by Zoey Ellis
The anger afflicting Tyomar slowly ebbed away. His fists relaxed and his eyes became more focused as he looked her over. “Congratulations, little cloak,” he said gruffly. “You are still wearing your old gowns.”
“My new ones are being made,” she explained. “But they will be ready for me soon.”
Tyomar nodded, but he seemed distracted. “Does that change anything regarding you being our contact?”
“Yes. In a few days, I will no longer be your contact.”
“I see.” The dragorai was silent for a long moment, his face like stone. “So someone will replace you while you familiarize yourselves with your new duties? I’m not sure why it makes any difference if you are still at the sanctum.”
“I won’t be at the sanctum,” Oshali clarified. “I will be traveling.”
Tyomar suddenly became alert. “What? Where could you possibly be traveling to?”
“Across the realm. I’m going to the South—”
His face distorted into an expression of disbelief. “No, you are not.”
“They have given me an assignment. It requires that I travel South.”
“You can refuse it.”
Oshali’s frown deepened, her annoyance building. “I don’t want to refuse it. I’ve been looking forward to exploring the realm since I was little.”
That seemed to disarm him a little, but he looked at her like she was insane. “You will be traveling into dangerous territories during a war, little cloak. Many lives have been lost in this war, and many lives brutally destroyed. Death isn’t the worse thing out there.”
“I know,” she replied, “but I’m prepared. I want to experience the realms. I won’t be risking my safety.”
“No. I forbid it.”
Oshali’s anger burst to the forefront of her hard-fought-for control, and against all of her training and all of her willpower, she snapped back at him. “You cannot forbid it! Your permission is not required.”
Tyomar’s face twisted into a snarl. “I’m sure that if I ordered the Mheyu, they would—”
“They would tell you we do not follow orders from the dragorai,” Oshali finished for him. “They are the ones who are giving me this assignment. What could you possibly say that they don’t already know about me traveling the realms?”
Tyomar shook his head. “You are going into this blindly. You do not know how much danger you will be in.”
“You think I am defenseless?” Oshali asked, almost laughing out loud. “You think I have absolutely no way of protecting myself?”
“Your Mheyu Gowns will not protect you from everything,” Tyomar bellowed. “You think guardians haven’t died out there? You do not know the people out in the realms, the lives people live that make them desperate and angry and do unspeakable things. It is foolish for you to make decisions about anything when you are wholly ignorant of what you’re getting into.”
Oshali huffed out a breath, realizing what was happening. Since he still thought of her as a child, he believed she was incapable of doing anything so adult as to travel across the realms by herself. And the more she thought of it, the angrier she became. Did he think just because he visited and spoke to her now and then that he could control her? Did he think that because he rescued her as a child, that her life belonged to him now? The only thing that rang true from her heated thoughts was that he still felt she was incapable.
Gritting her teeth, she surveyed where they were. High near the top of the mountain, the platform was wide enough for them to be ten feet apart, but behind Tyomar was an enormous drop and the rest of his mountain range spread out, vast and beautiful.
Oshali began to cast, drawing on the Thrakondarian language to create rhythm and pattern in her speech, building and crafting the gorgeous poetry that called on magic to aid her. It responded immediately, rich and plentiful, waiting for her instruction as it gathered. Tyomar’s face dropped, astonishment evident, but before he could do or say anything, Oshali launched into a sprint toward him. Everything she was about to do was against all rules, but Oshali was beyond that. She was too angry. She didn’t need him to cause problems between her and the Mheyu, and destroy her chance to go out into the realm. If he thought she was incapable, then she simply had to prove she was not.
Powering all her energy into her legs, she ran so quickly toward him he had no time to react. Veering slightly to his left, she jumped off the ledge, spreading her arms outward as she jettisoned herself out into the air. Magic buoyed her, allowing her to sail across the range in a beautiful, smooth arc. She kept casting, the magic flourishing under her, lifting her higher, and the wind rushed past her ears, rippling through her robes. Yelling out, she rejoiced in the rush of finally feeling free. She twisted her body, turning onto her back as she continued to fly over the range and was shocked to see the dragorai soaring after her, his handsome face contorted with fury. Calling on magic again, she angled lower and increased her speed, but he kept with her, adjusting his direction to match. Casting again, she bore right, whipping past mountain peaks as her speed continued to increase, but the dragorai was still gaining on her as he chased.
If it wasn’t for how angry she was, Oshali would be enjoying it. Soaring through the air, aided by magic, over his range, trying to out race him was never something she thought she’d be able to do, and yet the joy of it seeped into her bones, cooling the flames of her annoyance with him. As common sense returned, she recognized the potential foolery of her decision to jump off the ledge only aided by magic. Most casters never did that. Magic was usually unreliable through speech, and anyone who was not significantly proficient in casting would risk their life doing what she was doing. Tyomar could argue that to prove she wasn’t ready.
But she knew she had been well trained. Her magic had never wavered, never failed her since she was eight. She had tried this before in the sanctum garden, when she had been unattended. Every so often she practiced it, although, of course, she had never flown across a range, so high, and with such a dangerous drop if the magic were to fail. Still, she had never felt so sure of herself or her abilities as she did right now. She would not allow the dragorai to make her appear as if she were foolish. Muttering under her breath as she cast, she twisted around, heading toward the sun, allowing its rays to warm her face. Closing her eyes, she took a moment to enjoy every single exhilarating experience filtering through her body. The wind in her ears, fresh air on her flesh, the weightlessness of her body buoyed by magic, the rich exuberance of the abundant magic that surrounded her, and the freedom.
Something hard and heavy slammed into her, wrapping itself around her and weighing her down. Oshali fought for a moment before realizing it was Tyomar. He wrapped his arms around her torso and pressed her flush against him, trapping her. She stilled, her mind spinning.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!” Tyomar roared. The vibration of his voice boomed through his chest onto her cheek, but Oshali barely noticed. Warm, smoky, and rich, his scent clouded her nose, seeping into her body and making her come alive. He smelled so good! She pressed her face into his chest and breathed deeply, taking at least three lungfuls, almost intoxicating herself. Within moments, she was pressing herself against him as hard as she could before realizing what she was doing, which was basically making a fool of herself.
She stiffened, blinking as she focused on his continued tirade. “Unhand me,” she ordered, interrupted him. “I’m completely capable of flying back to the sanctum.”
“Do you know how dangerous what you did was?” Tyomar continued to bellow. “Not even we, the dragorai, make a habit of traveling through thin air with only magic to support us for any length of time! You could have fallen.”
“I would not have fallen,” Oshali argued. “In case it has escaped you, I’m an excellent caster.”
Tyomar fell silent for a long moment as they soared back to the sanctum. “You are proficient in magic.” Again, it was not a question, and yet Oshali still felt the need to respond.
Tyomar made a noise the back of his throat. “That I am aware of,” he said tersely, “otherwise you wouldn’t be able to communicate with me at all. But knowing incantations is completely different. How did you learn that?”
“It was always part of my training,” Oshali said. She glanced at him. “You know the Mheyu are excellent casters, too, don’t you? They’d have to be.”
“Do they teach everyone magic at the Mheyu sanctum?” Tyomar asked.
Oshali shook her head.
“Then why did they teach you?”
“It came easy to me,” she said, shrugging. “And it made sense for me to learn properly after I accidentally made all the books in the sanctum dance for five days.” She shot him a look. “So you can let me go.”
“No.”
Oshali exhaled in frustration and fought against him, but his hold was too strong. So she began to cast…. Potent magic swirled around her once again before filtering between them to pry them apart.
“Stop it!” Tyomar thundered, his arms jostling her slightly as he looked down in fury.
Oshali didn’t. She continued casting, glaring up at him.
So Tyomar began to cast too.
Magic twisted, sparked, and transformed in jagged motion around them as they tried to outcast each other, but Tyomar’s arms remained tight around her—no matter how hard she tried to escape them.
When he flew them back to the ledge, their landing was rough. Coming in at a strange angle, they crashed to the ground and then rolled over each other a few times before coming to a stop.
Oshali groaned, trapped under Tyomar’s weight, their legs tangled. An aching pulse embraced her shoulder and hip, and she was sure she heard her robe tear, but a low groan came from the alpha on top of her, and she realized Tyomar’s nose was pressed against her neck. Her whole body responded immediately, that familiar jitter expanding over her.
She intended to push him away but her palms ran up his muscled arms, the arms she had been watching for seven years, and her mouth went dry.
When Tyomar rose up onto his elbows, he looked at her with a ferocity that made her wince. He grabbed her robe with his fists and tore it in two, bearing her breasts.
Oshali yelped in surprise, but before she could say anything, his mouth was on her.
Hot, wet, and powerful, Tyomar’s mouth dominated her with a pleasure she’d never expected. He kissed down between her breasts, bit on her fleshy mounds, and licked the undersides. But when he sucked a nipple into his mouth, she lost all competent thought. Sensations careened around her body, making her whimper and grip onto his hard, bulging arms, and a powerful tingle heated between her legs.
The pleasurable rush increased as his attentions roughened; biting, sucking, frenzied laving, until Oshali was writhing in wonderful torment. He pinched her other nipple, sending a jolt through her before his mouth moved over, and she arched her back, eager for more.
But when his hand landed on her bare leg, she jumped, surprised, and Tyomar slowed. He rose slowly, his teeth pulling her nipple before releasing it, until he was leaning over her again on his elbow. His hand rose higher on her leg until it reached the thin material of her undergarment, where he slowly curled his fingers against her.
Oshali could barely catch her breath. She stared up at him in wonder, her chest heaving and her body tingling. At this close distance, she could see every beautiful feature on his face, and after having remained ten feet from him for so many years, he was even more dazzling than what she had seen from the distance. He pulled his hand away from between her legs, and leaned on both elbows, a strange look in his eyes.
Oshali blinked, her sanity slowly returning. Why had he stopped? Had he suddenly realized who she was?
When he spoke, his voice was husky and deep. “I forbid you to go. I want you here.”
He wanted her here? At the sanctum? While he waited for his mate to arrive? As much she wished she could lay like this with him all day, she couldn’t let him trap her here, no matter how much she desired him. She pushed against him, trying to wriggle out from under him, but he jostled her again with a growl so powerful, it vibrated through her body.
“It’s not about what you want!” she yelled at him, frustrated. “I am doing my duty as a Mheyu.”
Tyomar’s jaw hardened, but he said nothing for a long while. Then, he tucked an arm underneath her and got to his feet, lifting her with him.
Oshali fumbled to cover herself with her ripped robes but he held her close, pressing her breasts up against his chest. He held her like that for a moment, before Oshali realized he was looking down at her.
“Now that you are a full Mheyu,” Tyomar murmured as he searched her eyes, “does that mean that you will remove your veil to travel across the realm?”
Oshali reached up to touch her face. Surprisingly, her veil was still firmly in place. “Yes.”
Tyomar’s reaction was once again puzzling. His nose flared, his eyes flashed, and his already hard body tensed, sending shivers up her spine. He looked away as though he wanted to bellow a furious curse out over the range, but he didn’t. After a long moment, as if battling his own thoughts, his gaze returned to hers.
“When do you leave?”
“In three days,” Oshali said. “On my twenty-fifth birthday.”
Tyomar nodded and slowly let her go, brushing his hands down her back, and over her bottom before returning them to his sides.
Oshali wrapped her torn robes across her chest, suddenly weak and cold without his touch. This was it—their final time together—and she wasn’t even sure what to say. “It has been a pleasure being your point of contact, Anointed One,” she said haltingly.
Tyomar didn’t respond, simply watched her with his hard, dark eyes.
Oshali inched back, waiting for him to at least bid her farewell. But after a long while it became clear that he was not intending to. Her heart sunk. This was the last time that they would ever speak, and he was behaving as though she was foolish and disobedient. Why couldn’t he be happy for her? She couldn’t help but compare it to her farewell with Silette and Joren. Good-byes made everything worse.
Lowering her eyes to his chest, she spoke freely, knowing it would be the last time. “Thank you for saving me, Tyomar,” she whispered.
His body jerked in surprise—it was the first time she had ever called him by name to his face.
“I owe you so much for bringing me here and assuring my safety. I have had such a great education, and it’s all because of you. I know I’m lucky. But I’m not taking it for granted. I will be fine out in the realm. I wish all the best for you and your clan.”
After she spoke, he still said nothing, and she couldn’t bear to look him in eye.
Taking a breath, she fumbled through the farewell prayer before turning and hurrying back inside. As soon as she was back inside the sanctum and out of his view, she leaned against the wall and burst into tears, a mixture of emotions swirling in her. Jumping off the ledge had been one of the most foolish things she had ever done, but also the most exhilarating. It was unbelievable that Tyomar had not only captured her midair but touched and… pleasured her afterward. It was the first time he’d ever touched her and the first time she’d been close enough to experience his scent and touch him back. It made her want to give up everything she’d just agreed.with Guardian Vy. Every part of her body hummed, yearning for more of him—especially between her legs. An urge to pleasure him back had arisen, to run her hands all over him and crush her nose into his body and breathe him in forever. But she knew none of that could happen. Why did this have to be so hard!
Oshali remained against the wall, reminding herself of all the reasons she could never have him until her breathing came back under her control. Wiping her tears, she firmly pushed away the conflicting feelings—whatever the reason Tyomar was compelled to touch her like that, she couldn’t let it sway her. But she wished he’d at least said a proper
good-bye. He had been such an important person in her life, and now that she was leaving she didn’t want to leave things badly. But she couldn’t do anything about his refusal to say goodbye. She needed to do this assignment, and more importantly needed to be strong about her wants. Finally, after years of dreaming about her freedom, it was time for her to experience it.
4
The next three days were hectic.
Between getting fitted for her gowns and familiarizing herself with the last known accurate map of the realm, Oshali had to also familiarize herself with the assignment. Thankfully, it seemed simple. She had to travel to the South into one of the provinces and collect scrolls that had been buried there. It was an ancient item of great importance that the Guardian had been waiting for the right time to retrieve.
Oshali couldn’t see any problem with collecting the item itself, but navigating the South could be an issue. Once she left Tyomar’s mountain range, she’d be on the North side of the border between the North and South Dominions, which was likely to be volatile, so she’d have to travel a bit on Tyomar’s range so she could get passed with without any problems. The southern Dominion was ruled by an omega queen who was rumored to be particularly antagonistic considering her dynamic. From what Oshali had read, she was vain and egotistical, and liked to surround herself with people who pander and adore her, and she had no reservations about using forceful and violent behavior if she felt she had to. It was unlikely that Oshali would come into direct contact with her, but knowing how she ran her Dominion would help Oshali to get to the province she was heading to.
One of the interesting things about the war between the North and South Dominions was that there was very little information about why it began. It started very suddenly without any preparation or established antagonism between the king and queen. The Mheyu never had time to understand why they were at war—no one was interested in witness statements and testimonials once it had started. They wanted to protect themselves, and the Mheyu want to protect their records and artifacts.