Fantasy

282

She can keep her legs shut, but not her lips

Removed from active military duty, Helen clashes with her powerful newfound parent, Lord James Mordecai. During a visit to the Andros farm, the home of Helen's mother, one of Helen's caustic remarks pushes the duke to slap her. Judith Altair, best friend of Helen's mother, arranges a compromise.

Excerpt
During lunch, Helen, regretting her rude rejoinder to her father’s friend, tried to be more outgoing. After the meal, the younger children left to play outdoors. Helen insisted that Abigail and Martha remain seated while she and her cousins washed the dishes.

“That kaf you served late last night was extraordinarily tasty, Abigail,” Lord James remarked.

Abigail glanced at Helen. “It was not of my making, my lord.”

“It was the lieutenant’s brew, my lord,” Orlando interjected. “She seems to have a talent for consistently making the best-tasting kaf I’ve ever had the pleasure of drinking.”

“I would welcome another cup, Lieutenant,” Lord James said.

Bristling where she stood in front of the sink, Helen did not trust herself to speak. Nodding, she went about preparing a pot, feeling demeaned, devalued, and demoralized. She had earned a scholarship to the Sacred Academy of Kronos, in itself no small accomplishment, given the institution’s rigorous academic requirements. Managing to remain there against all opposition, she even graduated at the top of her class after seventeen grueling years. Yet her ability to make good kaf was the only thing that seemed to elicit her father’s approval.

The machine launched its brewing cycle. Helen’s disappointment and anger simmered. Hot tears of hurt and frustration rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them away and turned back to the stacks of dirty dishes.

Alerted by Helen’s abnormal silence, Judith tuned into her energy. She felt the depth of Helen’s turmoil and the effort she was making to keep it under control. Judith became alarmed at the potential for open conflict.

The kaf ready, Helen set a mug in front of Orlando. “This is going to cost you, Colonel.”

He regarded Helen with an innocent air. I don’t doubt that for an instant. He lifted the mug as though saluting her, then put it to his lips and tasted the brew. “You’ve outdone yourself, Lieutenant.”

Unwilling to pay Helen a compliment, Lord Nimrod decided to lighten his client’s mood. “I almost didn’t recognize you earlier, James, without a uniform.”

Helen, tackling the last of the dirty pots and pans, imprudently joined the discussion. “Indeed, it made me wonder if perhaps the Lord Protector has retired from active duty.”

“I may not be in uniform, young woman, but I am still Lord Protector,” Lord James said. “I suggest you not forget that.”

“I may not be in uniform either, Lord Protector, but I am still the medical officer for the 163rd Regiment. Have you forgotten that?”

“Not anymore, Lieutenant. Your commission was changed to inactive status indefinitely. You will not be returning to military duty for some time, if ever.”

Helen dropped a pot into the sink. The clang silenced all talk and halted all activity.

“Any particular reason for this change, Lord Protector?”

“I have been making decisions about your future, and that was one of them.”
Helen bowed and shook her head. She hit the palms of her hands on the rim of the sink. She stomped on the tiled floor. She tried breathing deeply, counting to ten, everything she could think of to siphon off her raging frustration.

Finally she pivoted on her heel; he sat with his back to her. “That’s just the problem, Lord Protector,” she said. “You are making the decisions about my future.”

“That is my right, and my responsibility, young woman,” he replied. “Along with being your Supreme Commander, I happen to be your father.”

“My father. I have no father. A sperm donor, perhaps, but no father.”