Blood of the Sorcerer

by B. C. Morin

  “Has something happened?”

  “I am unsure, ma’am. I am not privy to that information. You would have to ask Isibeal or her father.”

  Isibeal. Alannah thought of the strange conversation they had the night before. Perhaps she could be of some use after all, she thought to herself. “Anora, how much time do I have before I am expected at training?”

  “Quite some time ma’am.”

  “Perfect.”

  Anora looked at the Princess questioningly, but did not ask anything.

  Alannah pulled on her tight pants and boots and slid her blouse overhead, before strapping on her buckled corset and weapons. She sat on the chair and was about to call Anora over for help with her hair, but saw that Anora was already reaching out to grasp it. Anora pulled her hair into several braids that were intertwined together then gathered close to the top of her head.

  “A bit formal for training, but I must say that I do love it.”

  Anora smiled. “I had been thinking of this style for days. I am glad you are pleased, ma’am.”

  “Anora, would you please ask Isibeal if she would join me for tea and breakfast this morning?”

  Anora let out a small gasp unexpectedly. “Ma’am?”

  “I will have to make amends with her eventually, wont I? I may as well start now, with Brennus not here to distract me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  * * * * * * *

  Evyette squinted her eyes at the incoming light of the rising sun. She turned over in an attempt to sleep longer, but the sight before her distracted her. Tristan lay on his side, with his arm beneath the pillow and his head on top. She looked at his blonde hair in messy waves, some falling across his face, some falling on the pillow. She brushed away the hair covering his face. His long lashes fluttered a bit, but she realized it was more of a reaction to his dream than to her touch. She kept her touch light as she traced his jaw line then ran her fingers down his neck and onto his bare chest where she began to trace some of his Marks, his muscles tightening instinctively to the touch. She could feel the solidity beneath his golden skin. Thankful he was still asleep, she blushed as she continued from the Marks on his chest and shoulders to his abdominals, tracing the muscles there.

  “Not that I mind the touching, but if you are going to keep doing that, you should feel free to use your lips, as well.” His lips curled up at the edges as light blue eyes tried to peer through the tired lids and long lashes.

  Startled by the sudden break in silence, she quickly drew back her hand, but relaxed when she looked at his mischievous smile.

  “Mmmm, like this?” Evyette asked sweetly as she brushed her lips against his ever so lightly.

  “Mmm.” He moaned against her mouth. She felt him tilt his head toward her, deepening their kiss, pushing open her mouth with his. He rolled onto his back, pulling her onto him, and they both smiled onto each other’s lips. She pressed her body against his and for a moment, she felt his heart beating against her chest. Evyette kissed him harder, fiercer. Desire rose inside of her, despite all that was going on around her, she wanted nothing more than to forget it all, and be here in this moment with Tristan. Tristan untangled his fingers from her hair, running his hands down her back, along her hips and down her thighs. As he came back up, his fingers caught onto her nightgown and Evyette let out a small gasp as she felt the thin fabric rising up her legs. The feel of his fingers on her skin radiated throughout her body, calling to Tristan in a way she had never felt before. Evyette released a moan onto Tristan’s mouth, causing a carnal growl to escape his throat. How could I possibly want him more? She thought to herself as he kissed her chin, then her jaw, leading a trail of fire down her neck and onto her shoulder where he gently brought down the tiny strap that held up her nightgown. She could feel the heat radiating off of his skin and she wanted to feel it, to be it. Again, she pressed her body against him, waiting for that growl and it came. Through the thin veil of fabric that separated them, she could feel the muscles in Tristan’s chest and stomach.

  “Evy.” He murmured onto her neck.

  She pulled her head back, looking into his blue eyes, which this morning looked like the endless sky on the clearest of days. His breathing was as heavy as hers, his lips parted slightly, inviting her back, beckoning her back to him. Evyette ran her fingers through his hair for a moment before sitting up on top of him and running her hands along his chest and stomach, feeling and memorizing every muscle, every groove. Tristan arched his back in response and then sat up so quickly it was almost a blur, catching Evyette’s face in his hands and kissing her again. She wrapped her arms around him, her fingers in his hair, down his back, tracing muscles, more muscles. He moved down her neck as she leaned her head back and she felt his hands on her hips, his skin against hers. The heat so tangible between them, she thought she would burn. Lightly, he brushed his fingers along her stomach, the fabric of her gown caught on his hands, breaking the barrier between them. His fingers trailing up her ribs, sweeping the curve of her breasts so lightly she wasn’t sure if she imagined it, but she gasped anyway. Without thinking, she drew her arms up and in one swift motion, the gown was gone. Nothing more than a crumpled fabric on the bed beside them. Tristan ran his hands along her arms not allowing one moment to pass without his lips on hers. As she brought her hands back down, wrapping around him, she was conscious of his skin on hers and nothing in the world felt better. Tristan began to lay back down, Evyette pushing her body against his as if they could merge into one. With both his hands pressed against her back, he pulled her to the side, turning her onto her back. Her honey hair sprawled on the pillows around her made her look as though she was surrounded by a sunrise. He stopped kissing her long enough to look at her, but never pulling his body from hers. He looked at her honey eyes, where he could just barely see his reflection, his eyes traveled down her thin nose down to her full, soft, parted lips.

  “Tristan.” She whispered, as she cupped his face, tracing his jaw line with her thumbs.

  “Evy.” He whispered just as softly, caressing her lips with his. His body still pressed tight against her, his heart beating wildly against her chest, her legs wrapped around his hips, his pants the only thing separating them.

  “I love you, Evyette. I am yours. I have been yours since I first met you.” He said, bringing his face up just far enough to look her in the eyes.

  “I am yours, Tristan. I always have been. I love you.” She brought up her mouth to meet his. The kiss was as gentle as the words they had spoken, but it quickly deepened. Passion was swirling up between them so thick she thought she could touch it. The kisses were wild and filled with desire. Evyette reached her hands down to Tristan’s hips, running her fingers along the length of the waist of his pants. Pulling a moan from Tristan’s throat, deeper than what she had heard thus far.

  “Tristan! Evyette!” The hurried voice outside the door was accompanied by a thunderous knock.

  “Noooo.” Tristan moaned onto her neck.

  Evyette kept her arms around him but had thrown her head back in half defeat.

  “Tell me that did not just happen.” He said lowly to her.

  “It did not.” She said as she began kissing him again.

  The knock came again.

  “The Magisters wish to see you both.”

  Tristan pressed his forehead against hers, their noses barely touching.

  “Remind me to thank the Magisters.” He raised his face a few inches from hers, his mischievous blue eyes glimmering through the strands of golden hair.

  Evyette let out a giggle, and realizing that there was no ignoring the summons, dropped her hands to her side. Feeling a bit mischievous herself, Evyette pulled up until her lips were against his ear.

  “This is not over, Tristan of Talom.”

  Tristan smirked at her raising his eyebrow.

  “I am counting on it.”

  Evyette let out another giggle as she reached around him for her gown and draped it across her
chest before grabbing her clothes and heading into the washroom.

  The breakfast room of the inn did not look so dreary during the day and the pixie couple sitting in the corner seemed content to ignore the large group as they all walked in, taking up the largest of the tables.

  “I told them not to knock.” Kaleb elbowed Tristan, talking low enough not to be heard by the others.

  Tristan laughed out loud.

  “I appreciate that, but they did so, anyway.” His brow creased in mock anger.

  Evyette looked over her shoulder at the two of them and winked at Tristan, blushing when Kaleb smiled at her. She realized that Kaleb must have guessed as to what was going on that morning.

  Once the food was ordered, Magister Torin was the first to speak.

  “Evyette, I have contacted one of the Magisters at the Magi Kingdom and asked him to keep an eye out for the woman who may have given you the Mark on your wrist. I have a distinct feeling that she will be essential to figuring out your past. Today, I thought we should go to the store that we saw on our first day here, when we were encountered by Rhoslyn.”

  “Do you think that we will find some answers there?” Evyette asked, finishing a mouthful of berries.

  “Perhaps.” Magister Torin said, a smile twisting at his lips. “At the very least, we might be able to get Rhoslyn to show herself. Knowing now what we do about your home and your childhood, we may entice her to speak more.”

  * * * * * * *

  Alannah marveled at the beauty of the day. The courtyard was surrounded by the highest and strongest oaks, and in between them sprouted trees with lush white and lavender flowers. She sat in her training gear at a white stone table in the courtyard, her auburn hair pulled back with a few escaped tresses blowing freely in the wind. She smiled as she looked at the hazel eyes smiling at her. She is almost a half foot taller than me, even sitting down, Alannah thought to herself as she looked at Isibeal. Her pin straight, black hair poured like ink down over her arms and onto her chest. As usual, she wore what Alannah had come to realize was the usual attire for the warrior fae. A blouse beneath her corset, snug pants tucked into her boots and a weapons belt around her slim waist. The warrior fae never went anywhere without at least a sword or dagger to defend themselves with should the need arise. Her sleeves were short and although Alannah could see the vast amount of Markings and skill that Isibeal held, she was not intimidated.

  “I must say, Alannah, I was quite surprised at your invitation to tea this morning.” Isibeal took a sip from the delicate white cup that had been created to mimic tulips.

  “Well, we did agree that we should meet over tea, so I thought, why not start the day right. Especially since Bren-,” she hesitated for a moment, “King Brennus is not here to make it any more awkward than it has to be.”

  Isibeal choked a bit on her tea as she began to laugh.

  “Oh, goodness Alannah! I am so sorry. I do know that this is awkward. I have heard through the staff-“

  “No need to apologize, Isibeal. You have not asked for this any more than I have.” She raised an eyebrow at her. “Correct?”

  “Yes! Correct. I mean, I did, I do care about Brennus, we have been friends since were young, but I never thought of him in the way that you might think I do. As a matter of fact, I am unsure how to go about it, now. It is almost as awkward between him and I as it is between us !”

  Alannah let out a laugh so strong she felt it in her stomach. It was a relief to hear that Isibeal felt almost as out of place as she did. After several moments of both of them laughing, Alannah stopped, looking seriously at Isibeal. She shifted uncomfortably.

  “Isibeal.” Alannah leaned forward putting her arms on the table with her hands clasped. “If you did not want this, why did you not speak up when the King demanded it?”

  “Would you?” Isibeal cocked her head to the side, a look of surrender in her eyes. “If you were not a Princess, would you question a command from your King?”

  Alannah lowered her gaze to her tea cup. It was no longer steaming. Not that it mattered, because her desire for tea had just waned. She caught sight of her curl blowing across her face and did not move it, did not move at all, considering the severity of what Isibeal had just said.

  “No.” She pulled the wild curl behind her ear, and returned her gaze to Isibeal. “I suppose I could not.” Her heart dropped into her stomach and she felt the tears threatening to appear. Isibeal could not stop this any more than she could. “Have you talked to Brennus about it, though?” She tried to hide the pleading in her voice.

  Isibeal sat back in her seat crossing her arms around her waist.

  Looks like she’d had enough of the tea as well, Alannah thought.

  She laughed out loud. “Alannah, if you have not been able to convince him, what in this forest makes you think that I could?” She uncrossed her arms and leaned onto the table again, her hands clasped as well. “Do you think that I do not know? Did you think I was so cold, I would think you would turn off your feelings as if it were magic ? If only! If only we could treat our emotions as we do our magic! Then Brennus could see that he could never love me the way he loves you! But he is so caught in honoring his father’s last wish that he is clouded. And if the words of the woman he truly loves cannot convince him to reverse the decision, than the words of the woman who will have to learn to love him will slide off of him like oil.” Isibeal turned her head but not before tears spilled over onto her cheeks.

  Alannah watched, with her words caught in her throat as Isibeal wiped the tears away.

  Isibeal looked back at her, having gathered herself once again.

  “Brennus will continue forward with this, Alannah. Despite how you or I feel.” She stood from the table, sorrow still clouding her gaze.

  “We must find a way to accept it.” She finished, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thank you for tea.”

  Alannah watched Isibeal walk away before dropping her gaze to her cup once again, this time watching her tears fall in and mixing with the tea, which had become as cold as she must become if she was to let go of Brennus.

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  Chapter 8

  It had been three days since Brennus had left Anrad. As soon as he arrived, the Elders of the Kingdom of Spiritus began work by trying to intercept the dark spirits that call to Samil. The dark spirits were never easy to deal with, but with the Spirit Fae being able to follow those dark spirits when necessary, it made their tasks a bit easier. But it did not come without a price. The longer a Spirit Fae stayed in the darkness, the more it drained him of his magic, until there was nothing left.

  When Accolon came knocking on the door, Brennus guessed that he had only had a few hours of sleep. He sighed and growled a bit at the lack of rest while he swung himself off of the bed and walked across the room. He raked his fingers through his black hair as he adjusted his grey eyes to the bit of light that had come in through the curtains.

  “Your Majesty.” Accolon said as soon as Brennus opened the door.

  Brennus was still not sure he could get used to that. He did not like the formalness that came with his title. Sure, he was called that on occasion, when he was the Prince, but he had developed such relationships that many recognized that he did not care for it, and merely called him Brennus. Of course, as the King, that was not an option.

  “Yes, Accolon.” Brennus stood at the door of the room with his arm raised above him, leaning onto the door frame. Having just gotten out of bed and knowing that it would be one of his own council members coming to get him, per his orders, Brennus did not bother to dress himself. He stood before Accolon in just his trousers. Accolon, being a warrior fae, was not small in stature, but standing next to Brennus’s large chest and broad shoulders, any warrior fae would feel small by comparison.

  Accolon straightened. “Majesty, Driscall has managed to find out where the Spirits are calling from.”

  Brennus straightened at the news.

>   “Excellent.” He opened the door further and walked back in, allowing for Accolon to follow. “Where is it?” He grabbed his shirt from the edge of the bed and slid it over his head.

  “It is along the far side of the Valley of Eternal Rest, near Caelestis.” Brennus straightened at the name of the village. He remembered the Magisters speaking of Caelestis when he was in the Magi Kingdom and wondered if Evyette and the Magisters would still be there.

  “How far is it?” Brennus sat on the edge of the bed contemplating what he would do next.

  “It is about a day’s ride on horse, Sire.”

  “I think we should stop at Caelestis on the way.” He slid on his boots and stood. “There may be a Magister or two from the Kingdom of the Magi there that could be very helpful to us.”

  “Yes, Sire. Driscall and Kelan have volunteered to go with us, as well.” Accolon smoothed his black hair, re-securing it at the base of his skull, his pointed ears piercing through.

  “Is everything prepared?” Brennus buckled his weapons belts and headed to the door, Accolon following close behind.

  “Should be just about ready, Majesty. When we were told, Halwyn went on to prepare the horses and supplies while I came to tell you.”

  By the time Brennus arrived at the stables, the horses were prepared and the Spirit Fae that had volunteered to come along sat on their horses. Driscall was a bit shorter than the rest of the fae, but was fit. His short brown hair fell in waves along his forehead. His eyes, Brennus thought, were most peculiar as were most of the eyes of the spirit fae. Regardless of the color that they bore, though Driscall’s was a dark grey color, the color always seemed translucent. It was somewhat eerie, looking at their eyes. Kelan sat a bit taller than Driscall, but his hair was much more of a pale yellow, and his eyes were a light translucent brown. Both had clearly trained well, as they had Marks that crept out from beneath their collars and sleeves.