Full of Grace

Full of Grace
Prt. 3


"My Lady!" Luice cried upon seeing Penelo enter, almost being being carried by Saul. "I heard what happened, are you alright?"
"I am fine," Penelo whispered as Saul helped ease her into a chair.
"Miss, your hands," Luice gasped, taking the bloodied ones in her own, eyes wide with concern.
"It's not mine," Penelo assured her. "It's... It's Larsa's"
"Oh Gods, is he...?" the other woman asked, eyes shining with the beginning of tears.
"He lives, he's been healed," Penelo mumbled, feeling the trembles that she'd tried to suppress begin to shake her body. The grip on her hands tightened and she looked up at the older woman. The pity she saw in Luice's eyes shamed her. Was she really so fragile? Penelo had been in more violent battles in the past, so why was her reaction to this one so strong? The answer was simple. She'd felt Larsa's blood beneath her hands, felt his life draining away with each pump of his heart and had done nothing. Well, nothing until they'd been safely away. What if by that time he'd been too far gone to heal? He could have died because of her fear.
"Saul, will you leave us please?" Luice asked, turning to the man. "I have to tend to the lady,"
The older man nodded, his eyes wandering over the shaking dancers, face unreadable. He bowed slightly, offering her a smile.
"You did well, Miss. We all owe you a debt."
"Thank you," Penelo whispered, not meeting his gaze.
Once he was gone and the two women were alone again, Luice helped ease her too her feet, leading her gently to the bath she'd run. In a daze, Penelo allowed Luice to undress her and help her into the water. She stayed there a long time, tears rolling from her eyes. When she tried to wash Larsa's blood from her hands, it felt as though it took hours although in reality, the evidence of his injury melted away in only minutes. She did not cry for fear of her own life, but from humiliation and self hate. Had it really been so long since she'd had a need to use her healing abilities for things other than a pulled muscle or a sore back that she'd forgotten how to use them when it really mattered? Her hesitation could have cost Arcadia it's Emperor, cost her a friend.
Taking a breath to steady herself, Penelo rose from the water and toweled herself dry. Once dressed in the fresh clothes Luice had laid out for her, Penelo found herself walking towards Larsa's study, the brunette woman at her side. When the great mahogany doors opened, Penelo was that Larsa too was in a fresh change of clothes. He was seated behind a desk covered with more books and documents than she would have thought the wood strong enough to hold. His face was bent over a pile of papers, his hair hanging loosely around his shoulders like a black curtain. He glanced up as the two women walked to him and stood, a placid look upon his face.
"Luice, will you leave us, please?"
"Of course, My Lord," she said, bowing.
One she had gone, Larsa turned his dark eyes to Penelo, extending a hand to her.
"Penelo, come with me," he said gently.
She took his hand, finding comfort in his strong grip. He squeezed her small fingers and although he tried to hide it, Penelo could feel the tremors in his touch. His hand was cold, clammy to the touch and Penelo wondered if he was still suffering from blood loss or if it was a sickness of another kind. When he opened a pair of twin glass doors that led to his balcony, Penelo glanced up. The sky had grown dark with clouds blotting out the shine of what stars there might have been. Still holding her hand in his, Larsa walked to the railing and leaned heavily against it, face turned downward.
"I am sorry about what happened today," he said after a long silence.
"It was not your fault," Penelo replied, glancing over at him.
"Jorge did not...survive," Larsa whispered, held still bowed.
"I am sorry."
"He had a wife..."
Penelo twisted her head, looking at the younger man. His voice was soft, and his hand twitched beneath hers before he pulled it away.
"They were wed only a year and she's with child. A child who'll never know his father," he confided, voice thick with grief.
Looking at him, Penelo knew why he had called upon her. He needed someone to speak freely to, someone who would not see his pain as weakness. He was not her Emperor, it was not her place to judge him nor did she wish to.
"He died protecting me."
"He died doing his duty," Penelo tried to soothe.
"So many men have died doing their duty to the house of Solidor. So many children are fatherless because of my family, because of me."
Penelo wanted to say something that could ease the guilt he felt for being alive while his men, good men, had died in his stead. The burden he bore was one that every ruler had to bear. A small sound caught her attention and she turned to look at the young emperor. And he was young. Only 18 turns of the season with already so much unseen blood on his hands. The sound, Penelo realized, was Larsa fighting back tears. In all the time she'd known him, she had never seen Larsa shed tears, not even after the death of his father and brother.
"I have made arrangements for Angelique, Jorge's wife, to be well cared for. His wife and child shall want for nothing. His son shall relieve the finest education and go on to greatness. Even with all these gifts and privileges, I cannot truly give what I wish to. I cannot return his father to him," Larsa said, clearing the grief from his voice and closing his eyes.
"Larsa," she started, going silent when he turned to her, eyes dark.
He reached for her, barely stopping himself before his fingers touched her skin.
"Penelo, sweet Penelo," he murmured, studying her face.
Her heart pounded in her chest, her body screamed for her to lean into that touch. She took a shaking breath and closed her eyes.
"You are an extraordinary woman," he said, turning from her.
Penelo sagged slightly as he moved, the tension in her body leaving in a flood of emotions. She watched as he moved to a table that had gone unnoticed by her until now.
"Will you have a drink with me?" he asked, indicating the wine and glasses on the table. "Please, even if you won't drink, sit with me."
She nodded, sitting in the chair he'd pulled out for her. Instead of taking the chair opposite as was custom, he settled himself into the one nearest her. He filled both glasses generously and took a long drink, eyes half closed. Penelo sipped hers, letting the rich liquid burn it's way down her throat, filling her body with it's warmth. The pair sat in silence, as there wa sno need for words. Both were shaken by the trials the day had presented them with and the comfort of simply being near the other was comforting. As the evening wore into night, servants arrived brining a lite meal, seeming to know that neither their lord nor Penelo could stomach much after the days events.
Penelo felt as though her stomach would turn if she attempted to eat and Larsa merely picked at his. Finally, he put the fork down and looked back up at the blond next to him.
"I am sorry, I'm not much of a conversationalist tonight," he apologized, face tinged red from drink. In the last two hours, they had gone through three bottles of wine and it was clear as Larsa opened yet another, the alcohol was taking it's toll.
"There is nothing to apologize for," Penelo said, raising her own glass to her lips.
"I was hoping that your first visit here would be a more pleasurable experience for you. Now I fear that I may never be able to convince you to come back. I would not blame you if you took the next airship out," he laughed, dark hair falling into his face.
It was teh first time Penelo had seen Larsa laugh since she'd arrived and it warned her to hear the sound. She smiled tossing back what was left in her glass with a grimace.
"If I had a choice, I'd never leave," she chided, grinning at the young man. The look on his face at her words made her smile wider.
"What? You thought a few thugs trying to kill me would frighten me away?"
"Something like that, yes."
"Well, obviously His Lordship isn't as wise as everyone seems to think," she teased, touching his arm.
Her laugh died on her lips as he caught her hand in his. Seconds passed as he stroked the back of her hand lightly with his fingertips. Penelo allowed her eyes to close, enjoying the touches with a guilty sort of pleasure. When Penelo leaned closer to the dark haired man, he with drew his hand.
"It's late," he murmured. "I should see you to your room."
Confused and a little hurt, she sat up straighter, eyeing Larsa. His face was still flushed, eyes slightly unfocused from drink. His lips parted as he drew breath and that mane of dark hair that haloed out around his face begged to be touched and yet she found herself growing angry. Her attraction to him made the hurt of rejection sting all the more and she wondered why she allowed herself to feel this way when Larsa clearly didn't share in her thoughts. Turning from him to look out over the city, she bit back the alcohol fueled frustration and sighed.
"Yes, I think I should be going."
"I'll walk with you," he said, rising from his seat.
"No need. I can find my way back," she replied rather snappishly.
As soon as she said it, she felt a pang or regret. The look on Larsa's face at her harsh tone was unreadable but she felt sure there was hurt there.
"Good night," she said softly, trying to make up for her earlier rudeness.
"Sleep well," he replied, voice low.
When she turned to leave, she thought for a moment that he would try to stop her but he merely poured himself another drink. Without bothering to spare another look at him, Penelo walked out and shut the door firmly behind her. Once in the hall, she leaned heavily against the wall to collect her thoughts.
Once calmer, Penelo began the long walk back to her own room. After walking for several minutes, she realized that she really didn't have the faintest idea where it was she should go. The drink had made her mind fuzzy and being lost was not something she wanted to have to explain to Larsa if she turned back for his help. From the corner of her eyes she saw two young serving boys heading down another hall.
"Excuse me," she called, waving at the lads.
The paused, turning to her.
"Hello," one called, a grin on his face. "Are you lost?"
"Yes!" she breathed, feeling slightly dizzy.
"Well, we can help you," the other said, walking towards her.
"Thank the Gods," she replied, touching her hair. "I need to get get back to my room and I'm embarrassed to say that I don't know the way."
"Don't worry about that, we'll get you there," one of the lads said, dismissing her concern. "Follow us."
Eager to get back to her room and rest, Penelo did so. As they walked, she noticed that the two were not as young as she had thought them to be when she'd first seen them. They were still younger than her, probably between 17 and 20. After a few minutes of walking, Penelo realized that none of these halls looked familiar to her. In fact, it looked as though they were headed into the servants quarters rather than the guest ones. She decided to speak up.
"Where are we going?" she asked the nearest youth.
To her dismay, he didn't reply. Instead, he shot a sideways glance at the other.
"Excuse me?" she asked, feeling a little annoyed at being ignored.
"Just taking a shortcut," said the youth who appeared to be the leader. "Almost there."
"Here," the other said, indicating a door. He took a step back as the taller youth turned to Penelo.
"What...?" she asked before she was cut off by a hard strike to the face.
Dazed, vision swimming, she almost collapsed. The only reason she did not fall to the floor was because as one hit her, the other caught her around the waist. Penelo's head rolled to the side and she tried to focus on the man who'd his her.
"What's the matter with you?" she snarled, trying to pull free of the other.
"Hold her mouth," the taller youth ordered.
Before Penelo could react, the man who held her closed a hand over her mouth, muffling her question. She kicked out with her legs, attempting to break free of the hold on her with little success. As she raised her hands to pry at the ones trapping her, the other man opened the door, allowing the man holding her to throw her inside. It was dark and she tumbled to the ground, crying out in pain as her soft flesh smacked against the stone. She fought back a wave of nausea and raised to her knees. Behind her, Penelo heard the sound of the door closing and what little light there was faded, leaving her disoriented in the dark with the men advancing on her.