by Nicole René
Xavier dodged the busy bodies of his village and visiting warriors as they settled in. He was practically vibrating with fury. How dare they!
How can they laugh at the demise of the Rhoxolani? Xavier was not a sentimental man at the best of times, and he certainly wasn’t known for his caring nature, but even he felt the loss of the Rhoxolani as if they were his own. They were his people, part of his history.
Xavier stopped and scrubbed his hands roughly down his face. Everything was a mess. His life of order, control, and power over himself and his village was falling apart. For years, he could look at everything objectively. He’d witnessed others become sloppy, so consumed by their emotions, it made them irrational and unable to see the bigger picture of the hard choices.
But Xavier always could think with his head and instincts.
Detached.
Calculating.
While others crumpled, he stood strong. He was reliable, and he was a fierce leader.
But in just a few short months, the years of training he was subjected to since he was seven years old were being destroyed.
“Xavier?”
He opened his eyes and dropped his hand from his temples, lifting his head to meet the eyes of the one who had spoken. His loss of control started when he first laid his eyes on her, and it hadn’t stopped since.
Leawyn had to stop herself from fiddling with her dress when Xavier continued to just stare at her. “Is this okay?” she asked, growing more uncomfortable with the silence.
“You look beautiful.”
Leawyn blushed. She looked down and smoothed the material. “It’s the dress. It’s very beautiful.” She looked up at her husband, her smile shy. “Thank you.”
And beautiful it was. It was colored a deep moss green, with long golden sleeves that flared out at the elbows. Golden beads and dried wild flowers covered the length of the gown. Two studded strips of heavily beaded material crossed over her breasts and held the dress together with a single clasp behind the neck.
Xavier nodded. He seemed to hesitate before he lightly traced the beaded embroidery on the neckline with one finger.
“It was my mother’s,” he said softly. He dropped his hand and took a small step back, meeting Leawyn’s gaze.
At his admission, she glanced down at the dress, biting her bottom lip. “Well,” she said finally, “she had good taste.”
Xavier’s lips tilted up in a barely-there smile. “Yes, she did.” His eyes scanned her body appreciatively.
Leawyn flushed for the second time under his attention, not quite used to this side of her husband.
“There will be a feast tonight. I will need you to help the women prepare.” Xavier watched avidly when his wife’s eyes lit up in excitement. “Can you handle that? I don’t want you in…” he trailed off, and an uncomfortable silence engulfed them. Leawyn knew that he was going to say pain. They both knew the reason she would be in pain was because of him.
“I can get Namoriee to help,” she said, looking anywhere but his eyes.
“Good.” Xavier cleared his throat.
He stepped forward and gripped Leawyn around the neck to tug her closer. He lifted her chin with his finger. Her breath whooshed out of her when he dipped his head, his lips hovering over hers, waiting. She hesitated, then tilted her chin. Xavier stared into her eyes when he brought his mouth down to hers in a kiss.
“I’ll come collect you before the feast starts,” he murmured against her lips. Then he pulled away.
“Okay,” she whispered back. She closed her eyes when Xavier smoothed her hair away from her face.
He was already walking away from her when she opened her eyes.
“I think we’re about ready, Lady Chief,” Namoriee said proudly, placing the cylinder filled with animal fat and cloth on the table and lighting it.
It took the full efforts of all the village women—big and small—to prepare for the Izayges people and their guests for the night’s festivities.
It would be the first feast they’d had since Leawyn and Xavier’s wedding, which had been nearly nine months ago. Leawyn stood up from her crouched position, looking around as she wiped her hands on the rag that lay ready beside her. Namoriee was right; everything did seem to look ready.
Much to Leawyn’s annoyance, most of the women would not let her see to more than simple tasks. Their reasoning was that it would not be appropriate for the lady chief to be seen handling such tasks.
“We wouldn’t want you to ruin your dress,” they said, but Leawyn knew it was because of her mark.
Instead, they respectfully listened to her direction and requests when needed, but for the most part Leawyn’s sole duty was to set the surrounding tables with plates and silverware. It was both sweet and frustrating.
“This looks amazing. I can’t believe we pulled everything off so quickly!” Leawyn laughed.
The feast was set to be in the middle of the entire tribe. The girls had to quickly gather as many tables, or things that could be used as tables, to fit all the tribespeople and guests. Two giant fire pits sat in the center of two separate squares of combined tables, while another separate fire had two wild hogs roasting over it. Namoriee wiped her hands on her dress and stood beside Leawyn, staring proudly at their work.
“All we need now is the men,” Namoriee said wryly.
Leawyn laughed in agreement. “Indeed, we do.”
She glanced at Namoriee, taking in her ragged and dirty clothes. “Namoriee, you should go change. I can take care of things here while you do.” She looked around at their surroundings again before returning her gaze to Namoriee. “There’s really not much left to do.”
Namoriee shook her head in disagreement. “I can’t. I won’t even be attending the feast, really.”
Leawyn frowned. “What are you talking about?” she asked in bewilderment. “Of course, you are!”
Namoriee wrung her hands together nervously. “Lady Chief…” she faltered. “I appreciate how well you treat me, but you m-m-must know I don’t hold a very h-high stature.”
Namoriee glanced up at Leawyn, still seeing her confused expression, she flushed anew. “My j-job is to be with the other serving wenches, serving food and ale.” Leawyn could tell Namoriee grew frustrated with her stutter, but it had gotten better, only coming out when she was nervous.
“Namoriee,” she grabbed her small shoulders, “you are not just a serving wench, or in low stature.”
Namoriee opened her mouth to refute, but Leawyn cut her off with a stern “no” and continued.
“You are my handmaiden, and more importantly my friend,” Leawyn stressed in sincerity. “You will be attending the feast, and you will be sitting with me.”
Namoriee’s eyes widened, shaking her head madly. “N-n-no, Lady Chief! My duties! I c-can’t just—”
“Okay,” Leawyn soothed. “I understand, Namoriee. You don’t want to abandon your duties.” She gave in to stop the young girl from having a panic attack. “You can serve with the rest of the women.” The girl’s shoulders sagged in relief. “But only for the first half, after that, you’re done and you’re going to enjoy yourself.”
Namoriee’s elation deflated. But she knew better than to argue. “Yes, Lady Chief,” she mumbled compliantly.
Leawyn grinned in triumph. Using her grip on Namoriee’s shoulders she spun her back around in the direction of her hut. “Now, go and pick out one of my dresses—not the ones Xavier gave me though.” Now that she knew they belonged to his mother, she didn’t want anyone to wear them but her. It said a lot that Xavier kept them in the first place, and that he gave them to her.
Namoriee’s eyes widened again. “But—” Once again, Namoriee was caught off.
“Go!” Leawyn ordered sternly. She gave Namoriee an encouraging, but forceful, nudge to get her moving.
Namoriee stumbled forward, glancing back at Leawyn, who simply pointed at her hut as she would to a dog. She didn’t pay attention to her surroundings, or the pair of b
lue eyes that followed her there.
The night was loud with laughter and roars of men as they drank deeply from their goblets of ale and wine.
Different members of the family tribes and the Izayges occupied the tables, men and women alike. Though the atmosphere was cheery and lighthearted, there was an air of pretense.
Word of the annihilation of the Rhoxolani quickly spread throughout the visiting soldiers, and the busted faces of the Siraces and Asori chiefs only added to the suspicion something dark was on the horizon.
Leawyn scanned the crowd with her eyes. She watched the interactions between all the men of the tribes gathered around with equal amounts of fascination and disgust. She overlooked the men who sat at their respective tables enjoying the meal of wild boar and mead, their arms wrapped casually around the women warming their laps. Occasionally, some of the men would grab one of the serving girls as they passed them by and haul them onto their lap with a squeal from the girl.
In the far corner stood a group of men who were engaged in a game of throwing knifes at the makeshift target carved out of tree bark. A short distance away, Leawyn could see men gathered around in a broken circle, cheering on the two opponents as they traded blows with each other with their fists.
After a particularly hard punch thrown by a fellow Izayges tribesman to the face of his Siraces opponent that made him instantly crash to the ground unconscious—which made the Izayges men roar—Leawyn grimaced and turned her attention elsewhere.
She had to do a double take, barely managing to keep her mouth from dropping open in surprise at what she saw.
A girl who couldn’t have been much older than her, had her head thrown back, eyes closed in pleasure, as her bare breasts bounced from the force of two men thrusting into her. A group of men stood around them, watching.
It was like seeing a dead body for the first time. She knew she should look away, but couldn’t because of the morbid fascination and curiosity of the ordeal.
When another man stepped forward—undoing his breeches as he did so— the man who was thrusting into the woman from underneath grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked back until her neck was arched. Leawyn looked away.
Her eyes met her husband’s, who was watching her. They stared at each other silently for a moment. Xavier looked over at the trio again, smirking at what he saw before he turned his attention back to Leawyn.
There was a challenge in his eye when he did so.
He dared her to look again. To watch.
Leawyn’s eyes narrowed against his, causing his smirk to widen. He leaned forward, the scruff of his beard scratching against the top of her ear.
“Are you ashamed?”
Out of all the things Leawyn thought her husband would say— that was not one of them.
She tilted her head towards him, as he whispered in her ear again.
“Does it make you uncomfortable?” his lips brushed her ear, causing her to tense up as he said his next words. “Seeing the pleasure on their faces?”
Xavier looked at her calmly when Leawyn flinched away from him, glaring.
“All I see is the men’s pleasure as they take that poor girl between them,” she snapped. She resolutely kept her gaze down at her half-empty plate of food when her husband crowded into her space again.
“Look again,” Xavier cupped her chin and turned her head toward the public display. “Look at them, Leawyn, closely, and tell me what you see,” he encouraged against her ear softly.
Her body grew more tense, trying to yank her chin away from his grip, but she knew it was in vain.
He had her.
Leawyn had no choice but to watch.
There was a different man behind the woman now, his breeches around his ankles, ass flexing with each thrust his pelvis made against the woman’s behind. The man underneath the woman had both of her breasts in his hands, tugging at them as they swayed in front of his face.
“I only see—”
“Look closely, Leawyn,” Xavier interrupted, lowering his head so his bearded cheek meshed with her smooth one, keeping his hold on her jaw.
“Look at her face. Watch her.”
Leawyn’s lips pressed together, but she did as he bid and watched the woman who was being taken by the two men. Though her black hair was still being clutched in a tight fist by the man behind her, it didn’t seem he was forcing her head back. Her dark features were flushed, her eyes closed, her mouth hanging open in...
Leawyn gasped.
“You see it now, don’t you?” Xavier asked as he chuckled huskily, turning so his lips brushed her earlobe with each seductive word he spoke. “You see the pleasure on her face.” He gave her chin a gentle shake, reminding her to keep watching. “You see the men’s expressions, as they thrust into her tight, greedy body?”
Her breath grew ragged as she watched them, taking everything in. Both men wore grimaces on their faces, as if they were in pain, but Leawyn knew otherwise. If she sat closer, she was certain she would be able to hear their skin slapping together.
“See how they fill her up?” Xavier whispered in her ear. “How she cries out in passion as they do?” His voice was deep and hypnotic, and Leawyn felt that somehow, with him whispering words in her ear as they both watched the joining, he made it more erotic.
Made it more daring.
Arousing.
Both men kept a steady rhythm, when one thrust in, the other pulled back. Filling her with perfect unison. “They both want her, and she loves it.”
The two men started to thrust faster into her, each holding some part of her body as they did. The woman reached back, wrapping her hand around the neck of the man behind her, while her other hand clawed at the chest of the man below her. It was moments later when the women screamed her release, shuddering against the two as she did.
“Sex can bring more than pain, Leawyn,” Xavier dropped his hand away from her chin. She watched as the two men pulled out of the spent woman, the one below her holding her close to his chest as he stood up with her in his arms, uncaring of his nakedness. “It can bring pleasure too.”
Leawyn tore her gaze away from the couple and looked into Xavier’s eyes.
There was a message there in those dark orbs of his. For her.
A message she wasn’t ready to accept.
Leawyn broke first, looking back down at her plate. She ignored Xavier’s chuckle of amusement and instead focused on finishing her food.
She couldn’t get the girl’s expression out of her head though.
It can bring pleasure too.
Leawyn shook the thought out of her mind and ate.
“You seem to find something over there awfully interesting, Cousin,” Tristan commented lightly.
Leawyn paused, the goblet in her hand poised at her lips as she shot a look at Tristan. Noticing Tyronian’s scowl and Tristan’s amused smirk, she looked to the area where they were both staring at. It didn’t take long for her to find what they were focusing on so intently and what had Tyronian so riled.
Namoriee, as promised, was serving the first half of the feast. Leawyn noted she looked beautiful wearing her deep blue dress embroidered with light browns and golds that complimented the girl’s caramel skin and hazel eyes. It also seemed Leawyn was not the only one to take notice of the young girl’s beauty.
Which was the problem.
Namoriee currently was in polite conversation whilst pouring ale in the cup of a man Leawyn never saw around the village before, which made her assume he was a visiting warrior from the other tribes.
Judging by his dark hair, brown eyes, and the armor he wore, he was a Siraces.
“Who is that?” Leawyn asked, finally taking a sip of her drink.
“Cantos,” Xavier said shortly, his eyes flashing up briefly to look before turning his attention back on the half-eaten leg of boar on his plate.
“What’s she even doing serving food and drink anyways?” Tyronian grumbled with a scowl as he watched them with narrowed eyes.
“She insisted. Said it was her ‘duty,’” Leawyn quoted, glancing at Tyronian from the corner of her eye when he scoffed around his mug of ale. “I finally managed to convince her she would only serve the first half of the feast.” She shrugged, breaking a piece of her bread and popping it in her mouth.
Leawyn gave a Tyronian a weary look when his fists clenched. She looked back to Namoriee.
Cantos had his hand wrapped around Namoriee’s wrist as he smiled flirtatiously up at her. He said something to her that made Namoriee shake her head in refusal, turning away from him. Cantos grinned, and with a quick tug, an unsuspecting Namoriee was spun around. She stumbled, sprawling across his lap.
Yes. Cantos was definitely Siraces, Leawyn mused.
She gave a startled jerk in her seat when Tyronian stood up abruptly from his chair.
Three pairs of eyes followed Tyronian as he marched over to where Cantos and Namoriee sat. He stopped in front of them, and reached down, and with one sharp tug, he yanked Namoriee off Cantos’s lap, pushing her behind him in one smooth motion. Cantos shot to his feet.
Tyronian and Cantos exchanged heated words before Tyronian shoved Cantos back down into his seat. The two men glared at each other a moment more before Tyronian escorted Namoriee away with a hand on her lower back.
Cantos went to his feet again and said something to Tyronian’s back.
Leawyn gasped, eyes shooting up in shock when Tyronian spun around and sent his fist sailing into Cantos’s chin.
The men cheered when the force behind Tyronian’s punch caused Cantos to stumble back into the table, holding his hand against his now bloody lip.
Without another glance at the fallen man, Tyronian spun about and made his way back to them at the table, his hand clasped around Namoriee’s wrist as he hauled her resisting form with him.