When Day Turns Night by Lesa Fuchs-Carter Page B

noble, and peasant.
    My father had
brought peace to this land, and he had taught all the nobles that
their wealth was fleeting if not for the work of the serfs.
    Each party we had
he would invite families from all districts, to remind him and teach
Ita and I of our heritage. There was a lovely lady in the course
spun wool of a peasant, two wide eyed children clinging to her gown.
They looked only mildly out of place, more for their own awkwardness
then for their clothing, for there were many knights and military men
wearing much the same. I greeted everyone I could, asking of
harvests, their labors, and of their children, listening to the
concerns and happy chatter of our people. I had just turned from a
group of merchants, being promised a gift of a snow fox fur coat for
my wedding, and came upon a group of young military men.
    “My sword
would bury into her sheath until she cried out in ecstasy!”
    I blushed at the
crude statement not intended for me to hear.
    “I've
conquered many a maiden, but none so fair as the,” he turned to
look at me at the frantic direction of one of the other men, his
smile only faltered for a brief second, then split even bigger.
“Princess!”
    I smirked at him,
instantly feeling the strangest connection to him.
    He had dark blue
eyes the color of the sea in a storm, and his hair was a dark blonde,
almost brown. His jaw was firm and square with sharp cheekbones and
a nose that had a slightly crooked tilt to it, no doubt from a break.
But it was his smile that caused such a stir within me. Toothy and
beautiful, lips full and ready for a kiss. I knew of his type, had
been warned against them by many a nurse.
    I noticed the quirk
of his brow as he took me in, not just for another lay, but for
someone he found as beautiful and intelligently equal as himself. I
saw the question in his eyes doubting the statement of conquering me.
    My father always
told me that I was strangely gifted at reading people, he had told me
it would serve me well as queen. I could see into their souls, know
their desires and decipher their intent. I had always laughed it
off, until that moment.
    I knew that he was
doubting his station in life, doubting that women were indeed only
for his carnal pleasures and the care of their men. I could also see
that his men loved and respected him. While he seemed fickle with
the desire to bury his sword in all sorts of different woman sheaths,
he had a depth he'd never shared with a woman before, and had never
expected to want to share.
    Finally remembering
his station he stepped back into a grandiose bow, sweeping his cape
back, and joining his men as they bowed to me. “Ah, and now
you show your respect!” I laughed, lightly, “oh mercy
gentlemen, please stand up and we shall enjoy light conversation. It is a party.”
    It wasn't the first
time I had heard unsavory comments about myself. I was, after-all,
the most sought after maiden in the country, and beautiful in
addition.
    The man stood up
slowly, his eyes registering my mirth, and I knew he was not
accustomed to being the brunt end of a joke himself. I also could
see that he held me in higher regard for turning it all into a joke,
as was its original intention, and not over-reacting to the lewdness
of his comments.
    “And what is
the name of the valiant knight I should call should my lady's maids
need a good sword thrust?”
    He grinned, loving
that I was playing with them. “My Lady Princess, 'tis Trian.”
    He bowed his head
again, but his eyes stayed locked on mine. Again that powerful
connection sparked between us. I had never experienced anything such
as it – nor had I believed in the love at first sight of so
many of the stories I had heard at the bard's knee. Butterflies
danced in my belly, and strangely lower. Secret places within me
tightened and ached, and my lips seemed to need continual wetting
from my tongue.
    “You are even
more lovely in person,” he spoke softly, and I could see his
eyes were still