“I know how to use a chair for sex,” Kral said, slapping my hip with affection and withdrawing to wash his lind. Amazing he’d had time to put it on. Must have had it handy.
Levering myself up slowly, I took a moment to let my spinning head settle. Then solved the problem by plopping my butt in the chair. “Danu, I needed that.”
Kral flicked me a glance. “Thank me, not your goddess.” He had a hinged plate open in his armor, his generous cock hanging out.
“Handy, that,” I commented gesturing to the opening.
He slanted me a wicked smile. “Useful for pissing in enemy territory and satisfying impatient females.” He washed the lind, laid it to dry, and took out several more.
“I’d take exception to that if I weren’t so exceptionally satisfied.” I stretched. So much better. “You don’t need that, you know.” Might as well cut the guy a break.
“They prevent babies,” he replied, not looking at me.
“I know, I know. I’m saying you won’t get me pregnant.”
Now he did look at me, with suspicion. “Are you calling my manhood into question?”
Oh, Danu. Not with this. I rolled my eyes at him and turned on the chair. Considered taking off the boots, but I liked how they looked still. Let him take them off, if he even wanted to. “No, General, I’m telling you that I won’t conceive.”
“Why not? Are you infertile?”
“Temporarily. Unless and until I decide to have a child. My people have ways.”
“Forgive me if I don’t trust those ‘ways.’ ”
Really? Trusting souls, neither of us, and for good reason, but still. “What do you care, anyway? If I did get with a babe it wouldn’t be legitimate; therefore, no complicating the Konyngrr lineage, according to you.”
“And have my child grow up without a mother? Never.”
I waved at him. “Hi. Mother here.”
He rounded on me with a hard expression that hid much. “Would you stay in Dasnaria, then?”
“What? No. Doing my job, then going home.”
“Which would leave my child motherless.”
“I’d take our child with me.”
“No,” he replied evenly. “If you tried that, I’d have to kill you and then my child would still be motherless.”
I regarded him for a long moment. The son of a bitch meant it. “You’re a ruthless ass, aren’t you?”
“You liked it well enough when I ruthlessly fucked you over the chair.”
Much as I wanted to argue that point, I couldn’t muster the words. I’d more than liked it; I’d loved it. With anyone else the conflict wouldn’t be a problem. I could enjoy the sexual side of that personality without subjecting myself to it in the rest of my life. Not so much on this venture.
I stood, stretched again, my body humming. Arrogant and impossible though he may be, Kral was a great passion, indeed, satisfying me like no other. “Suit yourself, then,” I told him. “Where do I start on this armor? I might need clues.”
He stayed my hands, holding my wrists, searching my face. Both angry still and bemused. “Just like that?”
I shrugged as best I could with my wrists anchored. “You and I were never planning on settling down and playing mommy and daddy. I offered you an out on using the lind, but if you prefer to use it, it makes no nevermind to me. I knew you for arrogant and ruthless the moment I laid eyes on you, so that hasn’t changed either. But you’re right—I do like the way you fuck me, enough to let you be the only one to do it while this lasts, so . . . let’s not waste more time. Where do I start?”
He let go my wrists, something dark crossing behind his eyes and disappearing again. “Since you’re half-naked, might as well finish the job.”
I glanced down at the chain mail top still clinging to my tits. “Guess this wasn’t made to stand up to any kind of actual fight.”
“Not the point, no.” His lips twitched, a bit of levity returning to his expression.
Putting my hands behind my neck, I attempted to look like a meek handmaiden. “Care to do the honors?”
With a hard look, he put his hands on me, ripping the threads as easily as brushing aside a spiderweb, making me gasp and my blood surge in answer, even though I’d expected something of the sort.
Danu love the man.
9
I slipped out of bed the next morning, leaving Kral to sleep, and stretched, assessing my body. Bruised in places, yes, but deliciously so instead of the sick ache of wounds. I felt sated for the first time in weeks. How Danu’s priestesses managed total celibacy, I’d never fathom. I absolutely grasped the sacrifice aspect, however, in a way I never quite had before. Maybe Danu would be content to leave me be for a while and throw a bit less trouble my way.
Until we reached Dasnaria, where I assumed there would be plenty.
Now that I’d satisfied the other need, my body cried out for exercise. Magical healing did great things to sew up and even rebuild flesh, but it didn’t make up for days of stagnant lying about. Tanking on my endurance during that fish-bird attack had been a warning slap upside the head. I’d take advantage of the boon of the healing—hey, maybe Danu arranged it through Moranu, to help me out, cheerful thought!—and get myself in the best condition possible to face the Deyrr witches.
First, however, I’d be a diligent spy and read Her Majesty’s letter. Our cabin was as private as it got for me on the Hákyrling, so I locked the door, withdrew the undisturbed scroll, and—feeling all scholarly—sat at Dafne’s desk to read.
Once I unrolled the scroll, I heaved a sigh of relief. Thank you, Ursula! For this was indeed my captain and sister-in-Danu writing to me, not the High Queen. She’d remembered my marginal reading skills and used the shorthand we’d employed for missives within the Hawks—in her own hand, too, and hastily written. It made for a sort of encryption, I supposed. No doubt with Dafne gone she hadn’t wanted to dictate the message, either. To my surprise, it made me feel . . . I didn’t know. A little misty-eyed, maybe, at the sight of her writing. It brought back those early days with the Hawks, when—though she’d been a princess and heir to the High Throne—it had been easy to forget that half the time. We’d had some good conversations over a bottle a time or two. I’d even once told her my mother’s story, the only person I’d told it to. So far as I knew, she’d never told another soul, either.
This was why I’d taken on this mission instead of simply walking when she dressed me down for the screw-up with Kral. I’d follow her to Glorianna’s arms, if it came to that.
Got word from our shifty friend. None of it your fault. You did good. Don’t beat yourself up for the dragon king’s actions. That’s an order. Things will work out. I’m handling it. Maybe even better this way. Know our librarian relayed some of what she and I spoke of, but she may have been uncertain what to keep secret.
In case there’s doubt:
Determine if Ami’s annoying friend who visited her before we did can be found. Do not engage. Recon only.
Questions to answer regarding makers of our troubles, IF you can without ANY danger:
What do they know of a special jewel, how badly they want it, plans to acquire, plans to use. The why is critical.
Keep it simple. Do the job. Come home. Don’t be a hero.
You are, and always have been, my best scout. I picked you for a reason five years ago. I picked you for good reasons this time, too. Not the ones you think. When boulders speak, they give good advice. I listened and acted accordingly.
If this finds its way into a fire, all the better.
I read it over several times, an unaccountable knot working its way into my throat. I’d assumed from the beginning that Ursula’s anger over the Kral Incident had spurred her to send me along as Dafne’s bodyguard, but clearly not. She could be tailoring the history to make me feel good, but I doubted it. Our captain had always been fine with letting one of her Hawks believe she might be angrier than she was, in order to motivate them. I’d witnessed her emplo
y that technique several times with new recruits.
It had never occurred to me that she might pull the same trick on me.
Taking the scroll up to the deck, I mulled over her message while I set the scroll aflame from a watch lantern, holding the parchment over the rail at the back of the Hákyrling, so the ashes scattered themselves in our wake. Fitting somehow, especially as Glorianna’s sun was just tipping over the flat ocean almost directly behind us. I felt frisky and cheerful enough, from the reassurance of the missive and from a night well spent, that, after I dropped the last flaming fragment, I drew a circle in the air toward the fickle goddess of dawn and sex, humming her morning song. I’d never observed Glorianna’s rituals beyond what was politic, though that had been substantial, as hers was the official worship under High King Uorsin. Because of that exalted status, Her temple sat on Ordnung’s grounds. The ringing calls to worship, along with the sunrise and sunset hymns, permeated life there, and evading them simply hadn’t been possible.
Even rushed, the Tala healer had packed quite the whammy, and I felt better than I had since before the unfortunate gutting episode. Either that or I could credit Kral’s truly talented and vigorous fucking. Could be a brilliant combo of both. We’d gone at each other hard pretty much all night, in between catnaps and pauses to feed each other food and mjed. As long as we didn’t talk, things went great.
And fortunately, I possessed a lively inventiveness for keeping his mouth otherwise occupied.
Because I felt so hale and hearty, I started into Midnight Form, the first of a set of twelve forms technically intended for longer blades. Ursula, like many others, preferred to run them with her sword, but she had the lankiness to make that work. Though I could pull it off without bringing shame on my tribe—or lopping off my own ear—I preferred a shorter blade. Not the twin knives I favored for Danu’s Dance and close infighting like the Whirling Wind pattern, but a bigger knife that I also used for hunting. That blade allowed me to accelerate the speed, while the heft made me work for it, which always gave me the best conditioning.
Nice to have the morning quiet to myself, the early watch crew far less boisterous than in the full day. Done correctly, the set of twelve forms brought on a centering, meditative state. I wasn’t much of a contemplative person, but given enough peace and quiet, I came as close as I ever did while running those forms. The physical work let my mind drift over the contents of the scroll. I might not read and write well, but my memory worked like a charm.
Ami’s annoying friend had to be Kir, former High Priest of the Church of Glorianna, who visited Queen Amelia at Windroven just before Ursula diverted us from Branli so she could be with her sister for her lying-in. And the makers of our troubles were undoubtedly the Temple of Deyrr, origin of the unsavory Illyria. I’d heard various whispers of what she’d been at Ordnung to obtain, as she’d asked around about it, and even demanded it outright the night Uorsin announced their engagement. The Star of Annfwn, which no one in my network had any knowledge of. However, Illyria had asked for Salena’s jewels, then demanded this Star when she didn’t find it. Ursula’s reference to a jewel in her note couldn’t be a coincidence. If Illyria had expected to find this Star in Salena’s jewels, it made sense that Ursula had inherited same from her mother. No one had told me as much, but I’d have to have been a blind fool not to notice that the cabochon topaz had gone missing from the hilt of Ursula’s sword, sometime after—or while—she killed Uorsin. It had been a talisman to her. Every fighter has them, and I’d noticed many times how she touched it while contemplating a problem. Or heading into a fight.
So, if the topaz was the Star of Annfwn, where had it gone? Deyrr wouldn’t have it, because I was to find out how badly they wanted it and their plans to get it since Illyria had failed to do so. The fact that Ursula wondered what they wanted it for spoke volumes. Apparently Salena hadn’t told her. Magic users keep their secrets and so do mothers. Double nasty when the two converge in your life.
If Kir had thrown in his lot with Deyrr, that added a whole extra layer to it all. I had avoided him along with most of the priests of Glorianna. Not my goddess.
Running the full set of twelve forms to completion, even at a brisk pace, takes more than an hour, so by the time I hit Noon pose—an excruciating position to hold, up on one toe, other leg poised for a snap kick, knife stretched over my head, coiled to lash into Snake Strike, my other hand palm out, steady in Danu’s salute—the sun had risen quite high. The Hákyrling sailed through a grouping of rounded islands, enough like Nahanau that it seemed they must be part of the same archipelago. I half expected to see Dafne in her nook of the prow, busily sketching her maps. I did spot Kral, talking to Jens, but observing me with burning intensity.
I sauntered over to him, treating him to my best smile. After his efforts of the night before, he deserved that and more. “Good morning, General, Shipmaster Jens.”
“You’re unusually gracious today,” Kral noted.
“I slept really well.”
Jens made a snorting sound and Kral took me by the arm, guiding me off to the side. “I was surprised to find you gone when I awoke.”
“Did you have some handmaidenly duties in mind for me?” I let my gaze travel over the golden skin exposed by his open shirt collar. Much better than the armor, though that turned me on well enough, too.
Kral trailed a rough fingertip down my arm. “You make an exceptional handmaiden, it’s true.”
“You were sleeping so hard I didn’t want to wake you. And I was restless.”
“I thought I’d worked that out of you. I’ll have to try harder tonight.”
“I’m up for that challenge.”
He ran his hand down the rest of my forearm, lifting my wrist to examine the blade I still held. “An impressive-looking knife. Larger than your gnat stickers. I don’t recall seeing it before. May I?”
I reversed it, handing it to him by the hilt. “It’s a bit large for me to comfortably wear, so I usually keep it in my packs unless I know I’m going to be fighting. Or training.”
He hefted it, holding it up to the sun to examine the double edges—one serrated, the other razor smooth—and the grooves etched down the middle of each flat side. “Functional for many activities. Where did you get it?”
“My mother gave it to me. She never said, but I believe it belonged to my father. Or another man who happened to be her lover around the same era.”
Giving me an opaque look, he handed the knife back to me. “Why do you think that?”
“She never said directly, but no one else among our people had one like it. I know she picked it up sometime during the Great War, but I’ve never seen another with the same design, so I’m not sure where it came from. Also, it held sentimental value for her. One of her shieldmates made the long journey to bring it back to me after she died, saying it was my mother’s last request.” Along with the knife belt I’d given Dafne. The knife and the belt didn’t match each other, anyway, even if that blade had been a comfortable carry for me. No sense keeping both.
“My sympathies.” Kral studied me, still a strange look on his face.
I shrugged that off. “It was long ago. She died an honorable death, on her feet, as would have been important to her.”
“How did she die?”
“Blade in hand. I’m surprised we’re going through islands again. Is this the Nahanaun archipelago still?”
Kral turned, surveying the islands with me. “Yes, we’re taking an indirect route through them, which is still the faster route. We dipped to the south by some distance to cross the barrier in open water, as that seemed the wisest approach, since we couldn’t be sure what would meet us on the other side and that at least upped our chances of making it through without trouble. By evening we’ll be out of the islands, and then tomorrow afternoon, landfall in Dasnaria proper, at Jofarrstyr.”
“Port city or capital city?” Dafne probably knew that. Another thing I should have asked. Maybe Ursula would extr
act her from Nakoa’s bed and send her along to Dasnaria. But no, that would require a barrier crossing, and judging by what it had taken out of Queen Andromeda, she wouldn’t be doing that again anytime soon, even if King Rayfe would allow. For the first time it occurred to me that I had no guarantee I wouldn’t be spending the rest of my life in Dasnaria, after all. Or at least outside the barrier surrounding the Thirteen. Had Her Majesty thought of that? She always thought to the long game, so surely she had a plan. I might have lit myself on her expendable list, but she considered Dafne practically a sister. There would have been some plan to get her home. It was all the conversation about my mother and what happened to her that had me paranoid.
“Both,” Kral replied, giving me a puzzled look when I blinked at him. “The port city is also where the palace is located, though some distance from the harbor. Isn’t that what you asked?”
Head in the fight. Bryn never look back. “I was contemplating the wisdom of having the capital city of an empire perched on the vulnerable coast.”
“As opposed to the center of the subject kingdoms, where it could be surrounded on all sides?”
Including its greatest enemy at its back, I mentally added. But Kral wouldn’t know about that, how Uorsin built Ordnung where he did to guard the pass to Annfwn, object of his undying obsession, due to its material wealth of all kinds. Waving any kind of wealth under Dasnarian noses was like showing meat to hungry dogs.
So, I cheerfully shrugged at that and let Kral believe he’d won the point. Then narrowed my eyes at a movement around one of the islands. “Friendly natives?”
Kral tensed. “Where?”
“There. Lee side of the third island to the right.” I pointed.
“I don’t see—” And the lookout’s warning call went out, interrupting Kral and making him scowl at me like I’d been at fault somehow.
“Best long-sight in the Hawks,” I informed him with a sunny smile. When something wasn’t stupidly magically invisible, that was. Kral strode away, snapping out orders that sent men drawing weapons and setting up defensive stations. Others climbed the rigging, adjusting the sails for maximum maneuverability. Not so friendly, those natives, it seemed. No surprise, as I made out at least a dozen longboats, with more appearing all the time. Good thing I’d kept the big knife out. Good homage to having stirred awake those memories of my mother, to whet the blade with some blood.
The Edge of the Blade Page 12