by Nhys Glover
"Flea. Her name is Flea. Fellica. But she prefers Flea," Darkin corrected absently.
I could keep Spot here with me? And the 'another' could be Zem? He would go mad if he had to give up the search now.
"This is what Airsha would want," I said to Darkin. "And Zem and I can keep the special team looking properly. As soon as we know anything we'll let you know. I promise. You can trust us to do this for you."
Darkin shook his head stubbornly. "No. We can't think of going on with our life as if... as if she's dead. We have to keep looking."
"If nothing turns up today then all of us continuing to search without one lead is like chasing our tails," I pointed out, hating that I was forced to be the voice of reason when I preferred being the hothead. "And you know any team set the task of finding her will be as invested − or almost as invested − in finding her as we are. Zem is the perfect person to help me. You know how dogged and regimented he is. Not one stone will remain unturned with him looking, I promise you."
Darkin shook his head, but I could read his indecision now. And his concerns about telling his brothers. They wouldn't see the necessity of this decision. They'd fight him. Especially Rama. Gods, he still sported the bruises and grazed knuckles from the fight last eve. What more would his brother do in his frustrated rage?
But in the end he nodded. "We'll make our plans. But they'll take several days. In the meantime, Flea and Zem will start coordinating your team. They'll be put in charge of that team."
"Flea is no more than a childling. And I assume this Zem is too? Another commoner, I assume. The men will not accept them giving the orders."
I couldn't let this slur pass. It was one thing to insult me; another thing entirely to have these stuffed shirts looking down their noses at my best friend. "Zem is no commoner. He's the Godling's grandson. His father was a Fire Master. And he'll fight his way into leadership if he has to. No one can fight like him!"
This information was all new to Darkin, and I heard his surprised questions in my head. I wasn't sure how Zem would feel about me sharing his secrets with everyone, but at least I kept the fact that he was an Earth Master to myself. That's what I'd decided his exceptional strength and fighting skills pointed to − that he was a master of an element of earth magic.
Moyna nodded. "Very well, if those are the conditions, we will accept them. But you must get back to the task you agreed to undertake. If... If the Chosen One does not return, we will need the airling army even more."
"She will be found!" snarled Darkin, as furious as I'd ever seen him. Moyna cowered a little under his glare.
"Yes, yes, of course she will. But until then we must be about the business of war."
Chapter Ten
AIRSHA
Trace was in an odd mood for the rest of the day. I expected him to be anxious to leave, especially as we would be on foot. Where was his concern that the enemy would catch up to us?
Not that he was well enough to walk anywhere yet, though he was recovering remarkably quickly, considering the extent of his injuries. But he should have been chaffing at the bit to be away.
I left him to his own thoughts because I had plenty of my own to be chewing over. Finding out the man I loved had treated me as a whore, lending me out to his friends, talking about my prowess in bed to anyone who would listen, was disgusting. Why had I ever loved him?
But I knew the answer to that. Or thought I did. Love was blind. I had given my heart before I even knew what he was truly like. Or mayhap I had given it simply because he was my husband. I do not know. What I do know is that my love was a powerful thing, and the discovery of his... betrayal was a terrible wound.
Had I known? I certainly knew he loaned me out to his friends. I had to. But did I know the rest? Mayhap he cajoled me with sweet words. Mayhap he convinced me that it was the way of it, for a man to lend out his wife. After all, what did I know about life outside the harem? There my father was the one who had many bed partners. In the outside world mayhap it was the norm for a wife to have many partners of her husband's choosing.
My stomach roiled at the thought. No, I would never agree to such a thing. This me and that me would have to be in agreement on this. If I did as Trace said I did, then it was against my will.
I was glad my husband was dead. Had the rebels unintentionally done me a favour by killing him? I still wasn't sure of the exact timing of events. Was my husband killed first and a few days later my babe? That would allow time for Trace to find out about my husband's death, so he didn't have to worry about the extra beastling.
Or mayhap they were trying to torture me into giving away information I had on the Godling by first threatening and then killing my husband. When that didn't work, they did the same with the babe. But instead of getting me to talk, seeing my babe murdered in front of me had simply sent me mad. I forgot everything, even my own name.
That made sense. Mayhap Trace had planned to bring babe supplies, like clouts, with him from the stronghold but, when he discovered what had happened, had dismissed the idea.
I should ask him. But the thought of having confirmation and details of that terrible time horrified me. I had forgotten it for a reason. Trace had given me enough information already. Too much.
But had I discovered what the Godling had sent me in to discover? If so, it was gone like all my other memories. What would Father say if I was returned to him with empty hands, or an empty head in this case. And why had Trace said he would be paid as long as he had a body to show the Godling.
Another wave of nausea assaulted me. What if Father wanted me back because I had failed him, and he wanted to punish me personally? My father was a vengeful man, I knew that. I was not sure how I knew that, but I did. If I somehow failed him when I infiltrated the rebels' stronghold, he would be furious with me.
Was that why Trace was now reluctant to continue on? Had what we shared softened him enough that he now felt guilty about handing me over to my father for punishment?
I had been punished before. Put in a hole and whipped. Did Father do that or did my husband, when I refused to service one his friends? Mayhap that is how he got me to acquiesce.
What would happen to me now? I was on the run from the rebels, and my father probably wanted me back to punish me for failing him. Where could I go to escape both those fates?
Trace was my only hope. Somehow, I had to convince him to help me. He was already vacillating, caught between personal desires and duty. I needed him to want me more than he wanted his place in the Godling's secret army. His place as a legitimate son of the Godling, as he was promised.
Gods! No wonder he was torn. That was too much for any man to give up for a woman. He would be on the run from both sides of this war. How did I even know there was a war? I had taken it for granted from the first mention of rebels.
While I worried and ruminated, I cut more flesh from the dead beastling. I knew that this was the last time I could do so. The carcass was beginning to rot. The worms had already invaded parts of it, like the eyes and mouth. After tomorrow I would need to find another source of food.
But I cooked up what I had and forced it down, drinking plenty of water with it. All so I could continue to sustain Trace.
Who had started taking from me wordlessly, almost apologetically − never meeting my gaze.
"I know what is troubling you," I said at last, as the shadows darkened around us.
He was resting his head on his good shoulder, staring into the fire. His beard had grown in a little more since we started this journey, and I wondered when it would turn from sharp to soft bristles. I knew it was still sharp because of the rasp of his skin across my breast as he fed. Especially as the repeated rubbing had become painful, to the point that now the pain of feeds outweighed the pleasure. Which was a good thing.
Unless I wanted to win him to my side. In which case, I should let the pleasure have predominance.
"What?" he finally asked, bringing me back to my statement about what troub
led him.
"You feel something for me, and that makes you reluctant to hand me over to my father."
His gaze shot to mine and I saw shock, guilt and uncertainty written in his dark eyes.
"Why would handing you over to your father −"
"Please, Trace. Stop trying to protect me from the truth. You said you would be paid as long as you returned my body to him. That means I am not being rescued out of any finer feelings my father has for me. I must have failed him. Being caught by the rebels might have been enough of a failure. But mayhap there was more. Whatever the reason, you know my reception will not be a welcome one. And that troubles you."
He nodded slowly. "I do worry about that. But there is no other choice for either of us."
"Mayhap there is. Mayhap we could just disappear. Just the two of us. Away from this war, away from what should not be our concern. What do we care who wins this war?
"I know Father has promised you legitimacy. But how can he do that without admitting he is not the sole source of magic to the world? Claim he fathered you and your brothers on lesser women, not his wives? When could that have happened? I know he never leaves the palace."
Trace shook his head. "I would give almost anything to run away with you, precious woman. And I have spent this whole day thinking just how to make that happen. I never thought I would ever value a woman more than my life, but I do. Or I am starting to. No, I do. Otherwise I would not have risked my life to save you from that beastling. Even then you had some kind of hold on me. But I cannot keep you from the rebels and the Godslunders. There is no place where you and I could be together. It is impossible."
I felt tears prick my eyelids once more. How I loathed crying, yet I seemed to do nothing else.
"So instead you will just hand me over to Father so he can... what? Put me in a hole and then whip me? Will you stand by and watch while he does it? Just so you can receive your payment and a pat on the head? Why is it men see me as having so little worth? Why can none of you give to me as I give to you! Unconditionally!"
It was petty to turn it into a game of who had done what for whom. Likely he would win, anyway, because he had not only saved me from the rebels but from the beastling. All I had done was feed him and give him pleasure. It hardly equated.
"If I... If I do what is right I will die. I have no doubt about that. If I try not to do wrong, I will put us both at risk with almost no chance of survival. If I do what is wrong, my... my heart will not survive what happens to you, though my body will."
I edged over and lay at his side, cupping his troubled face in my hand. "You talk in riddles. Can you not talk it through with me properly so we can decide together? Do I not have the right to decide my own fate?"
He leaned in and gently kissed my lips. "A few days ago I would have said you had no such right. That you had sealed your fate by your actions. But now I know you... Now I understand a little of the magic you wield. And I do not mean starting fires or healing my body. I mean the kind of magic that makes a selfish abomination like me want to be different. I just don't know if I can be different, even if I want to be. I am what I am."
He was pleading with me for understanding and to give him absolution. But I didn't understand what he wanted forgiveness for. For turning me over to my father? Was that it? For choosing him over me? For choosing coin over me?
"I would love you enough to make up for all you will lose..." I offered tentatively. It sounded pathetic even to my own ears.
"My life? Your love would make up for losing my life? But then, if I did what is right, it would mean losing your love too. It would be inevitable. Your past will come back and you will realise... and you will hate me." Tears gathered in the corners of his almond eyes and he blinked them away hurriedly.
My past would come back and I would hate him? What did he mean?
I leaned in and kissed his lips. My aim was not to convince him of my love, or seduce him into siding with me over my father. My aim was simply to ease his suffering. Because his suffering was terrible, and it tore at my heart.
He didn't kiss me back at first. Then, when whatever internal war he'd waged was won, his lips opened over mine and he returned the kiss with so much heart it hurt me. Gods, he was in so much torment. I felt his suffering as if it were my own. How could I ease it? How could I take a little of it away, at least for the moment?
The kiss grew deeper and more urgent. I felt arousal surging up inside me, tingling my breasts, causing my core to weep. Wanting him more than my next breath. I pushed him gently down and lay across him, taking all the pressure off his wounds.
I still had not donned what was left of my tunic because there was no sense to it. I would be pulling it on and off with each feed anyway. And now I was glad of it, and of the way my hair fell around us like a veil, separating us from the world.
"Goddess," he moaned into my mouth, as his hands massaged my breasts in an all-too-familiar way.
I revelled in the touch, loved the way my full breasts dangled a little so he had the full weight of them. They were large for someone my size, and I had put that down to the amount of milk my babe consumed. I felt a tickle of amusement. My new babe consumed a great deal too.
He kissed his way down my neck and across my shoulder, inching ever closer to my breasts. When he finally reached his goal it was not to feed, it was to tease and flick at the tip and even to graze the captured nipple with his teeth. This was what a lover did. This!
I moaned and leaned in closer. I wanted more of this man's touch. More of him.
"Breeches off!" he muttered hoarsely as he nudged at the side of one breast while his hands went lower.
I wanted whatever he had in mind. I turned on my rump and pulled hastily at my breeches until they fell away. All the while, Trace touched me as if he couldn't get enough of the feel of my skin.
When I was fully naked, I turned to him, wanting to know what he needed me to do next. I had no idea what I looked like, sitting on my side, my hair falling around my shoulders, my lips probably red from his kisses, and my nipples hard. But whatever it was it had him groaning and reaching for me again.
"Leg over me," he demanded.
I obeyed.
I was positioned over his waist and he pulled me higher so I understood what he wanted. I edged further up until my mound was over his face, his hands cupping my butt cheeks.
"I thought it was a dream," he mumbled, nuzzling at my folds with his hawk nose. "I thought the scent of you, the taste of you, could not be so enticing. No woman I have ever had is like you here." He nudged me again with his nose, teasing my nub of pleasure.
"I have not been able to stay as clean as I would want. The creek is not over-full for bathing," I answered, suddenly worried.
He chuckled and laved me with his tongue. "You taste and smell like clean, enticing woman. No, not woman. More than a woman."
"How can I be more than a woman? That is all I am." I felt confusion edge in to replace desire. There was something there, something just out of reach.
"Not now. I will tell you everything after. Just this one last time. I just want you one last time." The sadness in his voice − the regret − tore at my heart. But I could do nothing to comfort him, given my position. So I simply did as I was bid. Let him draw me lower so my core was closer and he could give me an intimate kiss to my nether lips. And that was what it felt like for some time, as if he was making love to my nether lips with his own, never quite tasting me with his tongue. It was the tenderness of the caresses that felt new. No one had ever kissed me like this, made love to the entrance to my core like this.
But his kisses grew more heated, and he finally invaded with his tongue. I was so ready, I shot off the edge before I was even aware the climax was coming. I cried out and arched my back, my hands covering his on my butt. Oh, so delicious. So very delicious.
He pulled me lower and seemed to become ravenous, licking and sucking and nuzzling with his nose. Then fingers invaded my channel and again I
bucked as delight coursed through me once more. For an impossible time he used his fingers on me as he laved and sucked my nub until I was weeping with pleasure, coming over and over again, so that I lost track of when one release ended and another started.
Finally, when I could barely keep my legs under me, Trace drew me away from him and urged me lower. I knew what he had in mind because it was what I craved. His fingers were bliss, but they left me wanting more. And now Trace was going to give me what I needed.
I undid his breeches and let his eager cock free. It throbbed in my hand as if greeting me. Smiling, I stroked it, listening to Trace moan.
"Enough of that. I am already too close. I need to be inside you."
I couldn't help nudging the hip wound as I mounted him. But this time there was no grimace of pain. He was getting better.
And in the next moment I had him at my entrance. I began to slide him home. Like a sword in a scabbard, we just seemed to fit. When I had him all the way in, and I was sitting on his thighs, we just paused. I was stretched and full to overflowing, his head nudging my womb. I ached gently with want, my pleasure nub still sensitive after the sensations it had experienced so recently.
Trace held me in place with his hands on my hips. I saw him flinch, and I imagined it was from the shoulder wound. But he didn't let me go. His gaze meshed with mine, and I sighed at what I saw there. Not just desire, but love. And then grief followed quickly on it, before he shook it off so he could smile cheekily up at me.
"Ready for the ride of your life, Goddess?" he asked.
I giggled and nodded. When did I start giggling? I was not a giggly kind of girl. Or I thought I wasn't.
I forgot about what I was and what I wasn't when Trace drew me up the full length of his cock and then down again. At first it was slow and exquisite, with me feeling every inch of him on the slide. He urged me to increase the pace, and I circled my hips so I could feel him against each wall of my channel. Trace groaned and gasped.
"Gods, woman! How is this possible?" he exclaimed.