The Invasion

By Kayleigh Kitt

“What?” She arched an eyebrow. The man was an inconvenient menace, even if he was her new husband.

“Are you hurt? You’re covered in blood,” he said, his eyes critically assessing, making her pulse quicken further.

She held up a hand to stall him. “It’s not mine. And we’re safe here. Very few people know of the passages’ existence.” Globules of crimson spotted onto the flags from the dagger still clutched in her other hand.

“Very well.” He still didn’t sheathe his sword.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she flashed.

He took a long inhale, then seemed to hold it for a few seconds, almost as if he was counting. “If you were hurt, I’d need to staunch any bleeding.”

“I’m not a helpless damsel in distress, Aldrich. I am capable of defending myself, should the need arise, and it arose,” she snapped.

He watched as she wiped the bloody dagger on her skirt hem before stowing it back into an innocuous-looking leather pouch at her waist, the hilt clipping neatly into the purse, concealing it as part of the clasp.

A smile tugged at his lips.

He sheathed his sword.

She frowned. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re not how I remember.”

“This is who I am. Nobody said you had to like it,” she glared, adding, “Or that you had to marry me.”

“Why? Did you have someone else in mind that would save your father’s kingdom and coffers?” His nostrils flared a little.

The sound of marching boots in the corridor grew louder. He pressed a digit to his lips before peering through the peephole into the castle’s hallway. Elouise elbowed him, but when this didn’t move his bulk, she prodded his pectoral muscle, squeezing under his arm as he took a step back, allowing her space and access to peek through the vision hole. Over the coppery tang, he smelt of bergamot, frankincense, and rosemary.

“Didn’t you have someone at home?” she whispered, trying not to savour the warmth radiating through his tunic.

“No. Why do you ask?” he murmured; his one hand still braced against the panel.

“Because we’ve been betrothed five days and you’ve still not consummated the marriage.”

“I recall you saying that if I touched you without permission again, you’d turn me into a eunuch,” he reminded her.

“We were children back then. I was thirteen,” she said waspishly.

Elouise risked glancing up at his face, causing a crick in her neck, cursing her maternal line for blessing her with short stature.

“An annulment would be disastrous for both our kingdoms. I’m just saying, that’s all.” She flicked caramel hair back over a shoulder.

He chuckled, his eyes sparkled in the dim light like a cat, as a smile crept over his lips. “Is that all that’s worrying you? Because it looks like we’re in the middle of an invasion.”

She swallowed. “I won’t give you my heart. But if you’re brave enough, you can try to steal it.” Heat barreled up from her throat and into her face as she looked away to the sound of trooping feet again.

She spun around. “They’re wearing Emerald City uniforms,” she gasped.

“We can’t stay here,” he whispered, tugging at her hand.

Aldrich navigated his way through the borough, taking the alleys like a native as fingers of the night grasped the city. Elouise followed, snapping at his heels, clutching the stolen cloak from the castle kitchens to her body, while Aldrich kept his head low.

Minutes later, two lines appeared on Elouise’s forehead.

“I’m not running. This is my home.”

She shifted her buttocks on the straw pallet in the tavern where the beds looked clean and the windows barely closed.

“Did you want the Emerald Emperor to take your head?” His jaw jutted forward, their noses inches apart.

Elouise swallowed, her eyes widening.

“My parents will give us sanctuary at Grey Towers Hall. You’ve not been there for years,” he said tightly.

“And whose fault was that?” she countered, her eyebrows threatening to meet.

Aldrich sighed.

“Do you think they’re still alive?” Elouise softened, chewing her lip, referring to her parents and brother.

“I don’t know.” His hand came to rest on hers, running his fingertip in small circles around her wrist.

They’d barely scraped through the castle portcullis as it lowered, while bellmen on street corners cried edicts from the new Emperor for the Princess and her new husband to be brought forward.

They were safe, for now.

“Aldrich, if something happens tomorrow, I want to know I was your wife, not just in name,” she breathed in the sharp lemony bergamot and warming notes of frankincense from his skin.

His jaw clenched, and he looked away. “I am not putting a child in your belly.”

Turning his gaze back to her, his shoulders dropped. “It’ll be challenging enough to run without sickness.”

Aldrich wound a tendril of her caramel hair around his index finger, playing with the lock.

“If something happens, then it won’t matter. Let’s try to live in the moment,” she whispered, silver lining her eyes.

Aldrich let the fawn strands slip across his palm like silk before he closed the gap, his lips catching hers.

The following morning, dust motes bathed in the golden light, as Aldrich tugged his shirt over his head and Elouise turned, allowing him to lace up her corset, and then button the back of her gown.

Tatt, Tatt.

Aldrich’s frame tightened. He unsheathed his sword.

Scraping the chair away from under the handle, he opened the door a slither, before widening the gap, exclaiming, “Tully! Am I pleased to see you?”

“What news?” he asked swiftly, wrenching the visitor into the room.

The newcomer poked dancing curls from his face, his eyes flicking to Elouise, standing by the bed, a dagger ready in her hand, wearing her blood-spattered dress.

He bowed shallowly.

“My Lady. I’m Tully. It’s finally a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I wish it was –“

“I recognise you from the formal banquet last night,” Elouise butted in, taking in the young man’s plain clothing.

Aldrich thumped him playfully on the shoulder. “Get on with it. You can dispense with niceties.”

The contents of Tully’s backpack tumbled onto the coverlet, along with several ruby apples, one spinning onto the floorboards, stopping by Elouise’s slipper. He tossed a shirt to Aldrich, then offered Elouise a wad of fabric.

“I had to guess at the size, My Lady. I hope it all fits.”

“Thank you.”

Elouise’s attention snagged on her new husband’s form as he stripped away his ceremonial shirt, replacing it with the basic homespun alternative. Aldrich gave her a cheeky wink, smirking as her cheeks heated.

Tully busied himself with the remaining items on the bed.

“The castle is teeming with Emerald Guards.” Tully cleared his throat.

“And there’s herbs in the pack, My Lady. Will help with the sickness when it comes.” He pointed to a screw of black paper, his face scarlet.

“What? Oh. Thank you.” Elouise’s cheeks burned even more, while Aldrich dragged his hands through his hair, making it look rakish.

“Marden’s secured three horses. They’re saddled and tied up by the Wheatsheaf Inn,” Tully finished.

“Good man. Let’s pack up and go,” Aldrich announced. “You’ll ride with me, Elouise.”

A scrap of blue against the scarlet coverlet claimed Elouise’s attention. Her hand darted out, uncovering the slim notebook. “This is mine. Where did you get it?” Her gaze skewered Tully.

Tully shrugged, looking to Aldrich, who supplied, “I stole it, the last time you were at Grey Towers. My sixteen-year-old version was an arrogant prick with a sense of entitlement.” He raised her knuckles, brushing his lips across them, making her heart drum faster. “Forgive me. I’ll make it up to you.”

And then Aldrich was opening the bedroom door, Tully exiting first, the repacked knapsack hanging from a shoulder.

“Wife,” Aldrich said.

“Husband,” she replied, her simple skirts sweeping by him as her fingers grazed his.

🩷🩷🩷

Kayleigh Kitt lives in Shropshire, UK with her husband and ageing cat who thinks it’s a dog. She’s had work published in the Hooghly Review, Dark Winter Lit and CNF in Across the Margin and is a regular contributor to Scifansat. A selection of her published work can be found at https://kayleighkitt75.wixsite.com/dragon