The Twelve Kingdoms: The Mark of the Tala

by Jeffe Kennedy

  I turned over his hand, the one that had been bound to mine. Only a fine white scar on his tanned skin also. Up and down his forearms, though, were other scars, little starbursts and divots, as if something had taken bites out of him. “Your customs are remarkable.”

  “You have no idea.” He started to lever himself up.

  “No, let me.” I gathered up the used cloths and carried the bowl of now cool water to the little kitchen area. A kettle of warm water stood over a low flame. I poured the dirty water out and refreshed it, then took the opportunity to clean myself in private.

  I needed a moment, to gather myself again. In such a short space of time I’d transformed from, if not who I’d always been, then much closer to that person than this naked, sweat-soaked woman by the fire who let a man cover her like a stallion mounts a mare. Some part of me whispered that I should regret it. I couldn’t imagine noble Hugh taking the lovely Amelia in such an . . . earthy way.

  And yet, I didn’t feel bad at all. My body still sang with Rayfe’s touch.

  I wanted more.

  This time, though, would be mine. I would make the third way. Probably not at all what Dafne had in mind when she suggested I’d need to make my own plan, but it was a start.

  Rayfe lay on his side, head propped on one arm, long legs stretched out, watching me walk up to him with languorous eyes. He held out a hand to me and I let him draw me down next to him. I set the bowl down and bent over him, to give him the kiss he urged me toward. I liked this angle, kissing him from above. He stroked my hair back from my cheek.

  “Thank you for this.”

  “The water? You fetched it last time.” I started to reach for the cloths, but he stopped me, sliding his warm hand behind my neck and drawing me in for another lingering kiss.

  “The way we came together—what I put you through. Not every woman would have come to me so sweetly.” He traced my cheekbone. “In truth, I didn’t dare hope we’d find this kind of passion together. Especially when I courted you so badly.”

  “Lie back.” He obeyed, stretching himself before me like the banquet on the table. I wondered at it myself as I washed him, learning the golden lines and shadows of his lean form in the firelight. How much of what I’d done had been driven by this desire for him? Perhaps Uorsin had the right of it and I’d been a lightskirt traitor in my heart all along. Daughter of my mother, longing for her other blood, fatally attracted and compelled by it.

  “I’m sorry I said anything,” Rayfe murmured. “Now I’ve made you sad.”

  I shook my head, my hair slithering over my shoulders, tickling my skin. “Just thoughtful.”

  “You can speak to me of your thoughts.”

  He had his head pillowed on his hands, showing his dark-furred armpits. A memory struck me and I reached for his left arm. He obliged, letting me look at his shoulder. A scar like a starburst marred the muscle, puckered in the center, with white lines radiating out. The real scar. The dagger buried in his chest hadn’t been true. Only a fragment of a nightmare. Or a vision.

  “I dreamed you came to me, with my dagger still here”—I traced the deep scar—“and you asked me to pull it out.”

  He simply regarded me with somber eyes, waiting. I couldn’t tell him about the other vision.

  “Why did you let me stab you?”

  His teeth flashed in a smile. “Believe me, Andromeda, I would have stopped you had I realized what a fierce wildcat I had cornered. My first mistake was underestimating you. I shall not do so again.”

  “Were there other mistakes?”

  Lingering pain crossed his face. “I perhaps overestimated you, as well.”

  “How so?” I felt a pang at that, that I’d failed to rise to some sort of standard.

  “No, no.” He wound his fingers in a lock of my hair that trailed over his chest and tugged me down to kiss him. Light and sweet. “Don’t look so stricken. I simply thought that once you understood, once you knew who you were, you would come to me.”

  “I still don’t understand,” I whispered, searching his face.

  “I know. You will. I promise. Tomorrow, we’ll ride out. Once we are near the border, we will both know more. After that I’ll begin to teach you what you should have always known. For now, perhaps we’d best sleep.”

  “I haven’t finished cleaning you.”

  He started to take the cloth from my hand. “I can finish—”

  “No.” I held it out of his reach. “It’s my turn. Now, lay back.”

  I liked taking him by surprise. He gave me that half smile, then popped a kiss on my nipple before stretching out again. I gasped at the little shock and laughed. So many sides to this man that I hadn’t expected.

  Warming and wetting a new cloth, I set to my plan in earnest, stroking the hard planes of his body with the cloth, following with little nips, licks, and kisses, as he’d done to me. He stirred under me, slight tremors, the occasional hum and sighed breath. I responded to his pleasure, too, my core warming and melting yet again.

  His manhood had been relaxed, heavy against his thigh, but now it stirred, lengthening, then darkening. By the time I picked it up to wipe it clean, it twitched in my hand, almost like a live thing. The skin, especially over the head, was surprisingly soft, velvety. An odd contrast in an otherwise hard man.

  “Andromeda,” he growled, “you’re killing me.”

  “Am I?” I answered, all innocence. “I’ll stop, then.” I laid his manhood down. With him on his back, it now pointed up his belly. I’d wondered if it would still stand straight up. Apparently I’d have to help with that.

  He started to sit up.

  “No. Lay back. It’s my turn to ride you.”

  Bemused, he did as I said. “Then mount me already. I can’t take more of your teasing.”

  “No?” I straddled him, bending over him on all fours and nipping at his wiry man’s nipples, delighted when he groaned. “I think you could.”

  “I’ve created a monster.”

  I tossed my hair over my shoulders and grinned at him. “You have no idea.”

  I had to rise on my knees and hold his manhood up, to guide it to the right spot. He braced my thighs with his hands, avidly watching. He hadn’t said this wouldn’t work, so I persisted, though the angle seemed wrong.

  Rayfe closed his eyes with a pained look. “Lean forward a little—ah, yes. Just there.”

  Slowly, I seated myself on him until I rode him like a horse. The fullness stretched me more this way, with almost unbearable intensity. His fierce gaze locked with mine.

  “Well, my queen? Take me, then.”

  I did. I clutched his muscled chest, digging in my nails, and found my rhythm, working him while he bucked under me. His face transformed with pleasure that looked like a dying man’s agony. The waves of spearing delight echoed through me, arching my back. He claimed my breasts, thumbing the nipples, and I cried out, a cry that abruptly became a shattering scream as the climax took me by surprise, and Rayfe seized my hips, working me up and down his shaft until he convulsed and I draped myself over him, like a blanket.

  I woke in the bright light of a snow-filled morning, in the fluffy white bed. The events of the afternoon and evening before rushed back, flooding me with hot embarrassment. And desire, yet again.

  I’ve created a monster. Apparently so.

  I vaguely recalled waking to him stroking my hair and murmuring my name, then urging me to bed, where we’d be warmer as the fire died. I’d been perfectly comfortable, on my bed of him, but I let him tuck me under the blankets and wrap himself around me. It seems I slept that way all night, because now I felt stiff and sore in all sorts of unaccustomed places.

  The covers next to me were pushed back, but there was no sign of Rayfe.

  Which was just as well, because it gave me time to assimilate what had happened. I stretched, long and lazily. I felt replete in a way that was difficult to put a finger on, as if I’d been hungry all my life for some food that I’d finally been fed
. That restless animal in my heart purred now, my blood surging quietly. I felt quite deliciously used.

  And, oh, Moranu, what would Ursula and Amelia think if I told them? Here they were likely worrying themselves sick over my dreadful fate at Rayfe’s hands, and I’d not only enjoyed his hands—I’d begged for more. Hugh, thinking I wouldn’t be treated gently. He’d been spot-on. Rayfe hadn’t treated me like china—and I’d loved it.

  The cabin door opened with a whuff and sparkle of snow. I sat up fast, clutching the covers to my naked breasts. Rayfe latched the door behind him and raised an eyebrow at me. He’d tied his hair back again and wore his black leathers, snow melting on his dark wool cloak.

  “At last, she awakes.”

  “I didn’t sleep much the night before last—it must have caught up with me. You should have awakened me.”

  “I was coming in to do just that. We have a great deal of ground to cover today.” He strode briskly across the room and began packing food into saddlebags. Perhaps I’d missed breakfast. He glanced at me, looking surprised I was still in bed. “We should really get going.”

  “Well, then. You promised me clothes?” The shredded silver gown lay tossed on the floor nearby, a sullied reminder of how willingly I’d gone to him.

  “I left them in the washroom, next to the privy. There’s water there, too, so you can wash, if you like. If it’s grown too cold, I can warm it again.”

  “I know how to warm water.” My reply had a bit more snap than I’d intended. I busied myself with extracting a sheet to wrap myself with, struggling out of the high, soft bed. Then Rayfe was next to me, taking my hand to help me down.

  “You weren’t shy with me last night.” He studied me. “What’s wrong—are you sore?”

  “No.” I pulled my hand back so I could hold up the sheet. “It’s different in the bright light of morning, okay? And I never did eat yesterday, so I’m hungry. I’d like to have a cup of tea.” I stopped my fretful litany. Somehow I’d gone from feeling deliciously lazy to cranky. Had I hoped for Hugh-variety protestations of affection? “Just—give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready.”

  Gratefully, I closed the washroom door between us. The water was too cool, but no way would I go back out there to warm it up now. I dropped the sheet and wiped myself down as quickly as possible, teeth chattering. At least the chill made it easier not to think about Rayfe’s touch as he’d washed me. The soap smelled of a flower I didn’t know, reminding me that I’d be riding farther away from my own realm, into a place I wouldn’t understand, married to a man still a stranger to me. I yanked on my fighting leathers, sending a silent thank-you to Dafne for thinking of them.

  He’d left a wooden brush for me, made with bristles from some animal. I grimaced at myself in the mirror, pulling the brush through the snarls and tangles. Nothing like loose hair in a windstorm plus rolling around on the floor. I pulled the mass over my shoulder to work the underside and saw the imprint of his teeth in my neck, crimson dark, edged with blue bruising. Bastard.

  Briskly I braided my hair, tying it off. I had no pins, though, so I left it dangling in a long tail down my back.

  I packed my things together. There. I was ready to ride out. If he thought I was the sort of princess to linger over her toilette, he was mistaken.

  I bundled up the sheet, grabbed my bag, and headed back into the cabin. Rayfe sat at the little kitchen table, with an array of food set out and a steaming pot of tea. When he saw me, he poured it into a cup and patted the bench.

  “I’m an idiot. Please forgive me.” He propped his chin on folded hands. “Come sit. Drink your tea.”

  Part of me wanted to refuse, stubbornly insist that we leave right away since he was in such an all-fired hurry. But the gesture softened me. And I really wanted that tea.

  I sat and sipped it, cradling the cup in my chilled fingers. Rayfe watched me, appearing all patience now. “Are you always grumpy when you wake up?”

  “I don’t know,” I muttered into my tea. “I’m not usually around anyone when I wake up.”

  He smiled at that, a rueful twist of his lips. “And I’m usually around men.”

  “You bit me,” I told him, tilting my head so he could see.

  “Are you asking me to apologize?”

  Was I? I didn’t know what I wanted.

  Solemnly he unfastened his leathers, peeling them back to show me the long, furrowed scratches in his chest, some so deep they’d bled. “You marked me, too.”

  Blood rushed to my cheeks. I studied my tea. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant.” Rayfe pulled the cup from my grasp and set it on the table, wrapping his fingers around mine, dark-blue eyes somber, holding my gaze. Our knees bumped under the table. “The morning after is always difficult. You and I—we still have much to learn about each other and little time to do it in. I apologize for being clumsy with you.”

  I found myself smiling. “But not for anything else?”

  He didn’t smile back, but that feral light gleamed in his eyes. “What passed between us last night, Andromeda, is a memory I will hold close until my dying breath. I regret not one whit of it and I won’t pretend to. No matter what else happens, being with you was an unexpected gift.”

  “You make it sound like your dying breath is around the corner.”

  His eyes flicked away. “Enjoy your tea. Eat something. It will be a long day.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, deliberately nonchalant, but he still wouldn’t look at me. I sighed and began carving up an apple with a little silver paring knife. It might have been the same one we’d used last night. The fruit tasted bright and sweet, and I chewed it as I watched him try to avoid my gaze. The patience was a sham; that was clear now. His anxiety to leave leaked out of his pores. I took a pastry. Poured some more tea. Sipped slowly.

  He glanced out the window. Tried to relax.

  “Is Hugh looking for us?”

  He frowned. “Of course his troops are running patrols. Making it seem like they don’t search for you while they do. Hugh does not concern me.”

  I didn’t roll my eyes at his arrogance. “Then, what? You might as well tell me now, because if it’s something more than Avonlidgh coming after us, I’m likely to find out sooner or later.”

  He dropped the chair onto all four legs again and scrubbed his face with his hands. “I don’t suppose I could persuade you just to ride out with me and we can discuss it once we’re closer to the border?”

  “No. Especially not now. Tell me.”

  He dropped his hands and glared at me. “You’re a stubborn woman.”

  “Yes. I would have warned you ahead of time, but I figured that much was obvious. Tell me.”

  He laced his fingers together, jaw tense. “Your sister, Uorsin’s heir, leads an army to relieve the siege at Windroven. They apparently left several days ago and her scouts should reach the area soon. If we wish to avoid a confrontation, we must leave.”

  The blood drained out of me. If I’d just waited a few more days, I wouldn’t have had to marry Rayfe. He observed my reaction with grim satisfaction. He wasn’t surprised.

  “So we ride out immediately,” he informed me. “It’s imperative we cross into Annfwn as soon as possible.”

  Was he more concerned that I’d be rescued or that I’d make a run for it?

  “I made a vow to you, Rayfe. We’re bound together. I do have my own sense of honor.” Never mind that it had turned out to be remarkably flexible lately.

  “Be sure to remember that, for I won’t let you go. No matter what regrets you may harbor.” His eyes flicked to the bruising on my neck and met mine in bold, sensual challenge. Even annoyed with him, I responded, my breasts tightening.

  “How did you hear this?”

  “My men await us outside. They brought the news.”

  Ah, a troop of however many soldiers impatiently waiting in the cold for him to roust hi
s ravished bride from her lazy lie-in.

  “Well.” I drank down my tea. “Let’s go, then.”

  16

  They’d brought an extra horse for me, so at least I didn’t have to ride on Rayfe’s lap. This turned out to be a comfort to my confused heart, but not to my well-used body. My sore nether tissues bounced against the unfamiliar saddle, a painful reminder of how I’d passed the night. The mare, a docile short-legged thing who preferred to bury her nose in the next horse’s tail, spoke volumes about how they regarded me: pampered foreign princess.

  Rayfe, of course, rode far ahead, deep in conversation with his men. They kept me buried in the center, well protected. Or guarded. On my shorter steed, all I could see around me were soldiers. I’d simply moved from one kind of prison to another, it seemed.

  Terin reined up beside me, giving me his ironic half bow. “How fares my lady this morning?” he inquired, all politeness, though his eyes flicked to the bite mark on my neck, the glance followed by a sly grin. The fur collar of my cloak didn’t quite cover it. I’d nearly rearranged my hair so it wouldn’t show, but Moranu take me if I’d have all those men wait while I fussed with my hair.

  And I’d done what I needed to do. Never mind that I liked it. I refused to be ashamed.

  So I gave Terin my best steely-Ursula look, not easy when I had to look up to do it. “I’m quite well. Though I fear this child’s learning-pony will have difficulty keeping up with the pace my lord husband plans to set.”

  Terin raised his eyebrows at me in mock concern. “Well, we couldn’t have our foreign princess tumbling off her mount in an untidy heap, could we?”

  “Why don’t you like me, Terin?”

  “I neither like nor dislike you, my lady.” His gaze fastened again on the bite mark. “You belong to my liege; therefore, you have my loyalty. I don’t believe I’m required to form an opinion about you.”

  “And yet, you have.”

  He shrugged, an echo of Rayfe’s.

  “Are you Rayfe’s brother?”