Alexa was a problem. Actually, she was a pistol. She Sang with strong Power, love of animals and the command of her own space. This worked with horses, so she only communicated with them—spoke Equine—in a very limited fashion. Despite her small size, they instinctively accepted and followed her lead.
This combination did not work with volarans, who wanted much more communication from her instead of statements of Power and will.
So Calli taught Alexa Equine with both horses and volarans. Asking her to open up was the greatest difficulty. Alex was a fighter, used to keeping her mental and physical shields up. Only Bastien and Marian had gotten very close to her, and the Marshalls and some Chevaliers close enough to link in teamwork. Since Calli had now read Alexa’s and Marian’s stories, she knew Alexa had been caught in the foster care system. So Alexa’s emotional shields were even higher.
Soon Alexa worked better with volarans than horses—on all ground games. One afternoon she flung up her hands at the horses and left the pen. “No wonder they think I’m stupid! They do most stuff by body language. One strange twitch on my part and it’s over.”
Calli had Bastien bring a very old, very gentle volaran from his stables. Like all the Earth women, Alexa was fascinated with volarans. She did have the longing to fly, but that had been overlaid with her falls from volarans. Calli and Alexa worked on the ground, then no more than five feet in the air, mastering listening to volaran Song, the feel of flesh under her, the stroke of the wings and flow of air around her. Alexa learned, and that filled Calli with the warmth of accomplishment. She did have a gift of training—horses, and horseback riding, and volaran partnering.
Calli learned, too. She took classes with Alexa’s fearsome teacher in magic, was actually taught with Alexa in reading and writing Lladranan.
Calli’s Power grew and the work she did with magic—training and communicating, refined until she had a great toolbox of Powerful Songs. The volarans were easy to understand, the Lladranan people a lot harder.
She, herself, was protected from “negative influence” by layers of spells—an inner one she renewed every day, and a bondmate shield that Marrec set in place every day. She wore a small amulet of herbs and stones, and leathers and chain mail that had been bespelled by Marshalls and Chevaliers in a special ritual to keep her safe.
Her flying leathers weren’t dreeth, like Alexa’s, because only those who killed the dreeth could cover a great portion of their own skin with the monster they’d slain.
The balcony now had a shimmering shield around it, slightly distorting the view and making Calli feel like a five-year-old. But life was going well. Sex and intimacy with Marrec was great, and though neither of them had spoken the L word, Calli thought they were definitely going that way. They’d visited their home and found it being cleaned and refinished to fit their tastes, and that was pretty damn cool.
Neither Marrec nor she were used to servants, and had wanted to be together privately, so they’d put off hiring people to attend them personally.
The training she was doing was fulfilling, the flying was close to ecstatic. She practiced fighting with a grim determination she got from Marrec: learning to fly on a mock battlefield with realistic illusions of monsters. Shielding him from renders and soul-suckers in ground battles, protecting him from slayers’ spines. She “killed” the monsters herself.
And seven times those two weeks her belly tightened as she watched the Marshalls and Chevaliers fly to battle the horrors, and knew that within the month, she, too, would be fighting.
Luck. There was a lot of luck in the rodeo. The luck of the draw—like pulling the right bucking horse. If a cowboy got one that refused to buck and stood stiff legged, he was out of luck. If he missed the calf’s head with the rope, he was out of luck and out of prize money.
If your horse slipped rounding a barrel and both landed on you, breaking your pelvis, your luck was pretty bad that night.
There was only so much that skill, technique, practice and Power could do. If you were slightly off, the horse/volaran was off, not feeling well or not paying attention, or too jittery or too calm…
Calli figured battle would be just the same. Only with worse consequences of bad luck.
She always did her best, but in battle she’d be exceptional; she wouldn’t lose Marrec or Thunder. Not and still live.
So she practiced her fighter training hard. One morning the patterns went quickly and easily, Calli rarely fluffed these. She noted that Marwey was nearly perfect, too, and Seeva bobbled once. Perhaps she should offer to work oneon-one with her….
The foursome of Marshalls sped toward Marrec, who flew slightly ahead of her, wavered before her eyes, then became a huge thing.
Dreeth! Thunder screamed, panicked.
With Power just short of force, she coated his mind with cool thought, banishing emotion, even though his wings still quivered. She shut her own emotions down, too. They had nothing to do with a competition—battle.
Stop thinking, just like she had before a race—use the anticipation, the apprehension, the edge of fear. Drawing Power from herself and Thunder and the very air stirred by wings, she snapped a Shield around Marrec as he and Dark Lance attacked the dreeth in the air.
Fire shot from the creature’s mouth, battered the egg-shaped force field she’d thrown around her Pairling and his volaran. She felt the crisping heat, added a layer of air…Power shaped like a wind off cold mountain snows. Cold, impenetrable.
Thunder held steady, keeping Dark Lance in sight. Calli drew her sword.
More dreeths! shrieked Seeva. White-faced, she and her volaran whirled, sped straight to the new threat…and were blackened with flame.
They plummeted. Illusion! Calli screamed at them. No dreeths so close to the Castle. They didn’t listen.
Keeping one eye on Marrec, she reached for the dropping volaran’s mind. In one of her free hours, she’d flown with him. Your wings are whole and strong. Feel the wind lift your feathers. She beat back panic, sent him courage, as well as to Dark Lance.
Dark Lance’s ears flicked, but he and Marrec shot to the underbelly of their dreeth, ripped it open, intestines spurted.
Above us! cried Thunder, dropping ten feet. Instinctively, Calli swung her sword. Too low to get the belly, but she cut off both deadly back feet. Green ichor gushed over her. Her own Shield deflected it.
Her dreeth screamed, banked. Marrec slashed both eyes. It fell and died.
Mind spinning, heart beating so it might burst through her chest, Calli glanced around. No more dreeths. She thought there had been four. Now she saw only three foursomes of Marshalls, and Alexa and Bastien on a stallion.
God.
Return to the Castle, Marrec said. He and Dark Lance joined her and Thunder. Calm Thunder, he sent to her.
Calli deliberately relaxed her body, sent a soothing energy flow around Thunder, showed him through her eyes and his own that there were no enemies anywhere. She breathed deeply, gave him the scents of summer flying, the warmth of the sun not shadowed by any monsters.
His muscles loosened under hers. His mind went from flight to acceptance of communication. His sides shuddered out a huge breath. We did well.
Yes, said Dark Lance. Though those were not real dreeths, you did well. You have a good flier.
Dark Lance, Marrec chided. His volaran put on a burst of speed, leaving them behind, ignoring the rebuke. Calli’s lips curved. She glanced around for Seeva and her volaran and saw them on the ground, some distance from the Castle. Then the walls were under Thunder.
They landed. Thunder’s hooves clipped the ground and he stumbled, Calli fell forward. They both righted themselves. Tucking his wings close to his barrel, Thunder galloped once around the Landing Field. He slowed and stopped beside Marrec and Dark Lance.
Calli’s smile turned ironic. “We’re still a little shaky.”
Marrec reached out and slid a hand down her back. “Well done.”
He dismounted and pulled her fro
m Thunder, held her close. Well done, Shield and Chevalier.
I have won my reins? Calli asked.
Yes. Today’s training must have been a final test.
“Oh.” His body was all hard strength. She let herself lean against him, enjoy the warmth of him and the sun, the scent of volaran and leathers and man.
All the volarans of the Castle Sang, Chevalier Shield Calli, our Exotique. Calli raised her head to see they’d entered the Landing Field, as usual. Lady Hallard stood, hands on hips, shaking her head. “Guess we’ll have to get used to this.”
With one arm around her waist, Marrec turned to the volarans. “Shall we groom these two, then celebrate at the Nom de Nom?”
“Sounds good to me.”
Alexa ran to them. “You did it, you helped kill two little dreeths!”
“Little dreeths!” They’d looked plenty big to her.
“The big ones don’t shoot fire.” She grinned, gestured to Marwey and Pascal. “Marwey won her reins, too.” Alexa quivered with excitement. “And Bastien and I got to be one of the dreeth illusions and I worked with his volaran for two attacks. I’m learning to fly, too!”
“You certainly are,” Calli said.
Bastien dipped his head at Calli. “Thank you. I have been unable to teach her. The volarans get charmed or fascinated or nervous that they’ll lose her and don’t partner with her well.”
Alexa lifted her nose. “It’s speaking in English. I understand nuances in English.”
“Of course it is,” Bastien said. He bent over and whispered something to Marrec that Calli heard only as a ripple of notes in her husband’s personal Song. Color bloomed under the golden tone of his cheeks.
Swordmarshall Thealia strode up, smiling. “An award luncheon is already set in the Marshalls’ Dining Room. Today’s review will be brief.”
A surge of disappointment at not celebrating with her Pairling came. Marrec’s arm stiffened behind Calli’s back. She sent a responding pulse of resignation to him.
Their squires showed up, beaming, congratulating her. Dark Lance and Thunder began mind speaking with the two young men, telling them all about the flight.
“I want a shower before lunch,” Marrec said, heading toward their rooms at Horseshoe Hall.
“Right,” Calli said, thinking of the big bed.
Thealia snorted. “Lunch in fifteen minutes. Be there.” She walked away.
Alexa shook her head. “No time for fun.”
“That’s what you think,” Bastien said, scooping her up.
A twinge of envy came from Marrec. Calli glanced at him with a puzzled look. “What?”
He opened his mouth, then shut it, walking a little faster.
“Please,” said Calli.
He looked at her, then focused on the narrow passageway between Training Hall and Horseshoe Close.
“Please let me know what you are thinking when I ask,” Calli said a little stiltedly. “Please help me understand Lladranans.” And you.
“I wished I could be as easy with you as Bastien is with Alyeka.” Marrec shrugged. “But he is a charming man and I am not. He’s a nobleman and I never was.”
“But they weren’t always easy together,” Calli said, keeping up with his stride. “It was very rocky between them at first. He—” Hell, what was the phrase for “screwed up”? She flapped her hands. “He was awkward.”
“Truly?” Marrec entered the Hall and they strode through the corridor to the stairs. Everything in Horseshoe Hall was built in reasonable proportions as opposed to the keep.
“I read it in the Lorebook of Exotiques,” Calli said. “Alexa’s story, though she doesn’t give a lot of details.”
Marrec grinned, showing the long crease in his cheek. “Too bad.” His eyes glinted as they took the stairs. “As far as I know, no one here has exact knowledge of when and where Alyeka and Bastien met. Can I read this Lorebook, too?”
“It’s in English. But Marian said she’d made some in Lladranan. There’s probably one in the Marshalls’ Library.”
Marrec grunted and opened the door to their suite. “I’m becoming reconciled to lunch with the Marshalls at the keep, after all.” He stripped quickly and Calli followed suit. He was aroused. So was she.
He scooped her up and carried her into the large shower stall. “We’ll just be a little late.” He laughed and set her on her feet, turned on the water, which was hot and steamy and smelled of mineral salts.
“What?” She closed the door behind her.
“Bastien told me that now I have a bondmate I’d often get aroused by battle.”
“What does he know? He and Alexa aren’t bonded.”
“He’s Paired with an Exotique. And so am I.” Marrec’s hands were slick and slippery as he soaped her, transforming the leftover fear into sexual need. Calli couldn’t think, let alone reply in Lladranan, so she just melted into his embrace and let passion rule.
He was warm, she was wet and the Song between them rang loud in her ears, composed of sex and the triumph of the morning and the fantastic feeling of rightness. She was exactly where she was supposed to be.
Then the invasion alarm clanged.
22
The heavy clamor of the Klaxon rose over the shower. Gasping, Marrec shook his head, braced himself with an arm on the wall, shuddered once then swore.
Calli’s voice rasped with fear. “I’ve won my reins. I’m a Chevalier now.”
“Yes.” With a twist of his wrists he turned the faucets off, flung the door open, grabbed a towel and dried as he jogged to the bedroom.
Calli caught up her own bath sheet and followed. “I did well this morning. The invasions aren’t usually very big, right? We can fight together, as we should, as a Pair.” She gulped, raised her chin. “Are our volarans able to handle battle?”
Marrec glanced at her. “You’re the Volaran Exotique. You should know.”
“You are more experienced. I don’t want to hurt them,” though when she probed she knew she wouldn’t take Thunder, he was too tired.
Tilting his head as if he, too, did a mental sweep of their mounts, Marrec said, “Dark Lance is big and tough. The grooming has reenergized him sufficiently that he can handle the Distance Magic and battle. Thunder can’t.” He began reciting a list of volarans in the Castle stables—ones she’d flown with.
Exhaling slowly, Calli named one of Bastien’s.
Prepare Sunray for battle, Marrec ordered their squires mentally. Through her link with Marrec and the men, Calli heard Sunray’s excited trumpet. The volaran’s mind brushed hers. We will fly well! His blood hummed with determination to protect, with hatred of the monsters invading the land, killing.
Thank you, Sunray.
Marrec wrenched open the wardrobe door and dressed quickly—the thin long underwear, his toughest leathers. He pulled out her second set of chain mail and his new chain-mail tunic, dreeth breeches and bespelled boots.
Calli dressed in silk undergarments and her second set of battle leathers.
Catching her fingers in his, Marrec brought them to his mouth, kissed them. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Ayes.”
“Alyeka had much more training.”
“I’ve learned a lot from you. I’ll be a Shield, and I fly a volaran very well.”
“Better than well. Exceptional.” Expressions she couldn’t read ran across his face.
“What?”
He grit his jaw, then answered, “I’m proud of you. As a Chevalier, I think you’d do fine. But I fear for you.”
“I fear for you, too, and it will only get worse if you ride away and I don’t.” She helped him on with his chain mail.
Quick strumming came from the doorharp. It sounded much too innocent. A hard rapping or loud knocks would have been more appropriate to Calli—something that matched her heartbeat. She opened the door.
Seeva stood on the threshold, looking a little pale. “I didn’t win my reins, so I can’t fly to battle.” Her should
ers straightened. “But I am still the head of staff of Horseshoe Hall and I know you don’t have a servant yet and thought you might need help with your armor.”
“She has me,” Marrec said.
Expression strained, Seeva said, “Of course, but I meant both of you. It’s faster when you have someone to help dress.” She gestured to the window. “The first wave is already taking off for the battle.”
Marrec glanced out the diamond panes. “Led by Bastien and Alyeka riding his primary stallion. Damn, the man’s fast.”
“All the Marshalls and noble Chevaliers have servants. You need some, too, but for now, can I help?”
Calli wanted to giggle. She didn’t think Marrec had been referring to Bastien getting dressed, but Bastien getting Alexa. But then, hot monkey sex often went fast. She and Marrec might have made the fifteen-minute deadline to lunch. She cleared her throat. Humor, no matter how minor, always helped her before a competition. “Sure…” She gestured to the full mail that she’d only worn once. “Help me with this stuff.”
Seeva looked Marrec over as if checking his fastenings and the strength of his armor, then picked up Calli’s mail tunic and hurried toward her. The process was unexpectedly easy and quick, the mail lightened magically, only heavy with the duty of protecting Lladrana.
Seeva patted the shoulders and handed Calli her helm. “Chain mail is good, and so are protected leathers, but the best of all is dreeth skin. You’ll have that soon, truly.” She smiled, waves of excitement coming off her.
“Marrec!” Lady Hallard’s shout accompanied her running bootsteps. She halted by the open door, glanced at them. “You’ve decided to fight.”
It was stupid to feel a little left out of the bond between the Lady and her former household Chevalier.
“Don’t you think I’m ready?” Calli’s lips were cold now.
Lady Hallard squinted at her, considered for a couple of seconds, yanked her gauntlets from her belt and on. She nodded sharply. “Ayes.” Then her smile flashed and she looked years younger. “I had three squires working to reenergize my volaran. Let’s go.”
“I helped dress Calli,” Seeva said.
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