Hal - The Duellist #1

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Tinder

For once, his natural confidence deserted him. He hovered outside her door, internally debating whether to rush in and fling his arms around her, or to maintain that cold distance which now hung between them. His hand rose to knock and then he held back and put his clenched fist to his mouth, gnawing on his knuckles.

Turning his back to her room, Nérac paced the corridor. He could love her now, he told himself. In spite of her sullenness, that dumb insolence with which her eyes met his, he could love her because of what she would give him. And he would do, now. He would shower her with gifts, with attention. He would humour her every whim, they would become the toast of the aristocracy. Dal Reniac would boast of a dynasty which would perhaps, one day, rival the Emperor's own, founded upon a perfect marriage of business and aristocratic lineage.

Turning back, he rapped on the door, then waited impatiently, his ear pressed to the wood. Not a sound. Grimacing, he raised his hand again. This time it swung open and she stood on the threshold, indignant fury inscribed on her face.

"What do you want Sir?"

Nérac was taken aback. He had expected her pale features to glow with radiance, a slim smile to play about her lips, the satisfaction of a wife who knew she had fulfilled her duty. Instead her eyes were enraged, her face streaked with tears.

"Meracad! You are overwrought. You should rest." He put his hand to her fair hair and stroked it gently. That cold, hard look re-entered her eyes. Nérac peered down at her, surprised at her expression of disgust, of contempt.

"Overwrought, Sir?" There was no disguising the note of scorn which had entered her voice.

Ignoring it, he pushed past her into the chamber, casting a critical gaze over the plain, unadorned walls, the lack of ornamentation, her own few simple belongings. That strange thing she wore about her neck now lay upon the windowsill. He picked it up. In the light it was almost translucent.

"I would prefer it if you didn't touch that."

He clenched it tight and turned towards her. "What is it?"

"You have everything else that is mine, please don't deny me the pleasure of one small token."

"A token of what? The love of some poor young suitor back in Colvé?" He sneered in spite of himself, and flung the shark's tooth down on the bed.

"I have already told you, I have known the love of no man."

"I would remind you that you are my wife." He allowed his expression to soften, and walking over to her again, placed his hands on her shoulders. She flinched. "And, if the doctor informs me rightly, you are also the mother of my child. Is it true?"

She slipped from his embrace and sat down on the bed, winding the skein of thread around her fingers tightly until the shark's tooth bit into the palm of her hand.

"Meracad, I understand you must feel confused, nervous..." He knelt before her and took her hands in his own. "It is a burden as much as a blessing, I am not blind to that. What can I do to ease that burden?"

Her eyes were now filling fast with tears. "Let me go home," she stammered.

"What?" Nérac looked up at her, askance. "Go home? This is your home."

"I mean to Colvé. To my father. Just for a few days. That would bring me some relief. Please."

He was silent for a moment. Then he shook his head. "That I cannot allow. You may take no journeys now. Nothing that might endanger the child ─ you must stay here, rest. You shall want for nothing, I can assure you."