped and sleep approached she repeated the name of whom held her heart.
“Brandon.”
first chapter
Alora slowly snapped the balcony door shut. She took a few steps to lean against the rail, and search for him. When she spotted his dark shadow move to the door of her private garden, she smiled. She padded down the steps in dainty white slippers.
She tightened the silken belt of her black embroidery robe as she hurried to the path leading to the finely painted door of her private garden. Alora slowed as her heart beat quickened, when she saw Brandon’s dark form pacing before the door. She watched the set of his wide, muscular shoulders as she crouched down, inwardly cursing herself for not changing out of her white nightgown. She grasped the iron wrought hilt of her new dagger.
She rose and unsheathed her dagger, cringing when a slight whisper escaped. She neared Brandon swiftly, and very quietly.
“You should have worn the dark pants Alora. Not a white nightgown. I am disappointed, you know better. I’m certain of it. Now open this door and let us in.”
Alora straightened and scowled at Brandon. “Can’t you let me have it?” She pointed the shimmering blade at him before bending and securing it in its home. She strode forward and lifted a thin chain from around her neck.
As she grasped a small, golden key and inserted it into the lock, Brandon said, “I do not want to be the giver of false hope, my princess.” He came forward when Alora held the door open for him. “Now, we must discuss you lessons. You are supposed to begin Lesson One, after your ceremony, in two days.” He glanced at Alora and an annoyed look crossed her face. “But, young Alora, you have been receiving your lessons, in secret, at night. As a result, you shall be started Lesson Six. When you officially begin them, that is.”
Alora grabbed his muscular upper arm with both of her hands and yanked him to a stop. “Does that mean you aren’t going to teach me now? If so, and you knew that when you told me to meet you…. Why did you tell me to come?”
Brandon pulled her along as he kept walking. They passed beautiful flowers, and blossoming trees, without glancing at their astoundingly simple beauty. Over the last few months, they’d memorized her whole garden, layout and beauty.
“I did know when I told you to meet me.”
Well…. Why? If not for my lessons, why meet with me? Unless you’re going to train me tonight?” Alora pulled him to a more secure stop and stood directly in front of him. She placed her hands on his shoulders and, trying to ignore the sudden fluttering in her stomach, looked up at him. As Alora grinned hopefully, she hoped it was dark enough to hide the faint, unusual blush that had risen upon her checks.
Alora glared as Brandon’s deep chuckle sounded. “As good as you are at dancing Alora, now is not quite the time,” he grinned and placed her hands firmly on her waist, “But, if you insist.” He twirled her around a few times, then stopped. She wasn’t in front of him to go forwards in the path. If he turned, she would be behind him. Alora whacked him, hiding the giggle that was bound to escape.
“Stop it, Brandon. We have important matters to discuss.”
“Of course, Princess. I give my gravest apologizes for my-”
“Oh, stop it.”
“As you wish Your Most Royal Serene Princess-”
“Brandon!”
“Oh, fine.”
“Thank you.”
“No fun at all.”
Alora sighed. “I thought you were supposed to be the responsible, mature one, O’ Royal Tutor?”
“Must you take the pleasure out of everything?”
Alora didn’t reply.
Brandon ran a hand through his almost black hair as he watched Alora. “So what important matters must be discussed again?” Brandon was more sure this time then last, of the faint blush that rose upon her checks.
Alora didn’t even glance at him as she strode forward, ahead of him, her chin held proudly high. As she reset the pace much faster then what it had been, Brandon let Alora pass him to walk ahead of him. He began to fiddle with her long, silky black hair. After a minute, when she didn’t pull her head away and glare at him, he stopped, and took hold of Alora’s shoulders.
“Let go Brandon. We’re almost there.” Alora said shortly as she was jerked to a stop.
Brandon watched her closely. She seemed more anxious then angry. He let her go. “No silent treatment. I’ll not have it Alora.” he told her, stern as could be.
She nodded as she turned away. “Fine.”
A few silent moments later, they came to a stop at the aged green door to the personal sitting area of Alora’s private garden. Alora’s green eyes flicked back and forth between Brandon and the door. Brandon looked at the door, and noticed that the window, had a veil obscuring it. He stared at it. It had never been there before, Alora like the window to be open…
Brandon shook his head and turned to Alora. “Are you going to open it? Or shall I?” Alora’s eyes went wide. She nodded him ahead. Brandon frowned, but came foreward and gently pushed the old door open. He froze. His eyes narrowed. Brandon’s eye swept the area, the area that looked so… different.
“What happened?” Brandon asked, schocked. He swirled around to face Alora, still standing outside the door.
“You don’t like it?” Alora’s face fell as she finally looked at him. Her eyes were full of hurt, and worry. She stepped foreward and stood close enough to Brandon that he could feel the warmth radiating from her body.
Brandon took an automatic step back, and blushingly he replied, “It does not fit the girl I know. Why has it changed? The whimsical garden, I know, was your place. Now it looks fit to host a party for, for your mother. Were you privy to these, these changes?” He turned and walked around the refurbished area.
“My mother said that it needed to be fit for a queen. Not the imagination of a girl-child. And she said, that because I’m a princess, when I marry, my husband will come here. And live here. With me. So, she said that my garden would be fit to e-entertain my… My husband.”
Brandon didn’t try to reply through the sudden lump in his throat. Instead, he exaimed everything. In place of the large stone fountain, was a large, red couch, decorated with fine gold embroidery. In turn, the pouffy chairs and matching table had been replaced with ornately shaped glass top tabe and the straight backed chairs that were used through out the castle. The other small padded bench that Alora sometimes fell asleep on was replaced by a chaise lounge chair that was certainly large enough for two people to sleep on.
Suddenly a thought sturck him. Alora… Husband. She would be the one sleeping there, with a husband. “Have your parents decided who your husband will be?” He sat on the large red couch and waved Alora to sit and join him.
She stepped in front of him. He watched her beautiful green eyes, he was still awestruck by her gorgeousness. Her long black hair lay in waves on her back, tumbling over her shoulders, almost teasingly. Her black robe, tighter around her slim shoulders then loose over her waist and below. Her nightgown, he noted, was new as well, fit for a marriageable young woman. The gown was simple, thin cotton. It fit snugly around her whole young figure, flareing out mid-thigh to end at her ankles. He tried not to notice the low-cut neck that bared some of her chest.
“Brandon… please kiss me?” She sat so close, their bodies were touching.She took one of Brandons’ hands in both of hers. “Please?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “it would be m-most un.. Unchaste. You are a princess, I’m but a traveling tutor for noble families. And now the Royal Family. Besides that, you are to be seventeen tomorrow, you are eligible for marrige tomorrow. But back to your age. I am seven years your elder.”
He shifted away again when Alora tried to look at his face. “Then you are twenty-three. I’ve gotten ahead in arithmetic as well you know. Compared to Jasmine, or now Lady Gildger, she married three years ago. She was sixteen then and he was…. He was thirty-four. There was an….eighteen year difference between them. Now she’s nineteen, and with child. Several years is not so much.”
Brandon finally turned and looked sternly at Alora. Any other female would have blushed furiously, looked away, wringing hands, and muttering apologizes. But not Alora. She stared steadily back at him, chin up and defiance in her strong green eyes.
“I want to feel what it’s like, Brandon. Before it’s forced.” Her soft voice said simply to him. Brandon shot up and began pacing to and fro before Alora. “Brandon.”
He stopped and turned his back to her. He ran a hand through his dark hair. Alora watched him, then stood and stopped just behind him. She touched his left shoulder and he jerked away violently, as if touched by a brand. Alora moved in front of Brandon, and she, again ignoring the fluttering of her stomach, put both hand on his shoulders.
“Good night, Princess.” Before he could turn away, she moved her hand around his neck, and stepped closer.
“Please Brandon? I want you first, not some lordling, or distant prince who won’t see me or know me as you do. Brandon, please?”
As Alora looked up at him, with her wide, innocent green eyes, his heart was pounding. Pouding so hard he thought it would burst forth from his breast.
He wasn’t supposed to let this happen. His job was to get into the castle and be trusted by the Royal Family. Over the past five months, he’d done just that. He’d become King Dawson’s favorate breakfast guest. Queen Liliane’s favorite market guard. And most importantly, Princess Alora Loretta Sintervive’s tutor and her teacher in the fighting arts. Among his fathers orders, there was not one that stated he had to love. HE would not say it, but he longed to hear his real name on her lips. He longed for her to know the truth of who he was, and be okay with it.
And, the irony of it, by this time tomorrow, Alora would know the truth of it. The truth of who he was, who his father was, and why he came to the castle in the first place.
AS she looked up at him, he could only see what she might be after his father and his men. His heart almost broke to think about what his fathers ‘trusted’ men would do to her.
He felt her arm wrap themselves tighter around his neck. He placed his hands lightly on her waist as he did earlier. But this time, there was no play.
He slowly dipped his head down and gently pressed his lips against hers. Alora pressed closer and tangled his hair in her fingers.
He should pull away. His mind said it, and expected it to be done. Instead, his arms came around her waist so tightly, he lifted her a few inches.
He was dizzy.
Her whole body was tigth and warm against his own. Her bofy heat radiated and warmed him through her thin nightgown. With her closeness, he could feel that her heart was beating as fast as his own. Suddenly, her nightgown seemed much, much too thin.
Forcing himself, Brandon unlocked his arms from around her waist. He reached around his neck to grasp her wrists. He pulled them down, then gently pushed her shoulders away.
He closed his eyes before she met them. Brandon stepped back, turning his head away.
Alora looked down, swallowing an overly-happy smile that she knew Brandon wouldn’t want to see. Once she was sure she had her expression under control, she looked at him.
Brandons’ jaw was clenched tight, his eyes closed. He had taken a step away from her, not even attempting to hide his look of effort. Effort to achieve what, Alora did not know.
“Brandon?” she said quietly.
He almost flinched. “Good night, Princess.” he said tightly. He turned stiffly and swiftly, and left the garden withour looking at her. The door was swinging on it’s hinges.
Alora stood frozen. Her throat tightened and she swallowed hard. She could hear his footsteps, still echoing down as he walked. Away from her. He was leaving her. He had left. He left her.
As she stumbled backwards to sit on the smaller red couch, hot tears ran down her checks. She wished he hadn’t left. She wished she never had asked her the kiss, not matter how wonderous it had been.
She mubly curled up on the chaise-bed. She tucked her legs and arms in her robe. As her eyelids dropped and sleep approached she repeated the name of whom held her heart.
“Brandon.”
