by Lisa Daniels
“Probably not. Just watch out for the grandchildren queries.”
Kalgrin chuckled before reading more of the letter.
“I named all the children proper. Your two sisters are now Jeyna and Daisy, and the two little ones are Bodrin and Kallen. Named in honor of the wonderful drake who saved us, of course.”
Kalgrin's expression grew soft at the mention of a child being named after him. Meanwhile, Anya felt little stabs of irritation because her mother didn't say which sibling was which. The rest of the letter mainly focused on when Anya was going to come and visit, or when Kendra might be able to visit her. She wanted to know all about everything, since although the fort town was a nice enough place, there weren’t a lot of humans there, and she still struggled at times to snap out of what the plantations had done to her.
Five children, and she didn't want to lose a single one.
That was Kendra for you. Yet, for some reason, Kendra had risked all her family to get Anya away. She wanted to include that question in the next letter.
“I've never had people praise me like this,” Kalgrin said, still wearing that soft expression. He passed the finished letter reverently to Anya. “Don't tell anyone, but I feel like crying big, manly tears.”
“Manly?” Now it was Anya's turn to raise an eyebrow. She plucked at her food, finishing off the rest of the egg.
“Of course. If I plan to keep you around, you'd rather have someone reliable to support you, right?”
For some reason, this statement seemed to darken the mood. Anya wondered why her emotions had sunk. Perhaps it came because of her need for independence, instead of being constantly supported. She let it go, however. He meant well.
And he'd found that place in her heart. They spent the morning together, just talking, considering her mother. Kalgrin wanted to understand better why the children hadn't been named until now. He never asked their names when he'd saved them. Just Kendra. Anya explained, and Kalgrin reacted as expected – saddened by the reality of the serf's situation.
Back in her house, Anya aimed for another quick rest.
She planned to go with him next week to one of the plantation areas. She wanted to see if all plantations were the same, or if some had more or less cruelty than hers.
“It’s dangerous,” Kalgrin had told her when she had first asked, “but I can see you've got that determined glint in your eyes. I'll say this: If you want to get involved with infiltrating these areas, you’ll need more training. I’m sorry, but I can’t let you go to those places without some kind of basic self-defense.”
“So, teach me,” was her response.
“With pleasure,” he replied, bending to kiss her hand. He looked so proud in that moment, standing by her side. Admiring the spirit inside her body. Allowed to be a part of her life, by a choice of her own making.
She knew full well the path she now chose wouldn’t be easy. She knew Kalgrin, despite his jovial manner, his casual way of dipping himself into dangerous situations, might die any day. One mistake when he crept into an isolated lordling’s home, and she’d no longer have a lover returning home. But, well, if a bloody dragon wanted to risk his life for humans, then surely, she could do the same in return. And support him in any way possible.
A few of the former plantation slaves had chosen to settle in Tarn, enjoying the simple, vibrant life of a small town where people ended up sticking to one another like glue. Others had run away into the wilderness, not being able to handle the truth. Likely they would have died or been recaptured.
Something, Anya decided, is very wrong with everything. If what Kalgrin said was true, if humans once used magic to rule the world, then lost it... had the wyrms originally started enslaving humans out of revenge? And did they never let go of that hate, even though the humans born centuries later no longer remembered what it was they did?
She really didn't like that the wyrms might have a valid justification for what they did. No. It's not valid. It's never valid to treat people like they don't deserve to live.
But it did feel like fighting a difficult, uphill battle. One where she wasn't sure if humans could ever reach the top.
He said humans had magic, though. And it might be possible that many under our noses can use it, but never reveal it. She decided that for Kalgrin, she'd pay attention to the serfs and slaves they helped, and see if any of them had the spark of magic.
She scheduled a letter to send to her mother. Just her general thoughts and feelings, and confirming that she did get together with Kal, and worked closely with him on a number of projects. The scribe had glanced at her a few times, a little surprised to hear she came from a plantation, but otherwise kept impartial to the matter. Likely she heard all sorts of interesting things in her effort to transcribe speech.
Anya wandered through the little town of Tarn afterwards, thinking hard on where she wanted to aim her life. Perhaps she could go to the northlands in time, without fear of the wyrms. Maybe not to a fort town – she suspected life in those to be uniform, with everyone having their set routines and cautions in place.
She settled at the inn once more and saw Seon, strangely morose, taking her time cleaning out the insides of an already glistening jar.
“What's wrong, Seon?” Anya ventured over to the bar counter, and sat with her arms folded as Seon continued polishing the glass.
“Oh, nothing.” She gave a wry smile when Anya appeared less than impressed with her answer. “Okay. It's something. I'm just a little worried because I've been seeing more of a wyrm presence in the area lately.”
“Really?” Anya had only seen a few in the whole time living here.
“Yes. You just don't get wyrms here, you know? But for some reason, they're insisting on regular patrols through the streets. Drakes and humans might hiss at them, but we can't legally stop the idea of community protection from the city. But it seems like they're looking for something.”
A chill went through Anya's heart. Are they chasing me? Kalgrin? The feeling lingered, before Seon said, “Don't worry. I don't think it's anything to do with you or Kalgrin. That happened far away in some little rural place nobody cares about. They'll likely assume the slaves revolted. So don't worry about that.”
Anya deflated slightly. “Sorry. I keep thinking... having nightmares that they're still coming after me.”
“I suspected as much. No. I don't know what they want. Guess we'll just have to wait and see.”
The way Seon kept polishing that glass, though, told Anya that maybe she did have an idea of what they wanted, but didn't plan to tell Anya. Perhaps in time, with some more trust.
“So,” Seon said, “did you do the thing with Kal yet? I'm waiting.”
Anya blushed brighter than a ruby. “Uh... yes? We did the thing.”
The barmaid cackled in delight, now finally putting that glass away. “Okay, this I have to hear. How did you get around to it?”
“We just... did. I turned up at his door, dressed in a way so he saw a hint of what I looked like under the clothes... and I guess we're a couple now.”
“Good. You two make a good one. He's a good man. Drake. Whatever. You have enough spine in you to not let yourself be completely walked over. And you're going back to places that you have every right to not even want to touch, ever again. I admire you. Just keep at it, okay?” Seon gave Anya a pat on the back, and the two women shared a smile.
She returned back to Kalgrin's house later in the evening, giving a small knock, hoping he'd be in. When he answered, she stumbled into his arms and planted her lips upon his.
“Mmf,” Kalgrin said, gray eyes amused. Anya removed her lips from caressing his. “I could get used to that. I'll feed you if you want, just don't expect anything more than tomato soup.”
Anya smiled. “That will be perfect.”
“Obviously. I'm a perfect guy. Well, since you're here, I don't have to knock on your door about it. Fancy coming to see my parents tomorrow?”
“Uh...” Anya blinked
rapidly. “Is that necessary?”
“They don't bite. My mother, I bet, would love to see you. She sent me a letter a few days back, asking when I'd be coming over, asking if any nice ladies had wandered into my life. Bet she'll love to hear how we met.”
Anya laughed, though she ran a hand nervously through her brown hair. Kalgrin's parents wouldn't be like human ones in the plantations. Likely they gave him a wonderful upbringing, a balanced one without him needing to work before he became the right age to do so. “Sure. But I admit I'm kind of terrified they won't like me.” Or me them.
“I don't mind. I want to introduce you to them eventually. It can be tomorrow, or it can be a little longer if you're uncomfortable.”
She grasped his hand with her own. Steeling her stomach. This is Kal. If he turned out like this, his parents aren't likely to be monsters. “I'll do it. Can't be scarier than running from a wyrm, right?”
He grinned before ruffling her hair and seizing her in another kiss. During the kiss, Anya forgot how to breathe. He looped his arms around her waist and pulled her up with him until her feet left the ground.
“Hey,” she gasped, the sound vibrating on Kalgrin's lips. “Put me down.”
In response, Kalgrin lifted her higher, pretending not to hear. She flailed her legs and he grinned, holding her at arm's length before him.
“Look at you. Small thing.”
“I'm not that small,” Anya grumbled. She wasn't – she hit about average height with other women. Kalgrin wasn't even that tall, either. He just wanted to show off his strength. Anya punched the air ineffectually.
“Oh, what fun we’ll have together…” Kalgrin purred, giving her a rather sultry gaze, gray eyes darkening in lust.
Anya twitched a smirk of her own.
That seemed to be the trigger, for Kalgrin hugged her close and dashed towards the bedroom, the tomato soup apparently forgotten. Clothes found their way to the floor fast, and their naked bodies entwined with one another as they lost their minds to the moment.
Anya wanted so much more of this. Her body had a lot of catching up to do, sure, but now that she knew for certain that Kalgrin desired her, and she desired him back, she needed to make up for lost time.
She arched her body, shivering as he glided into her, his length hitting her sweet spot, over and over. She gasped and moaned, and his hands seemed to be everywhere. Touching her cheeks, neck, breasts, hot and leaving a ghostly trail in her mind. She imagined all her skin that had been touched by his hands to glow a different color.
His mouth grasped her neck, licking and sucking hard, until a dull throb spread across it, next to where her pulse beat madly. Marking her. Those gasps of pleasure kept eliciting themselves out, and she wanted him to never stop.
Not just to feel his body moving over hers, to see those eyes dark and glazed, to see that smile upon his face or to hear those soft grunts of pleasure. She wanted him to never stop loving her.
Maybe a tall order, but she clutched him as if he were a life raft. In a way, he was. The one who pulled her out of that dark sea, before it swallowed her below water and snaked into her lungs.
The one who brought her the keys of freedom, allowed her siblings to be named early, and wanted her with all his heart.
The orgasm hit her hard, spreading a heated path through her veins, sinking her into bliss. Her contractions caused him to orgasm with her as well, and they lay side by side.
Yes. Anya snuggled up into him. Still not intending to eat just yet. I could get used to this...
The End
Mordred
Night Wolves – Book 1
By Lisa Daniels
Chapter One
Kiara dangled from the branch of a tree. She cursed silently as she swung in a haphazard way. The rope tightened around her right leather boot, and she kicked aimlessly with the other. The basket full of herbs tumbled to the ground and blood rushed to her face. It turned to bright embarrassment when the royal huntsman stepped out from the softly glowing undergrowth, barely concealing the laughter upon his face.
Lightweavings swirled about his face, conjured up by the enchanted necklace and gloves he wore. Kiara's own light necklace currently lay upon the ground, dulled from lack of contact with skin. The grass beneath had a reddish blue glow, a result of the ultra-violet enchanting to help it thrive. Same with the tree.
“Hello, Princess,” he said. “How's it hanging?”
“Dark take you,” Kiara spat. She attempted to reach for her leg again. She fumbled for the knot and failed miserably.
“Do you want me to help or not? Otherwise I can stand here and watch until dusknight.”
She scrabbled uselessly at the knot. “This is one of yours, isn't it, Mandorin?”
“Yup.” Mandorin seemed rather proud of this fact. “You're going to need a knife for that little baby. One I conveniently happen to have.” He produced a knife from his belt, which glimmered with a strange blue sheen. A softer kind of lightweaving compared to the necklaces, which they needed to see throughout the endless dark.
Eventually, Princess Kiara conceded, allowing Mandorin to help cut her down. “You know,” he said, “I was told by your father to come and find you. Again. You do like running out, right before those important meetings, don't you?” He helped her down, and she picked up the glow-necklace, which instantly started radiating that familiar, comforting white light. Some people preferred softer hues, like yellow or orange. Others preferred garish colors, such as green or blood red. She favored the simple, clean white pulsing, since it didn't distort her view of the objects she saw, or of the clothes she wore, since she liked to walk around with a little color.
Most people opted for blacks and browns. She retrieved her basket, and placed some of the mushrooms back in it. “Of course. I hate sitting in for all that dreary political mumbling. Save it for my two older sisters. They seem to enjoy it a lot more than me.” Kiara's mouth scrunched up slightly, thinking of Bethany and Violet. Both took to all those boring throne meetings and discussions with tithe-lords with relish. Violet with her husband from the upper reaches of the city—a wealthy merchant with connections all across the world. And Bethany, still searching for an appropriate husband, all to make a better deal for their kingdom.
To help them survive against those which lingered in the absolute black of endless night.
Areas not yet enchanted by lightweavings. Places where the plants died or took on wasted, corrupted forms, fed by alien magic, leaving hostile wastelands. Places where former human cities crumbled, with nothing remaining but dust and worn-down buildings. She paced behind Mandorin now, leaving the Forest of Light and moving instead through the royal gardens, with each plant enchanted to show its true color in the darkness.
Her tutors told her that without the lightweavers, almost all life would have become extinct. Without the sun, which they described as a big ball in the sky, capable of turning the entire land bright, there was no food for the plants, vitamins for the humans and other races, and certainly no way for them to cope otherwise.
Thankfully, the weavers had managed to harness a little of the sun's power for themselves. Enough to give the plants what they needed. Enough for humans to cope.
She barely could imagine such a thing. Enough light to turn back the dark? Impossible. Even their talk of a sun sounded like some long ago dream. Something best consigned to the myths of eras past.
Green light swirled about her boots as she stepped through the grass. Her own personal light danced around her, illuminating her dark strands of hair, and the red, warm and long-sleeved dress that protected her from the worst of the cold. Along with the cloak, of course. She grinned to herself, hands running through some of the wispy colors of the flowers, before they reached the castle entrance. Inside, more light covered the walls, imitating torches, giving off real heat.
“Does Father want me to sit in one of those awful meetings again?” Kiara cracked her knuckles, basket tilting in her arm. She wanted instead to
do something more exciting. Hijack a horse-drawn carriage, maybe. Fashion lightweavings into little ghost rats to scare the kitchen staff, or go on a trip with one of the royal huntsmen. Maybe she could ask Mandorin about it. He always had a soft spot for her.
If she'd bothered to sit through the lessons of heat transference, she might know how to combine heat with her lightweavings, and pretend to set people on fire. I should really get around to that at some point.
“I'm not sure, Princess,” Mandorin admitted, growly voice carrying across the short distance, over the sound of clumping boots. “But you can guess he was rather irritated at having to rein you in again.”
“He and Mother are always like that,” Kiara said. “I don't know how they can stand such boring things.”
“You don't seem to stand much for anything at all, if you don't mind me saying. Your parents are lucky to see you in a lesson past an hour.”
“They're boring.” Kiara's eyes traced a painting, before she took one of the mushrooms, examining it, and popping it into her mouth.
“You're easily distracted, it seems.”
“Wouldn't you be? Who wants to sit around and listen to people explain things when you don't care about it? Who wants to sit down and be forced to do nothing?” A small surge of envy went through Kiara. Her sisters were always so patient. She didn't know how they managed staying so perfectly still in a chair. She needed to move something, anything, when she sat down. A leg. A finger. The pencil in her hand. To fidget with her necklace. She loathed being confined to a spot not of her choosing for too long.
Why can't you just be normal? She heard that a lot. Ladies were supposed to be patient and calm. Keep their emotions under wraps. Pay attention to people around them and never bother a man unless he spoke to them first. Etiquette that only worked for higher society, since she saw people in the taverns speaking to each other just fine.
It was true she got distracted a lot. She needed to grit her teeth and focus hard to make sure her wandering brain didn't flit off with yet another random object of interest. Though sometimes, certain subjects were so interesting, she could sit and listen to them all daynight. And that was an impressive achievement on her part.