Rolfe was intrigued by the design Iona had sketched over the parchment paper that covered the entire length of his writing table. He came to stand behind her and put her hands beside her on both the sides, caging her. He looked over her head at the paper and was… impressed. But how did this girl know the map of the capital so well? With his brows furrowed he traced the entire mesh of pipe and funnels that she had drawn for the city.
Iona became a bundle of nerves. His warm breath fell on her forehead, her ears and cheeks as he examined the drawing.
She had woken up much before dawn. She had walked to his writing desk in order to find a large parchment roll and a pen to draw. She wondered if she retained any of her art. However, what she found there was even more intriguing. She found the map of the capital of Galahar and Rolfe's old drawings of the trenches he had mentioned in the night. Over the next one hour, she had memorized the entire map and then set to work on an impulse. She had created this mesh of funnels and pipes in the next three hours. According to her, this design was best for the capital to overcome its water logging problem.
And now under Rolfe's close scrutiny of her drawings, she felt like she had managed to scribble her musings on the paper like a child. Regret followed as her shoulders slumped. He hadn't spoken a word and she expected a word of ridicule or a derisive laughter.
"These are perfect!" he said and then let out a low whistle. He couldn't find a single flaw. It was the perfect piece of engineering and architecture he had seen in all this life. Even his court intellectuals hadn't produced such a fantastic piece of work.
Iona tipped her head back and looked at him. His chin with the beard-grain came in view and she had this sudden urge to bite it. She clasped her hands, smudging ink on her tunic. "Did you like it?" she asked in a low, hoarse voice.
He tipped his head down. His eyes were on her lips and her warm breath was blowing on his lips. "I love it," he replied. "How did you create such a perfect design?" his voice a deep rumble. Why was he losing control?
She half-listened to what he said and only two words were decipherable—love and perfect. "I— I studied the map and then it just… happened." She wanted to bite that chin fiercely. It was impossible to stop her desires and so Iona bit his chin and then placed a chaste kiss on it as if compensating the bite, as if smoothening it. Who knew where she would be next day and then she would miss this sensuous creature and regret not biting that chin?
His eyes flew wide open only for a moment and realization set upon her that she had crossed her line. Would he throw her out? But she also wondered how many women bit that sexy chin. "I— I—" Her words were cut off by a chaste brushing of firm lips on her forehead. Iona colored red to her hairline. Their breath mingled as their bodies started misbehaving.
Before he could go out of control, Rolfe moved away from her, and Iona sat there with her head hung low. What was she thinking?
Rolfe walked round the table and came to stand in front of her. "That is a fantastic piece of work, Iona. Were you ever taught architecture or engineering?"
With a frown she asked naïvely, "What are those?" A wide grin parted his lips and she saw the tip of his fangs. Gods, why did that arouse her so much? She was sure that he must have hundreds of noble women swooning over him. And here she was, raw and unrefined, beneath layers and layers of soot.
He shook his head. "Nothing. But explain it all to me, please," he said and waved a hand over the drawings.
"Oh!" Iona said with interest. "I looked at the capital and realized that the city is built on a rather plain surface, which I assume is a plateau. This mesh is created taking in consideration all the elevations and dips in the city." She pointed to the south. "This is where the main drain would open, removing the water from the city. And all these funnels and pipes," she said pointing at them, "They will be created underground. It is basically an underground drainage system, which in my opinion should last long if the city is not expanded. However," she held her index finger up. "I don't know how much snow Galahar faces every year because then the pipes would have to be covered with a thick lining of stones or bricks."
Rolfe looked at the top right of the parchment and said, "That's the palace." He chuckled. "While all this is beautiful, there is no way we can construct it… not with the way my father is… he is going to kill us the moment he finds out about it."
"That's why I have made the design in a way that it will be underground. In fact, it is going to be about twenty feet below the ground. There would be secret doors to lead in the tunnels. The best part is that you can carry this all out discreetly, without anyone knowing. The pipes and funnels can be laid within a month's time if you distribute the labor and time yourself. You would need a lot of caution, a lot of precision. And that is why starting from the palace is the best idea." A wicked grin set on her lips. "You see, once we have created funnels around the palace and channeled them through the city, till this main drain, the king would never be able to destroy them."
"Why?" Rolfe asked, his neck muscles tense and eyes narrowed.
"Because if he destroys it, water will get logged in the palace to the extent that it would submerge people till their waists." She started laughing in the evilest way she knew. That was the only way she knew.
"You are wicked!" he observed with a grin. The words only came out of fondness. The girl was a natural genius. He had never encountered women who had such sharp brains. Warriors, yes. Talented, yes. There were plenty in his unit, but genius—none.
His remark stopped her laugh. The word 'wicked' rang in her head and brought back crazy memories. Her face paled. She rubbed her neck, instantly withdrawing herself and said, "I— I have to go." Without waiting for his approval, she got up and left.
"Iona!" he called her, but she strode out of the tent.
—
The incessant rains had made it difficult for them to go any further up that day and so they had to stop in yet another small cave hidden in the slope. As Anastasia roasted three birds that Ileus had hunted for them, she looked at the two of them. They acted like old friends. And why was it that his golden eyes always seemed to rake her body. It was as if he was permanently looking at her. She found herself blushing under his gaze for the thousandth time. Everything about him was so familiar. The afternoon encounter had left her shaky.
