“Honestly, Sidroc, I think if I go to the empress and tell her what happened, she will place me under her protection.”
“Do you ever listen?” he chided her. “In the past hundred and fifty or so years, more than a third of the emperors have suffered violent deaths. I mean, dozens, Drifa. Not just a handful. And empresses have not been immune, either. When politics is involved, no one is safe.”
“Is it not the same at every court?”
“ ’Tis worse here because it is such a rich country. Greed corrupts. But more than that, when religion is involved, any means are justified, or so assassins think. And do not doubt that the Byzantines think they are fighting a holy war against the Moslems, and the Moslems are equally certain Allah is on their side.”
He was probably right. For a long while she remained silent, and he did, too. But other things were on her mind, as well as her safety.
“Sidroc,” she broached carefully, “were you in love with your wife, Astrid?”
He stiffened for a moment. “Where did that question come from?”
“I just wondered. You are so determined to take Runa and raise her yourself, I thought it might be because you loved her mother so much.”
“Must I remind you, we decided not to discuss Runa for the time being.”
You decided. Not me. “Sorry I am, but the question just popped out.”
She felt him smile against her hair. He was probably thinking of other things that had popped out of her mouth. Like her tongue. On his manpart. He did answer her, though. “Nay, I was not ‘in love’ with Astrid. I do not think I even ‘loved’ her. But I did care about her, best I could. Let’s face it, I am not a man for loving.”
And care is all he ever offered me. She wanted to argue that everybody was capable of loving, but now was not the time. Arguments erupted between them with the least spark. The only fire she wanted to ignite at the moment was the bedplay kind. Love fires.
“As for Runa, I have an obligation. She is my daughter. I am honor bound to care for her. Mayhap in time I will grow to love her, but if not, I can at least ensure she will be safe and well cared for.”
Cringing at the prospect of Runa in a loveless household, Drifa blinked back tears. Despite her wish to avoid a battle, she had to state her opinion on that prospect he laid out. “The future you plan would be as cold as your own upbringing, without the physical pain. Do you not see that coldness can be a cruelty, too?”
He gasped at her words and began to shrug out of her embrace. To stand and walk away, she suspected.
She would not release him, clinging tightly to his shoulders. “Nay, do not go, Sidroc. I meant no offense. Truly I did not.”
“You rail at me for shortcomings I cannot help, Drifa. Because I do not gush soft words and proclaim undying love does not mean I have no heart. I am not in the same mold as my beastly father.”
“I never insinuated such. Never!”
“Then let us drop the subject. We have only a few hours left, alone. Let us make the best of this precious privacy.”
They made love then, and it was tender and poignant, probably because it would be their last time together. At least until Miklagard. Mayhap forever.
So Drifa showed him with kisses and caresses and sighs of pleasure how much she cared. She never said the words I love you. Not out loud. But every whispered caress held that hidden message.
If he understood, he never said. But he made sweet love to her, which she chose to interpret as a sign of his unconscious feelings for her. If that made her a fool, so be it.
Once they were together in Miklagard, she would tell him of her love and suggest they stay together, if not for their sake, then for Runa’s.
They had plenty of time.
Chapter Twenty-four
Could he perchance be colorblind? ...
Sidroc felt like one of those timekeeping candles. His time was wearing out.
They were an hour outside the land gate into Miklagard when Ivar connected with them. He sat atop a horse in a stand of olive trees off to the left side of the road. At a jerk of his head, Sidroc and Drifa followed him farther into the grove, where they dismounted.
Drifa launched herself at Ivar with a hug about his middle, which Sidroc could tell disconcerted the older man, whether from being unused to such contact or from the princess/servant separation, he could not tell. In any case, Ivar hugged her back after his initial shock, then set her away from himself and nodded to Sidroc.
They soon learned that neither of the other two groups had returned to the city yet, and that was a concern. Of more concern, though, was Ivar’s news about the happenings within the city.