"Didn't drag me into anything. You needed help." He rested a hand on her arm. "Don't understand the rest of it, but I got that much."
She didn't respond, but didn't make any move to remove his hand. He was a brigand, a thief. And I'm a killer—who am I to judge any longer?
"Thank you," Loran whispered in the dark, letting her eyes slip shut once again. Farris was warm against her back, and despite everything, he felt somehow... safe. She pushed herself closer by an inch, a silent invitation.
Farris pulled his arms around her once more, keeping her in a cozy embrace. A third arm came over the top of his and fumbled around for one of Loran's hands. She felt coarse fingers lock into her own and smiled. Kisa. Kisa had pulled her from the mire; she'd been there with them, and she was here now.
Loran smiled softly to herself, cocooned in the warmth of her companions. She slept soundly until morning.
*~*~*
Kisa once again insisted on checking her wound in the morning before they packed up to hit the road. Farris happily helped roll up their bedmats, humming to himself as he worked. Loran offered to split the last of her flatbread among them. They would reach Lionswell today, so she could stock up on food before returning.
The thought of leaving Kisa and Farris left an empty feeling in her chest. They had shared so much in such a short time, and she desperately longed for more. Ever since she'd been taken in by the Terns, she'd grown used to working alone, foregoing attachments, avoiding any kind of lengthy interactions with anyone that wasn't a job.
Loran ran her fingers over the fancy leather satchel, feeling the grooves and divots of the designs. She just had to finish the job, but then, what if she didn't return to the Clutch? Terns had disappeared before, gone rogue. As long as they kept their heads low, most were never heard from again. She had always wondered what would cause one of her own kind to shun their Clutches and disappear, but now she had an idea. The thought of just going back to the way things were seemed colorless, bland. Her life had been fine before, just pleasant greens and browns, but now there was lavender. Gold.
They started on the road again, the tired mule pulling the cart full of stolen goods and their stolen companion, singing as they walked. Kisa even did a little dance for a particularly jaunty tune. Loran couldn't help but smile, but her heart still weighed heavy in her chest. Even if she was willing to leave the Terns, what if Kisa didn't feel the same? And Farris, for that matter. He seemed like a honeybee, off from one flower to another.
Kisa and Farris seemed so happy, she couldn't bring that down by admitting to her worries. Surely they assumed they would all part ways after this, unchanged, but Loran knew she wouldn't be. She would have to learn to live without their brilliant colors, go back to the greens and browns. Comfortable. Safe. But she'd never before felt as safe as she had when she was in their arms last night.
"Hey, you with us, priest?"
Loran blinked at the glittering hand that Farris waved in front of her face. "Sorry, I was just..." She didn't finish the thought.
Farris twisted his lips, leaning over the side of the cart haphazardly. "You think too much, you know. If I learned anything from that dream-thing last night, it was that. If that's what's going on in your head, it's no wonder you're so scared."
"Scared? I'm not—"
"No shame in being scared. I about soiled myself when you had that water... stuff, whatever you call it, aimed at me. I thought for sure I was a goner."
"I'm glad you weren't." Loran smiled meekly, her hands clasped in front of her.
"Hey, that's quite an improvement from yesterday." Farris chuckled. "Amazing how fast things change, huh?" He lay back in the cart, reclining on top of the heap of luxurious clothes and curtains. He looked much like a pampered cat.
"So fast..." Loran agreed absentmindedly, her fingers twisting over one another. They would reach Lionswell today, and all of this would be in the past. Not forgotten, but still gone. Loran looked down at her feet, watching the ground move beneath her. Each step took her farther from the serenity of the night before. Despite the nightmarish voyage beyond the veil, the night was a particularly warm memory in her mind.
Farris watched her for a few moments as the mule plodded along. "I'm sorry for being so hard on you, before."
"You had every right to be." Loran shrugged.
"I did when you didn't seem to realize you'd done anything wrong." He sighed. "But when I saw whatever that was in your head—"
"It wasn't in my head. It was... It was beyond the veil. The 'other side'. Things work differently there. Thoughts become reality. So I guess in a way, it was in my head," she murmured, fingers braiding together restlessly. "I didn't realize I could bring people in with me. I didn't mean to. Usually it's just those of us touched by magic that cross into the plane sometimes."
"Huh." Farris nodded, leaning back on his elbow.
Kisa clapped a gauntlet to her chest with a clang, effectively getting their attention. She pointed to the trail ahead, the looming walls of Lionswell. They were much closer than the last time Loran had looked up. A pit of dread sunk in her chest, it was all going to be over soon. Done. And they'd part ways like it never had happened.
Loran felt Farris's eyes on her as they moved onward, step-by-step, getting closer to the brilliant bronze archway into the city. Blue and white flags flapped in the wind atop the arch, both a welcome and a warning, depending on who approached.
"So, birdy, what's your business here anyway?"
Loran's lips tugged upward slightly at the newest nickname. "Delivery. And don't ask what, because I don't know and I wouldn't tell you even if I did."
Farris laughed. "You take your job seriously. I suppose I can't fault that... So what's your plan after this job? Just drop off whatever it is and be on your way?" He plucked up a plum from the basket of fruit, taking a juicy bite out of it.
Loran looked down at her hands. "I don't know. I suppose so."
A pregnant pause fell between them, the sound of the mule's hoof beats seeming suddenly far too loud on the trail. The gates grew ever closer, looming. Farris bit the plum again, chewing on the fruit as well as a thought. He swallowed, then spoke again.
"I don't see why we couldn't—"
"That's her! Right there!"
A rough voice ahead interrupted him, and Loran's blood ran cold. Surrounded by four armed guards was the red-bearded man she thought she'd killed in the woods. He was very much alive. She couldn't decide whether to be relieved that she hadn't actually killed him or terrified that he would turn her in.
"Arrest her! She's a bloody mage!" He spat the word. "I saw her use magic—she tried to kill me!"
Loran froze as the guards surrounded her. They took hold of her arms and wrenched them behind her. She looked to Farris and Kisa with wide eyes. Kisa had drawn her sword already, but Loran couldn't let her sully her reputation by fighting with the city guards.
"Don't, don't fight them. It's okay. I'll be okay—"
Farris got to his feet and sauntered past the guards toward the red-bearded man, laughing as if it was all some kind of joke. "Gentleman, there's no need to rough up an unarmed woman like this... I know this fellow, and he's just telling you lies to try to get back what I stole from him. Now, I'll come clean and accept whatever punishment you see fit, Wilford, but I'm willing to give you back your cart here, even old Beulah. What do you say we drop this 'magic' nonsense and call us even, eh?"
Wilford didn't look convinced, his frightened gaze affixed on Loran. Farris sighed and turned to the guards. "Do you gentlemen mind if I speak to my friend here privately?"
"Make it quick," a guard responded, tightening his grip on Loran's arm.
Farris stepped closer to Wilford, speaking in hushed tones. Loran couldn't make out what was being said, but Wilford was tense from head to toe, looking very much like an immovable stone wall. Farris leaned in, whispering something to Wilford. He had a tight grip on Wilford's arm, and Wilford was suddenly nodding very quickly. Wi
lford turned to the guards with a nervous laugh.
"You— you can let her go. He's right. I was just sore about him taking my cart, 's all. Let her go, let her go."
The guard that had spoken before took a long look at Wilford, then nodded. "Ease off, men. No need to work any harder than we need to. Let these two settle their affairs."
The guards hesitantly released their hold on Loran's arms, stepping away from her with a couple sidelong glances. She rubbed the sore spots where they'd gripped her, staring in shock as Farris sauntered back.
Wilford took the mule and cart, urging the beast to move as quickly as possible back into the city. Farris chuckled as he watched over his shoulder. "Look at him go..."
"What on earth did you tell him?" Loran frowned.
"Don't you worry about that." Farris put an arm around her shoulders. "But you, miss, need to finish your delivery before something else tries to come between you and your sacred duty. That's how all that works, right?"
"Sacred duty." She nodded, lackluster in her response. "I... guess that means you're going?"
Farris snorted. "That eager to get rid of me?"
"No—" Loran objected before she could stop herself. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up at Kisa, feeling her cheeks aflame. "I mean, I... It hasn't been—"
"You can say it, you know." Farris chuckled. "Or I can say it for you. 'Farris, I've enjoyed your company and I would be most honored if you would accompany me a while longer. You're the most spectacular—'"
Loran smacked him with the back of her hand lightly, laughing despite herself. "You're terrible... but, yes. I... I would like it if you stayed. But.. Kisa?" She turned to her, hope swelling in her chest. She didn't want to leave either of them. She wanted a chance to get to know them, to know herself with them.
Kisa lifted her visor and smiled down at her, and Loran felt her breath catch in her throat. Kisa squeezed Loran's shoulder with a solid nod, and the meaning was clear.
Farris chuckled. "Did you really think we could just pack up and go after last night? Obviously you could use the company, and well... I doubt either of us has anything better to do."
Loran couldn't stop smiling. "Well, I mean, it doesn't have to be... It's— We could just—"
"Exactly. Let's just see where this goes, hm?" Farris looped an arm around her, his hand settling atop Kisa's where it sat on her shoulder. Loran leaned into his warmth with a smile and delicately laid her hand over the top of both of theirs.
"I like the sound of that."
To Tame a Dragon
Christina DZA Marie
Sir Myles Agrippa knelt before King Scipio of Septimos. She breathed deep and steady to quell her pounding heart. Private audiences with the king, especially a new king, were either very good or very bad. Her voice slipped into a lower register that, while not exactly masculine, was at least passable for a man's. "My liege. You sent for me?"
The young king was dressed in black silks as he sat upon a plush chair in the private audience chamber. The only other soul was the cupbearer pouring the wine. King Scipio kept adjusting the iron crown on his head. "Sir Myles. What do you know of dragons?"
"Only how to kill them," she said, standing.
Scipio grunted, taking the goblet of wine from the cupbearer. "Well, no matter. You're not meant to be an expert. You're meant to be the expert's protector. I'm sending Lord Aden Laurent and Lord Zyon Adler to the Bloody Mountains with four dragonriders."
Myles raised her eyebrows. "A dragon hunt, Your Majesty?"
"Of course," Scipio snapped. "We've heard reports of Tieraustrians raiding our borders and sheltering changelings. We only have three dragons in our army. We need more."
Myles bit her tongue against telling Scipio that Septimos had won several wars with far less. The country had gained even more lands through non-violent means such as marriage and trade.
She also swallowed her unease of traveling with a group of men. How would she relieve herself? Change her clothes? Hide her moon time?
"When do we leave, Your Majesty?" she asked instead.
"Two days. Dismissed."
*~*~*
Myles would be the first to admit that she did not think very highly of Lord Zyon Adler when they first met.
"New to court, my lord?" Myles asked, looking around Zyon's study. Despite being raised in wealth and the education it offered, she could read less than half of the dozens of tomes on the shelves. Some of them were in languages she couldn't even identify. What she could read almost all had to do with the creatures of the world, from dragons of legend to grasshoppers.
"They just finished unpacking," Zyon said with a chuckle, his voice thick with an Em'malkuthian accent.
Well, he wasn't particularly small. Myles was built like a bear. She had always towered over the boys as a girl, and her mother had cursed her small breasts. Myles considered them a blessing; they were easier to hide than the "motherly bosom" wanted in an ideal wife.
By contrast, Zyon needed a wooden stepladder to get to his books on the highest shelves. His dark hair was cropped and he had a short beard muzzling his face. It made him look more like a ranger than a scholar.
Zyon plopped a tome on his desk and finally looked directly into her face. "So, you're the Slayer of the Fiery Sea, hmm? Surprised you're not a dragonrider yourself, the way everyone talks about you."
"I hail from the Vesper Highlands. We're not known for our dragons."
"Right, right, of course. Heard you slew one, though."
"It was ancient, and its rider was young," Myles said.
"Well, with any luck, we'll come across some more impressive specimens," Zyon said, a sparkle in his dark eyes. "I hope you don't mind, I'm bringing a protector of my own. He's one of the riders. A keepsake from my homeland."
"Sir Mordechai?" Now Myles was interested. "I thought he was returning to Em'malkuth."
"He's sworn his sword to me, and I've sworn my service to King Scipio. We're going to get him a dragon."
A genuine smile came to Myles's face. She could be exposed and eternally shamed while on this mission, but if she got to meet a legend or two, it might just be worth it.
*~*~*
"A dragon hunt?!" Sir Magnus Klerx sputtered, pacing the confines of the elaborate chambers. He wasn't in his armor, but he didn't need it. He looked terrifying enough in his frustration and silk doublet. The serving boy had all but scrambled for the door when he'd been dismissed. "What in the frosty hells is that boy thinking?"
"That he's king," Myles grumbled. She tried to brighten the room that had darkened with their sour mood. "Sir Mordechai Samson is also part of the hunt."
Magnus paused, then sighed. "You're going, aren't you?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"With such short notice? No." Magnus dropped onto the cushioned seat in the corner and poured himself a goblet of wine. "You'll be needing a squire then, won't you?"
Myles stifled a groan. "I can handle my own armor."
"It's more than the armor, and you know it. I've found a mute boy that'd do nicely. He's one of Calvin's."
"You mean Sir Calvin."
Magnus gave her a look. "Don't wag your tongue at me, girl."
"If you get in the habit of addressing your male lover informally, you're going to get caught," Myles pointed out. "Then stripped of your title, imprisoned, and maybe executed. Scipio hasn't made his stance on sodomy laws clear yet, but if he's anything like his father…"
"I've been sneaking nights with my man for years, thank you very much," Magnus retorted. He rubbed his dark eyes. "Back to the matter at hand. Your chances of getting caught go skyward when you're on a field mission, even if you have a full escort. I don't want you getting dishonored like that."
"Relax. If I am exposed, you won't be incriminated. I've taken steps."
"That's not what I'm worried about," Magnus growled. "I've seen what happens to women in this situation. You've heard about my wife. She got lucky. If you get exposed, I'm not marry
ing you."
Myles barked a laugh. "Please don't. I wouldn't want to challenge Sir Calvin for your favor."
Magnus growled at her.
"Get me the squire if you're so worried," Myles said. "And then I suggest you go home. If this goes badly, you can't be at court."
"If this goes badly, you'll need support."
"No, Magnus."
He sighed. "Stubborn girl. No wonder you prefer armor to dresses."
*~*~*
There was a service to send the knights and lords off. Myles sat in the temple to the sun god Helios (known as Sol Invictus to other parts of the world). She mouthed the words and sipped the wine, itching to get on her horse.
For all the legends surrounding him, Sir Mordechai Samson looked ordinary enough. He was half an inch shorter than Myles, with thinning hair and a grizzled beard. And he was strange: he didn't wear plate armor like a knight should. He wore boiled leathers and chainmail.
"Sir Myles," he greeted her with a nod. He had the same Em'malkuthian accent as Lord Zyon, but not quite as thick. "A pleasure to be working with you."
"And you, sir," she said. She bit her tongue to keep the gushing tide of adoring stupidity from spilling free.
"Myles?" one of the other knights asked. "Slayer of the Fiery Sea?"
"Yes." Myles eyed the newcomer. "Sir Aurelius."
Sir Aurelius Sinclair grinned. His broad shoulders were accented by his silver armor, polished to a blinding shine. "Why are you coming along? I know the goal of an ordinary hunt is to kill the creature, but you do know that's not the purpose of this one, right?"
"Obviously," Myles said tightly.
"I thought I'd see you at the brothel last night," he continued. "The others came with me. It was wild."
Myles didn't say anything as she mounted her horse. She had considered it, seeking the comfort of another woman before a dangerous journey. But it was just too risky. Whores talked.
She rode her horse to the front of the column, where Lord Aden waited for the rest of the group to get ready. "My lord."
Aden turned to her. He was young, just past twenty, with honey-colored hair, round cheeks, and freckled skin. He smiled. "Sir Myles. I feel safer already."
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