Dance With the Enemy (23 page)

Chapter 37

When Tahruk stalked into the smaller dining hall off yet another garden, he’d fully expected to see his chosen talking close-headed with her old friend. His face, contorted in anger turned confusion when his brother and Shemek looked up at him from what appeared to be a concentrated conversation.

“Where the hell is my
wife
?” he demanded, glaring down at them, his hands fisted on his hips.

“Tahruk! Settle,” his mother demanded, a hand fluttering to the neckline of her dress.

Nema, who had walked in behind him, stepped around the rigid warrior. Her dark blue eyes darting around the table’s occupants. “Where’s Elenya?” Her words set a concentrated murmur humming around the small crowd. She set her gaze on an indifferent Redahn while Tahruk continued to stare down the object of his jealousy.

“She knows better than to be late. You were the last to see her.” He thrust a finger in Shemek’s direction. “Now where is she?”

Shaking his head and shrugging, Shemek threw his hands up in proclamation of his innocence. “Technically, he was the last to see her, as far as I know.” He said pointing to Redahn. “Honestly, though, I thought she was on her way back to your chambers to see you. She seemed rather… agitated during our talk. I assumed it was over whatever had transpired between the two of you on the carriage ride back from dropping her father…”

“Agitated how?” Nema asked, placing a hand on Tahruk’s arm.

Again Shemek shrugged. “You know, just… fidgeting and moving around a lot. I don’t know. She seemed to lose the conversation as if she had other things on her mind. She wasn’t like the Ya I knew at all…”

Both Nema and Tahruk glowered, their foreheads creasing, causing the younger man to let his words trail off. “I don’t like this,” Nema whispered even as Tahruk was already on his way out of the hall.

“If this is some sort of game, I shall throttle her the moment that baby is born,” Tahruk’s angry words vibrated back into the room.

“Stay here. There’s nothing the two of you can do.” Nema’s hands on their shoulders reseated a rising Shemek and Redahn. Concern was mirrored on the faces surrounding the meal-laden table.

“Nema…”

Nema was already nodding her head even before Neria could get the words out. “I’m going,”

“If he hurts her…”

Nema turned to look at the young guest before exiting through the same door Tahruk had taken earlier.

“He won’t hurt her.” Her voice grew fainter with her hastened steps. “He loves her more than he’s ever loved anything. And probably more than he ever will.”

When her eyes fluttered, the vision of an angel filled Elenya’s sight. She smiled. How very much like her warrior he looked. She wanted to reach up to touch his face but her arm refused to move, the weight of her hand holding it down.

“I have never seen such beauty in a man before,” she told the being, her lashes drifting back to rest against her pale cheeks. Her voice sounded airy, far away, and she frowned. “I will go with you,” she told the being when his arms slide beneath her and she felt herself rising into the air. “Please… my baby. Let my baby stay behind.”

Chapter 38

Tahruk broke into a sprint from the dining hall entry, stopping only long enough to let himself through the door to their chambers. The atmosphere within the passageway had grown thicker the closer he got. It was a feeling he’d experienced time and again as his military forces had moved into battle. The prize, this time, was more precious than any he’d ever defended.

He didn’t bother calling her name as he gained entry. He didn’t have to. The trail of blood droplets led him to her laying in a heap just inside the door to her dressing room. She moaned and her eyes fluttered when he crouched beside her. Guarded relief flooded the seasoned warrior. She mumbled incoherently, her eyes fluttering before closing again as he scooped her up into his arms.

“Oh, dear Lord!” Nema screeched when the warrior nearly plowed her down in the hallway and she took in Elenya’s blood-drenched skirts.

“Get help, Nema. We need the midwife.”

Nodding in agreement, Nema was already pushing past him into Elenya’s dressing room to give the bell pull two hard tugs. “She’ll be okay,” Tahruk heard her yelling as he disappeared into the bedchamber, her steps taking her toward the main chamber door. He wondered if she had a basis for her statement other than wanting it to be so.

Careful of Elenya’s lolling head and dangling arm, Tahruk laid her on the bed, oblivious to the blood that now spotted his front. Her eyes fluttered again, she moaned, and he soothed with a gentle shushing sound.

“Ah… my warrior.” Her words were slow, labored, her eyes closed. She attempted to look at him and smile. “I… I’m afraid I… I ruined… the yellow settee.” She groaned and arched her back. Tahruk watched the mound at her middle grow more rounded and firm. She grimaced, gritting her teeth as her body fought against the pain. He noticed the red stain on her skirt growing.

Never before had he felt so helpless as he did sitting there beside her, unsure of what he could do for her. He wondered if there was anything anyone could do, then chastised himself for the thought.

Voices and scurrying outside the bedchamber had him on his feet, blocking the door. His mother took in the blood on his front and screamed.

“Get her out of here!” he commanded his father through gritted teeth, pointing to his mother who was threatening to fall into a fit of hysteria. Nema, having just re-entered the room, pushed through and grabbed hold of Neria’s arm. She handed her over to an unwilling Renaine and told them in a hushed voice what appeared to be happening. Shemek stood in the main chamber doorway, his face white, while he stared at Tahruk’s shirt.

“Young man,” Nema nudged him. “You need to move.” Shemek looked up, his face blank. It was almost as if he was seeing them all for the first time. He didn’t completely move, though he pressed back enough that Renaine could steer Neria past him.

“Is she…” His eyes found Nema’s before she turned back to Tahruk’s empty bedchamber door.

“She’s going to be all right!” Nema almost yelled at him. Biting her lip, she dropped her head and took several deep breaths before looking up and patting him on the chest. “Go and wait by the gates for Redahn to return with the midwife. Then get them here posthaste,” she told him in a more controlled tone.

Shemek looked past her to the bedchamber, hesitated several seconds before nodding and turning to leave. Nema could hear him tell the servant that was now waiting just outside the door to come at once if there was any change in the Lady’s condition. She didn’t wait to see what the servant said. She really didn’t care as long as they got help to Elenya.

Closing the chamber door, Nema nodded to the three servants waiting to clean up the mess then pointed to the hallway leading to Elenya’s dressing room and drew an air circle around the room they were in. As she turned to go, she paused, noting for the first time the stains on the floor coming from the sunroom direction. Without adding to her orders, she looked at the head maid who bobbed in understanding. Her kind eyes were glossy with tears for the young mistress’ plight. Elenya hadn’t been with the family all that long and still she had endeared herself to every one of them, relatives and servants alike.

With a sigh, Nema swallowed hard. The path to Tahruk’s bedchamber, the same room he’d slept in since he was a young boy, seemed lengthy and yet not long enough. Her footsteps were heavy, filled with dread. If she’d been able to remove this burden from this young couple, she would have gladly given up all she had to do so. Gladly.

Tahruk didn’t look back when Nema entered the room. He was on his knees beside the bed, his forehead resting against Elenya’s hand that he held in his. Nema felt the tears that threatened. The young woman looked much worse that she’d expected, her face ashen, lips pulled thin though slightly apart as she struggled for shallow breaths.

“We should get her out of those wet skirts, my lord,” she said in a low voice. Tahruk didn’t move, even when she placed a hand on his shoulder. About that time, Elenya made several guttural sounds, her body contorting as it had earlier. Nema watched in horror.

“She just keeps doing that. And then there’s more blood.” Tahruk’s voice was muffled by his still downturned face. “She’s losing too much blood, Nema, and they’re not coming.” He rose abruptly and turned to her, his eyes wild with worry. “What in bloody hell is taking them so long?”

“It will take time,” the older woman tried to sooth him, but he pushed her hand away.

“Why isn’t the midwife stationed here? She knew Elenya’s time was near. Hell and damnation! Why did I leave her alone?” The battle-hardened man sucked big gulps of air and quickly blew them out to help him regain control, his shoulders rising each time.

Nema started to tell him the midwife wasn’t close by because it was too soon. She also wanted to reassure him it wasn’t his fault, that he’d done all he could have done. But did she believe that? It was true that neither one of them was equipped to aid a woman in childbirth, but if someone had been with Elenya that person could have gotten help much faster. They could have already had the midwife there to keep a closer eye on the mother-to-be. Nema could have insisted the young woman remain in the chamber adjoining hers...

So many coulds and only one reality.

Nema jumped when the main door of Tahruk’s chambers slammed open with a loud cracking sound. Seconds later Redahn and the Court physician burst through the bedchamber door.

“Oh, dear God!” Redahn pulled up short causing Doctor Jorian to bump into his back. Both men stared at the bloodied heap on the bed, her body beginning another round of contorting contractions. Snapping out of it, the physician moved to the bedside behind Tahruk and watched closely.

“May I?” He was politely asking Tahruk to move, though the warrior seemed reluctant to give up his position. “I need to check her, my lord.” The older man turned a pleading eye to Nema.

“Tahruk, love, you need to move back and let the physician in so he can begin to help her,” she whispered close to Tahruk’s ear. Still, he didn’t budge. Standing, Nema turned to Redahn who had remained motionless, gawking at the disturbing scene.

“Boys!” She yelled at them in a quieter, yet still raised voice that got their attention much as it had when they were young. They both looked at her. “Leave. Now!” she commanded.

Redahn blinked a few times then shook his head as if clearing away cobwebs. “Brother, come,” he said, moving forward when Tahruk still didn’t obey. His hands on Tahruk’s shoulders were flung off in a violent shrug that did little to deter the younger brother. “You have to move.”

“I’m not leaving her!” Tahruk’s voice came out in a choked growl.

“Then she’s leaving you.”

Doctor Jorian’s words hung in the room, though even they did not move the warrior by Elenya’s bedside.

“Son. You have to give the physician room to work.” Renaine’s presence surprised them all. He grasped his son by the upper arms and lifted him to his feet. The dark eyes, so nearly the same, locked - one set crazed with worry, the other conveying sorrow for the situation.

There was nothing weak about the tears that careened down the face of the battle-hardened young warrior. He collapsed against his father in grief, the older man’s shoulder muffling the great sobs that shook them both. Motioning for Redahn to help him, the two men moved the heartbroken man from his wife’s bedside.

“Merciful Mother of all that is sacred!” The barn owl screech from the doorway had them all turning that direction. Hands covering her mouth, the usually pleasant eyes of the midwife devoured the three men standing together to one side of the room. “The birthing chamber is no place for menfolk.” Starting into the room, she stumbled back a few steps when she saw the state of Elenya’s body lying on the bed. “Oh dear Lord,” she whispered. “What a pity. She was so young and beautiful. I never would have guessed after checking her last week.”

Both the physician and Nema glared at the woman who seemed to have left her brains outside the room. No doubt her position would be at stake once they were finished with Elenya. It was a wonder the grief-stricken warrior hadn’t take her head off right then, though his breaking heart seemed to have quenched any fire within him.

At the door, struggling to regain his voice enough to speak, Tahruk looked at the physician and then Nema. “Please…” The devastated look caused Nema to falter in her steps toward the bed. “Please… do what you have to. Just… help her,” he pleaded in broken sentences.

The physician, already moving to a table near the garden door where he’d set out some of his tools and supplies, nodded. “We’ll do all we can,” he told the men before turning his full attention to the battle at hand. “Nema, we need the standards. Water, linens, string…” He began naming off the typical items used in the birthing process.

“I have them here.” The midwife seemed to have regained her composure, an air of professionalism returning to her actions as she and Nema began to work together to remove Elenya’s soiled skirts.

“Oh!” Nema jumped back. “The baby’s turned wrong.” She pointed to the movements visible on Elenya’s uncovered abdomen. The midwife began to feel the hardened mass and nodded.

Doctor Jorian moved toward the bed. “As many births as you two have attended, I would have thought that obvious.” His tone wasn’t harsh, just matter-of-fact as he eased a syringe into Elenya’s arm. The doctor stood back for a moment until they could see her visibly relaxing. “We’ll have to turn the baby. I fear the placenta has detached as well. If the tear is only partial, our turning the child may result in more bleeding. But, without it, I’m fearful we will lose them both.” He talked while beginning to manipulate the form within his patient’s swollen abdomen. “We’re fortunate the infant is still quite small.”

“As is the lady,” Nema added dolefully. Jorian nodded his head.

“Yes,” he agreed. “But she’s young and healthy. We have to think positive and keep our heads about us. Her life, and the life of this child are in our hands.”

Nema moved to the head of the bed. She stroked the sweat tangled tresses back from Elenya’s face. “Be strong,” she whispered leaning down to kiss a colorless cheek. Sniffling back threatening tears, she rose and watched the physician pull a clean cloth up to cover Elenya’s exposed lower half. She had to smile remembering Elenya’s horror at the midwife’s confirmation that others would actually
see
her when she gave birth. Had Tahruk not been so charming and Elenya not nearly as crazy about him, she might have wondered exactly how he ever got close enough to this modest creature to put her into this position.