Hal was already nodding in agreement when the door to the homestead opened, and Zoria walked in, completely naked and dripping wet. Her brown hair was tangled into soaking locks. Her breasts were small, but large for her petite build, with small, perky pink nipples. The maiden’s hair around her crotch was short enough to make it obvious that she groomed it regularly, which suggested a whole host of other things about her.
To his credit, Hal tried not to stare. He failed miserably, staring at Zoria’s proud display of nudity like a horny adolescent gawking at a comely wash woman cooling off after work. Hal was almost too busy appreciating her gorgeous curves to notice that she had dazzling emerald green eyes. Their beauty had been hidden by the dark of the tunnels until then.
He also noticed that her arms were covered with tattoos. Some of them were words in elven, “strength” and “determination”. Others were strange patterns and shapes, all of them jet black against Zoria’s pale skin. The tattoos extended up to her shoulders, both arm sleeves perfectly symmetrical to one another.
She walked toward him slowly, dripping with confidence if not just water. She was shorter than both Hal and Laurel, but the way she lifted her chin made her seem regal, even naked as she was. Her elven ears jutted up like the points of a crown, and she seemed far more confident than she had any right to be, with the bracers on. It took shamefully long for Hal to come back to his senses.
“Zoria!” he said, spinning to face away from her. “Clothes! Put on some clothes! You can’t just–”
“I can’t just what?” Zoria wrapped her arms around him from behind, giving him a wet hug. Hal could feel the distinct sensation of cold nipples pressing into his back.
Laurel let out an exasperated, wordless shout and stormed into her bedroom.
CHAPTER 30
Hal spent the rest of the afternoon apologizing to Laurel on Zoria’s behalf, assuring her that things were different in elven culture, and Zoria didn’t know any better. Whether it was true or not, he wasn’t sure,
Hal had no idea if his excuses helped, but he could tell that Laurel was near her breaking point. After bathing and washing himself off in the pond, he helped her collect vegetables and prepare dinner, staying as far away from Zoria as he could.
When the three of them sat down to eat, the tension in the homestead was smothering. Hal wanted to smooth things out somehow, but had no idea where to even start. Laurel looked as irritated as he’d ever seen her, and was staring at Zoria with a displeased expression on her face.
“When I agreed to take on another house guest,” she said. “I didn’t realize lending my clothes out was going to be a part of it.”
Zoria’s clothes had been soiled by the spider silk, and were still drying after being scrubbed clean. She wore one of Laurel’s tunics, which was baggy enough on the small elf to pass for a flirtatious dress. Hal had been too concerned about upsetting the peace to ask Laurel for a pair of leggings to cover her up a little more.
He’d spoken to her about treating Laurel with more respect. The conversation had gone about how he’d expected, with Zoria defaulting to her condescending arrogance over the fact that the “surfacers” expected anything from her.
“Take trust, surfacer, that I enjoy wearing this uncomfortable garb as little as you enjoy lending it,” said Zoria. “The weather is warm. I don’t understand why I cannot go unclothed for the night.”
Hal cleared his throat. Laurel gave him a look. He shrugged, not knowing what he could say that wouldn’t either encourage her or lead to an argument.
“Do people often go unclothed where you’re from?” asked Laurel, a slightly judgmental tone entering her voice. “That seems rather barbaric, to me.”
Zoria laughed.
“So the cow does have some bite on her tongue!” Her smile was sharp and catlike. “I can see why nudity offends you. It tends to offend most those who have the least to put on display.”
Laurel gritted her teeth. She pulled a chunk of bread from the slice on her plate, but made no move to eat it.
“And you called me a whore,” said Laurel. “It sounds like you’re eager to throw yourself at any man willing to look at you with open eyes.”
Surprisingly, the comment struck true. Zoria’s cheeks reddened suddenly. Laurel smiled, taking clear enjoyment in the elf’s reaction.
“The dragon,” said Hal, attempting to change the subject. “You called it, or him, Aangavar. What else do you know about him, Zoria?”
Zoria was sitting to Hal’s left, and as she looked over at him, she slid in slightly closer. She glanced back and forth from Laurel to Hal, a suspicious, plotting look in her eyes.
“Aangavar is one of the oldest dragons friendly to the Upper Realm,” said Zoria. “He’s bonded with many riders over the years, humans and elves alike.”
“Dragon riding?” asked Laurel. “People… ride dragons? That actually happens, outside of stories?”
Zoria nodded. It seemed as though the discussion had released some of the emotion from the table, and Hal was grateful for it.
“There are a dozen or more that serve the Empress directly,” said Zoria. “They’re used to keep her enemies in line, and occasionally for… other purposes.”
Hal had to bite back an angry, emotional retort. He knew what those other purposes were.
“I’m not sure I believe you,” said Laurel. “That just sounds so… fantastical.”
Zoria shrugged.
“It’s not my place to make you believe, surfacer,” she said. “Or even to inform you, beyond what I decide to be appropriate.”
“Does Aangavar have weaknesses that you know about?” asked Hal. The question served a double purpose, pulling the conversation away from the bickering and toward what he really cared about. Zoria considered for a moment and then gave a slight shake of her head.
“He’s been apart from the homeland for many years,” said Zoria. “Longer than the twenty four that I count as my own.”
Twenty four? She looks more like a fifteen year old.
The thought made Hal feel a little uncomfortable, given that most girls weren’t eligible to be married in the Collected Provinces until their sixteenth birthday.
“If anything, her weakness is that she is not in the Empress’s favor,” said Zoria. “Aangavar cavorts with the Abstainers, and carries little voice within the realm. His death will go unmourned, and no retaliation shall fall upon us.”
“Well,” said Hal. “That’s… good. Assuming we do manage to kill him.”
Zoria smiled, and there was a viciousness to the expression that both unnerved Hal and gave him hope.
“Oh, we will,” she said. “It can be done. With your magic, ruby mage, and my runic spear, it can certainly be done.”
The conversation focused on strategy for the rest of the meal. Zoria spent some time asking questions about the local area, and whether there were any mercenaries they could hire out. Hal told her that there weren’t, as far as he could tell, but was surprised that she had coin to hire them out with.
“Not coin,” said Zoria, disdainfully. “By the sky, you surfacers are primitive. Surely someone must take crystal chits in this backwater?”
She reached into her pouch, which she wore over her borrowed tunic, and pulled out a crystal the size and shape of a thick pencil. It glowed dimly with color, much like Hal’s ruby when it was filled with essence, but the crystal was white and divided into a dozen partitions, half of them giving off light.
“Uh…” Hal scratched his head and looked over at Laurel. She looked as confused as he felt. Zoria sighed, muttered a few words in elven that Hal didn’t recognize, and put the long crystal away.
They finished eating, and Laurel brought out a bottle of apple wine for them to sip on. Hal knew it was a magnanimous gesture on her part, given how much she liked her wine and how much sharing her limited supply of it meant.
“Hmmm…” said Zoria. “It tastes awful.”
Laurel reached out and took the goble
t from Zoria’s hand. She dumped it into her own, which was already nearly empty, and then downed it in several deep gulps.
“Then don’t drink it,” said Laurel, sounding well on her way to being drunk.
I don’t think the wine was such a good idea anymore…
Hal managed to keep the two women from coming to blows by regaling them with stories from his life in the Collected Provinces. He talked mainly about his adventures with Mauve, including the time they’d spent trailblazing the wilderness around his family’s estate and a few of the practical jokes they’d played on Roth. He didn’t mention Lilith, his sister’s loss still too raw for him to speak of easily.
Laurel retired to her room relatively early that night. Hal followed her, slipping through her door before she could close it.
“Hey,” he said. “Are you okay?”
She balled her hands into fists as she turned to face him.
“No, Halrin,” she said. “I am not okay. And I don’t like sitting and listening to you and this, this elf woman, discussing how you’re going to get yourselves killed!”
“Laurel,” said Hal. “Listen to me. We aren’t going to rush into this.”
“You can take all the time you want, or none at all,” said Laurel. “It makes no difference. Hal, you aren’t as strong as you think you are! And I don’t trust for a second that she is, either!”
The door to Laurel’s room opened, and Zoria stepped in. Hal glared at her, horrified by her choosing the worst possible moment to butt in.
“Excuse me,” said Zoria. “Laurel. Do you even have the slightest comprehension of who, or what, I am?”
Hal took a step toward her, preparing to forcibly drag her out of the room if he needed to. Zoria shot her hand forward, and light exploded from her palm, extending forward and back as she summoned her runic spear.
It gave off more light than the dimmed lantern on Laurel’s table, and a thin, insubstantial blue mist drifted up from it. Hal stared at Zoria, too stunned to know what to do.
“These tattoos of mine,” said Zoria, sliding back a tunic sleeve to reveal her ink, “Are what lets me use my magic. Have you any idea the pain I went through to have them put into my skin? Or more importantly, the power their magic gives me?”
She spun her spear in an arc and then slammed the butt of it down onto the floor.
“My runic spear took me the better part of a year to form,” she said. “I can kill a man with it without twitching a muscle. It can cut through regular weapons and armor like steel through a thin branch!”
“Zoria!” Hal mastered his surprise and anger enough to move in between the two women. “Get out! You aren’t helping.”
“Are you afraid that I’m going to hurt this girl?” asked Zoria. “I’m not, but would you even care? You already stated so definitively that she is not your woman.”
“Enough!” shouted Hal.
“If you honestly don’t trust that I won’t hurt her, why not just use a command?” asked Zoria. “Go ahead. Be the big man. Pull your crazy elf bitch back into line.”
“Don’t hurt Laurel!” said Hal, setting the necessary will into his voice to make it a command. “Don’t even think about touching her!”
Nothing happened. Zoria smirked at him.
“See?” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “I wasn’t going to. I’m not so petty as to attack such a plain, defenseless surfacer, just to prove a point.”
“Get out!” shouted Laurel.
For once, Zoria obeyed without complaint. She left Laurel’s room and shut the door behind.
“Laurel…” Hal began.
“You too!” shouted Laurel. “Go! I’ve had enough for tonight.”
Hal waited for a moment, taking a deep, calming breath.
“Do you want me to go, Laurel?” he asked. “I’ll leave, if that’s what you truly want. The homestead. I’ll leave and find somewhere else to stay.”
Laurel was facing away from him, but she slowly shook her head.
“I… just don’t want to watch you happily charging off to get yourself killed,” she said, softly. “But I guess it’s going to happen either way, isn’t it?”
“I’m not going to die.” Hal walked over to her, and then, after a moment of considering, wrapped his arms around her from behind. “I promise. I’m not going to die, Laurel.”
She took a deep breath in his arms and then pulled away from him.
“Goodnight, Hal,” she whispered, sitting down on her bed.
CHAPTER 31
Hal put another log on the dying hearth and sat down by it, prodding the flames back to life with the iron poker. Zoria wasn’t in the sitting room, but she came back in through the homestead’s unlocked front door after a few minutes.
“You weren’t concerned that I’d left?” she asked him. “Are you so used to giving your slaves that much freedom?”
“You aren’t my slave,” said Hal. He sighed, annoyed with himself and how the night had gone.
“Of course not, master,” said Zoria, mockingly.
She took a chair from the table and brought it over to his, sitting down next to him. Neither of them said anything for a couple of minutes.
“You need to be kinder to Laurel,” he said. “This is her and her brother’s homestead. I’m a guest here, and so are you.”
Zoria let out a dark chuckle.
“Have you truly not bedded her?” she asked. “She’s positively dripping with emotion for you.”
“It’s not like that between us,” said Hal, scowling at her. “Laurel is my friend. I care about her, but not like that.”
“Hmm. Interesting.” Zoria stood up to her full height, the bottom hem of her borrowed tunic rising up and showing a flash of her pale thighs. “Well, that explains some of the tension. It must be hard to go without the option of release.”
She set her hand on Hal’s chest, a hungry look entering her eyes. Hal didn’t stop her as she swung her leg over his chair to straddle him. She kissed him deeply on the lips, and Hal felt his hands wandering up to her breasts.
No. The last thing Laurel needs tonight is to have to listen to… whatever we’d been doing out here.
“Stop,” he said. He pushed her off him and stood up.
“Are you going to bed her, then?” asked Zoria. “You should thank me, if so. Sometimes it takes a little bit of emotional jarring to loosen a woman’s thighs for parting.”
Hal gritted his teeth and glared at her.
“Why do you always have to talk like that?” he asked. “Why can’t you just be civil?”
Zoria approached him again. She pulled the tunic up and over her head, standing before him naked.
“That’s a question better answered with bodies, rather than words,” she said. “There’s no need for you to defer to her mood, Halrin. Take me here, or take me outside on the grass. You will have a better night for it, and come morning, your gemstone will be glow brighter from the passion we share.”
“Forget it,” he said. “I’m going to bed.”
Zoria made a hissing noise.
“Foolish surfacer,” she said. “Would that I’d encountered a true man on that cliff. You’re pathetic.”
Hal made what he considered to be the best decision of the night, and closed the door to his room behind him, shutting out Zoria’s naked body and careless words.
***
He awoke early the next morning to the sound of Cadrian’s voice coming from inside the homestead. Hal felt a few seconds of relief as he considered that he’d be able to skip what would be an otherwise tense breakfast in order to get a head start on his training.
He pulled on his clothes and headed out into the sitting room. Cadrian was facing off against Zoria, both women’s gazes locked onto each other. Cadrian’s hand rested on the blackwood hilt of a sheathed longsword, which she wore on a leather sword belt over her dark grey robe. Zoria still wore Laurel’s tunic, and had not summoned her spear.
“Halrin,” said Cadrian. “Explai
n.”
Where do I even begin?
“Cadrian, this is Zoria,” he said. “She’s an accidental companion that I encountered while scouting the woods the other night. Zoria, this is Cadrian, my teacher.”
“The command bracers?” asked Cadrian.
Hal scratched his head, feeling awkward about that particular question.
“She attacked me a couple of times,” he said. “And almost enslaved me using them. After I saved her, I… needed to be sure she wouldn’t stab me in the back.”
“Such a noble master I have,” said Zoria, mockingly. “But bitch’s blood, I like this woman. You have a good sword stance to you, and I sense that you didn’t lose that eye tending gardens and washing clothing.”
Cadrian didn’t say anything. Hal could only guess what her thoughts were. She kept her hand on the hilt of her sword, tensed and resolute.
“So he’s yours, then?” asked Zoria, still addressing Cadrian. “I was curious about it after meeting the meek cow he cohabitates with. This surface bull belongs to you, honored one?”
Hal felt his face flush with embarrassment and annoyance at the presumption laden in the question. Cadrian didn’t answer, but she did glance over at him, for the first time since he’d come into the room.
“She’s dangerous,” said Cadrian. “Use the command bracers to prohibit her from leaving this room, or breaking anything within the homestead.”
Hal almost did it, but before he could get the words out, he saw Zoria smirking at him from across the room. In the elf girl’s mind, Cadrian’s blunt request was all the proof she needed of Hal “belonging” to her. His annoyance bristled, and he felt a sudden need for independence and making his own decisions.
“No,” he said. “She’ll be fine on her own. She can be nasty sometimes, but she’s harmless.”
Cadrian’s expression was stoic, but her silence said much. She gave Hal a slow nod, and then turned to leave the homestead. Hal followed after her.
“You know it’s true, don’t you?” asked Zoria, as he reached the door. “You’re under her influence, Halrin. I think it a healthy thing, don’t misunderstand. Learn much and serve well.”
Heartgem Homestead (Sexcraft Chronicles Book 1) Page 17