She looked down at him and grinned. Her warriors applauded, shouts and hoots raining down on Jin.
“I hope you fuck better than you fight, Jin vai Ullan,” she whispered to him, her tongue snaking out to lick around the edge of his ear. “Or this is going to be a disappointing evening.”
“I’m much better after a meal,” said Jin.
Aren laughed, then stood up. She grabbed his sword before he could, tossing it to Errah, who snatched it out of the air by its hilt like they’d been throwing a ball back and forth.
“I’ll return it to you after dinner,” said Aren. “You won’t need it, and it offends our customs. “Come, my tent is well stocked with food.”
Aren’s tent was indeed well stocked. A low table had been overloaded with an abundance of different dishes, some of which Fione recognized as an attempt to produce Joian cuisine by a cook who was missing half the right ingredients and had (sometimes poorly) substituted their closest guess. Others were those of the Dragon Clans’ native cuisine, with their distinct focus on spices that seemed designed to make one breathe fire. They leaned on legless couches. Beyond the table, in a second section of the tent, a rude sleeping area had been made from a collection of cushions of varying sizes, at least one of which bore the royal Joian diamond on it, suggesting it had been looted from the Tower.
When all the cups had been filled with the foul smelling fermented milk the Clans favored, Aren dismissed the thralls, ordering them to have the guards stand fifteen paces away from the tent.
Fione frowned at this last.
“A precaution,” said Aren.
“You don’t trust your warriors?”
“I trust my warriors to fight for the Clan. I don’t trust them to be immune to Olene’s subterfuges. She has proven her abilities more than once.”
“She did not seem so clever to me,” said Fione.
“Do you know anything of her, Princess?”
“She’s a snake. And she’s a toy of a mad necromancer.”
Aren laughed.
“A toy, you say? I’d say she’s Jorga’s wife. They’re partners.”
“He’s guiding her against the Guild. He told her to attack.”
“He informed her when her enemy was weakest and she used his counsel to her own ends.”
“Master Waldrin informed us this was a vengeance he’d planned for decades.”
“And the Clans have marched together against the East fifteen times now. And that doesn’t count every time a chief has thought they could manage it alone without the other clans. Over centuries we’ve battled you. Jorga is one man plotting over some odd years. Olene is the culmination of generations of planning and trying. You say Jorga is the cause, but I ask you, which came first, the night or the day? The answer does not matter, it makes no difference to the outcome.
“But what I know is that Korth the Grim, Olene’s father, had twenty living children on the day he died, of which she was the youngest. On the day she was proclaimed chief of the Sky Clan, there were just two, Olene, and her brother Varomar, her sworn dog. She was not the strongest, or the best warrior, or the most beloved of Korth’s children. But she is alive and they are dead because she was the smartest, the most cunning, and she had spies, assassins, poison, and magic to aid her.
“So my warriors will stand away from my tent, just to be safe. And when we have reached an agreement and my terms have been satisfied, you will be allowed to leave here, and we will march back to Tia Joi to rejoin the Clans.”
“And what happens when the battle is joined in Tia Joi? Won’t they betray you when you turn on Olene?”
“They may, but it won’t matter. In the Clans, we have no compunctions about fighting our own kind. Every warrior is my sworn man, so he’ll follow my word. If he doesn’t, he’ll be cut down. The smart ones will remain our friends regardless of what Olene paid them. The foolish ones will reveal their true loyalty and die. Does this satisfy you? Are we agreed on terms?”
“Your terms are not...they are not what we might expect when alliances are made here in the East. In the East, Tia Joi agrees to come when Coulain and Tia Vashil call, and Tia Vashil and Coulain come when Tia Joi calls.”
“And this worked well for Tia Joi, no?”
Fione glared at her.
“I apologize, my princess,” said Aren. “But I’m not asking for an alliance. I’m asking to swear my clan to your service. Past my life. Past your life.”
“Why?” asked Jin. “Why do this? What cause of yours is Tia Joi’s cause? I didn’t believe the princess when she explained it to me, and I had just as much trouble when Kiera did. You tell me why.”
“Because for twenty years we had peace. It’s almost all I know. It’s almost all you know. We grew rich and fat. And Chief Forg was beginning to open a new way to deal with the East. We have things you want, the jade chief among them. And you have much we would want. Forg was content to trade and barter. I am not. I want my people to grow strong and powerful and rich. In the East, you have so much. Tia Joi lacks warriors, and I have nothing but jade and warriors. Why not become warriors for Tia Joi and settle here?”
“But if the Clans conquer the East—”
“We won’t conquer the East. Tia Joi fell because of foolish generals and a weak Sorcerers. Tia Vashil is strong, and Coulain is far away and will be well-prepared if we march south to attack them now. Nothing will happen but warriors will die. And I do not relish death as much as others. And I do not like Jorga.”
“You’ll tie yourself to more Sorcerers.”
Aren scratched her ear and looked at Fione.
“No, I do not think so. The Guild rules Tia Vashil. The princess rules Tia Joi. And now she will have our jade, and the jade we take from the other four clans when they are destroyed. I think the Guild will rule Tia Vashil.”
For, perhaps the first time, Fione smiled in the presence of the Dragon Clan chief.
“This is agreeable to me, but there are still your terms to discuss. They are unusual by our customs.”
“Why? Do your people not marry in order to bind families together and seal treaties with blood?”
“We do.”
“Then this is much the same, without the marriage. Jin will father your heir?”
“Of course!” said Fione, slightly annoyed that Aren might think otherwise.
“I meant no offense, my princess,” said Aren. “In the Clans, our children’s parents are not always the ones married. A chief might take a husband or a wife, but have another in mind for father or mother. If Jin will be father to your heir, Jin will be father to my heir. And for half of each year, my child will be raised alongside your child, one year with you, the next with me, and so on until they are grown. So your child will never raise a hand against mine, and mine will never raise a hand against yours.”
“And the condition that I give you pleasure?”
Aren smiled. “You escaped before I could return to Tia Joi, but I was promised this before then, and I will have it now. This is non-negotiable. But you may get it over with tonight, if it pleases you.”
“I doubt it will precisely please me.”
“One never knows,” said Aren, feeding a bit of fruit into her mouth.
“I agree to that term,” said Fione. “I also agree to grant your warriors lands around Tia Joi, an acre for each warrior and their family on the condition that they fight for Tia Joi against all my enemies.”
“Excellent, then it seems we have nothing left to discuss.”
“Well, one thing... thralls.”
Aren was quiet for the longest moment that she had been to that point in the night.
“What is there to speak of of thralls?”
“I want all Joians made thralls by the Clans freed, and restitution made to the families of all thralls who have died in Clan service. I want all thralls to receive payment for their service, commensurate with the duration and nature of their service.”
“Naturally, your citizens should be made who
le, I see no problem with that.”
“All thralls, I said.”
Aren’s face grew dark.
“A thrall has no more use for money than a dog does.”
“They will if you swear allegiance to me.”
“Oh?”
“Any thrall in service to Tia Joi will be able to buy their freedom at the end of every year. Their master will pay them wages. The Tower treasury will hold those funds for every thrall. Working with your warriors and my tax collectors, we will determine an appropriate value for their freedom and wage for their service. Any warrior who cannot afford all his thralls will release those he cannot afford. And no warrior may hold thralls while living within the city limits.”
“That is... a difficult proposition. You’re asking that we surrender one of our oldest traditions. We make our enemies into thralls, we make our children into thralls if they do not make good warriors. Those who cannot fight, must serve.”
“In the East, those who cannot fight must serve as well, but they must be rewarded in kind for that service. A warrior does not fight without food in her belly, or a sword in her hand, and someone must make these things. And they must be paid. I’m sure many of your thralls will choose to remain in your service, but they will have funds to provide themselves with freedom if they choose it, and luxuries if they do not.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then you may die on the battlefield next to Olene and Jorga. And your warriors can die with you. And the Sea Clan will not grow fat and rich and strong, it will be rail thin, poor, and weak.”
Aren glanced at Jin, who merely smiled into his cup as he sipped his milk. It didn’t last long after tasting the milk, but it was long enough for Aren to see.
“She asked me to ask you why,” he told the chief. “I’m not very good at the court stuff, but I am a good liar. And she thought you’d take me for a pretty face.”
“And that I’d take you for a foolish girl,” Aren said to Fione. “And I did.”
“You are not the first,” said Fione. “You are not the last, either.”
“My people will be angry at this.”
“Anyone who does not wish to abide by it will be given free passage back to the West. I will not have it in Tia Joi.”
“I will be very unpopular among my people, for a while.”
Fione nodded.
“As insurance, I will recognize only you and your designated heir as the negotiating authority among the Clan. If you or one of your blood should no longer be chief, I will not deal with the Clan collectively. Their grievances will have to be petitioned individually at the court like any other of my subjects. You may explain to them that the danger of me outlawing thralls entirely would be quite high if such a thing occurred. Does that satisfy?”
“Everything except myself,” said Aren. She rose from her couch, shedding her jade jewelry until she was naked, then settled down in the cushions in the other section of the tent.
“Come,” she said. When Fione rose, she shook her head. “Jin too.”
Together, Fione and Jin stood and approached her.
“Stop there,” she ordered. “Jin, undress your princess.”
“Our princess,” he corrected.
“Yes, our princess,” agreed Aren, grinning at him. “Take her clothes off.”
Jin smiled at Fione, and she smiled back, grateful for his presence. In many ways, this was almost more unnerving that being in front of the entire court in Tia Joi, with just Aren watching her and Jin’s fingers slipping down the front of her blouse, undoing the buttons and baring her skin. His hand stroked her body, a thumb running across her nipple, making her groan as it hardened in response.
When she’d learned the terms of Aren’s allegiance from Kiera, she’d opted to not bother with underwear and as the jacket and blouse slipped from her shoulders, goosebumps blossomed on her skin. Jin sank, undoing her belt and pulling the riding breeches down, then letting her balance on his shoulder as he lifted first one leg and then the other to pull her boots out and have her step out of the last of her clothes.
Aren’s eyes were boring into her skin as she stood before the chief, watching her closely, drinking in her pale nude form.
“Still crowned,” she observed of Fione’s circlet.
“I can get rid of it, if you wish,” said Fione.
“No. I enjoy it. I think I will put my own on. Then Jin here will be with two chiefs at once.” She laughed, rolling over to retrieve her own circlet, then rolling back to stare at the princess again. Her eyes flitted to Jin.
“Undress him,” she said.
Now it was Fione’s turn to struggle with clasps and buttons, Jin’s shirt slipping from his body so that the firm skin under was revealed. Fione burned a little, running her hands down his sides. She snuck a glance at his face as she turned to his breeches, his eyes staring down at her appreciatively, barely paying the other naked woman in the tent any mind.
His belt came apart and then she was slipping the laces undone, finding that he, too, had worn no underwear. His pants rolled down his legs, pooling over the edges of his boots. To her credit, Jin’s cock was already hard, standing to attention as the fabric fell away.
“Eager,” Aren observed. “Take him in your mouth, princess. I would be honored to see how you please him.”
Fione nodded, then turned to watch Jin’s face as she gingerly took his cock in her hand and fed the tip into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it. He grunted, his face hardening slightly as she began to work her way down the shaft, stroking him with her tongue, sliding her lips down the sides and bottom before returning to the tip to suck hard at him. He reached for her, cupping the back of her head, being careful to avoid dislodging the tiara in her hair.
She dropped her hands to his knees, easing his cock further into her mouth, careful not to lose it on the out stroke. The hand in her hair began to grip her tighter in response as she became hurried in her movements. She gripped the back of Jin’s thighs, feeling his muscles contract as he pushed forward slightly to meet her, his balls slapping against her chin as she drove forward onto his cock.
When she glanced off to the side, Aren’s eyes were glazed, staring dully at her, the chieftain playing with one of her own hard nipples, her other hand manipulating her clit lazily. She bit her lip, her eyes closing for a moment.
Fione’s gulping plunges as she took Jin’s cock to its base with each stroke dragged Aren back to the moment.
“Enough. Come here, princess.”
Fione released Jin’s cock, and he looked rather forlornly on as she stood and walked over to the reclining chief, before sinking to her knees in front of her. Aren raised herself up, wrapping her hand behind Fione’s neck, pulling her close, the chief’s lips caressing hers. Aren’s other hand stroked its way down Fione’s chest, pawing at one firm heavy breast, squeezing and kneading before tugging insistently at the nipple. Aren’s tongue was in Fione’s mouth and she was nearly lying on the chief, feeling the heat of Aren’s leg against her thigh. Aren’s hand slipped across her belly, sliding across the velvety soft fresh shaven skin of her mound, one finger pressing against her nub. She moaned, then again when Aren began to flick hard against her clit. Aren held her tight as she became relentless, placing two more fingers down in the space between Fione’s legs, sliding them back and forth.
Fione groaned, her body shaking as her pleasure broke in response to Aren’s attentions, the last steel in her joints giving up as the chief eked wave after wave from her, collapsing on top of her. Aren laughed, kissing the side of her head and holding her tight, still stroking, Fione pressing her hips as hard as she could against the fingertips bringing her such joy, before her groans grew pained and Aren’s fingers slowed, slipping around behind her to stroke her back.
“I have to admit, princess, I did not expect you to be finished so easily,” Aren murmured.
“I...” Fione struggled to find words, but Aren didn’t give her the time to consider, the chief’s ha
nds rising to her head and pushing her down. Fione’s chin stroked across the taut muscles of the chief’s body, images of dragons, birds, dagger cats, and Dragon Clan warriors themselves staring back at her from Aren’s skin. At the juncture of Aren’s legs, a splay of light brown hair, cropped tight, masked the image of a curled dragon.
Fione’s tongue reached out, pressing against Aren’s clit, nesting above her pussy, and the chief hissed sharply, then groaned when Fione’s tongue stroked down the lips of her cunt, pulling one fold into her mouth for a moment before releasing it. Aren still had a hand in Fione’s hair, and when Fione stroked her way back up to Aren’s clit again, she pulled hard enough that the style loosened and released, falling into Fione’s face. Aren knocked the tiara from Fione’s head, pulling the princess’ hair tight behind her head, holding a hunk in her fist, then pushing insistently to press Fione’s mouth harder against Aren’s pussy. The chief’s hips were shifting under Fione’s attentions, and she reached up under Aren’s thighs to steady her, her tongue lashing against the clit in her mouth.
Aren’s free hand was teasing her own breast. When Fione glanced up at the chief’s face, Aren was staring back at her, her mouth opened slightly, her groans mostly silent.
“Jin,” the chief managed. She patted the cushion next to her. “Come here”
Fione tried to look back at her consort without interrupting her work, failing, but it was no matter. In a moment, Jin was kneeling by Aren’s head. The chief propped herself up on her elbow, releasing Fione’s hair to handle Jin’s cock to her mouth, and Fione watched with interest as she engulfed Jin’s length between her lips, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked on him. Jin stared down at her, a little unsure. When he looked over at Fione, he smiled at her, though, and she did her best to return it with just her eyes.
Aren’s lips smacked as she let Jin’s cock out, and she smacked the bare cheek of his ass.
“I may be a while,” she told him. “Amuse yourself with the princess’ pussy.”
Fione tried to lift her head to say something, but Aren caught her by the hair again, pulling hard enough that Fione’s words were transmuted to a moan before the chief was burying her face in her pussy.
Dragon Jade Chronicle: The Warlock And The Warrior Page 40