Barbarian Outcast (Princesses of the Ironbound Book 1)

by Aaron Crash

  They turned left at the Flow courtyard. The covered walkway sparkling with Sunfire torches. The sides of the ceiling were open, showing the sky’s clouds, reddening with the sunset.

  Ymir and Lillee turned left again and moved past other doors until they came to the end of the corridor. Ymir smacked the door three times.

  Jenny opened it, smiling. Her dress had puffy red sleeves. The chest was black velvet, knifing down between her generous cleavage. Her black hair tumbled in curls down to her shoulders. Ymir took a minute to admire her collarbones and the valley of her breasts. He nodded at her. “No spells.”

  “Whatever do you mean?” She grinned, blue eyes sparkling.

  She moved past him and drew Lillee in. “Come in, come in. You know, girl, I would love to see you in something other than your tunic and those robes. And the cape—it’s jaunty, but in a good way? I’m not sure. Maybe you can try on some of my clothes while you’re here.”

  Lillee let herself be dragged into the room. Ymir closed the door behind him.

  The floors were pink marble covered by a shaggy white carpet. If he didn’t know better, it might be tundra bear fur, it looked so thick. To the right, through an archway, he saw the bedroom. A white comforter covered a white wooden bed, poles rising from the four corners. It could fit him, Lillee, and Jenny easily. Like in the living room, the bedroom was lit by real candles, not Sunfire magic. This girl was rich.

  To his left, another arch, and a bathroom, including a shower and her own privy. The place had a fireplace near the vast glass doors at the front. It was part firepit, part cooking stove. A little structure to the left had a kettle boiling. A cheery fire crackled. Extra split wood lay in an alcove between the fireplace and the glass.

  Cushioned white chairs and a divan clustered around a low table, covered with food. Her desk was a grand affair to the right of the glass doors. Outside was a balcony.

  He had to see what lay below. He walked across the carpet, pushed open the door, and stepped outside. The chill hit him.

  White waves lined the black water, rolling in to smash against the sea walls far below. A few sailboats, Sunfire lights twinkling, maneuvered through the surf, going around the tip of the cape before disappearing from sight.

  Below were rooftops and chimneys leaking smoke. Laughter and music drifted up from the inns in the Sea Stair Market. The sun had set, spilling blood across the horizon. He smelled smoke, salt, and meat cooking in the taverns. That was where Jenny had probably gotten the food.

  “Come in and close the door!” Jenny called to him. “I don’t want to catch a chill!”

  Ymir strode back inside. He walked to the fire, put out his hands, and enjoyed the heat. This apartment was far too much for a single person, and yet, Jenny’s riches had provided it for her.

  Lillee had taken off her cape and robes and hung them on hooks by the door. Ymir threw his altered robes to her so she could place it next to hers.

  “I like your robes, Ymir,” Jenny said. “You did that yourself, didn’t you?” That came out as a tease.

  He turned. “I did.”

  The swamp witch nodded. “It looks better than I would’ve thought. I also have socks for you, since you have boots now.” She gestured to a low shelf that held gray wool socks.

  Ymir made a mental note to grab them on the way out.

  “Thanks for the gift. I take it they aren’t cursed?” He smiled at her surprise. “I read about the Swamp Coast queendoms. I know your customs. I will not marry your sister. No amount of magic will change my mind.”

  “You read about the Lover’s Knot.” Jenny sat in a chair, a full plate on her lap. A glass of wine sat on small end table near her hand. “Believe me, the Lover’s Knot is the last thing I’d do to you.”

  Lillee remained standing, her brow furrowed.

  Jenny waved them over. “Come, get a plate, sit. All this food ain’t gonna eat itself. We’ll dine, we’ll talk, and then we’ll study this mysterious parchment. First, though, I can ease your troubled mind, clansman.”

  That was laughable. He’d spent several hours missing home, missing his grandparents, and succumbing to his homesickness. “I doubt you can.”

  He grabbed a plate made of some soft, white material. It wasn’t tin, and it wasn’t wood, but it seemed sturdy enough. He loaded up his plate with fried bird wings, a thick mash of some yellow grit, long buttery stems of an unknown vegetable, and a thick slice of marbled pink meat. There were forks, spoons, and knives, but he was too hungry for tools.

  He sat across from Jenny, and Lillee sat in the chair next to him.

  The blue-eyed witch took a big swallow of her wine and set it down next to her. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll poison you?”

  “Your people do enjoy poison,” Ymir agreed. He chewed down the pink meat with a sweet crust on the sides. It was juicy and delicious. He gnawed on the fried wings before scooping up some of the mash, salty and good. “I brought my ax. If I feel odd, I’m going to bury it in your skull.”

  Jenny pointed to his face. “Your eyes are blue. You’re not in a good mood, are you? Ready for battle, it seems. I assure you, we are eating here as friends.”

  “A sister?” Lillee asked. “You wanted Ymir for your sister and not yourself.”

  “Why, Lillee, don’t you know? I’m only second born. Everything is for my dear, darling sister, the Firstborn. Only she wasn’t. Not really. That is a long story that Ymir knows. He dreamed it or some shit.” Jenny’s voice slashed through the air with her cutting words. How much wine had she drunk?

  Her pleasant mask had slipped to reveal an angry woman.

  Ymir ate. He’d let the witch talk as much as she wanted.

  “The only real reason I’m here,” Jenny continued, “is to find a husband for Arribelle. Good ol’ dim-witted, vicious Arri. It’s not like she wants to follow in Mama’s footsteps, but she ain’t got much of a choice. Neither do I. Auntie Jia made that clear.” The witch set her plate aside. She gripped her wine.

  “So, Ymir, do you like dim-witted girls? If so, Arri would be perfect for you.” She laughed with a bitterness Ymir hadn’t expected.

  “Telling me this won’t help your cause,” he said.

  Jenny shrugged. “You read up on me. Gotta say, I didn’t see that coming. You would put two and two together eventually. Might as well lay my cards on the table. You see, you need to know your options. I’ll tell you what—if you did go and marry my sister, you’d be a king. And Arri wouldn’t mind if you stepped out on her, every so often, as long as you didn’t do it with family, and you were discreet.”

  There were a lot of words there. Ymir picked one. “Cards? What cards?”

  “Cards? The river deck?” Jenny laughed. “You barbarians gamble, don’t you?”

  “We do.” Ymir stuck a buttery green in his mouth and chewed. He liked the butter and bite of it. He thought about the games he saw the fishermen play at Summertown. The cards had been little waxy rectangles with images on them. Ymir’s father had warned him that wiser clans than the Black Wolf had lost a whole season of hunting pelts to the treacherous gaming house at Summertown. King Ymok made it clear that you gambled only with your own people because then you knew the rules.

  Ymir nodded. “I know about cards, but the clans have our own game of stone, stick, moss, and mud. I could show you sometime.” If he could learn the games they played with this river deck, and if he could win, it might solve several of his current problems.

  “What about you being king?” Jenny waved her hand around. “You could afford places like this, and you could go anywhere you wanted. Queens, even the iffy ones, have to rule. The kings just have to fuck and look pretty. And may the seven devils damn my soul, you are pretty.” She gave him a feral grin. “And you know it.”

  “Not so pretty. My eyes change color.” He grunted laughter at his own joke. He grabbed his wine and drained it.

  Jenny was there to fill it back up.

  Lillee ate slowly, her green eyes bright w
ith interest.

  The Josentown princess shrugged. “You don’t have to decide now. But if you are interested, I could send a sand letter. Arribelle and Auntie Jia could make the trip up here to meet you.”

  “No spells,” he growled at her. “No Lover’s Knot.”

  “It would only work if you had a true dusza. But you wanna get rid of that, right? It’s why you’re here.” Jenny snapped her fingers. “So, let me read this parchment while you two finish eating.”

  Ymir leaned forward, filled his plate again, and then sat back.

  Lillee finished her meal. She gave Jenny the parchment before sitting down next to her. The swamp coast woman twisted her hair around her finger while she read. She probably didn’t even know she was doing it.

  The fire popped happily. That fire might be the happiest thing in the room, it and the Sullied elf. The swamp woman, half drunk, certainly wasn’t. And Ymir’s homesickness ate at him.

  He couldn’t go home. Even if he destroyed his dusza, his people wouldn’t trust him. Becoming a king on the Swamp Coast would have advantages. There would be chains, however—the chains of marriage, the chains of strange customs—and he would be bound.

  Gharam Ssornap had told him to choose his chains carefully, and in spite of the orc’s troublesome words, Ymir trusted him most, after Lillee.

  While she read, Jenny made several faces, and several more sounds. A bark of laughter. A sigh. And then an expression of, “Well, isn’t that some shit on your shoe?”

  Jenny had the parchment on her lap. She sat back, fingers in her hair. She realized what she was doing and stopped herself. “This is some next-level stuff, my friends. And it’s taken from a book, that’s clear, and at some point, we’ll need the book. Betcha a shipful of shecks it’s up in the Illuminates Spire. Getting there would be damn near impossible.”

  Ymir wiped his hands with a silken napkin. “Keep talking. Tell me what I want to know.”

  “Did you understand all the words?” Lillee asked the swamp woman in a quiet voice.

  Jenny tsked. “No one at this school, except for maybe the Princept, would know all those words. The vocabulary is positively ancient. I’d guess it was before the Age of Withering, even before Old Ironbound had a single book in its Librarium.” She exhaled loudly. “Here’s the thing, there are eight Akkiric Rings, but this page only talks about the first one, the Black Ice Ring, which is Flow magic. It’s like a Focus ring. You know, like what the faculty wear.”

  “We get our Focus rings at the end of our imprudens year,” Lillee explained.

  “Give the Sullied a tart.” Jenny laughed. “A tart for the tart.”

  Lillee’s face went stone.

  The swamp princess leaned over and patted her arm. “I’m sorry. I won’t tease. Not until we’re better friends.”

  “Even then, you won’t tease her if she doesn’t ask you to,” Ymir warned. “Tell me more about the Black Ice Ring.”

  Jenny nodded. “Speaking of tarts, under that cloth on the edge there’s a bowl of cherry tarts. You should have one. I ate two before you got here.” She sat back, holding her wine. “The Black Ice Ring is a powerful Focus ring. It’s so powerful it can freeze your dusza. Actually, it says it can make it so brittle that there have been those who cracked their souls into pieces. And they ain’t had magic ever after.” She raised eyebrows at Ymir. “And that, my friend, is how you can get your fucking heart’s desire.”

  Ymir shivered as winter breathed up his back. He brushed a hand up his neck and into his hair to smooth away the feeling. This was exactly what he wanted. It seemed too good to be true. “I don’t fuck with my heart.”

  “That is incorrect,” Lillee said quietly. “You do. I’ve felt your spirit when we are together. I’ve seen the love in your face when you look at me.”

  Jenny guffawed. “Well, isn’t that just darling? When he kissed me, I didn’t feel much at all.”

  “Why were you breathing so hard?” Ymir laughed away her answer. “Back to the Black Ice Ring. Where do we find it?”

  “We make it.” Jenny had her eyes on Lillee. Her gaze didn’t waver. “When you got the mark of the Sullied, was it just with some elf man? Or did you fully give in to your lust?”

  “I was a part of the Cult of Chaos and Desire.” Lillee couldn’t match the blue-eyed stare of the witch. The elf dropped her gaze.

  “I’ve heard of that. I thought it was just horny human women fantasizing about elves fucking. But it’s real? A cult? Well, now, you’ve become an interesting little girl. And you gave yourself to Ymir. You have to take off the essess for that, though, right?”

  “I do.” Lillee lifted her eyes. “I’m not an interesting little girl. I’m a woman. And if you want me, you better be nicer to me and to Ymir.”

  The two sat turned in their chairs, facing each other, lost in each other’s eyes.

  Normally, Ymir might’ve enjoyed heaving chests and blushing cheeks. But his future was on the line, and he needed more information.

  “How do we make the ring?” he asked.

  Jenny addressed him without looking. “We take sacred ice, bathe it in special flames, then sprinkle gold dust on it. That’s all pretty straight forward. The next part, though, gets a bit more complicated.” She lifted the parchment off her lap to reread it. “It says we need the night winds, the breath of the full moons, at their zenith in the night sky.”

  “Fine,” Ymir said. “Both the Axman and the Shieldmaiden will both be full in another six weeks.”

  “After the First Exam,” Lillee murmured. “Then both full moons will share the sky.”

  Jenny frowned. “No, we need the three moons, I think.”

  Ymir’s heart fell. “The Wolf moon won’t appear for another three years and as many months.”

  The elf girl frowned as well. “You don’t sound like you’re certain about this, Jenny. Is that correct?”

  “I’m not sure,” Jenny gave the parchment back to Lillee. “There’s a word I don’t know...aszeculum. I think it means sky, but if my translation is wrong, it changes the meaning of the sentence. Two moons might work to create the ring. Then you could freeze your dusza, get it brittle, and shatter it through force of will.”

  Ymir cursed both his luck and the heavens. Another three years of this school? “What else could aszeculum mean?” he asked.

  “Reflection, maybe, or mirror.” Jenny gave Lillee a little smile. “But I really think it’s sky. Where else would the moons be but the sky? Even if I’m not translating it right, you can’t do it for another month and a half. In the meantime, you can study up on that mystery word.”

  More icy fingers sped up Ymir’s spine. “Will you help us make the ring?”

  The swamp princess finally turned to look at him. “Marry my sister and I will.”

  Ymir spat out a disgusted breath as an answer.

  Lillee slid her essess off her left arm and put it on the table. “Perhaps we three can come up with another solution.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  YMIR COULDN’T BELIEVE it. Lillee was running fearlessly into the thick of Jenny’s games.

  Taking off the cuff had knocked the Swamp Coast woman off-balance. She blinked, then frowned, confused. She twirled her hair before catching herself. “What kind of solution are you thinking, Lillee?”

  The elf girl’s voice came out breathy. “You’ve been staring at me, and then we looked into each other’s eyes. I know you are curious. I want to trust you. Maybe if we shared ourselves with each other, I might gain that trust.”

  Jenny let out a musical laugh. “Sex doesn’t mean love or trust. I could lick your ohi so well you’d come a hundred times. A minute later, I could stab you in the back. You must know that. You’re what, a hundred years old?”

  “I’m not a child,” Lillee said defensively. “I know what I’m doing. Maybe I’m curious. And maybe you’ll fall in love with me.”

  “Then you’ll put on your magic bracelet and lose all interest in me. The Ohlyrra
can be so cold and calculating. I’ve heard stories.” Jenny’s hand shook as she drained her wine.

  These women and their prattle forced Ymir to his feet. He threw a log on the fire. Sparks swirled up the chimney. He picked up the table, careful not to spill the plates of food, and set it down near the door. The white rug covered the floor in front of the fireplace. It was the perfect place for them to fuck, if that was what fate wanted.

  He took a cherry tart and ate it, watching the two.

  “What do you think of this, Ymir?” Jenny’s confident tone was betrayed by the slightest quiver.

  He swallowed the sweet. “I have three questions. Will what we do get you pregnant? Will it disrespect you or your family?”

  “No babies.” The swamp woman rubbed her full red lips together, thinking. She seemed torn. “As for myself, I like fucking, and I’m not stupid. Being with you two would be hotter than an August night when the rain won’t come.” She smiled at that last word. “As for disrespecting my family, yes, Ymir, I’m not here to get a good dicking. You can’t marry my sister if I sample you. It’s against our fucking traditions. And we do have fucking traditions, a lot of them.”

  “But you and I could play,” Lillee whispered. She reached down and pulled the hem of her tunic up until she revealed her blue silken undergarments. “You could watch Ymir and me. If we do this, will you help us with the Black Ice Ring?”

  Jenny gulped. “Damn, so it’s true. The essess keeps your lust down, and now it’s up. You’re tempting me, Lillee. You’re tempting me real bad.” She glanced away from Lillee’s long legs and the patch of blue between them. “Ymir is worth more if he has magic. Helping him get rid of his dusza is not in my best interest.”

  “I haven’t decided what I want,” the clansman said. “If I stay at Old Ironbound, I’d need a Focus ring anyway. And this one seems very powerful...one good enough for a king.”

  Lillee didn’t seem to be listening. She caressed Jenny’s arm, then reached farther to brush her fingers on the swell of the woman’s chest. Lillee was shameless without her cuff.