One hundred and four: Pop quiz

Resuming his seat, conversation resumed in murmurs around me and I examined the faces of all these officers, finding most of them familiar.

"They all served under you in the war," I said, leaning closer to Kiran when a waiter slid the entree in front of me.

"I knew you'd recognise them," Kiran exclaimed with a pleased voice and conversations died down, all eyes turning toward us, "that's why I invited you to dine with us." He helped me cut the fillet of fish on my plate, dividing everything into bite sizes for me. He pushed my hands away when I tried to stop him. "Now, let's really test your memory. Can you remember their names?"

I cast a fearful glance up at him and the officers watched with expressionless faces.

"Don't be afraid. We have a bet going that you won't remember everyone. I'm betting that you'll remember more than just their names and win me an hundred cash from each of them. Don't let me down now, Jean."

"No pressure or anything," I muttered, my voice rising into a squeak with nervousness. "Tell the lady to just turn up wearing anything she felt like and omit the fact that it's a formal dinner. Then tell her that several hundred cash lies heavy upon her husband in a bet and only she can save him from losing the foolish bet that I'm not sure I can win. To remember and recognise faces from years ago - you," I poked Kiran under his arms, making him wriggle. "Are you ticklish?"

"No," he replied so quickly that his answer told me his true answer. He gasped at my dastardly attack and the other officers struggled hard to maintain their composure.

"You are ticklish," I beamed with satisfaction. "A discovery worth celebrating," I raised my glass to his peers and they all cheered, clinking glasses. I sniffed the drink before sipping it, glad that Kiran had remembered my allergy to alcohol.

"My lady," Kiran gasped and wagged his finger at me, "that was just plain mean. Not to mention unseeming. You're supposed to help me uphold my dignity before my officers."

"Dignity? What dignity?" I cocked my head, allowing a little smirk to escape me. "If I'm not wrong, we've all already seen what you look like naked, during the war." Most of the officers couldn't quite smother their giggles at the fun I was poking at their senior officer. He glared around at them. "But you've done me more favours than I can return, saved my life more times than I know and treated me better than I deserve," I conceded and everyone turned serious again. Kiran tilted his head, looking down at me with moisture in his eyes. "You cared for me when I was sick and sent people to watch over me when I was a prisoner. Thank you, Kiran," I said softly, looking into his eyes, "for so much and everything over the years. You have my life. I owe it to you."

Kiran gave me a gentle kiss amid cheers from his officers. The kiss deepened until I had no breath left.

"Was that giving you enough dignity?" I gasped, ducking my head and hiding my face behind my serviette, sure that I was blushing something worse than tomato red.

"Definitely," Kiran smirked at me, looking very satisfied.

"In that case," I peeked up at him again, wanting to wipe that smirk off his face for a moment, "I must confess that I went shopping with your money today and brought back more bags than I could carry."

"Oho," I heard someone guffaw.

"As such," I grinned up at his falling face, "it's only fair that I help you earn back all the money that I spent. It really was very kind of you to let me spend as much as I wanted. I can't promise that I will be able to remember," I looked around at the officers, still searching through the history files in the back of my memory for who they were and any information relating to them, "but I assure you, I will do my very best." Then I whispered an apology. "I'm sorry if I fail."

"It's all right," Kiran gave me a quick peck on the lips and stroked my hair. "Just do your best. That's all I ask."

"As my Chief-in-Waiting commands," I cleared my throat and twisted the serviette within my hands under the table. "My information may be a few years out of date, but we'll start with your neighbour on the other side," my eyes met twinkly green ones. "Alfie Curling of the Conepine Tribe, best known for his winning of the curling tournaments twelve years in a row before the war began, hence the surname. His ancestor led a calvary charge in the wars centuries ago and protected a village from the greater forces of the enemy for twelve days. I don't know what it is with this man and the number twelve, but during the war, I saw him once carrying twelve guns on him at a time. He was - is an excellent rapid fire marksman."