The Brush Tiger of Derven Ch. 15-17

She can see Daniel shake his head at her, "You Derven are an odd breed," he huffs before he wanders off to the dance.

Following Rick to an empty spot against the wall, she stands as still as a statue, skeptical of what is expected of her. Looking out over the crowd, Rick speaks quietly to her, "Do you dance, Mora?"

"Occasionally," she responds, keeping her head lowered but looking out upon the dance floor. In Derven it seems like someone is celebrating something at least once a month. While her father doesn't always go, Mora loves the opportunity to fly around the room freely. Having been taught properly at a young age when she was taught everything else, she is quite a skilled dancer.

"Perhaps, later, you would be so kind as to indulge me. The last dance of the night is always the Hunter's Waltz; I'm afraid I've never had a partner graceful enough to do it properly."

She swallows hard, the Hunter's Waltz being her favorite. She agrees with him, it is a rather complicated dance and the best partner she has ever had, is Amyee. The women love to practice it during the Festival, though it never does much good. In Derven it is also the last dance of the night and by that time the men are usually so drunk that more end up on the floor than in their partner's arms. Her heart quickens at the thought of Rick holding her during the dance. Her mind pushes the words out of her mouth, trying to restrain her desires, "Please, don't let me keep you from enjoying yourself until then. I promise to remain right here while you are gone."

Turning his head to her, she instinctively looks up at him, caught in his blue eyes, "There isn't anyone out there," he nods towards the rest of the room, "that I wish to share a dance with."

Feeling her knees tremble, she leans her back against the wall for support, her body threatening to buckle under his gaze. Finally, she is saved when a well dressed old man comes up to Rick. They shake hands and begin talking about business. The old man ignores Mora. Instead, she watches the couples on the dance floor fly about, laughing happily while she herself grows irritated, jealous at their simple and carefree lives. Men come and go, chatting and laughing with Rick; he seems at ease talking to them, though she gets the feeling that he doesn't leave the tavern much.

She spots Rebecca and Fanny gawking over at them. Rebecca, right arm tied up in a sling, gives her an evil stare. Mora can't help the wicked smile that crosses her lips. Flustered, they turn away, pretending not to notice. Now smiling to herself somewhat proudly, she feels a bit more freedom to look about the room. Women definitely outnumber the men. They all seem to resemble Rebecca and Fanny in style: tight dresses without enough fabric to freely dance across the floor, hair mounded high on their heads and faces painted with the colors they wear. To them, she must seem rather plain and small; with her hair pulled back at the base of her neck she is a good eight inches shorter than the other women her size and without make up her natural attractiveness is allowed to shine through. When she catches a few of the men's eyes, they quickly look away as if embarrassed that she spotted them.

Her eyes fall on a man larger than the rest; even though he stands under the shadows of the balcony opposite her, she can easily distinguish his bright green eyes staring back at her. His small smile hits her with a pang of guilt. She offers one in return, though hers is more apathetic. When his fades, she is afraid that she offended him until she hears Rick's voice.

"Advisor Kelvin, my best wishes to you on your birthday," he intentionally says it louder to catch her attention. Mora drops her head down a little but can see that Kelvin looks her over.

"Thank you, Master Rickan. Perhaps you will grant an old man's birthday wish and allow him to dance with your servant?"

There is a pause when Rick is caught off guard, "Why...of course, Advisor." She can tell from the tone of his voice that he doesn't want Mora to go but has no choice.

An unfamiliar hand extends into her field of view as the last song draws to a close, "Shall we, my dear?"

Also having no choice unless she wants to expose her true nature, Mora reluctantly takes his hand with a cold smile on her lips but she doesn't look up. She allows herself to be led away from Rick, her body throbbing with anxiety when she gets the feeling that something is not quite right about the Advisor.

As the next song, a slow sarabande, begins, Kelvin places his hand on her hip, the other perfectly wrapped around hers in the air. With her free hand on the edge of his elbow, she keeps her chin raised and her eyes off of his face and past his shoulder. He leads her in perfect time around the dance floor and she follows without difficulty. She can see a few curious gazes from the crowd.

Kelvin breaks the silence, "Please excuse the stares, no one in Sceadu is used to seeing one such as yourself. You dance with the true grace of a Princess, Namora."

Her cold eyes snap up to his. His light, green eyes look back at her. Mora studies his face for a moment; his graying hair and pale skin, along with his eyes make him appear washed out, though the sharp curve of his nose gives her the distinct impression that he is a cruel man.

He offers up a smile, searching her blank face for something, "As the Advisor of War, I am privy to such information. Somehow, you must be keeping your secret well because none suspect, even though your curious ways draw a lot of attention. Rebecca thinks her wrist is broken."

Her face remains blank, "Since you know who I am, you'll excuse me if I speak plainly."

"Of course, my dear," he almost mocks her.

"I did not break your daughter's wrist, I simply twisted it. Perhaps if she spent half as much attention on her social skills as she does on the men that walk by, she could have avoided the situation."

His smile makes her nervous. He is slow to respond, "I can see why Warden Eric has taken a liking to you."

She stops suddenly, clenching her jaw. Kelvin, surprisingly a very good dancer, swings her arm between them, forcing Mora to spin. Once he has twirled her completely around, he picks up with her movement and without missing a beat continues the dance, covering up her defiance so well that no one notices.

"Relax, child, he didn't say anything. He didn't have to—his concerns about you being placed with Master Rickan made his affections obvious."

She continues to press her lips tightly together, returning her stare just past his shoulder. She can see Eric, who has now walked over to Rick; both are watching her and Kelvin and neither look pleased about it. Mora, suddenly agitated, wishes the song to be over before she does or says something foolish.

"I would be more than happy to take charge of you," the dark tone of his voice draws her eyes back to him, "I am sure you would be more comfortable under my roof. I dare say, my house is lavish compared to the meager accommodations that Master Rickan can give you." His pale eyes wander off her face and down her neck to her chest.

Mora feels herself growing angry, "My current accommodations are more than adequate," she says harshly. Hearing the final cadence of the song begin she decides not to wait until the end. Letting go of his hand and shoulder she turns away from him. She feels a sharp pain in her arm when Kelvin roughly snatches her wrist, stopping her from leaving. He pulls her close, eyes narrowed, "I will ask the Queen to transfer your indenture to me."

Her voice comes out threateningly, "The Queen has no say over where I lodge. If she attempts to remove me, I will finish the task I set out to do in her office."

The song draws to a close and the dancers begin to exit the floor, leaving Kelvin and Mora behind. His grip tightens on her wrist, "I do love a challenge."

Eric appears next to them. As soon as he speaks, Kelvin lets go of her arm. "Master Rickan has granted me Mora's next dance," his voice is calm but as before he hides his anger well.

Kelvin smiles, as if to cover up his outburst, "Your father sent word that he will meet with Queen Sheynne in six days."

Mora looks away from him to Eric's extended hand, to Rick. Rick, who looks to be on the verge of snapping Kelvin's neck, nods to Mora, affirming that he sent Eric.

She returns her eyes back to Kelvin briefly; providing a small curtsey, her voice comes out cold, "Thank you for the dance, Advisor Kelvin."

He bows curtly as Mora takes Eric's hand and the next song begins. Kelvin swiftly walks off the stage, almost plowing over a few other couples. Dwarfed in size by Eric, she has to extend her arm further up to reach his. When he takes the lead, she is surprised to find that he has a light step. The concern in his bright green eyes quells her anger.

"You must excuse Advisor Kelvin, it appears he has been drinking," Eric says softly. She raises a brow, wondering why he would cover for such a despicable man; he adds, "A lot."

Though he continues to stare at her face, she fixes her gaze on a button on his shirt. She appreciates his concern for her but doesn't want to lead him on.

"How is he treating you? Master Rickan?" His voice is curious.

"Fine. He is..." she tries to think of a neutral word, so as not to hurt Eric with her affections, "amiable."

In silence, they dance through a majority of the song. Finally, Eric speaks again. The softness of his voice makes her hurt, "I have a key. I could free you, if you want."

She looks deep into his eyes, "In a country that murders its trespassers I would hate to know what they would do to you to for letting me go."

"I don't care," he says, "I don't think it is right to keep you here like this."

She feels thankful that he wants to help her but saddened that she cannot return his affections, "I'm afraid that running from a problem never solves it. Besides, I'm...not exactly in a hurry to return to my life."

His voice, slightly hopeful, only hurts her more, "You could stay here...with me. I know of an old cabin hidden deep within the woods—no one else knows it. It isn't as much as you deserve but I promise I will acquire the best furnishings possible and I will fix it up until it is worthy of you."

Her heart breaks at the prospect of a man willing to give up everything for her. She feels a horrible remorse that he loves her so but she does not him. He searches her face for a glimmer of hope. The song ends and they stop dancing. Her hand drifts from his shoulder to his cheek as she speaks quietly, "I do not deserve you, Warden Eric. Thank you for the wonderful dance." Mora turns and leaves him alone on the dance floor.

Returning to Rick, she is surprised to find Rebecca swooning over him. He pays the woman no attention as he was watching Mora and Eric. When he doesn't appear to be upset at her, she gets the feeling that he knew exactly what they were saying. As the familiar chords of the Hunter's Waltz hits her ears, she politely curtseys to Rick, hearing Rebecca's annoying voice begging him, "Please, Master Rickan? Just one dance, you haven't even been out there all night."

"I'm sorry, Rebecca, but Mora has promised me the last dance," he replies coolly, offering his hand to Mora as she rises. Placing her fingers in his, she can see the anger on Rebecca's face only for a moment before Rick leads her away.

He leaves her on one side of the dance floor with the other women, while he crosses it to join the men. As the waltz begins, the men bow to the women before half turn to the right and the other half turn to the left. With their hands behind their backs, they weave in and out, the whole line shifting. A few courageous men attempt to skip past two so that they will end up with a different partner once the women are in place; when Daniel grins and does it to Rick, Rick repeats the action so that he will end up with Mora. The men stop when the line has completely turned; all of the women curtsey before repeating the same movement. Mora isn't surprised when Rebecca, still hot over Rick declining her a dance, tries to skip past her and another woman so that she will end up with him.

When she briefly glances at Rick, the worried look on his face makes her smile. Quickly, Mora steps out of line, letting the girl behind her pass while she spins gracefully, stepping back in to take her place in front of Rick. When she gets a few inquisitive looks at her unconventional ways, she can't help but laugh—her and Amyee invented the move a few years back during the Festival. Since Franklin relied on Mora to keep him out of the clutches of one particularly annoying but infatuated girl, she has perfected the skip, which allows her back into the line wherever she needs to be.

Rick, relieved, moves forward with the other men; they bow to their partners, with hands extended. Mora places her hand into his—he grasps it tighter than any but a lover would. When the men draw their partners towards them, keeping the acceptable distance between their bodies, Rick pulls her so close she is pressed against his chest. As they begin to sway back and forth, following the rest of the group around the floor in a circle, her heart quickens. A devious smile crosses his lips. She can't help but wonder if he holds her so close to make Rebecca jealous—then she realizes that she doesn't care. Feeling his muscles ripple against her, she uses Rebecca as an excuse to move her hand from the side of his bicep, across his shoulders to the back of his neck, where she gently wraps her palm around it, in a too familiar sort of way. His smile softens into the look that Eric gives her but instead of feeling guilty, she feels her pulse race, her body tingle.

Distracted, being absorbed in his blue eyes, she is caught off guard when he spins her for the first time. Feeling her body respond without direction, she flutters gracefully back into his tight grip. She can see several of the women weren't quick enough to return to their partners, making their pair now sway to the offbeat. Knowing from past experience that it will cause a problem later, she smiles, understanding Rick's earlier comment.

"I'd say you dance more than 'occasionally,'" his voice, secretive and tender.

She smiles, blushing at her feelings for him, "For someone who hides in a tavern every night, you aren't so bad yourself."

He spins her again; the couples that were on the offbeat stumble, a few dropping out in embarrassment along with some who weren't able to catch the rhythm. Only half of the dancers remain—including Rebecca, who, though she can't keep time, stays in the dance so she can glare at Mora. Upon returning to Rick, he slides his hand from her hip to her lower back. Her body yearns for him, her knees threatening to buckle under weakness. She tries to keep her face calm, letting her head rock back and forth with the music.

Circling the dance floor, the music quickens. The Hunter's Waltz always continues until only one couple is left standing, the tempo speeding up to make it more difficult. Mora can't help but get a wicked grin when Rebecca trips and falls flat on her ass. When her partner helps her up, her face as pink as her dress and they leave only Mora and Rick.

They take their last turn around the empty dance floor as the music comes to an end. On the last chord, Rick spins Mora once more, catching her before he dips her backwards. When he tilts her so far back that she is only supported by him, she gives him a worried look—Franklin has dropped her before—but he grins and winks at her, holding her tight. Flustered, she laughs lightly to cover up her doubt of him. As he draws her back up to her feet, the remaining dancers clap. She curtseys gracefully to her partner. When he bows to her he gets a hold of her hand, bringing it up to his lips. He watches her blush, lingering in his kiss before he stands.

Instead of letting go of her hand, he hooks it on to his bicep and leads her out of the dance hall like a lady, nodding and smiling towards the compliments of the other men. The other women, say nothing, only glare at Mora, jealous of her grace and her partner.

Outside on the boardwalk, Daniel catches up to them as they head back to the tavern. He shakes his head, chuckling, "Hell, is there anything you Dervens aren't good at?"

Mora ponders a moment, still flustered from the dance with Rick. With her hand clenched tightly on his bicep, he doesn't seem to notice or mind her firm grip, "Giving up?" She offers as an answer to Daniel, not thinking of anything else.

Both men laugh deeply. Daniel bids them good morning when they reach the tavern door. Instead of going through the front, Rick leads her down the narrow alley way on the side and through the back entrance into the storeroom. Taking her hand tightly in his, he guides her through the crates and into the pitch black tavern.

Unable to see anything Mora is forced to rely on Rick, following closely behind him. She thinks they must be near the stairs when her foot catches on the first step and she tumbles forward. Rick, who somehow was facing her, catches her in his arms. When she feels the step under her knee, she realizes that he is sitting a few above her and that he intentionally tripped her. She thinks she can see the reflection of his eyes in the dark and is a bit unnerved when his hand, which seems to know exactly where she is, reaches up and cradles her face.

"Are you all right?" That personal, tender tone makes her heart race so fast she doesn't say anything, afraid it will come out as a whimper. His scent grows stronger; she knows he is leaning in. For an instant, she thinks she can feel his breath on her lips. She breathes shallowly, afraid to move and wishing desperately that she could see his face.

Suddenly she is swept up into his arms; he holds her tightly against his chest, carrying her up the steps and across the balcony. She closes her eyes, his smell invading her lungs and fueling her desire. When he pushes the doors open he stops for a moment, as if considering what to do. She remains still, eyes shut, willing him to do with her as he wishes. He walks across the room and sets her down, his body leaving an impression on hers when he is gone.

When Mora opens her eyes, her heart drops when she realizes that she is on the chair behind the screen. She sighs deeply, thinking herself absurd for hoping she would open her eyes and be in his bed. Changing into her gown, she praises Rick for being a better actor than she is—he was even able to convince her of his feelings.

Silently, she drags herself out from behind the screen and over to the pit. Sitting next to him, she stares off into the distance. His hand slides up her leg, lifting her gown to expose her almost healed wound. He rubs the salve in, calm voice prying her out of her thoughts, "What's the matter beautiful, cat got your tongue?"

When she turns to him, she sees a half crooked smile on his face. Her crippled heart lashes out before she can stop it, "Am I not good enough for you?" Her tiny voice is full of hurt.

He stops rubbing in the medicine, frozen, completely shocked by her comment. He blinks several times, staring at her, "I'm afraid I don't know what you are referring to..."

Completely taken over by her lust, she leans forward, locked onto his eyes. She reaches for his hand; when her fingers take a hold of it, she slowly slides it further up her thigh. Half way up, she starts to turn it so that his hand is now on top of her leg, moving towards the inside.

Rick jerks his hand back from her. He looks away, quickly screwing the cap onto the salve jar. Crushed, Mora lies back. She is angry at him but furious with herself for being so reckless. She knows that in a few days she will never see him again. He must be disgusted with her seemingly loose ways but she can't help but wish her first experience with a man would be enjoyable or at the very least with someone who she imagines would be gentler than Irron. She closes her eyes, sulking in her pain. She knows this must be how Eric feels.