by Jasmine Walt
The city gates were much larger than they had appeared from the hilltop, and Tariel had to keep the awed expression off her face as she stared up at them. At least thirty feet tall and three feet thick, the gates loomed over the cart as a bored guard waved them through. She imagined the castle’s perimeter was just as thick, making it very difficult to get to the royal family in the event of an invasion.
Unless the invaders have magic, a voice whispered in her head. A shiver went through her at the thought of an army of mages descending upon the city in an avalanche of glowing magic. If trained mages were even half as powerful as Zolotais suggested, the city would be leveled within the hour.
Yes, the desert spirit was right. Fjordland was very lucky indeed that the Maroyan Empire held no interest in its lands.
The three of them found their way quickly enough to the market, the city streets wide enough for them to pass through with their cart easily despite the crowd. There, they sold the cabbages and the horses, then found their way to a modest tavern and ordered ale and mutton stew.
“Ahhh,” Riann said as he washed down a mouthful of stew with a swig of ale. “That really hits the spot.”
“It seems like forever since we’ve last had a decent meal,” Calrain agreed, “even though it has only been a few days.”
“It does seem like our time at Castle Tyrook was a lifetime ago,” Tariel said.
They fell silent, their minds going back to their old lives. Tariel felt a bit of melancholy from both of her men, and she reached out to take their hands in hers.
“We will build better lives once we are safely in the Empire,” she promised them. “Lives of such plenty that our time in Fjordland will become but a hazy memory.”
Calrain nodded. “I am looking forward to visiting the libraries,” he said.
“And I want to train with their swordsmen,” Riann said eagerly. “I hear they use strange, exotic weapons in the Empire—a curved sword that is smaller and lighter than what we use.”
His hand went to the back of his chair, where Tariel knew his sword hung, though no others could see it. It would draw far too much attention for a farmer to be carrying a knight’s sword—someone might think he had stolen it, and then they would be in real trouble. Tariel was very glad they’d managed to sell the cabbages and the horses—Riann and Calrain had been unable to retrieve their purse during the escape from Sir Jerrold’s camp.
Still, they were down to a little less than half of what they’d had before they left. They would need to find a way to make more, at least enough to pay for passage to the Empire.
As they sat and ate their stew, Tariel listened to the buzz of conversation around them, hoping to pick up on any relevant news or information. Her heightened hearing allowed her to pick out conversations easily, and though most of what she heard was boring, she overheard quite a few people speculating about the queen’s ill health.
“I’ve heard that the king has already begun looking for a new wife,” one man said. “Rumor has it he’s shown an interest in several titled young ladies at court.”
Another man snorted. “He’s always shown interest in the other ladies. If I were king, you can bet I’d be sticking my cock up every available twat, and there are very few women who’d say no to the king.”
“Even so,” a third man interjected, “if I were the king, I would be searching for a new wife, preferably one who I could actually beget heirs on. Prince Raglar is not the king’s son, after all. A man like King Hamin would prefer the fruit of his own loins to sit on the throne.”
“Do you think Raglar will stand for that?” the first man asked. “He is an honorable man by all accounts, but even he can’t be happy about the idea of some brat stealing his throne.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries to assassinate the king. Before we know it, we’ll have a half-breed sitting on the throne.”
“A half-breed?” Tariel asked Calrain and Riann. She relayed the conversation she had just overheard. “The prince is only half-Fjordlander?”
“You didn’t know that?” Riann sounded genuinely surprised. “Prince Raglar’s mother was a Maroyan.”
“She died giving birth to him,” Calrain added, “and Queen Relissa never bore any sons. That’s why he is the heir.”
Tariel scowled. “I may not know my parents, but it is obvious to anyone who looks at me that I have both Fjordland and Maroyan blood,” she said. “It seems quite unfair that Prince Raglar should have the chance to rule the kingdom, while I am persecuted.”
Riann sighed. “If Raglar were a woman I’m sure he would suffer the same fate as you,” he said. “But he is a man, and royal blood flows through his veins.”
And what of the blood in my veins? Tariel thought indignantly. Was it somehow lesser, simply because she was not descended from kings and queens? But before she could open her mouth to protest, another conversation caught her ear.
“I saw the witch hunter and his men stalking through the streets yesterday,” a thin man with a reedy voice was saying. “Sir Jerrold seemed in a right mood, barking at anyone who didn’t get out of his way quick enough.”
“Oh aye, I know all about that,” the man sitting next to him said. “He came into my shop and made a terrible mess, tossing things about. He and his men have been searching the city for some dark-haired witch.”
“I don’t mind Sir Jerrold doing his job, so long as he doesn’t damage our livelihoods in the process,” the first man agreed. “He could show us a little more respect, considering it’s our taxes that fund him.”
“I hope he finds that witch soon and gets out of our hair,” a man Tariel guessed was the innkeeper said as he came by with drinks for the men. “He’s been visiting all the inns every night, and subjecting every newcomer to a thorough search, which has been terrible for business.” He shook his head. “The royal guard has even gotten involved, though I’m not surprised since the captain is Sir Jerrold’s younger brother. They’ve been bringing around some newfangled device that can supposedly detect magic.”
“A device?” the first man said, sounding very interested. “Do you have any idea what kind of device?”
“If you mean to ask me how to get or make one of your own, I’ve no idea,” the innkeeper said. “But from what I’ve heard, it lights up in the presence of magic.”
“That doesn’t sound good at all,” Riann muttered. His features were pinched with worry as he looked at Tariel and Calrain. “A device that can detect magic? How is that even possible?”
"Perhaps it is some sort of artifact blessed by Roisen,” Calrain said, his brow furrowed. “I wonder if the device truly works, or if it is mere superstition.”
“Either way, I would prefer not to run into Sir Jerrold’s men and find out,” Tariel said. She pushed the remnants of her stew away, her appetite gone. “We cannot stay here if newcomers are searched every evening. If that device works, Sir Jerrold will find us for certain.”
“But where shall we go?” Calrain asked. He looked out the window at the sky, where steely gray clouds were beginning to form. “If we are caught out in the rain too long we might catch cold.”
“We won’t catch cold,” Riann said, sounding amused. “We are impervious to disease now, remember?”
Calrain scowled. “Even so, I’d rather not spend the rest of the day with my clothes sticking to me, thanks.”
“Relax,” Tariel said, raising a hand to break up the argument. “We’ll think of something. Why don’t we walk around for a bit and get the lay of the land first? I really do think we should not linger here, especially since this seems to be the most likely place Sir Jerrold will look for us.”
Agreed, the three of them left the inn. As they wandered the streets in the chilly afternoon, Tariel used her magic to hide their packs from view so that they would look less like travelers. It was ironic that the capital had become such a dangerous place for them—they had originally decided to come here precisely because they thought this was the last place S
ir Jerrold would come to look for them. The witch hunter must have suspected that the trader and the two sons he had met on the road were really Tariel and her friends in disguise. Now that he knew for certain that Tariel had magic, he had to assume she was capable of anything.
As they traveled closer to the coastline, the simple stone houses and buildings gave way to rows of large, elegant villas—multi-storied buildings with small gardens and terraces, and even a turret or two in some cases. Of course, that was the moment when the sky rumbled, and Tariel and her men soon found themselves drenched in a persistent drizzle.
“I wish we could go and hide in one of these houses,” Calrain grumbled as they hurried up the street, looking for some place to seek shelter while they waited out the rain.
“Come,” Calrain said, dragging them beneath a tree. It was perched on one of the properties, but the trunk was large enough that no one would see them from the street. “We can wait here, at least for a moment.”
Tariel sighed in relief as they ducked under the branches. The foliage was thick enough to shield them from the rain, and as they huddled together, their combined warmth protected Tariel some from the cold wind. Even so, she wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, hoping the rain would let up soon.
“Hey,” Calrain said thoughtfully after several long moments had passed. His eyes were trained on the windows. “Perhaps I am imagining things, but I have a feeling that this house might be unoccupied.”
“Really?” Riann’s eyes lit as he took a closer look. All the shutters were drawn, and the garden looked a bit overgrown. “Shall we investigate?”
Tariel nodded. “Let’s go around the back.”
They skirted the high metal fence that surrounded the property until they came to the back gate. Tariel pressed her hand to the lock, and with a bit of concentration, used her magic to open it. The mechanism gave with a loud click, and they hurried through the open gate, careful to close and lock it behind them. Calrain and Riann looked around furtively as Tariel approached a side door, but if there were any servants lurking about in the garden, they were well hidden.
“Quiet now,” she whispered as she unlocked the door. They slipped inside, and took care to wipe their feet on the mat so they would not leave muddy tracks. The house was pitch dark with all the shutters drawn, so Tariel conjured a light, but she still silenced their footfalls as they crept through the house, her ears straining for any sign of occupants.
“I don’t hear or see anyone,” Riann said. “Just a rat scurrying about in the cellar, and the wind outside.”
“Yes, I think it’s safe,” Tariel agreed. “Well done, Calrain.” She beamed at him. “You found us a place to stay.”
“And a nice one, too,” Riann added, plopping down heavily on a sofa in the drawing room. He kicked off his boots and put his feet up on a low table. “All we need is a butler to bring me a pipe or a drink.”
Tariel smirked. “I wouldn’t get too comfortable,” she said as she sat on the couch next to Riann. She snuggled against him, enjoying the warmth of his body. “The owners may be gone now, but there is no telling when they could come back.”
“Very true,” Calrain said, sitting down on the chair across from them. “It might not be a good idea to stay here, in case the owners return and catch us.”
Tariel shrugged. “We can set Zolotais to watch for them while we sleep,” she said, “and I can use my magic to help us sneak out. This is far better than staying in the inn, where we will be interrogated, or sleeping on the streets, especially in this foul weather.”
“Agreed,” Riann said. “Speaking of this foul weather, I’m going to light a fire and banish some of the chill from this place.”
“That’s not a good idea,” Calrain warned as Riann stood. “If the neighbors see smoke rising from the chimney, they will get suspicious. They are bound to know the occupants of this house are not in residence.”
“Blast it,” Riann said, sitting back down. “You’re right. I suppose we’ll just have to make do without fire.”
“Actually, I might be able to help,” Tariel said. She left Riann’s side and crouched before the grate. There were already a few logs sitting in the fireplace, but she put them aside, then held out her hands and concentrated, envisioning a flame.
A few minutes later, one sprang to life, lighting up the stone interior. Warmth washed over Tariel, and she sighed in pleasure. “Since the fire isn’t burning any wood, it shouldn’t produce any smoke.”
“You are a genius,” Calrain crowed, swinging Tariel in his arms. He kissed her soundly, then grinned as he set her back down. “Maybe we can make a go of this after all.”
“That’s the spirit,” Riann said, clapping Calrain on the back. “Now what do you say we get out of these wet clothes and see if there’s something better to wear?”
They spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the mansion properly, and were delighted to find the owners not only had clothes that fit them, but also food in the larder. The three of them had at first felt uneasy about taking advantage of the mansion’s supplies, but when Zolotais had tartly informed them that they really had no choice, and the owners likely wouldn’t miss anything as long as they were frugal, they finally relented. After taking the time to wash up, Tariel changed into a dark green dress that looked rather fetching, and used her magic to shorten the hem and loosen the bust a bit before going to check on Calrain and Riann.
“You two clean up quite nicely,” she said, grinning at them both. They both wore fine velvet tunics with gold and silver embroidery, leggings, and leather boots that probably cost an entire year of Riann’s salary.
“These clothes are far too big for me,” Calrain complained, tugging on his overly-baggy sleeves. “I feel like I’m swimming in them!”
“I think I can fix that,” Tariel said, moving to him. She placed her hands on his arms and used her magic to take the sleeves in, then repeated the process with the rest of his clothing. “There,” she said, stepping back to admire her handiwork. The clothes fit him much better, showing off his lean frame rather than hiding it. “Is that better?”
“Much,” he said, admiring his new outfit. “You are a wonder, Tariel.”
“Do you think you can fix me too?” Riann asked. “These sleeves are actually a bit tight on me.”
“I don’t know,” Tariel teased as she approached him. She ran a hand down his upper arm, enjoying the bulge of muscle. “I quite like the way your arms look.”
Riann grinned. “Maybe so, but if these seams burst, I don’t think the ladies will be able to handle it,” he said. “They might faint dead away at the sight of my muscles.”
Tariel laughed.
“Very humble, I see,” Calrain said with a roll of his eyes. “I’ll go downstairs and see if I can’t figure out how to make us a meal.”
He left them alone as Tariel laid her hand on the seam of Riann’s sleeve. She used her magic to expand the fabric just enough, then crouched to repeat the process with his leggings. As she ran her hand up the inside of his thigh, he sucked in a sharp breath, and she looked up to see him gazing at her, his eyes dark with need.
“Shall I stay down here a bit longer?” she asked, her mouth curling up at the corners. She skimmed her hand higher, beneath the skirt of his tunic, and warmth spilled through her as she encountered the growing bulge there.
“You can stay down there as long as you want,” Riann said in a strangled voice.
Tariel grinned, then reached up and pulled his leggings down around his ankles. His manhood jutted proudly in the air, and she took it in her hand, exploring the ridges with her fingers. Riann hissed as she slid her thumb along the ridge of flesh at the base of the tip, and a shudder wracked his body, making her smile. An idea came to her, and she leaned in, flicking the same spot with her tongue.
“Gods,” he groaned, the sound deep and primal. His hands found her hair, and he pulled her closer. “I’ve never had a woman do this before,” he gasped.
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nbsp; The admission filled Tariel with pleasure as she took him into her mouth. The act was shocking, and a bit strange—certainly she’d never heard of any woman doing such a thing to a man before, though she supposed that if they did, they wouldn’t discuss it. But the musky taste of him awoke something deep inside Tariel, and she took more of him in her mouth and began to suck.
“Stop,” he gasped, pulling her away. “I won’t last if you keep doing that.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to last,” she said, and then took him back into her mouth. His groans echoed in the room, and she sank her fingers into the backs of his legs, preventing him from pulling away.
But Riann didn’t pull away this time. He surged forward, sliding even deeper inside Tariel’s mouth. At first it was too much, but her throat relaxed to accommodate him, much in the same way she had the first time they’d made love. Her legs began to ache from crouching so long, but she barely noticed, too caught up in the taste and feel of him as he slid inside her. Her entire body was burning with desire, and yet, she was not ready to stop, not yet—
“Tariel!” he cried hoarsely, digging his fingers into her scalp. He pulsed into her mouth, his hot seed flowing over her tongue. Shock rippled through her—she had not expected it to happen so fast—but she quickly recovered, swallowing everything he had to give her, and holding him fast as he quaked in her arms.
“That was…was…” he gasped, finally releasing her. His eyes were wide, his face flushed. “Incredible,” he finished.
Tariel grinned, fierce satisfaction sweeping through her as she stood. “I’m glad,” she said, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss him.
Riann wrapped his arms around her. “I tried to outlast you so that I could make love to you after you grew tired of playing with me,” he said sheepishly, “but you got the better of me.”
Tariel laughed. “You can still make love to me,” she said, hopping up onto the bed behind them. “I believe you’ve managed to give me pleasure in other ways before,” she said suggestively, lifting her skirts.