The Queen of Izmoroz by Jon Skovron

Author:Jon Skovron [SKOVRON, JON]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Orbit
Published: 2021-04-20T00:00:00+00:00

41

Her name was Isobelle Cohen, and though they never talked of anything except medicine, food, and building reconstruction, Sebastian found himself stammering and blushing whenever they spoke. Perhaps it was because she was one of the few Kantesians in Kleiner who knew the imperial tongue. Or perhaps it was her eternally buoyant mood, despite the obvious hardships that surrounded them at all times.

Marcello had a different theory.

“She’s eye-meltingly delicious,” he said as they ate supper in the officers’ tent.

“Don’t be coarse,” said Sebastian. “Not about Fräulein Cohen.”

Marcello wasn’t wrong, though. There was something about Isobelle that evoked a… hunger in Sebastian unlike any he’d ever known. He’d felt a strong emotional and intellectual attraction with Galina. This was much more visceral, like parts of him were waking up for the first time.

He couldn’t say there was any single trait that made Isobelle so alluring. Not her bright blue eyes, or her rosy cheeks, or her curly, chestnut-colored hair that was always halfway falling out of its binding. It was not her sweet smile, or the soft white down on her upper lip. It was not her alabaster neck, or round freckled arms, or her generously endowed bosom that heaved whenever she laughed, which was often. It was not her wide hips, which swayed hypnotically as she hurried from one task to the next, or the delicate ankles that peeked out from beneath her gray dress. It was not the light tinkling soprano of her voice, or the fact that no matter what work they were doing, no matter how much they labored and sweat, she always smelled, unaccountably, of chamomile.

None of those things alone could have produced such a storm of feelings and passions within Sebastian. But all of them combined created a veritable tempest whenever he was near her.

“Honestly, Portinari,” said Marcello as he bit into a piece of crunchy Kantesian bread, “I bet you looked less frightened on the battlefield than you do requesting the inventory counts on bedding from Fräulein Cohen. When she brushed that bit of dirt out of your hair this afternoon, I thought you might faint.”

“Ha,” Sebastian said sourly, although he’d thought much the same thing.

“So are you going to pine over her forever, or make a move?” asked Marcello.

Sebastian gave him a sharp look. “Don’t be absurd. General Barone expressly forbade overly fraternizing with the Kantesians. And even if he hadn’t, the stark difference in power and authority between Fräulein Cohen and myself would make any expressions of affection on her part highly questionable.”

Marcello’s smile turned a little crooked. “Would it really matter if her affections were authentic so long as you got to kiss those rosy lips?”

Sebastian looked away, thinking of the empty platitudes he had received from Galina Odoyevtseva in the past. “To me, it would matter a great deal.”

Marcello heaved a tragic sigh. “You’re too good for this world, Portinari.”

“You know that’s not true,” said Sebastian. “I’m guilty of a great deal of wrongdoing. I’m simply a gentleman, just as my parents raised me to be.

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