I slid off of Rane and stood in front of the huffing donkey, leaning down to press my forehead to his in an attempt to instill some calm. His fur was soft, and he smelled of hay and the good, horsey scent of sweat. “Softly, softly, friend,” I whispered to him, and gently rubbed my forefinger against his nose. “There’s no true cause to race through the city streets like that, is there? I think you know that. Yes, you know.”
Rane snorted haughtily. “She speaks to us, Donkey, so don’t try anything stupid.”
The donkey gazed up at me, his damp sides heaving. He didn’t seem surprised by what Rane had just told him. “I don’t care if she speaks to buildings. I was eating my supper, and then this ass”—he rolled his eyes toward the woman still perched on his back—“rented me from the stable, and I didn’t get to finish my supper, I’ll have you know!”
“I understand,” I crooned to him gently. “But to run away with someone on your back… She didn’t deserve the fright you gave her.”
“She whipped me. That horrid thing whipped me, and it would have served her right if she went sailing through the air!” Now he sounded positively smug.
I glanced in surprise at the woman in the red dress. She whipped him? This was the first time I was able to get a good look at her. And, well, she didn’t look like the type who would whip a poor, defenseless donkey.
She didn’t look like that type at all.
In fact…
And here it came again, my body reacting hotly to the sight of her.
In my defense, I wasn’t thinking about the fact that her shining brown hair, thick and beautifully plaited, was wrapped about her head like the light from a goddess. I wasn’t thinking of how beautifully her curves were hugged by that scarlet dress—a dress which allowed much more than a glimpse of her décolletage.
If I were a poet, I might regale you with pretty words about her pretty breasts. But I’m not a poet, so I can only say that everything within me responded—wildly—to her perfect cleavage. I had to look away and swallow, twice, as if to break a charm that had been cast upon me…
To be succinct: she was beautiful in a way that undid me, and made me blossom with lust. Her soft mouth, open halfway in astonishment; her sparkling, quick-witted eyes… There was a sweetness to her, yes, but also a sharpness, and the union was so lovely that I felt my knees weaken.
So I did the only thing that I—in my stolen knight's regalia—could think to do. I took a deep breath and soldiered onward, forcing myself to ignore the feelings raging through my being.
I cleared my throat. “Milady…” I paused, stunned for a moment by her beauty. “The donkey says you whipped him. Did you?
The woman blinked, as if startled, and then shook her head adamantly. “I...didn’t whip him, no.” She stared down in obvious confusion, fumbling with her dress. “I’m sorry, but…are you speaking to that donkey?”
The donkey in question reached out with his gums and chewed on the edge of my glove. “My name is Cossie,” he said, “and tell the ass on my back that if she doesn’t get off of me right now…” His eyes glinted with malice; he didn’t need to finish his thought.
I made some comment to the woman about how she should dismount, but she glanced at the ground as if it were a faraway country she’d heard about but would never get around to visiting.
Oh, no.
I knew exactly what a true knight, if put in my position, would do here. Of course, I had never attended the teachings of knighthood, but I had heard enough banter in the halls and the stables. Now was the time to help the lady down from her mount, assuming she showed signs of requiring help. There was a complicated bit of code about how you must never assume anyone is in need of assistance (agency is a sacred thing to the knights), but there were subtle tells you might look for. And the lady before me was not exhibiting subtle tells so much as obvious signals. A donkey had just run away with her, and yet she had made no motion to remove herself from the animal's back.
She was practically dazed.
I took a deep breath.
This was, after all, a simple thing to do. And the feelings raging just beneath my skin, the instant attraction that rose inside of my rib cage the moment I gazed upon her—they were simple things, too, easy enough to ignore.
I wasn't a knight yet, but I had sworn to hold myself to the knights’ code from the moment I stepped foot in Arktos City. And I would abide by it now.
So I came alongside the woman’s leg, glancing up at her, and I lifted my arms, keeping my back very straight. “May I?” I asked. My voice shook a little, but the words came out so low, so husky, that they surprised me. I sounded as if I were attracted to her, damn it.
I was slipping up.
The woman watched me, and I watched her, and—for a very long moment—it seemed as if time had stopped.
The creature before me was curvy, soft, and sweet-smelling (like cake); I felt bewitched by the smallest details of her: the honey-brown ringlets by her shell-shaped ears; the faint lines at her eyes; the laugh lines by her mouth. Gods, she was beautiful, beautiful in a way that reached deep into the depths of me, like a fine song or a good dance.
Conscious of my duty, I cleared my throat again, cocked my head. “Milady?” I asked, glad to find my voice sure again. My lips curved into a small, curious smile. “Are you injured? May I…help you to your feet? Cossie told me that you weren’t much for riding.”
“Cossie…told you…” She regarded the donkey with obvious distaste. “Well, yes. He’s right. I’m not much for riding.” A coy smile spread over her face. “Are you really talking to the donkey?”
“Yes. May I help you down?” I asked, feeling the blood thrum through me as an expression of genuine wonder came over her face—along with a smile that warmed me from the inside out.
She had the sort of smile the Goddess must have had in mind when she first gave people the ability to smile. It was a smile so genuine, everything light in the universe appeared dim by comparison. She could outshine the sun.
“Yes. Of course. Thank you.” The woman made a nod of agreement, and then I reached up and placed my hands at the curves of her waist. I found myself gulping for air, because her warmth emanated through the fabric of her dress and the leather over my palms—and how soft she was! Gods! My fingers pressed into her, and her body gave gently beneath my hands. I was acutely aware of the breath hitching in my throat, and of how dry my mouth had suddenly become.
I lifted the lady into the air like a trophy, drawing her gently off of the donkey. Her weight in my arms felt right, as good as gold itself.
I lowered her to the ground and realized that I was gazing down at her face now, rather than up. The tip of her nose had a delightful upturn, and her skin was as pale as the moon—with a sprinkling of star-like freckles upon her rosy cheeks. Her eyes were framed by long, fluttering lashes that put me in mind of a butterfly’s wings, as rubbish as that comparison is. They were delicate, lovely, protecting eyes as green as gems.
Gods and goddesses...
I was smitten.
I’m a fast mover, it’s true; I’ve always been that way. When I see a woman I like, I tell her as much, and then we go away for a time to do lovely, lusty things to one another.
I know these feelings, know these aches.
Yes, this woman was beautiful, and I wanted her.
But there were stranger feelings inside of me, ones that I didn’t know, didn't quite understand. My heart felt too tight: there was a rising inside of me, something like...joy?
She began to tend to her hair distractedly, avoiding my gaze, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks. And when she looked up at me once more, I promise you, my heart began to stutter in my chest; I was worried that it might fail.
“Thank you,” she said simply, “for saving me.”
And she gave me a smile, a smile so good and true that I would have set my sails by it—if I were the seafaring sort.
I could feel my body drawing toward her, the way a tide p
ulls a ship, and so I did the only thing I could think to do: I stepped backward. “Oh. Oh, yes, of course.”
And then the woman gave me a different sort of smile.
A smile that would pull the sun from its orbit, that would coax every star down from the heavens—just for the chance to be closer to something so lovely.
My blush came suddenly, as quick as silver.
Here and now, cheeks burning, I stare at the woman in the red dress, unable to think of a coherent word to say.
She, however, does not share my speechlessness.
“What’s your name, lovely?” asks the woman, her voice amused, as bright as fair folk chimes.
I find myself swallowing, and then smiling; her brilliant presence is irresistibly infectious. “Talis, milady.” There’s a suggestive lilt to my voice, a bit of velvet, and it’s purposeful. I can’t help it, though I will help it, damn it, if this isn’t what she wants…
But I don’t think I need to worry about that.
Because her smile, while bright before, is incandescent now.
“Well, Talis,” the lady begins. She takes a deep breath, and my eyes, as if bidden, drift down to her chest, where the fabric strains tightly. “My name is Cinda. And I would like to repay you for saving my life—if I may.” There’s an unspoken question here, and, considering her grin, an unmistakable suggestion.
I’ll have to give dozens of bouquets to the Goddess in gratitude for the pure good luck of this night.
Earlier, life felt harsh and hard.
But now?
She likes me.
And I like her.
And is there anything so good and right in the world as when two women look at one another and see something beautiful?
And, to be frank, want to share a tumble?
There’s a clatter of hooves behind me; Lellie has finally caught up.
“Ho!” she shouts, as Sasha stomps over the cobblestones restlessly. Lellie glances down at me—and then at Cinda—in surprise. “Talis, what happened? I was stopped by a tourist for directions, and you disappeared—”
“All is well, Lellie.” I hold up a hand, gesturing toward Cossie. “This lady’s donkey took a fright and ran away with her, and I…stepped in to help.”
“You did?” Lellie's brows shoot up. And when she glances from Cinda to me, a knowing look crosses her face, and she smiles down at me like a satisfied feline after it’s eaten a bowl of unexpected, delicious fish.
“Ah. I see. Well...” She grins, and then she salutes me, hopping down from her mare in one easy motion, holding the reins as she peels off a leather glove. Once more, and almost exaggeratedly, Lellie looks from me to Cinda and back to me again. It seems as if she’s making her mind up about something.
Then she steps forward. “And who is this charming lady?” Lellie asks. She takes another step, bowing at the waist with a flourish, holding out her hand.
Cinda gives her hand to Lellie, of course, but it’s not Lellie she’s looking at, not even when the knight lowers her head and brushes her full lips against the back of Cinda’s fingers.
Cinda hardly acknowledges the caress, aside from displaying a soft, distracted smile that may have been directed at Lellie, though Cinda is still gazing fixedly at me. Her lovely red lips are slightly parted…
“Ah.” After Lellie wins no response from the woman, she straightens and chuckles good-naturedly, looping her mare’s reins around her palm. “I see,” she says again, smiling at me. “You must be grateful to my fellow knight here, lady.” Lellie’s voice belies slyness, and I blink once before realizing what she's up to. My eyes shift toward hers in horror. Lellie just called me her fellow knight.
I’m not a knight.
Though Cinda, I’m sure, has already assumed that I am, simply by looking at me…
Well, wasn’t that the point of the evening? To go about as a knight, to live, for just one night, as the thing I’ve always wanted to be?
Still...the lie feels wrong.
I don't want to deceive Cinda.
“Indeed, I am grateful. Most grateful.” Cinda casts me a subtle—though saucy—smile, before turning her gaze toward my friend. “And my name is Cinda, milady.” She drops into a curtsy, which causes Lellie and I, in unison, to raise our brows, because when Cinda dips low, her décolletage… I really must stop talking about it, but it’s rosy, expansive, and as inviting as a pillow. I have, I'm certain, never seen a pillow I wished to rest my cheek against more…
Lellie chuckles beneath her breath, as if she's reading my thoughts. She's familiar with the sort of woman who turns my head, so she must know that Cinda is the epitome of everything I adore.
The knight wraps an arm about my shoulders, lifting her chin. “Cinda,” Lellie says, her voice sweet, “it’s so good to meet you! Talis is my best friend, and she’s very brave, so it’s no wonder that she aided you during your”—Lellie glances at the donkey bemusedly—“adventure. Would you like to get drinks with us, perhaps—to celebrate?” She angles a thumb over her shoulder, and I realize that Cossie the donkey stopped very near the Happy Lioness tavern.
Is that a sign of good things to come? I try not to let my hopes rise too high, but Cinda's presence is helping me forget all about my disappointing conversation with Magel.
“Why, yes, I’d love to,” Cinda gushes, but then she starts and glances back over her shoulder, toward the direction she (and the donkey) came from. “It’s just… I was with a friend. We were heading to this tavern, actually. But I suppose the donkey outran her—little brat.” She frowns at Cossie, and he snorts, laying back his ears.
“The feeling is mutual, you ass,” the donkey drawls. Cinda can't hear him, which is probably just as well.
Cinda looks over her shoulder once more, watching the road—and, suddenly, her face lights up.
I am pinched, then—irrationally—by a jealous little imp. There isn't a jealous bone in my body, I swear, and I refuse to succumb to such a low feeling now... But I can’t help but feel a pang as a beautiful woman trots up to us on the back of a nag (who’s wheezing, as she’s obviously too old to trot down any street). This woman carries herself with an understated, regal bearing, and she seems to glow from within, a blue-gold light shifting beneath her black skin. She wore a worried expression when she first arrived, but this look quickly shifts to one of shrewdness as she glances between Cinda and myself—ignoring Lellie altogether.
“Oh, Jeene! It was terrible. The donkey wouldn't stop! But this knight,” and Cinda puts heavy emphasis upon the word as she gestures in my direction, “saved me! Isn’t that just amazing! We were talking about having drinks together.”
The stunning woman—Jeene, I suppose—grins widely and hops down from her mount. “That would be lovely, pet,” she purrs to Cinda, and the jealous imp stabs me repeatedly in the buttocks with its wicked pitchfork.
Jeene glances at me with both brows raised, and then her gaze sweeps my length, up and down. “My,” she says, drawing out the word as she smiles mischievously, “what an exquisite knight.” And then she looks at Cinda again—meaningfully.
Jeene could, of course, have meant that the night—the evening—was exquisite, but considering the fact that her friend nearly lost her life to a donkey's temper, it seems unlikely. Besides, that’s not really the tone she was using.
Cinda wraps an arm around Jeene’s shoulders—but, thank the gods, my jealousy is short-lived, and the imp dies a quick, necessary death. “This is Jeene,” she says, “my best friend in all the world. And, Jeene, this is Talis and Lellie.”
Lellie, who had been standing beside Sasha, watching the scene unfold, now claps me on the back. “Right. Since we’re all acquainted, let’s hurry up and get inside. I should have started drinking quite a few hours ago!”
We loop our mounts’ reins over the hitching post, and once I make sure that Cossie is fine (still annoyed, naturally, but in no danger of yanking free and gallivanting about town), the four of us enter the Happy Lioness together.
But Lellie pinches my elbow and pulls me back outside.
“You got her,” she whispers with a wide grin. “That is the perfect woman for you! You’ll have her in bed before the hour’s up—mark my words, Talis, my girl!”
“Lellie, she thinks I’m a knight—” I begin uneasily, but my friend’s hands are already at the small of my back, shoving me into the tavern.
“Yes, yes, but there’s no harm done. You’re never going to see her again, after all. Now, shoo!”
I’m never going to see her again.
My heart skips at the thought.
But...why?
That is the way I normally do these things. A one-night tumble, nothing more...
There’s a stage at the back of the Happy Lioness, intended for a troubadour, band, or minstrel. A lady singer fills the space now, accompanied by another woman seated on a wobbly stool, holding a small harp. They’re wearing complementary shades of verdant green, and the vocalist is singing—fittingly—about beautiful women.
The tavern is full tonight; the sounds of laughter and conversation nearly drown out the music. But though my eyes sweep over the room, though my ears are assaulted with all of the tavern's tumults and joys, though my nose takes in the scents of incense and spices, beer and leather, perfume and grease-soaked food...I truly only notice Cinda.
She walks ahead of me with surety, her chin down, and then peers up through her lashes at the barkeep as she leans on the counter, ordering four beers. The barkeep nods, eyes lingering over Cinda’s bosom.
Cinda glances at me over her shoulder, and there’s such a brightness to her manner, such a gaiety; everything else seems drab, nearly lifeless, by comparison.
Lellie drags me toward a table, because I am, admittedly, acting a little dazed. Jeene is already seated, and Lellie pushes me onto a bench, shoving me over with her hip so that she can squeeze in beside me. Jeene sits across from us, leaning back against her chair and steepling her hands over her flat stomach.
“So, Talis,” Jeene growls, her voice pitched low. “You like Cinda. No?”
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