Bonded

Chapter 7

It was quite the odd parody they made. A courteous gentleman leading a genteel lady for a stroll in the garden was a perfectly polite, socially acceptable situation if it weren't for the bruises on the lady's face, the iron strength grip on the lady by her captor and the decaying garden. It had rained often enough to leave behind greenery that identified the garden itself but no flowers grew in the desolateness.

Every so often a solider would stumble around them, gaping at the odd pair but none dared approach them. With a quick bow and a nod they would race off. The silence became overbearing for the princess who soon realised there were no songbirds accompanying them in their garden strolls. Everything was dead.

The jacket around her shoulders was loose and smelt strongly of the man. It should not have bothered her. Each individual had their own peculiarities she had never bothered to notice but it was unbearable now. It felt like he enveloped all of her senses like physical vice around her neck. She shuddered, overwhelmed.

The man abruptly paused in front of a long empty marble fountain and graciously settled her against the seating place. His pleasant mien was just farce which changed according to his mood. She never knew when the winds would change and his hand would reach out to strangle her throat or worse his lips... Jza squeezed her eyes shut at the horrifying possibility.

After a moment of silence when her heart steadied from its rambunctious pace she opened her eyes to find her captor sitting across from her with a bored expression. Jza averted her gaze and mutely noted the peacock bench had lost its head in the battle. The fountain should have been surrounded by roses but there was no life or colour in them any more. All that was left in the beds were rotted roses littered with cobwebs. The man plucked a brown wilted rose and fiddled with it for a moment with a strange smile on his face.

"Battle cries, sword clashing with sword, brutal defeat and the winner is raised high in the sky. What glorious battles must have been fought in that arena."

"Gaping wounds, torn ligaments, broken bones. There is nothing glorious about fighting," Jza grumbled with a grimace. Her whole body ached terribly from her previous days of trauma and all the pain was numbing her mind.

"So you say," The man retorted with his usual quickness.

"It is as I say," The girl met his eyes defiantly.

"You remind me of this flower," Tarquin uttered with a light tone after a pregnant pause, "all brittle and bruised."

"But don't make the mistake of forgetting the thorns."

Instead of retorting the man touched the rose lightly on her cheek. The most vicious bruise adorned her face on that side and even the light touch was irritating. And why he needed to needle her with his provoking behaviour was also a vexing thought. The man ended his dalliance with the rose by tucking a strand of her brown hair behind her ear and placing the rose along with it. The gesture was shockingly intimate but what could a person expect from a man who had no social boundaries.

"I could have salves ready for your face," The man uttered conversationally while Jza scowled back. "But vanity was never your thing, was it?"

The need to reply surged through her but she bit her lip instead. She knew the man would find a way to squeeze out all possible information from her. It was still a mystery how he had found out she wasn't a commoner in the first place. What was it about her that gave her away?

Tarquin's hand picked up one of hers and gently examined her softer hands as if they held a solution to the mystery. Soft they may have been but they were no less abused than the rest of her body. Small cuts littered the surface along with a discoloured bruise or two. Jza tolerated his probing touch as best as she could until she had enough of being treated like a cattle up for sale.