by Lena Austin
“My apologies for calling upon you so late in the evening, Historian. My name is Shadow, and I have come seeking your services.”
The heir to the Herd Stallion had a beautiful voice. Belatedly remembering her manners, Chantrea stepped back and allowed him to enter her home. “You are most welcome, Prince Shadow. May I offer you some tea?”
“Thank you. If you have a strong brew, I would be grateful.”
Chantrea looked fully into his face and noted the dark circles beneath his eyes. She felt pity then, for she knew intimately how the burdens of royal duty could cause more than just dark circles. She also knew very well how those burdened with royal office needed to be treated. “I have something you will find effective, Your Royal Highness.” She swept over to her fire and threw in a handful of herbs she herself used when she needed to remain alert.
“Could I ask a favor of you, Historian?”
“Certainly, Your Royal Highness.” Chantrea gestured to a chair.
“Please just call me Shadow.” He sat in the chair she indicated, moving as wearily as her royal father did when he visited.
“Of course.” Chantrea dimpled a smile at him. “Do you take sweetening or cream in your tea, Shadow?”
“Just honey, if you please.”
When they were both settled with a mug of tea, Chantrea waited patiently for Shadow to explain the reason for his visit.
Instead of coming directly to the point, Shadow looked with frank longing at her rows of bookshelves. “You are blessed with many books. I envy you.”
He couldn’t have given her a better compliment. Chantrea flipped her braid over her shoulder. “Thank you, very much. Now, how may I help you?” As long as he didn’t ask her to attend her father’s court, she’d be willing to do anything. Well, almost anything.
He jerked his gaze back to her. “Forgive me. I have need of your aid in researching Unicorn history. I am looking for instances where the position of Herd Stallion was attained without the use of challenge fights.”
At first, Chantrea felt her eyes light up at the idea of such a wonderful opportunity, but she couldn’t help but be disappointed that Shadow wanted to find a way out of the traditional challenge fights. He didn’t look like a coward.
Shadow smiled gently. “My father may retire soon, and the Council wishes this transition to be smooth and peaceful. They feel it should not be decided by combat when there is no need. In addition, the younger stallions grow restless. Father feels it might be wise to concede the position before he grows so weak that his first challenger, however unworthy, could best him.”
Chantrea tilted her nose in the air and pretended the disdain all Elves felt for combat. “It is true that, historically, the Stallion protects the herd from harm, but there’s no need for violence when the Valley is at peace.”
Shadow sipped his tea with all the aplomb of her brothers at high table. “On the surface, I might agree with you. However, there have been times when the Stallion did have to fight. I personally feel that there’s no harm in proving the ability to do so, but it should not be the prime consideration.”
She eyed his muscular frame from under her eyelashes. There could be no doubt he was strong enough. “So, the Council sends you to do the research? It makes you look bad, you know.” It was best to be honest and forthright. Besides, he made her normally spacious tree home seem crowded. It would be better to get him to leave, and she’d do the work alone.
“I speak and read ancient Unicorn. Lord Arion thought it might be necessary to do some translation.” His lips quirked into a half-smile.
Her uncle suggested this? Chantrea felt her brows rise, as well as her estimation of Shadow’s intelligence. “I see.”
Shadow looked again at all her books. “Where do we begin?”
She sniffed. “Not here. This is my personal collection. We’ll have to go to my archives.” She rose from her chair. “It will be dark in there.” She knew Unicorns did not normally like dark, enclosed places.
He stood, his silvery hair nearly brushing the ceiling. “I can make a mage light, if you wish.”
“I have my own, thank you.” She put the mugs by the fire to keep them warm, and strode toward the door leading to her archives.
* * *
Shadow followed the Elven lady into the tunnel and tried not to smile or look too eagerly at the books. She was not only a treat to look at, but also learned enough to argue when she knew she was right. Her hair was even whiter than his, and the tip of her impressive braid threatened to brush the floor. The pink tunic, even ink-stained, made her eyes a startling green. She looked like one of the confections his mother made for special occasions.
Shadow told himself to behave and watch his manners carefully. Her tunic might be dusty and blotched with ink, but she walked and talked like Elven nobility. No matter how much his fingers itched to trace those pointed ears and find out if it was true that Elven ears were sensitive, he should keep his hands to himself. “Keep your mind on the task,” he whispered to himself.
Chantrea stopped and turned around abruptly. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”
Cursing himself for forgetting how sensitive those sexy ears were, Shadow cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Historian. I must confess your beauty distracts me. I was telling myself to keep my mind on my task.”
Her eyes turned appraising. “Well, that’s the first time anyone has ever said my beauty was a distraction.” Her lips twitched. “My name is Chantrea, and I’ll call it a compliment. However, we have better things to do than admire each other’s beauty. Here in the Valley, everyone has beauty. It has lost its value.” She turned and made her way into a large cavern.
Shadow chuckled at the truth of that statement. Beauty had indeed lost its value when all could shape shift into their own personal ideal. The measure of what appealed then became the mind and soul of the individual. What was more, the female in front of him was becoming increasingly attractive because of her mind. He kept the ‘I’m in trouble’ purely internal. A female who uttered such profound statements and who owned so many books would be nearly irresistible to him, and he knew it.
Chantrea walked through the main aisle in near darkness with a surety he did not possess. He could hear her footsteps recede, then stop. He heard her call out in Elven a word that meant “Light.” Shadow shut his eyes just in time to prevent the mage lights from temporarily blinding him.
He cautiously opened his eyes, allowing them to adjust to the now brightly lit cavern. Shadow gasped in astonishment and was drawn to where Chantrea stood. “By all the gods! Is this a salt cavern?” The walls were sparkling white.
Chantrea grinned proudly. “Indeed it is! The salt preserves the books by keeping the cavern cool and dry. The Dwarves made it, mining for salt. When there was little left, they gave it to me.”
Shadow wandered the nearest aisle, where salt formations comprised the main structure of the shelves. “I’m in awe. There must be hundreds of these shelves.”
“Yes, there are 327, to be precise. However, you are in the wrong section. That’s Elven history. Let’s go over there.” She pointed to a row of shelves across the cavern. “If we are looking before the creation of this Valley, that is.”
Shadow followed her. “We are indeed!”
Chantrea disappeared into one of the rows. Her voice floated back. “I’m sure it will be in this aisle, if there is any record at all.”
Shadow rounded the corner, and stopped dead in his tracks. The aisle where Chantrea had gone was empty. “Where are you?”
“Up here! I’ll be down in a moment.” He looked up, and his jaw dropped. Fluttering on pink and silver fairy wings, Chantrea pulled out three scrolls. “Here! Catch!” She dropped one to him with seeming carelessness.
Shadow caught it with a small cry of alarm. Scrolls were usually so fragile, he was afraid it would turn to dust in his hand. However, this scroll almost felt new, and was not paper.
Chantrea lightly touched down, holding
the other two scrolls. “Let’s start with these.” Her wings vanished as if they’d never existed, and she swept past him to briskly lay her burdens on the table that took up a large portion of the central main aisle. Pulling a box on the table within reach, she got out parchments, two quills, and two inkbottles. “Come on, then!”
Shadow remained rooted to the spot. He couldn’t even seem to close his mouth.
Chantrea put her hands on her hips. “Whatever is the matter with you? Come sit down!”
“You’ve got wings.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Shadow felt like a fool. So what if she had wings? So did he when he shifted to eagle.
The tinkles of a fairy’s laugh echoed and bounced off the salt walls. “Of course I do, silly! I’m half-fairy, and female. Now sit!” She pointed at the chair next to hers.
“Right! Sorry. Never seen it before, that’s all.” Shadow moved with alacrity and sat on the indicated seat. “Sorry to look like a lack-wit.”
She shrugged. “Not likely that you would. Mother told me it is wise to not show off. Most of the other Elves are unaware I have them. Not that I’m ashamed, mind you. However, even Mother doesn’t show hers except to Father when she wishes to entice him. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention you’d seen mine.”
“But why? They are very lovely.” Lovely wasn’t the word. Enticing wasn’t right, either. They stirred something inside him he didn’t want to examine too closely.
“The best way to explain it is to show you. Come here, Shadow.” She moved to an open space at the end of the table.
“Sit down. Now go there. Make up your mind,” he teased. However, he moved to stand in front of her.
“Please take on your natural form.”
Shadow measured the area. There was just enough room. He did as commanded.
Without warning, Chantrea reached up and stroked his horn. Shadow backed up as far as he could, shaking with reaction. “Hey! That’s private.” His hindquarters crashed into a salt column.
Chantrea looked at him with eyes as cool as water. “Then it is true that a Unicorn’s horn is as much a sexual organ as an Elf’s ears. Correct?”
Shadow returned to human form and jerked down his tunic to cover the erection. He couldn’t quite cover the stiffness in his voice, however. “Correct.”
“It is the same with a fairy’s wings. They are not only sensitive to touch, but they seem to arouse many males. I’ve even seen a Troll react. Not a pretty picture.” She gave a half-wry smile. “I do apologize if I’ve caused you some momentary discomfort. I’d hoped Unicorns would be immune to fluttering fairy wings.” She twisted her fingers together and looked genuinely contrite. “Please forgive me.”
Shadow cleared his throat. “I’ll get over it.” He turned and sat back down. Discomfort indeed! He ached, and felt a small rivulet of perspiration trickle its way down his neck. He picked up a quill and began to unroll the first scroll.
For a few moments, Chantrea watched him fight with the strange knot holding the scroll closed, and then sat across from him. Deftly, she pulled on one end of the string of her own scroll and the knot fell apart. Grateful to see the trick of it, Shadow pulled his own string and was rewarded when his unwound itself like a small wooden rug.
“What is this stuff anyway? It is not paper.” Shad fingered his. It was as stiff as wood, yet pliable. The writing looked vaguely familiar, but it seemed to consist of a cross between pictographs and an alphabet.
Chantrea glanced up from where she’d already begun to translate. “Hmm? Oh. Some sort of plant fiber. I understand it is so plentiful it must be harvested and used or it will take over all available land, growing so densely that it will crowd out all other plants. Good thing they found a use for it.”
Shadow picked it up and sniffed. “Is it edible?”
Chantrea snickered. “Not according to my correspondent. Some animals can eat it, but it isn’t very easy on the system, according to her. But then again, keep in mind she’s a carnivore. A Were-Tiger.” Chantrea’s eyes brightened. “She gave me a small live version of the plant, with instructions to always keep it in the container provided and never plant it in the ground. Would you like to see?” She jumped up and ran from the room.
Shadow bent his head to the scroll. He couldn’t understand the date provided, since the numbers made no sense to him, but found the first word to be translatable as “Unicorn.” Pleased, he moved to the second pictograph. That was easy, too. “Mountain.” The third was a season, probably spring, or summer, since it had a flower. He wasn’t sure. He nibbled on the end of the quill.
“Here we are!” Chantrea came walking sedately back in, carrying a wide, flat ceramic bowl in the most lurid shade of red he’d ever seen. She placed it carefully on the table and let Shadow examine the plant. It was embedded not in dirt, but rocks and water. The stems of the plant were green, but segmented neatly, like rounded blocks stacked atop one another. Long, thin, green leaves jutted out occasionally, especially at the top. “Don’t eat the stem,” she warned. “It’s hard as rock.”
Shadow felt the stem, and agreed with that assessment. “How about a small, newer leaf?” At her nod, he plucked one and tasted it. After chewing for a few minutes, he managed to swallow. “Not tasty at all, and very fibrous. I agree. Not really edible, except in dire circumstances.”
Chantrea nodded with the same cool curiosity Brolly displayed when examining a new wound. “Thank you. I’d not wanted to assess the plant without having a true herbivore try it.” She glanced at his work and smiled. “Oops. I forgot to show you something.”
She marched to the scroll and picked up his quill. “The writing is read up and down. Like this.” She began in the upper left corner and pointed to each pictograph, moving down the column before starting at the top of the next.
Shadow bent down to look over her shoulder. “Ah! I see. Yes, that would make more sense. So the first three words are Unicorn-travel-large. Unicorns travel much. Is that what I read?”
“I’d say the word we’d use is large or many. The next word is a distance measurement similar to miles. So perhaps the full sentence might be, ‘Unicorns travel great distances.’ Do you agree?”
“Or perhaps ‘Unicorns travel many miles.’ That might be another way to say it. Let’s write them both down. This scroll looks promising.” He reached for a new sheet of parchment just as she turned to look at him directly, and they found themselves literally nose to nose.
Shadow couldn’t resist, not with his blood still pumping from the sight of her wings, the stroke on his horn, and his growing attraction to the mind behind those leaf-green eyes. He saw those eyes widen just before his mouth clamped down on hers.
Chapter Three
He wanted to stop and retrieve what was left of his honor before he ruined any chance of friendship with this lovely Elf. At any moment, he expected her to break off the kiss and give him a slap or whatever she deemed fit.
Instead, those green eyes glazed over, and a tiny moan vibrated against his lips. She deepened the kiss by wrapping one arm around his neck to pull him closer.
Her eager fingers tugged at his tunic laces, giving her access to his chest. Now he moaned, and gave himself up to the lust she’d caused.
He allowed her elegant, ink-stained hands to roam where they willed across his chest while he yanked at the delicate ribbons lacing her tunic closed. Flower-white skin turned pink as he slowly removed the ribbon from the holes, determined not to break it in his eagerness.
Chantrea seemed as lusty as he, for she pushed him into his chair and squirmed over to sit on his lap. She broke the kiss long enough to whisper, “Please?”
He was happy to oblige, while his head spun with the sweet perfume she wore dominating his sense of smell. Her tunic parted and he buried his face between the two small, elegant breasts while she bowed back until her head all but rested on the table. She looked even more like a sweet confection that way, and Shadow couldn’t resist a taste of those pink pe
aks displayed in front of him. He sucked one carefully into his mouth and listened to her gasp of pleasure.
Chantrea threw her head back and tried to beg with her body for more, much more. Some tiny, sane portion of her mind screamed at her for being so wanton, but the rest of her was going mad and ignored it.
He lifted her off his lap and put her on the table amidst the parchments, inkbottles, and quills. Nothing could have been more erotic to her than to be made love to among her beloved books.
Shadow could not hear her thoughts because of her personal mage shields, but he stopped to look around at the mess they’d made on the table. “This is my fantasy come to life.” She wasn’t sure if he even realized he’d spoken aloud, since he went back to worshiping her body with lips, tongue, and hands.
“Mine, too,” Chantrea panted. “More! Give me more.”
He lifted his head and looked at her with those silver-gray eyes glowing. “I must ask. You are a noble Elven lady. Are you, uh…”
Chantrea chuckled and levered up on her elbows. “That’s a myth, Shadow. I won’t die, turn into a bird, or any other ridiculous action. And I’m not virginal, in any case. However, it has been a long time. Be gentle, won’t you?”
Slowly at first, Shadow started to tug on the ribbon holding her pants up. “How long?”
“Fifty years.” Impatiently, she started helping him remove her clothes by kicking off her slippers. One flew off and landed on a shelf. She took note of its location in the Dryad section so she could find it later.
“Fifty years? Are the other Elves blind?”
The astonishment in his voice made her laugh. “No, just scared. Being forced into marriage to the King’s daughter does frighten the timid.”