Heir Apparent

Chapter 6

I snorted it and held my arm aloft.

The Archer nodded gravely. "That is my deepest regret. You can fight with your other hand, yes?" I narrowed my eyes. "We will fix you. Do not worry, General."

Slowly, I shifted so that my back was against the cool, smooth wall of the little room. "You may not wish that."

Genuine pleasure lit in his eyes. "We'll see. An archer and a swordsman fight very differently."

Another snort. "I couldn't tell."

He crossed his arms over his slender chest. "You like to lash out, like a viper. I had a friend like you once."

"Oh, joy." I quipped. "A story."

Some of the pleasure left his eyes, and I was genuinely sorry for it. "Yes, General. A story. We are all stories. They are what make or break us, and remake us again. You will listen to this story."

"I don't have a choice."

"No," a bit more light returning to his eyes, "you don't." The Archer sat down on the far end of the rope bed, poking the toe of my boot to give him more room. Reluctantly, I obliged, if only to bend my legs which had been left so long straight and tied.

"My friend, he was like you. He liked to bite at his enemies. Goad them into foolish anger. I always told him that he took too much pleasure in it, as I'm sure you do. He would push and push. For many battles, he was the victor for it. They became angry and made foolish mistakes that would cost them their lives. One day, he pushed too far, and with too skilled a warrior. A sharp tongue could do little against a sharp blade in the chest."

I listened, patiently, as I would have to General Lorr and one of his lectures. When he had finished, I curled my legs under me more. "Are you saying you're going to put a blade through my chest?" It was more genuine than combative.

"No, but someone will."

"Of course they will." It was a frank admission. "I have spent my life on a battlefield, Archer, and that makes all sorts of enemies. The fact that I haven't met my end just yet, is a miracle. When I was knighted, many men made foolish threats. When I was given a command, many tried to relieve me of it. When I was named General, well, at that point many had learned their lessons, but still, the attempts came, and failed. I am Empress now, and that target is bigger. I do not expect to grow old."

The Archer stared at me for a long moment. "Xavi. My name is Xavi. And that is a very sad way to live."

"Xavi," I repeated. "And you expect to grow old? In your line of work that's a dangerous sort of confidence."

Xavi gave me a small smile, rising from the bed. "I don't intend to be this forever. Just as one day, you will have to stop calling yourself 'General,' and accept that you are now 'Empress' and only that."

He didn't wait for me to respond. The archer simply turned and left the room, and me sitting on the rope bed.

I sat for a time before I slowly stood. My head swam a little as the pain came in waves, forcing me to concede inwardly that I hurt far more than I wanted to admit. The wrap around my ribs and waist was well done, and tight, mercifully. Escape on my own was out of the picture, at least until I was more stable and more capable of moving quickly, which meant, I would need to rely on my men to find me. It wasn't a position I was fond of, but one I had to accept. For now.

Tentatively, I paced the small room. Four paces wide and five paces long, it wasn't much. The rope bed was shoved against the wall, a mattress of stuffed straw and feathers atop. The floor was covered with flat beams of wood, carefully laid but had seen a lifetime or two of footfalls and were showing their age. Some of the edges curled up, and I was careful not to trip and tear open my side. There was a window with wood planks hastily boarded in from the outside to slow my escape if I should think to climb out. Through the slats, I could see that the sun was high, and a little stable wasn't too far off.