Chapter Eight: Bjorn
Bjorn found a closet with extra linens in it and made a bed for Cheryl on the floor. They didn't know how long they would be here, and she was exhausted. She clung to him as she fell asleep. Fortified in the kitchen, the prince found the night's march catch up with him and he drifted off as well.
When he woke, Cheryl was still deeply asleep and Maskin was still standing watch. The glow coming in from the window in the door was a pale shade of green. Planetlight. The sunrods had been switched to low light, though they still emitted warmth.
The prince stood and did a few stretches to loosen his stiff muscles before he joined Maskin at the window. "Anything?"
"I've seen a few warriors. Nothing else. They know where we are. They're waiting for something. Or someone."
Bjorn nodded, looking through the window himself. "Perhaps they're waiting for a priest to bless their blades, so they can kill on this sacred land without their souls being destroyed. Or perhaps they are hoping to draw us out."
"Perhaps. Or they could be coming at us from the side or the back. If they set fire to these flimsy wooden structures, we'll perish." Maskin glanced at him. "Whatever they're after, you should rest. We will need all the strength that we can muster when the attack comes again."
"I slept most of the day. It's your turn to rest. I'll keep watch."
A wry smile twisted Maskin's face, making the diamond tattoos under his eyes look like two spear points. "You will watch over me? I was bred for this work. You were bred to sit on soft chairs and flatter others from the noble houses. I can go without sleep for a week and still fight a warrior's battle. Can you?"
"If these attacks are a protest against you being allowed to fight for the throne, then you are the one in more danger. In which case you need your strength more than I need mine."
"It also means that as much as I have yearned for the crown, you're the one more likely to be able to protect Cheryl and get her out of this. Not that I care about you." Maskin's wry smile increased. "But if you really want to change our society…"
Bjorn sighed, understanding Maskin's words. But just because he was a prince, it didn't mean he was useless in a battle. And it certainly didn't mean that he wanted the warrior-slave to die. It would break Cheryl's heart.
That was the only reason he cared.
"I thought you would be too war-like to be an effective king," Bjorn admitted. "I thought you were after your own glory."
Maskin laughed. "I thought the same of you. And all the Lords of the noble houses. I didn't think any of you knew how to tie your own bootstrap."
"And why is that?"
"The Apdratee invasion."
Bjorn nodded for him to continue, leaning against the wall and looking out at the other buildings. The heart of the shrine looked utterly peaceful and still. The absence of the usual acolytes was perhaps the most disturbing. Would their attackers really destroy the Shrine's workers? If so, there was nothing to protect them.
"I served under Lord Aich during the invasion. I am called a hero because I took command after he was killed by the Apdratees. But if the truth were known, I would be executed for treason."
"Did you kill him?"
Maskin shook his head.
"What then?"
"I disobeyed his orders. He told us to retreat, to flee with him and leave our brothers' flanks unprotected. Instead, I drove into the heart of the invasion. I had every intention of dying that day. When I survived and he died, unable to tell anyone about my disobedience, I saw it as a sign from the Gods. I was meant for greater things than my birth."
Bjorn looked away. As a warrior-slave, Maskin would still be executed if his actions came to light despite the fact that he ended the invasion. Slaves were meant to be utterly complacent to those who commanded them. Those who had minds of their own were dangerous.
Where did that put Cheryl? She was a slave, yes, but also a queen. She was greater than many of those from noble houses, and yet lesser.
His shoulders sagged as he stared out the window. Even though he had only known Maskin for a short time, he had come to respect him greatly. He treated Cheryl like she was the finest-cut sapphire. Even when he was rough with her during their lovemaking, he always put her pleasure before his own. He would have made a fine king if that option had ever been truly open for him.
"You're an honorable man. You've risked your life for the chance to become king."
"As did you," Maskin said. "You fought in the tournaments and defeated your enemies. You have more skill than I would have given you credit for if I had not fought you myself."
"The moons were never in alignment for you." Bjorn turned from the window and bowed his head in shame. "When the priest declared we would come here and work to impregnate Cheryl, he was declaring me king."
"I think not."
Bjorn took a deep breath and made himself look his once-rival in the eye. "He was. Few people know, but warrior-slaves are made sterile when they are taken from their families. Warriors cannot increase their own numbers and rise against the houses. You could never impregnate Cheryl, Maskin. The priest made this test so that you would fail, and it would be seen as the Gods punishing you for daring to rise above your station."
Maskin stared back at him. His eyes were cast in shadow, but the rest of his face was utterly neutral.
"I knew." Bjorn swallowed. "And I said nothing."
The warrior-slave turned back to the window. He remained hard-faced. Bjorn waited. He wouldn't blame Maskin for whatever he did next. It seemed like forever before the warrior nodded.
"Thank you for telling me. It makes the choices from here on easy. Just promise me one thing, Lord of Leshire."
Bjorn nodded.
"Take care of our Lapis Lazuli. Give her everything she wants and the life she deserves."
Bjorn was surprised to find a lump in his throat. He nodded. "I will."
"Good."
The prince hesitated, but put a hand on Maskin's shoulder. "Go lie with her. Rest. I'll keep watch."
For a long moment, he thought Maskin would refuse, but the warrior-slave nodded. Bjorn turned his back to let the man have peace with their queen. He watched the bright, planet-lit night, and tried not to feel how much his heart was sinking.