The clearing of a throat brought Sarco back to attention. The princess now stood directly in front of him and the assistant administrator, Mr. Ohmni, who was making introductions.
“Princess Aryanna Zahanna Clemencia Hammerstrike, might I present Sir Sarco-Keltoris Titus Sunwalker, heir to the Lordship of Landis and Master Wizard Instructor Extraordinaire.”
Sarco bowed as the princess curtsied.
She held out a hand, and Sarco graciously took it into his own and imparted a light kiss upon her wrist. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Princess Aryanna.”
His words were meant for the princess, but his gaze strayed to the woman standing silent behind her.
Princess Aryanna cleared her throat. “It’s my pleasure to finally meet you, sir. Please call me Ary. All my friends do.”
She turned toward her two female companions. “May I present my youngest sister, Princess Larksong, and our governess, Miss Laycee Titwilder?”
Sarco caught himself smiling even though he wasn’t sure he shouldn’t still be angry. Guilt did away with the last vestiges of irritation. After all, he’d broken the rules of Carnalval himself when he gazed upon her face while she slept. No matter her reason, could he fault her for knowing who he was?
Larksong. How pretty. It fit her. Now he had a name to go with the face that haunted his every waking moment and the dreams that tortured his soul nightly. He and Wonderful stared at each other for a few moments before Sarco realized he hadn’t responded to the princess’s introductions. Heat flooded his face. “Umm, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He nodded at the governess and at Larksong, where his gaze lingered.
He knew she hadn’t uttered a word out loud, because he couldn’t force his gaze from hers, but Sarco felt—heard—her voice ring clearly in his mind.
“It’s Lark. Just Lark. And it’s nice to officially meet you, too.”
****
Lark tossed and turned but sleep eluded her. With a sigh, she settled for staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows of her room. The three moons of Albrath, all in different phases, shone brightly in a star-filled sky.
What was wrong with her? She should be sound asleep. She was exhausted after unpacking not only her own but all of Ary’s trunks. It certainly wasn’t because the room or the bed was uncomfortable. This was not a student dormitory. This was a suite, and Lark had a room all to herself.
Nervous energy made her restless. Tomorrow, the agreed-upon semester before the actual engagement would begin. Tomorrow, both she and Ary would start classes. And tomorrow, she would be forced to face Sarco.
Sarco. What was she going to do about Sarco? Tears clouded her eyes as Grandmother Ava’s words came back to haunt her. “Be truthful and honest in all things, child, for only in a truthful heart does real magic abide.”
Well, she hadn’t been the least bit truthful with her sister concerning Sarco, and now she found herself in a serious dilemma. Ary was insisting Lark take the Elemental Wizard class—taught by Sarco—in her place.
Their conversation earlier in the evening played over in Lark’s mind.
“So, what do you think of my future husband, Lark?”
Lark couldn’t remember if it had been the tone of Ary’s voice or her flippant attitude concerning Sarco that first angered her and then made her feel the need to defend him. “I think you’re a lucky woman. He’s tall, he’s handsome, well educated, and has a nice smile. And did you notice his hands? They’re huge and so strong looking.”
Heat crept up Lark’s neck and warmed her cheeks as she remembered the feel and texture of those hands touching her, stroking her.
Ary simply shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve seen better. His brother Cyrrick is certainly more handsome, in my opinion.”
For the first time in her life, Lark wanted to violently shake her big sister.
“Cyrrick? You think Cyrrick is better looking than Sarco? He isn’t nearly as tall. They might look remarkably alike, but Cyrrick’s hair isn’t as black as Sarco’s and his eyes don’t have those lovely streaks of gold. You just like Cyrrick better because he’s a diplomat and you understand diplomacy. Sarco is a wizard, for God Draka’s sake. How on Albrath can you not be attracted to the core of your very bones by that fact alone, if nothing else?”
Ary smiled at her, that sly smile she always got when she knew she was going to get her way. Lark should have seen it coming, but when Ary spoke, her words were the last ones Lark expected to hear.
“Then you take the wizard class in my place if wizards impress you so much. I have no use for that form of magic. Especially first thing in the morning, five days a week. Instead, I do believe I shall add another class on magical plants and herbs, or possibly music. Do make my apologies to Sarco, won’t you?”
Aryanna walked over and placed a small, worn leather book in Lark’s hand. “Oh, and give this to him from me. I found it in Father’s study and, knowing Sarco to be a scholar, thought perhaps he might enjoy it as a pre-engagement gift. I can’t even tell you what it’s about. Ancient languages bore me.”
Lark’s jaw dropped open, and she snapped it shut as her fingers clenched the small tome. “You can’t be serious? The whole purpose in coming to the Academy was to show the future leader of Landis your interest in his lifestyle and work. Everyone in his family is a wizard, remember? I can’t be a substitute for you, Ary.”
The princess just continued smiling. “Cyrrick isn’t a wizard, and he’s certainly an important part of his family. If I’m not good enough for the snooty wizard just as I am, then I simply won’t marry him. As far as I’m concerned, it’s settled. You’ll take Sarco’s boring old wizard class in my place, and I’ll take other subjects that interest me. That way we both get what we want.”
Aryanna then turned on her heel and walked from the room.
That had been hours ago.
Lark had no doubt Ary slept peacefully, without a care in the world, confident Lark would handle this matter as she did most things. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right. What was she going to do? It wasn’t as if Sarco wasn’t going to notice the switch. And her parents…if this courtship and engagement didn’t go smoothly, there was no doubt she would be blamed. But one thing was evident. If she didn’t get to sleep soon, she wouldn’t be fit to face Sarco, or anyone for that matter, in the morning.
Sarco. She sighed and the vision of his handsome face filled her mind. Where was he right now? Was he slumbering, warm and cozy in his bed? Was he sleeping alone this night?
Lark’s throat tightened at the thought of Sarco with another woman, any other woman, even Ary—especially Ary—and she clamped a hand over her mouth to prevent the cry that would have escaped. He wasn’t meant for her and never would be. He belonged to Aryanna.
Her mind wouldn’t listen to reason, though, and she desperately longed for him anyway, for a touch, a taste, a moment. The physical need for him grew strong, and she fought it as long as she could. Knowing she must find a way to resist going to him or bringing him to her, Lark looked toward the wooden chest at the side of her bed.
Opening the chest’s top drawer, she withdrew one of her favorite toys. It was a small, smooth, golden orb. She clicked on the switch, and the soft hum of the vibrations brought a tiny smile of promised relief to her lips. Soothe my raging fire so I can sleep was her only thought as she touched the pulsating orb lightly to her clit and held it in place.
Closing her eyes, Lark sought the object of her desires. Sarco, where are you?
In her mind, she saw the Academy’s outer courtyard and followed the cobblestone paths as they meandered throughout the grounds. Feeling drawn to a particular window, Lark’s heart leapt at the sight of a dark head resting upon a pillow. It was Sarco. Her ability had found him.
Applying a little more pressure against her clit with the golden vibrating orb, she delved wantonly into his mind.
“Sarco, make love with me. I need you, please.”
His essence came off the bed with hers, and out th
e window they flew. High into the sky they soared until, with gentleness, he laid her upon a cloud. A soft breeze blew, stars twinkled, and birds of the night sang a lilting melody.
Nothing separated them, not clothes, not a hair, not even a breath, and Lark gloried in the sight and feel of Sarco’s magnificent bronzed body against hers. Strong arms enveloped her. Arms honed by hours of casting spells with sheer will and concentration.
His lips found hers as they teased, tasted, and tormented with ease. Hands roamed freely as his fingers stroked to attention first one taut nipple then another. His cock was heavy against her belly, and Lark longed to have its length deep within her.
“Please, now,” she begged into the silence of the night.
Sarco’s chuckle tickled her ear, and goose bumps pimpled her flesh. “Oh, not yet, Wonderful. Not yet.”
In her mind, his tongue took the place of the small orb. Over and over, he lavished her pussy with swift, confident strokes. But he didn’t stop there. His tongue tantalized one thigh, traversed her tummy, and delved into the recesses of her belly button, then down the other thigh, before suckling her clit once more. His tongue probed deep within her, mimicking the action of his glorious cock she remembered so well.
Lark squirmed, moaned, begged for release, and at the same time, pleaded with him to never stop. He brought her numerous times to the brink, then backed away at the last possible moment.
When Lark knew she would surely die if she didn’t find release soon, he took pity on her and, with a swift plunge, filled her pussy with his hard, vital cock. He rode her for long minutes, stroke after confident stroke hitting its mark. She locked her legs about his hips and held onto his arms. They were her life rafts, and she was lost at sea.
Finally, with one last plunge and a roar of satisfaction, Sarco filled her with his hot seed. Lark cried out his name as spasms of rippling pleasure coursed through her soul.
With a smile on her face and a sigh on her lips, Lark clicked off the toy and slept.
****
Sarco came awake with a start. He couldn’t remember any other time a dream had seemed so real. He could smell her on his skin, feel the heat of her pussy still surrounding his cock, and taste her upon his lips.
Lark. The woman had bewitched him.
His hand went to his still partially erect member and came away with a surprise. Flipping back the cover, he stared at himself in disbelief. A hot blush crept up Sarco’s neck in the darkness of the room. The last time he’d experienced this kind of lack of self-control had been when he was a young lad. Certainly not anytime in the past ten years. What was this woman doing to him?
Sarco rose and headed for the shower. He thought at first perhaps cold water would cure what ailed him. Looking at the aftermath and mess of his all-too-real dream, he chuckled. It was a little late for a cold shower to take care of this problem. This was definitely a job for hot.
Chapter Five
If ever a man had the right to demand an explanation, Sarco Sunwalker was certainly that man. The problem was, Lark couldn’t think of even one intelligent reason she was willing to give him.
Not for why she’d known who he was at Carnalval.
Not for how she’d gotten into his mind yesterday and begged him not to say a word.
Not for any of it.
After all, spiritmasters were still feared in many places. Ignorance died hard. And she certainly had no reasonable excuse for why she stood before him now, a full turn of the hourglass before the start of class, instead of the woman he’d been expecting to see today.
And then there was the fact that he glared at her as if she were the last person on Albrath he ever wanted to lay eyes on again. Being hauled into his office and the door slammed before anyone roaming the halls had a chance to see her had been embarrassing enough without being subjected to what could only be called an interrogation.
The soft low growl of his voice startled her, and Lark audibly gulped.
“Miss Hammerstrike—Lark—not that it isn’t a pleasant surprise to see you this morning, but it was your sister I expected to come to my office and officially register for my class, not you. Care to tell me why you’re here and she isn’t?”
Lark opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Sarco held up a hand.
“Before you give me some lame excuse that is just going to waste my time and make me angry, let us get one thing perfectly straight. This is a class, my class, and I am the instructor. Not your friend, not someone you or your sister can manipulate to suit the whims of a princess. Do you understand me?”
Lark nodded as the sound of thunder rumbled in the distance. She held out the small leather volume her sister had given her to give to him. He took it, glanced at it, and dropped it on his desk.
“A gift from my sister.” Lark fidgeted. “Ary, umm, that is, Princess Aryanna sends her apology. She…umm, well, elemental magic isn’t a strong point with Ary. Not that she isn’t talented, because she certainly is, just not when it comes to wizard stuff.” Lark twisted her hands together. “The princess felt I would get more from this class than she would, so she sent me in her place.”
Sarco stared at her so long, the silence grew uncomfortable. Lark gently probed his mind, curious as to how angry he truly was.
“I wonder if she tastes as good this morning as she did last night in my dream?”
Lark gasped and retreated from Sarco’s mind. She knew she’d yanked him into her fantasy the night before, but she hadn’t realized he was aware of it. Though she’d practiced for years the skill of peeking into other people’s heads without their knowledge, never before had she allowed someone else into her own, and certainly not into something as private as a sexual fantasy.
At least Sarco didn’t seem to be aware it had been mind control and not really a dream.
Heat rushed up her neck and settled on her cheeks. Lark squirmed, wanting to escape his regard.
“You can’t take her place, Lark. You aren’t her.” He took a deep breath and continued, “I don’t believe it would be a good idea for the two of us to spend much time together. I’m a man of honor and duty, but even I have my limits. I think it would be best if you didn’t take my class. After all, we do have a…history.”
Fighting back a mist of tears, Lark probed his mind once more and saw herself as Sarco did, gloriously naked, with passion gleaming on her face. She was beautiful and happy. Nothing like the way she looked when her refection stared back at her from the mirror. The woman in Sarco’s mind was…amazing.
How could she turn and simply walk away from a man who saw her like that? Even though she knew she should, she couldn’t. If she gave into Sarco’s demand and walked out of his class and out of his life, she would always regret it.
Yes, it had been foretold by prophets that he was destined to wed a barbarian princess and she him. But to VoT with the prophets—to the Valley of Torment with them! They were apparently so nearsighted that all they could see was Aryanna. After all, Ary wasn’t the only barbarian princess around. And Ary had made it painfully clear she wasn’t the least bit attracted to this man and didn’t wish to marry him. Sarco was only an unpleasent duty to her.
Even if, in the end, Ary and Sarco were forced to marry, would it truly be so wrong to grasp what little happiness she could while there was still time? And as for the prophets, they truly did belong in the Valley of Torment if they couldn’t understand that happiness here and now should be more important than ancient history.
She chewed her botton lip. Was it fair to Sarco, though, to disrupt his life this way? Was it fair to Aryanna to steal what happiness she could at her sister’s expense? Probably not.
Lark warred with herself. Yes, life would be simpler for Sarco, for Aryanna, and for everyone else involved if she left this very moment and never looked back. But her feet refused to cooperate.
Even if she had him in her life for just a short period of time, couldn’t that be enough? Wouldn’t it be worth it? It had to be. It wou
ld have to last her a lifetime.
Guilt tore at her gut as tears once more stung Lark’s eyes. She fought them back, unwilling to give into what she considered a weakness. All of her life, she’d been trying to fit in, trying to make things easier for other people at the expense of her own happiness. When was it her turn?
The old adage all is fair came to mind, and Lark squared her shoulders as she looked Sarco Sunwalker in the eye. Not this time. Duty be damned.
“Honor is important to me also, and so is my word. I gave my sister my word, you see? I promised her I would take your class in her place, and that’s what I intend to do.” She crossed her fingers behind her back. “I’m sorry if my presence here makes you…uncomfortable. You are the instructor, and I am now one of your students. You’ll simply have to deal with me as you will.”
The look on Sarco’s face was priceless. His mouth dropped open, and his eyes grew wide with disbelief. Lark almost smiled. She was pretty sure the heir to the Lordship of the elfin kingdom wasn’t used to anyone, least of all a mere student, questioning his dictates. She had to give him credit, however. It only took Sarco a moment to mask his emotions and recover.
“Well then, Lark. It is okay to call you simply Lark, isn’t it? I am normally on a first-name basis with my students. And even though we have been…intimate in the past, you will receive no special consideration.”
The word intimate was said with such clinical coldness that for a moment Lark thought perhaps she’d been wrong about the man after all. Then despair mixed with desire flashed in Sarco’s eyes and it told Lark a completely different story. He was having just as hard a time keeping his distance from her as she was from him.
“Since you insist on continuing in this situation, let me assure you, Lark. I expect you to put forth the effort it takes to learn. There are no princesses in my class, only wizards. If you can’t take the heat of a fireball, I suggest you stay as far away from me as you can get.”
Beams of bright sunlight filtered through the window. “Wonderful, Mr. Sunwalker. Trust me, I can take whatever you care to dish out. And I would expect no less from a…umm…stodgy old instructor such as yourself.”
The Academy Volume One Page 35