Chapter 5

The Argorn appeared to be incredibly strong runners and even though he was carrying her and had fought a grueling battle, Garrin’s speed never slowed. The men with them kept the pace as well.

“Where are we going?” she asked, raising her voice.

“The mountain fortress where you visited me before,” he said. “The Craadil were on their way to attack us there and we chose to fight in the meadow rather than be besieged. We were outnumbered and losing when you arrived with your incredible fire weapon.”

After about half an hour, the soldiers took a break and Garrin lowered her to her feet. “Do you think you can walk now?”

“Walk, yes. Run like you overachievers, no.” She clung to his arm, still woozy.

“We’ll be climbing to the fortress now actually.”

Dianora would have preferred running. The approach to the fortress was up a steep staircase carved out of the mountain with no guardrail and a dizzying drop on one side. Garrin put her next to the wall and climbed beside her, giving her support as they climbed. She was in pretty fair physical condition but she was huffing and puffing by the time she entered the fortress at the end of the climb. Dianora waited in a courtyard while Garrin consulted with two of his men and then he came to her.

“Let me escort you to my rooms so you can bathe and rest,” he said.

It took her two tries to summon words. “We should talk.”

“Was this your first time in a combat situation? Your first time to inflict harm on another being?” Garrin asked, his eyes full of concern. “I regret the stone brought you to the killing fields but yet again your arrival saved the day and saved me.”

She swallowed hard and told herself not to cry. “I’ve never shot at anything but a target before. I’m the kind of person who takes spiders outside rather than kill them.”

“You had no choice today—it was kill or die.” Garrin enfolded her in a hug. “I’m proud of you and I know how the first battle can affect one, especially a person lacking combat training.”

Dianora clung to him for a long moment. “Today can be my last battle too, as far as I’m concerned.” Even as she said the words, however, she remembered the war wasn’t over and it was probably inevitable she’d have to fight again. She’d made her choice and how she’d have to follow through. Of course there’d be consequences—why hadn’t she thought about this? What else hadn’t she properly anticipated when she made her choice to travel here?

He took her hand, interrupting her agitated listing of her worries as he said, “Come, let me tend to you in private. The servants will have been filling the tub with heated water and we don’t want to let it grow cold.”

As they walked toward the entrance to the imposing building, she observed wounded men being carried into the courtyard on crude litters.

“That reminds me, I brought a limited amount of medical supplies,” she said, unslinging her backpack. “I may be able to help treat your casualties. I have had first aid training.”

“I insist we take care of you first.” He took the backpack and kept her walking. “Then yes, of course I must visit my wounded men and you would be welcome to accompany me.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Dianora passed through the doorway ahead of him and found another long flight of stairs waiting for them. At least these stairs had a handrail.

“Anything, my lady.”

“Your people won’t think I’m a witch or anything, will they? I don’t want to be burned at the stake.” She managed a laugh but her question was serious.

“A witch?”

“You know, bringing my uh fire weapon and doing what I can for the wounded tonight.”

He was holding her hand and now he raised it to eye level, causing the ring’s gems to sparkle and gleam in the light. “It is well known you travel to me from another realm and therefore expected you would bring your own magic with you. Witches can be good or evil but no one would dare cast aspersions on your motives and magics. None may question what I have accepted as good and proper.”

Garrin’s voice rang with conviction and she was reassured, while also wondering how much magic there was in Argorn. Her own ‘magic’ was actually advanced technology but what would explain magic here? She was too tired and stressed from the battle earlier to think it all through. Garrin said she’d be accepted and she’d trust his word.

They proceeded up the staircase to his suite of rooms and as she entered in front of him a maidservant was pouring a final pitcher of hot water into a large tub in the ensuite bathroom. She bobbed a curtsey to them. “All ready for you, my lady. Do you need help undressing?”

Dianora stared, flustered by the question and then shook her head. “I’ll be fine, thanks.”

“I’ll bring the warm water for rinsing shortly,” the maid said.

Taking a deep breath, Dianora reminded herself she really was in a medieval time period, not a fictional trideo or a dream.

As the door closed behind the maid, Garrin asked,” Problem?”

“It’s a lot for me to get used to.” She gestured at his well-appointed room, with the tapestries, lamps and candles. “Very different than where I’m from. I don’t have servants and no one helps me with my bath.”

He came closer with a smile. “I’d be honored to assist you, my lady. No need for a maid.”

Blushing from head to toe, she retreated a step. Garrin captured her wrist, gently circling it with his fingers. “Your heart beats like the wings of a bird entangled in a net. Are you then frightened of me? Of what there might be between us?” His voice was low and tender.

Remembering how much she’d enjoyed their evening sitting and talking, drinking wine together, Dianora answered honestly. “No, I ‘m tempted by you. I want—” But here her courage failed her and she couldn’t end the sentence.

Garrin took her into his arms and his arousal pressing against her through their clothing. “The ring brings you to me for a reason—we two are meant to be together. I find you intoxicating, my lady.” He gave her a kiss but when she sought to deepen it, he broke off the caress. “I admire your beauty but I also admire your courage, especially today in the stress of combat. Few who are untrained and unused to the savagery could have done what you did.” He rubbed his nose against hers. “Let me wash the stain of battle from myself and then may I come to you? I think we need to test this connection of ours, do you agree?”

She nodded, resting her head against his chest.

“We should wait until later, when we can have the entire night uninterrupted, but I fear I desire you too much to delay,” he said.

“Right, we have to go visit the wounded,” she said, disappointed they couldn’t shut out the entire world and concentrate on each other. Garrin was the ruler here, with responsibilities and cares besides her and she needed to remember his role. And her role? Did she even have one, aside from being a time traveling meddler?

“And we’ll be dining with my sword brothers, to plan our next move against the Craadil. I want you there as part of my inner circle. Your voice will be valuable.”

“Me?” She tapped herself on the chest and frowned. “I don’t know anything about waging war. Well, maybe I’ve read a lot of history texts about war and tactics but you and your men are the experts.”

“If we are to be life partners—” He placed a finger on her lips to stop her protest. “I know, I’m getting ahead of myself and I assure you I assume nothing but it’s my nature to plan and to think out the future. If we are to be life partners, then we must be equals and you must be involved in matters affecting the Argorn. Your insights and advice must be taken into account from the beginning. My people must understand who you are to me in all ways.”

Dianora was warmed and pleased Garrin was so egalitarian, given the times in which he lived and ruled. “I’m honored and I’ll try to live up to your faith in me.”

Now he did kiss her with all the pent-up passion the tension in his body was broadcasting. She parted her lips to give him access and Garrin took possession like the warrior he was, tongue thrusting and tasting and caressing. He held her close and tight and she ached to give him more. When they drew apart, breathless, he said with a grin, “Your bath water grows cold so I’d best not keep you from it.”

“Where are you going to bathe?” She didn’t think the tub was big enough for them both unless they were really creative and she lamented the lack of a shower.

“There are other rooms adjacent to mine. I’ll return when I’ve scrubbed myself off.”

Dianora cupped the impressive bulge in his pants. “Scrubbing is all you can do. You have to save all of this for me. You can imagine me in the nude in here, bathing like a goddess but you’re not allowed to spend yourself anywhere but in bed with me.”

He threw his head back with a shout of laughter. “So my lady is a bossy minx. Fair enough but you may be sorry when you see what I bring to the bed.”

She slid her hand inside the waistband of his pants and stroked his hard as steel cock, relishing the feel of the soft skin over the rigid shaft. “I won’t be sorry and neither will you.”

Still in a good humor, he removed her hand, kissed her cheek and sauntered out of the room, whistling. Dianora pulled off her boots, stripped out of her cargo pants and tee shirt and dropped them in a heap on the carpeted floor. The clothing was stained and she had no desire to look at the visible evidence of the battle she’d fought and the enemy she’d killed. Placing her bra and panties on a nearby chair, she tested the water which was quite warm and stepped into the tub. There were green granules in a shell on the edge and she cautiously tipped a few into the water, where the particles foamed into iridescent bubbles with a pleasant garden scent. Resting her head on the tub’s rim, she luxuriated in the warm bath, enticing her tightly strung nerves to loosen and relax. The lovemaking soon to happen in Garrin’s bed generated heat in her inner core and she allowed her fingers to drift to pleasure herself.

Smiling at how sternly she’d forbidden him to do the same, Dianora stopped herself as the orgasm was building and sat upright.

The maid knocked and bustled in, holding another large pitcher. “I’ve brought the rinse water, my lady.”

Embarrassed, Dianora rose carefully to her feet and stepped onto the thick bathmat. “Surely we’re not going to pour the water onto the floor.”

Indicating a tiled area with a drain in the corner, the serving woman said, “If you’ll step over here, milady.”

The rinse was quick and then she gratefully accepted the plush towel the maid produced. Making a mental note of probably the first of many things which she’d have to change in the future, bathing practices becoming less public became a high priority.

“I’ll take your clothes to be washed,” the maid said as she moved toward the big bedroom beyond.

“There are things I need in the pockets,” Dianora protested.

“I’ll be sure to empty the pockets and place your possessions on the table here.” A worried expression crossed the servant’s face. “None of your magics will do me harm to touch, will they?”

“Of course not.” Realizing her answer was too abrupt, Dianora added, “I’d have warned you first.” Sweeping her gaze across the room, she asked, “What am I going to wear while my clothes get washed? Garrin said we’d be having dinner with his men and I have to pay a visit to the medbay.”

“I’m sorry, the what?”

“The clinic, the hospital, wherever the wounded men from today’s battle are.”

“Ah, yes. The injured lie in the healer’s infirmary. Your robes are here, on the chair. Do you need help dressing?”

“I’ll figure it out, thanks.” Wrapping the towel more firmly around herself, Dianora stepped to the chair and examined the pale blue underdress and the dark blue robe. There were other clothes on the chair as well but she wasn’t about to wear more layers. Her own lingerie would be fine and she had her boots. With a chuckle, she imagined the unfashionable picture she was going to present.

“My lady amuses herself?”

She whirled to find the maid had gone with her battle stained pants and tee shirt and Garrin stood just inside the door, towel cinched precariously at his loins. Mesmerized by his amazing abs and the trail of hair leading to the edge of the towel, she had to take a moment to collect her wits. He closed the door, a smile on his face and let his towel fall to the floor.

“Am I pleasing to your eyes?”

Dianora went to him and looped her arms around his neck, his cock pressed between them, pulsing and insistent. “Very much, my lord.”

Watching her face, he stripped the towel from her body and picked her up, walking toward the bed. She feathered kisses along his hard jawline, relishing being skin to skin with him. Garrin placed her on the mattress with infinite care and stood gazing at her as she lay there, smiling, hair tousled. “I consider myself blessed by the gods to have you here.” He came onto the bed next to her and fondled her breast with one hand, teasing the nipple into a hard bud. “When I saw you facing off with the Craadil warrior today I feared for you—my heart stopped and I was afraid of losing you before we ever had the chance to become as one. Do you know I’ve dreamt of you every night since you freed me from the dungeon? Never knowing if I’d see you again.”

“When I’m in my own time I can’t stop thinking about you,” she admitted. “Worrying about you, terrified you’ve been hurt or recaptured or…other terrible things. And it’s silly because you are deep in the past of the planet and I know it with my mind, but my heart believes there’s a future for us. I had to come back.”

He lowered his head to suckle her breast, teasing the already aching bud with his tongue, and slid his other hand lower across her abdomen, parting the curls at the vee of her thighs. Garrin toyed with her clit, caressing the bud of nerves and sending her arousal even higher, before sliding one finger along her soft folds and inside.

Breaking off his attention to her breasts, Garrin looked at her. “So hot and wet for me already, my lady? Or did you pleasure yourself in the bath, having forbidden me to do the same?”

“I thought of you, wet and naked and I was severely tempted,” she said, blushing. “But I made myself stop. And then the maid came in.”

“I approve the maid’s good timing.” He came on top of her, the tip of his shaft nudging insistently at her opening. Dianora spread her legs wider and stroked his butt, marveling at how muscular he was. A hard man, built to wage war and to rule…and to love her? At her encouragement he thrust inside an inch or two and paused, allowing her to adjust to his incredible girth. Garrin was a big man, not only in stature but in endowments and as he stretched and filled her Dianora tried not to panic over whether he’d fit or not.

Watching her face, he stroked her face softly before kissing her. “We’re in no rush. I give you my word I’ll not hurt you or force a surrender of what you choose to withhold.”

“I’m fine,” she said, trying to relax. “I have performance anxiety. I’m not very experienced and you must have?—”

“What went before has no importance in this bed with the two of us,” he said firmly. “And this is not a performance as you put it. This is Garrin and Dianora figuring each other out, learning to be one together.” Accompanying the words, he thrust again, slowly, going much deeper. “So tight, so hot, so wet. Making love to you is like no other experience I’ve had.”

Under his loving touch, Dianora relaxed and allowed herself to enjoy the way he stimulated her every nerve ending as he drove carefully toward his goal, deeper and deeper toward her inner core. She knew he wasn’t going to hurt her. She trusted him and lost herself in his soft words of encouragement and endearment, as her arousal built and built until the point where the climax overtook her with shocking force and little warning and she arched and cried out under him. The wave of sensations was all encompassing—there was nothing else in her world but Garrin’s cock seated in her most private place, giving pleasure almost beyond her power to endure. When she clenched around him and clung to him, Garrin went over the edge himself, achieving the release she’d playfully denied him earlier in the evening.

A wave of incredible tenderness swept over her as she held this powerful man in her arms as he came down from the high she’d given him. “We do belong together,” she whispered.

“Let there be no doubt.” His kiss was deep and possessive and Dianora felt absolutely claimed and adored by this man from the past, relinquishing her life and her previous goals. All of that was inconsequential compared to what she and Garrin shared, impossible but for the ring’s intervention.

Soon enough they had to rise and wash and dress. Garrin was much more efficient and quicker, donning a fresh tunic and uniform kilt before she’d gotten more than her underwear on. He turned to her and stopped dead, mouth open. “What are these magical garments you wear?”

Puzzled Dianora glanced at herself. “A bra and panties. Why?”

“Never have I seen the like.” Swiftly he came to her, touching her breasts cupped by the black lace with reverence and then placing one hand on her mound, barely covered by the scrap of lace and silk. “I might come from this vision alone.” He ground his teeth in frustration. “Would that we didn’t have to tour the infirmary and dine with my men. I want nothing but to spend the night in bed with you.”

“Flattering and tempting as the idea may be, we do have to go.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss him and danced away to where the blue dress and robe lay waiting. Satisfaction suffused her over his reaction to her lingerie along with a strong sense of annoyance she hadn’t seen fit to pack more. When she’d assembled her kit for the time travel, she’d been thinking so practically—weapons and medical supplies—she’d neglected to consider the other aspects of life in a medieval kingdom. Note to self, have the palace seamstress study bra design. She drew on the dress, pleased at the subtle floral print woven into the fabric and then the rich blue robe or overdress. There was a belt made from tiny gold links, with a large oval pendant bearing a snarling wildcat crest and she fussed with it because the garments would be too loose otherwise.

Garrin came to help her. “This is the symbol of my House,” he said, fingering the pendant.

“Appropriate,” she said with a smile. Sitting in the chair to pull on her boots, she found the situation humorous. “My footgear doesn’t exactly match the dress I’m afraid.”

“I can have the servants bring slippers.”

“With all the cold slippery stone staircases in this drafty place? I’m much better off with the boots.” Dianora rose, smoothing the wrinkles from the dress and robe. “All done. How do I look?”

“I’ll be the envy of every man in the fortress,” he said. Picking up a brush, he added, “May I tend to your tresses, my lady? For as the curls are right now, you’ve obviously been freshly tumbled and while that is the true state of affairs, I’ve no desire to emphasize the matter. I want no other man to imagine you in bed.”

“Of course.” She stood patiently while he untangled a few snarls and brushed her hair into obedience. His efforts were soothing and she enjoyed the way he plainly relished touching her hair. Eventually she reluctantly said, “I can braid it now if you give me a minute.” Crossing to the mirror, she efficiently made good on her offer. “Now I’m ready. Well, except for my supplies.” Going to the backpack, she frowned. It was stained in spots with what she suspected was Craadil blood. Fortunately the medkit was self-contained so she pulled it out and laid it on the table while she retrieved the blaster and slid it into the pack. “I don’t need to worry about this being stolen do I?”

The expression on Garrin’s face was a mixture of astonishment and anger. “Who would dare to steal from my chambers? Much less to touch anything of yours? Think you we’re barbarians like the Craadil, who loot and steal at every opportunity?”

“No of course not. It’s just these things are irreplaceable and we’re going to need the blaster in particular to help achieve ultimate victory.” With a frown she added, “Even if I used the ring and went back to my time I wouldn’t be able to get my hands on replacements. It was a one time deal.”

“Let me set your mind at rest.” He picked up the backpack and carried it into the next room on the other side, outfitted as a study or an office, medieval style. While Dianora watched, he strode to a tapestry on the wall, shifting its dusty folds aside to reveal what appeared to be a smooth stone wall. Touching his fingers lightly to three spots seemingly chosen at random, Garrin stepped out of the way as a portion of the wall swung open. He placed the pack in the now revealed cavity and closed the door. Beckoning to Dianora, he said, “Come, learn the pattern for opening the receptacle. You need access to this whether I stand here or not.”

He showed her where to place her fingers and after a few fumbles she was able to open the safe for herself. There were other intriguing bundles and items in the hidden space but now wasn’t the time for exploring them. “I’m more than satisfied. Thank you, my lord.”

“Good. Then we proceed to the infirmary where the healers are waiting for our visit.” He offered her his arm and together they strolled out of the suite and into the corridor. Two men at arms who were on guard saluted and then followed the couple as they descended the grand staircase. There were people coming and going on the stairs and once they reached the ground floor, without exception each person she passed ether bowed, saluted or curtseyed as Dianora and Garrin proceeded.

“I’m not used to all this formality,” she said.

“It’s the custom to honor the position I hold.” His tone was matter of fact. “When you are by yourself the soldiers won’t salute but courtesy will be shown in deference to your rank.”

Dianora considered his answer. What position exactly did she hold here? Garrin had been quite clear about the high regard he had for her and his desire to work as a team inside and outside the bedroom, which was flattering and reassuring but did he want to marry her? Make her a queen? Or was she to fill a more informal role? Some of the possible answers were less than ideal but she didn’t feel the middle of a busy corridor with potential eavesdroppers everywhere was the place to have that particular conversation. She’d taken a massive leap of faith coming to his time but ever since she’d worn the ring the first time she’d been obsessed with Garrin and his fate. Since the evening they’d spent talking and getting to know each other she’d been unable to think of much else. The ring’s influence had tempted her into ruining her career and taking tremendous risks, all for a man gone to dust centuries before her time.

But more than real enough now. His grip on her hand was comforting.

Turning her attention to the matter at hand, she cleared her throat and said, “I should mention my medkit is for humans, not specific to your people but we’ve found nearly all the humanoid races across the galaxy share roughly the same genetics and traits. It’s approved to use the meds on nonhumans with care.”

“Am I nonhuman to you?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. “Do you classify me with the Craadil?”

“Of course not.” She rushed to reassure him, wondering if he was teasing. “But you obviously don’t have ancestors on the same obscure planet on the rim of the galaxy where all of my forebears originated. I’m using the term ‘human’ in that sense here. We’re all sentient beings.”

“Fair enough. I trust your judgment when it comes to your magics.”

“The other thing is, I could only bring a limited supply. Hopefully I can treat the wounded you have here tonight but eventually I’ll run out of injects and the sensors will lose power and like the blaster, none of it can be replaced.”

Garrin paused and faced her. “You must keep enough to take care of yourself. Promise me. I appreciate your desire to help my soldiers and my people but if there are any magics you may need for your own health in the future, you must not use them on the Argorn.”

She was touched by his concern. “I’m sure your healers have their own remedies which would work on me should there be any need.”

“The healers of Argorn are quite skilled, it’s true and acknowledged, but you aren’t from here and must have a care for yourself. Promise me.”

“All right, you have my word I’ll keep a reserve of the essentials for myself.”

He indicated a doorway a few feet further down the corridor. “We’ve arrived. Prepare yourself.”

Dianora took a deep breath but she wasn’t overly nervous. The Archaeology Service training had been rigorous and thorough. Her colleagues in the service had been in all kinds of dicey situations on various planets where digs were carried out and the six week course had been designed to make them self-sufficient. Help would not always be close at hand if an expedition was on a remote planet and the staff had to be able to care for themselves. Not every team was assigned a doctor or even a medic depending on the budget. She’d been surprisingly proficient at using the field medkit and graduated from the module with the highest grade in her class.

The infirmary was clean and well lit by the mysterious lamps the Argorn used. Three people were waiting for them, a woman and two men, and Garrin introduced them rapidly to Dianora. Alsaccia, the woman was in charge. All three appeared tired and worn.

“We’re grateful for any help you can give our men, my lady,” the chief healer said as she escorted Dianora and Garrin to the ward. “The wounds have been cleaned and bandaged. We had to perform two amputations and those men are in considerable pain despite the special poultices.”

“How many are there?” Garrin asked.

“Twenty, my lord.”

Dianora was surprised. “So few?”

He gave her a somber look. “In battles such as we fight, especially with the Craadil, who are bigger and faster, death comes easily.”

Abashed, she turned to the healer accompanying them. “And what do you do for infection?” She had to use the word in Basic as her translator couldn’t provide one.

“Infection?” Alsaccia stumbled over the word. “Do you mean the putrefying fever? There is a special acidic wine which is used to bathe the wounds. Occasionally we use a special compound incorporating the whites of eggs.”

“Wine’s acidic,” Dianora said. “Creates a hostile environment for the bacteria. Good idea.”

The Argorn around her were baffled by her rambling of course and not for the first time she questioned how she planned to try to bring a medieval society out of its time and closer to the future. She’d have to choose her battles and make sure she had Garrin’s full support. “And do you wash your hands before touching a patient?”

Clearly offended, the healer said, “We’re not barbarians here, my lady. We practice the rules of proper medical care as set forth in the texts governing our discipline.”

“I’m sure you do. Of course.”

“My lady isn’t from our realm, as you may have heard,” Garrin interposed smoothly. “She merely seeks to clarify and to understand the differences in practice.”

Alsaccia allowed herself to be mollified and there was no more discussion as she opened the door to the ward where the wounded men lay. Garrin and Dianora approached the first bed and the soldier attempted to raise himself to salute properly. Garrin pressed him against the pillow. “No need for ceremony tonight, old friend. You fought valiantly.”

As the two men chatted and the healers watched, Dianora opened her medkit and pulled out the general scanner. Extremely self-conscious, she activated the device and passed it over the patient.

“My lady does you the honor of applying her own magics,” Garrin told the man, who was wide eyed and apprehensive.

“Readings about what I’d expect,” she said. “Blood pressure sky high, mild infection beginning to take hold, fever…” The medkit recommended the proper medinjects, a painkiller and a broad spectrum antibiotic. Dianora loaded the modules into the tool and paused for a moment to run the disinfecting ray over her hands. “This won’t hurt,” she assured the soldier, laying her hand over his on the woven blanket. ”My uh magics will relieve the pain for the night so you can sleep and begin to heal. I only want to boost the effects of what the healers have done for you.”

“Go ahead, my lady,” the patient said with an effort at good cheer. “As bad as I feel right now, nothing would worsen the situation.”

“Hopefully this will help.” She administered the inject, popped the now empty module out, stowing it in the proper spot in the medkit for disposal later and was ready to move on.

“Thank you for your service and may the gods keep you,” Garrin said to his liegeman before he escorted her to the next bed.

Dianora was exhausted by the time she left the last patient. The first men she’d treated were already sleeping peacefully. She regretted her inability to help the two amputees, both of whom had lost an arm but even at home in her own time access to a rejuve resonance generator was restricted to military personnel. Her basic supplies were still plentiful, thanks to the Archaeology Service’s tendency to over plan for emergencies and she believed she’d done some good.

“You have a nice way with you,” Alsaccia said to Dianora as the couple left the ward. “The men were comforted. And of course your presence and praise, my lord, raised the morale more than I could measure, which is important in the healing process.”

“I’ll expect daily reports on their progress,” Garrin answered.

Dianora was silent as she walked away from the infirmary. She hoped to do so much good here but facing a room full of seriously wounded men forced her to accept yet again she was in the midst of a civilization quite unlike her own and she was only one person, despite her vast store of knowledge.

“Are you all right?” Garrin asked at length. “I know you’re unaccustomed to the toll a war takes on good men.”

“Re-evaluating my overly ambitious ideas about how much help I can provide.” She forced herself to project confidence and positivity as his expression conveyed his concern for her. “In the near future can we talk about what I can do and where the greatest needs are?”

“First we must win the war and defeat the Craadil or all of this is for nothing,” he said. “Discussion of the future and what one can do must wait. Fortunately our next engagement tonight will bring the war closer to an end.”

“Dinner with your men?”

“Strategizing with my inner council,” was his mild correction. “Including you.”