Engraved - The Hunted Warrior

Chapter 15.2 - Meetings

While they ate Shaleh tried to examine Nurlan. It was difficult to do so with him gazing at her so openly.

Alam is taller. And younger. And more handsome.

This man is full of anger, or perhaps sadness. Maybe both.

He is more courteous though. And eats nicer. Maybe he's just on his best behaviour. Like me.

She noticed a small cut on his hand with three small stitched holding it closed.

"That looks recent," she pointed to his hand.

Nurlan held his hand up to look at it more closely. "It happened this morning. I had to break up a fight."

Her mother had told her to "touch his hand if you can, but it has to seem natural."

"The stitching looks good. May I see?" Shaleh extended her hand towards him. He held out his hand in response. She grasped it gently and twisted it slightly so the fire light showed the stitching clearly. His hand was warm, rough, and calloused.

She held his hand for two heart beats longer than was needed.

"It should heal quickly," she smiled.

Nurlan leaned closer. "Tell me of yourself," he requested quietly, so that their conversation would not be heard. Further down the long table Kirill, his wife, and Shaleh's parents were discussing political matters.

"What would you like to know?" Shaleh leaned in. Her mother had also told her to get close enough for him to smell her.

"What do you like? What brings you joy?"

She smiled and held his gaze while trying to think of a response. "Well, I like spring when the snow is all gone. And I love riding my horse."

Instead of smiling back he simply raised one eyebrow. "Spring, and riding your horse? You can do better than that."

"What do you mean," she frowned in surprise and then quickly put her smile back on.

"Everyone likes when the snow is gone and riding their horse. That doesn't tell me anything about you."

She tried to freeze her smile so it would not fall completely.

"Maybe you should go first then, and lead by example," she said a little more heatedly than her mother would have approved of.

"Fair enough," he said with a tight nod. "I like honesty, and I like simplicity. Unfortunately neither of them seem appreciated in the political sphere we find ourselves. I also like the silence of solitude, but that seems an equally unpopular thing to like. Now it is your turn."

Solitude? Is that some kind of hint?

"Let's see," she paused and wrinkled her brow in concentration. She took advantage of the break in conversation to lean forward to pick up a jug of water. She made sure that she turned her head so that he could see her neckline as she poured fresh water into his cup. "I enjoy singing, though I am not very good, and as a child I loved beating the boys in running races."

"That is slightly better, but only just," Nurlan said. "What is the real you? What are your fears? Your hopes? If we are to marry shouldn't we know each other at least a little?"

Shaleh thought for a while. She did not know this game, or if it even was a game. If she spoke openly would it compromise her chances?

"Do you really want to know or are you just trying to be polite?" It was not what her mother would have suggested she say.

Nurlan smiled fully for the first time in the evening. "Something you should know is that I have been married before, but my wife died. I loved her very much. I still do. I am a slow learner, but one thing I have learned is that a marriage where the man and woman do not truly know each other makes a life of bitterness for both them, and their children."