The Academy Volume One

by Maxine Mansfield

  Then he thrust forward…again.

  ****

  Lizbeth sighed with contentment as she nibbled the last morsel of a piece of toast before pushing the tray away. She snuggled once more beneath the warmth of the thick coverlet on Adan’s bed and smiled. Outside, the sun shone brightly and the day had long ago started, but she didn’t care. There were no classes today, no gnome parties to attend, not even any unfinished studies to worry about, and after the wondrous lovemaking session with Adan a little while ago, she needed a day of rest.

  Lizbeth giggled to herself. Her body completely relaxed, lethargic, and heavy. She smiled, knowing it would require more energy than she had left to raise her hand once more. Yet, at the same time, certain nerve endings still zinged with excitement.

  Her nipples puckered and hardened as they rubbed against the thin linen of the shirt she’d borrowed from Adan, and her center still hummed with a steady rhythm matching her heartbeat. Even though it was now more than a turn of the hourglass since he’d ordered her breakfast in bed and then promptly fallen back to sleep, she could still feel his presence against her skin.

  Adan. She shook her head and grinned at his sleeping form. Who would’ve ever guessed such a big powerful brute could be such a wonderful lover? Lizbeth wrapped her arms about herself and laughed. The man she’d made love to this morning had been much different than the one of her wedding night. Not that making love with him on their wedding night hadn’t been an eye-opening experience, for it had. But that night had been more of a getting-to-know-each-other kind of lovemaking. Even then, Lizbeth could tell he’d been holding back, being gentle, gauging her reactions.

  She wouldn’t describe him as gentle today. Not that he’d inflicted pain upon her person, for he hadn’t, but his forceful thrusts certainly had been anything but gentle, and his strong grip had possibly left a bruise or two. And then there had been his lips, they’d been demanding, and at times punishing. Her blood still boiled with the memory of it. Making love with a lust-mad Adan Hammerstrike had been much like a sparring match with both of them coming out as the winner. When the man told her he meant to ravish her, he hadn’t been kidding.

  Not that she minded. On the contrary, Lizbeth was no delicate little flower. Though only half barbarian by birth, she knew herself to be truly barbarian at heart, and just like her barbarian ancestors, she could give as well as she got.

  She licked her swollen, well-kissed, lips and marveled that she could still taste him upon them. A thought occurred to her, and no longer was it a kiss she tasted. It was the rise of bile.

  Clouds began rolling in, and Lizbeth jump out of the bed and began pacing. Oh, God Draka, what had she done? How could she have forgotten her daily PDUP spell yet again? Once more she’d failed to say the words before they made love. Nausea threatened, and she swallowed hard.

  There was still time, wasn’t there, there had to be? What if she said it now? Would it work? Quickly, she mumbled the words she’d learned long before she’d ever had need of them. “Protect my body, protect my soul. Let not the specter of disease be bold. Protect my body, protect my soul. Let not the spirit of a babe take hold.”

  Lizbeth sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. Not wishing to wake her slumbering husband. Outside, the clouds darkened and rain began to fall. What was she going to do if she really were with child? How would she explain to Adan how careless she’d been?

  A cold shiver ran the length of her spine, and Lizbeth pulled the coverlet around her shoulders and took deep breaths. She didn’t have to panic yet. There was still the possibility she was worrying over nothing. There were more than a dozen rotations of the sun left before the end of the second moon phase, and her cycle wouldn’t really be overdue until then.

  Lizbeth’s hands went to her flat stomach of their own volition. With all the excitement of the first week of classes, she’d managed to dismiss the possibility of pregnancy and put it from her mind. She certainly couldn’t do that anymore.

  Hers had always been a second moon phase cycle. A single tear slowly made a path down her cheek as she remembered her very first cycle of the moons. She’d hoped to be a first moon phase like her mother or a third moon phase like her favorite sister-in-law, but it wasn’t to be.

  First moon women were known for their extraordinary beauty, and third moon females for their quick minds. Second moon women were the most common, and for the most part, ordinary.

  Even though she’d ended up being a second moon phase female, her eleven-year-old self had been more excited than anything as she’d rushed headlong into her mother’s room to tell her the news. That was the same day her parents’ illness had begun, and before Lizbeth’s first cycle had ended, both her parents were dead.

  Her tears fell in rhythm with the raindrops, and a coldness matching the winds blowing outside the tower room filled her soul. Lizbeth shuddered, and hugged the coverlet closer. She wasn’t even sure why she was crying. It had been years since she’d come to terms with her parents’ deaths, and even though she missed them dearly, she rarely cried for them anymore. So then, were the tears because she was afraid she was with child, or were they because she feared telling Adan and being forced out of school and back to his mother’s castle? Or perhaps a combination of both?

  Something else suddenly occurred to her, and Lizbeth shook her head wondering why she hadn’t thought of it earlier. The heaviness in her heart lifted, and outside the clouds cleared away as streaks of sunshine decorated the walls of the tower room. There was more than a good possibility she’d been worrying for no reason at all.

  How many times had she heard of women who’d been through stressful situations or life-altering changes, skipping an entire moon cycle or flipping to a completely different one? That must be what was happening to her. It made perfect sense.

  In the space of a single cycle of the moon, she’d left the only home she’d ever known, gotten married, started enchanter classes at the Academy, and been exposed to some truly traumatic sights and sounds.

  That would be enough to make any woman skip a cycle. It was certainly enough to shift her cycles to the third moon. Lizbeth twirled around and around the room. Her wish had come true, and she was becoming a third moon cycle female like she’d always wanted. After all, she had been using her mind a vast amount lately.

  Another thought occurred to Lizbeth, and she felt like singing. She didn’t have a thing to worry about. All was well with her and Adan, and she couldn’t be with child. By now, being a third moon cycle female, she wouldn’t have even ovulated yet. Life was good, wasn’t it?

  Lizbeth glanced over at her still sleeping husband and frowned. If only she could trust herself to remember to say her PDUP spell daily. Until then, one thing was for certain, if she wanted to make sure it was only her mind doing the further expanding and not her mid-section, she’d have to find some way to avoid being alone with Adan.

  Dressing quickly, Lizbeth headed back to the safety of her dorm.

  ****

  Adan paced back and forth between the door and the far wall of Sarco’s office and threw up his hands as he turned toward his sister and her husband. “I give up. I’m completely out of ideas.” He closed his eyes and hung his head. “I honestly thought that after the night we shared Lizbeth would’ve stayed with me, but she didn’t. She purposely waited until I fell asleep and snuck back to her VoT of a dormitory room. What am I supposed to do now?”

  Lark sighed. “So, what did you do this time? Did you go all bossy barbarian on her? Or perhaps compare her to mother again? You must have done something. Lizbeth is one of the most reasonable women I know and she wouldn’t have left without a good reason.”

  “Do wrong? Me!” Adan roared. “Why would you automatically assume I’m in the wrong? Lizbeth’s the one with something to hide, something that keeps her running away from me. I can feel it.”

  Lark glared at him, and even though Adan knew he had no reason to, he felt guilty. He crossed his heart. “I swear, sis, it wasn’t
me this time. I was so sweet to her after the gnome party, I’m surprised she didn’t go into a diabetic coma on the spot.”

  Lark’s mouth softened, and she smiled. “I have to admit. You can be charming when you want to be.”

  Adan shook his head. “Thanks, but that doesn’t help me figure out how to fix this mess.”

  “Just keep on romancing her, Adan,” Sarco said. “Give her time and presents and lots of love every chance you get. Trust me, she’ll come around. And if she doesn’t, then go all barbarian on her ass and show her who’s boss.”

  Lark punched Sarco right in the breadbasket, and the elf bent double. For the first time since Adan had awoken to find Lizbeth missing from his room, he smiled.

  Chapter Eleven

  There was no denying it, Lizbeth was in love. Completely, totally, hopelessly in love. She didn’t shout it from the rooftops, and she didn’t sing it to the masses. She hadn’t dared utter the words out loud yet for fear of jinxing it, but she knew to the very depths of her soul she was definitely head over heartstrings, irrevocably, mindlessly in love with her husband.

  Not a single day had passed since the night of the gnome party that Adan hadn’t met her for their agreed-upon dates at their agreed-upon times. He’d held her tenderly in his arms, whispered sweet words of his desire for her in her ears, and, on those days when she’d actually remembered to say her PDUP spell, he’d made passionate love to her until the wee hours of the morning.

  And that had just been the nights. Their days had been filled with laughter, joy, and playful banter, for the most part, any way. That is, until their conversations in the evenings turned to magic. On the subject of her obsessive need to learn magic, they would probably never agree. As a matter of fact, when the word magic came up at all, the fight was on. But no matter how late into the evening they might bicker and disagree, when the sun rose, they began anew.

  Each morning for the past seven weeks, she’d been greeted with some small token of his affection on her pillow in her dorm room. How he had managed to place it there, she’d never asked, though she suspected Laycee was in on it. She enjoyed the mystery of it, the romance.

  One day a beautiful, rare, yellow flower tickled her nose while the next morning, yards of assorted, rich fabrics—always yellow—covered her from head to toe. Then there had been the necklace with the small heart-shaped locket of yellow gold dangling from its golden chain, and the yellow silk and lace thongs that made her blush.

  Lizbeth giggled. She didn’t have the heart to tell Adan yellow wasn’t really her favorite color, and that she in fact preferred shades of blue most of the time. If the man wanted to give her yellow things for the rest of her life, that was fine with her.

  She grimaced, wishing that not telling Adan yellow wasn’t really her favorite color wasn’t the only thing she was keeping hidden from him.

  Outside clouds began obscuring the sun and thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance. The warmth of a hand upon her arm, and the sound of Lark’s voice close by startled Lizbeth. “Are you all right?”

  She plastered a smile on her face and looked around the lunch table at Briar and Laycee. “Of course, I am.” Heat crept up her cheeks. “I think I’m just a little tired today. Now, what were you saying?”

  Laycee cackled. “I’d be tired too if I had a big ole barbarian betwixt my legs every night. Didn’t I tell ya my Adan could do a right proper job of doing ya?”

  Lizbeth continued to simply smile. She had no idea what to say to the gnome. Luckily, Lark saved her from having to respond.

  “We were discussing the upcoming end of the semester finals and the beginning of the Yulemass celebrations. Have you and Adan made any plans yet? I’m pretty sure Sarco and I are attending the yearly ball. Being the Wizard instructor and heir to the elf lordship, it’s kind of expected of him.”

  Briar chimed in. “I can’t wait. Uthiel will be here by then, and I’ve been working on my dress every spare moment I get. It seems like an eternity instead of just eight weeks since I’ve been with my husband, and I want to make sure his eyes pop right out of his head when he sees me in my gown.”

  Lizbeth relaxed a little. “Adan did mention the Yulemass ball, and yes, we plan to attend. I have this beautiful material he gave me, and I would love to make something out of it, but I’m afraid sewing was something I never had the patience for. Perhaps I still have time to hire a seamstress.”

  She started to pop another piece of Alarian mountain pheasant in her mouth when Laycee’s next words stopped her midair.

  “If you’re gonna hire someone ta make ya a dress, ya better slow down on the eating, lass. Looks like you’ve put on a little weight ta me. Even your boobies look ta be getting bigger. But then love does do that ta ya. Makes ya fat and happy. Look at me and Leeky. Why the buttons are near ta popping on almost everything we own.”

  Outside lightning flashed across the sky and fat drops of rain began pelting the cobblestones of the bailey.

  Lizbeth wanted to crawl under the table and hide. She wanted to disappear. She had gained a little weight, her middle was slightly thicker, her tunic a tad tighter, and she couldn’t help but notice her breasts were indeed becoming larger by the day, a fact Adan was very pleased about.

  What she wasn’t prepared to do, however, was explain why to these woman. Not only had the second moon phase come and gone, but so had the third, and still no cycle. There was no way she could deny it any longer. She was, without a doubt, with child.

  Chatter continued on all around her. She even registered the fact all three women volunteered to help make her dress, and she gathered her wits long enough to nod in agreement, but for the most part, Lizbeth once more became lost in her own thoughts.

  How was she going to tell him? She knew Adan Hammerstrike well enough now to know he would be totally thrilled with the news. She also had no doubt when he learned of the child, he would try and demand she return to his castle home where she and their unborn child would be surrounded by guards constantly to ensure their safety. They would also be trapped in the presence of the queen. Lizbeth shuddered.

  One other thing she knew without a doubt about her husband, she had to tell him about the baby before anyone else found out. Though Adan was a kind man and hadn’t even demanded reasons why she still resided in the dormitory instead of his rooms, he was still a very proud barbarian and he would consider it a disloyalty not to be told first. Matter of fact, she doubted he would easily forgive such a transgression.

  It wasn’t as if she meant to keep the news from him much longer that he would become a father, and she had no intentions of it. She simply wanted to wait a little while. Just until after her class finals at the end of the week were over, through Yulemass, and into the beginning of the new semester. Then, she’d gladly tell Adan the news and together they’d work out the details of whether she would stay with him at the Academy and finish out the year or go to his castle in Alaria.

  Until her finals were over and done with, however, and the new semester was well under way, any talk of a child was out of the question.

  Though going slower than she would’ve liked, she had learned so much. Already she could imbue most weapons with frost or fire at will, and she could easily turn simple baubles into any number of different charms. It wasn’t enough though. She still couldn’t make the enchantments of protection work, no matter how many hours she tried. She needed more time; she needed part of another semester at least. Lizbeth closed her eyes and unconsciously stroked her still mostly flat belly. Bad little girls lose their air.

  Outside the wind howled.

  The sound of Briar’s voice rising an octave above the others broke through Lizbeth’s thoughts. “This weather sure is strange lately, don’t you think? One minute the sun’s shining brightly, and the next it’s a full-blown storm. It kind of reminds me of last year when you were having all that trouble with your mother and Sarco and that quest. Remember, Lark?”

  Her sister-in-law’s sigh was so loud
it could’ve been heard all the way across the room. “You sound just like my brother sometimes, Briar. Not every storm is caused by a Spiritmaster you know, and certainly not by this one. Sometimes a storm is simply a storm.”

  Briar almost looked defensive. “I wasn’t trying to imply it was you behind the strange weather. Perhaps there’s another Spiritmaster around who’s upset about something, and you simply aren’t aware of their being here.”

  Lark shook her head. “That’s not likely. Though many Spiritmasters are secretive about their identity because some people fear their power, we’re almost always aware of each other. It’s a weird mental bond thing. I have no doubt, if there were another anywhere in the area, I’d sense it, and I don’t sense anythin—”

  Suddenly, Lark turned toward Lizbeth, and their eyes locked. Lizbeth got the strangest sensation her husband’s sister was looking straight through her. No, not through her, inside her, searching, probing every inch of her being. It wasn’t painful or even unpleasant. It was simply strange. What was even more difficult to understand was how she could hear Lark’s voice so loud and clear when her sister-in-law wasn’t even moving her lips.

  “It’s you! No, not you precisely.” Lark shook her head.

  Lizbeth glanced around the table to see Briar and Laycee’s reaction. The two women’s discussion had turned back to the Yulemass ball, and they didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary.

  Concentrating hard, Lizbeth tried to communicate back with Lark mentally. “What’s me? It’s not me. It can’t be. I’m not a Spiritmaster. Perhaps you’re sensing my new enchanter abilities?”

  Lark stared at her so intently it became uncomfortable. “No, that’s not it.”

  Warmth flowed through Lizbeth’s mind as her husband’s sister graced her with a beautiful smile. “When were you and Adan going to tell me about my nephew?”

  It was Lizbeth’s turn to startle. “It’s a boy?”

  Suddenly realizing her words had been spoken out loud, her gaze quickly shifted to Briar and Laycee who were now staring at her as if she’d grown two heads. Nervously, she fingered the golden locket around her neck. The shout of Lark’s voice in her head brought her attention back to her sister-in-law.