by Willow Sova
“I was too demanding, so consumed I was with passion, my need for you to fill me lessened my patience. I don’t understand what overtook me.”
“There’s nothing to be forgiven, Sparrow. When passions flare, propriety tends to lose its place on the coital bed. As it happens, I quite enjoyed your unbridled enthusiasm.” He kissed her forehead. A jolt after, his blood ran thin, and he felt weak. Oh no! Erynion! He must be Sparrow’s father. Now that I know of her elven half, what should I do? I can’t bring myself to tell her now. Thalion looked into her eyes, the prospect of divulging his discovery now haunting him. Should he confide to her that she was a halfling, sharing both human and elven natures?
He dared not do so now.
But when?
The outcome of his disclosure troubled him. Telling Sparrow would mean her learning the father she always knew was not her father after all. And, even worse, that her true father, Erynion, died tragically long ago. A warm, wet sting reached his eyes. The thought of telling her sorrowed him.
“Is there something wrong, Thalion?” Sparrow brushed a hand over his cheek.
“No, my love.” The elf favored her with a barely-there smile. “Just lost in thought.” Thalion reassured her with a hug and touched her lips with a tender kiss. And their exchanged whispers faded as they drifted off, slumbering in one another’s arms.
CHAPTER 8
RUE OR MINT?
She sprang up like one startled from a nightmare. “Oh my God!” The shriek ricocheted off the walls of the serene cavern.
“I haven’t even touched you, love,” he muttered, stirring from sleep.
Sparrow fisted her hair at her temples, anguishing over her epiphany. “Oh dear! What have I done?”
The elf sat up and rubbed her back. “If you wish, I’ll remind you.” His voice was sleepy yet seductive.
“I’m serious, Thalion.” The girl snapped around to face him. “I realized I neglected to take precautions before we made love. How could I be so irresponsible? I’m not ready to be with child.” She bowed her head in dismay.
He inched closer and said, “You needn’t fret, Sparrow. I’m not fertile. Not now anyway.”
“What? How can that be?” There was a hint of both doubt and hope in her eyes.
“My fertility is transient, it ebbs and flows.” Thalion draped an arm around her shoulders while entwining his other hand with hers. “It’s been dormant for some time now, so don’t worry yourself.”
“Are you certain? Is this so with all elves?”
“It’s a complicated matter. But when it rebounds, I’ll show certain symptoms. At such times, the change in my fertility is quite obvious.” Thalion did his best to evade the second question. Neither did he want to lie to Sparrow nor speak of his dragon. So he avoided mentioning his shifter’s nature, not his elven one alone, granted him an evanescent fertility. Instead, the elf spoke of how the surge of it affected him, how a prelude of calmness would overcome him, sending him into a quiet trance from which he could not be shaken, before his eyes colored over to a most brilliant violet and lazuli. And how, ultimately, he would reel with sexual volatility until those turbulent tides of passion receded, taking with it his bountiful seed.
A fertility rush, as the elves were known to call this insatiable phase amongst shifters, could last for hours, days, and sometimes weeks, and was an attribute Medlinya and Helegil took perverted amusement in teasing out of shapeshifters. Through the use of threats, force, even torture, the princesses provoked the elves to shift so they could mate with their spirited beasts and ride the mercurial waves of their sexuality, amusing themselves in overpowering their creatures and then breaking them down. On these last truths, though, Thalion remained silent. Still, the girl’s eyes grew wide as an owl’s. No doubt the revelation of his temperament during such times was enough of a shock. Even so, she did not utter a word.
“Though it may be best we take measures in the event that it returns.”
“How presumptuous of you, Thalion. Do you actually think you’ll bed me again?”
“I… I’m sorry. I thought you’d wish to do so given your pleasure was so… obvious. I… I guess I was mistaken.” A flood of pink washed over his cheeks. Sparrow glowered at him, lips pinched to stifle her mirth. “Oh, you jest.” The elf sighed with relief, following with a nervous titter. “Thank heavens. With your words, my cock nearly shrank between my thighs like a frightened turtle flinching back into its shell.”
Laughter sprang from her lungs. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to hurt your ego or spook your elfhood. Hopefully, he’ll be out and about in no time,” she replied, smiling, her fingers creeping toward his knob.
“Maybe with some palpable persuasion you can coax him to come out and play again.” He took her hand and rubbed it over his cock. The mere touch sent his sex unfurling. “Oh yes! This stallion is rearing at the stable doors, yearning to be mounted and ridden once more,” he purred with a roguish grin. Thalion pulled her on top of him and flung back on the bed, bucking like a boisterous colt. And though his antics made Sparrow laugh, he knew all too well his beast wanted another taste of her.
“Mmm, your invitation sounds very tempting.” She leaned in and draped her arms around his neck, lingering there, offering him slow kisses. “Perhaps we should search out herbs to thwart conception instead. Do you know where I’ll find rue or mint? Or, perchance, wild carrot or honeysuckle?”
“I know of something within several dragon leaps more powerful than those other plants you mentioned.” The elf scooped a buttock in each hand, gave them a healthy squeeze, and imagined taking the girl from behind again.
“And what would that be?” The gentle bounce of her breasts as she sat up twitched his cock. With the light filtering through the enchanted window above, he figured morning was surrendering to day and desired nothing less than to spend it making love with Sparrow again.
Battling his urges, he said, “Those fabulous fungi so reminiscent of the male member: Maiden’s Delight mushrooms. It’s not for their visual aspects alone they’re so prized by the elven ladies.”
“Splendid! Maybe we can pick some on our way to Saeldur’s cavern.”
“We should do so in the dark of night when their glow is more visible. The most radiant ones are the most potent, lasting a full moon cycle or more.” Thalion omitted one detail he thought best reserved for their arrival at the mushroom patch. And his impulsive nature was relishing in the element of this surprise.
“That gives me some relief. I’m not sure when my maternal instincts will be roused, but motherhood isn’t something I wish for now. You understand, don’t you?”
“Certainly, Sparrow. To be truthful, I’m quite content with having you all to myself. What better way for us to enjoy more time together and learn more about each other.”
“You’d like that?”
“Of course.” The elf sat up, grazed his fingers down her neck, and cupped a breast in each hand. One nipple he gave a light squeeze while the other he suckled, blowing on it till it peaked. Thalion looked up, smiling, savoring her soft whimpers, and said, “Besides, I prefer having exclusive suckling rights to these lovely pink ladies.”
CHAPTER 9
A LESSON ON DRAGONS
Whistling for his horse, Raina, Saeldur walked across the sunny glade, vanishing into the oaks and pines to find her. The elf left Sparrow to work on the day’s lesson after she pleaded with him for the chance to practice bewitching larger beasts. Since she was excelling with the baby dragon, Blaze, and some smaller creatures she had worked with thus far, the Spiritswayer had agreed and offered his horse as her next subject for enchantment. He always allowed Raina to roam free in the forest of Aeweniel and the grassy meadows of Gwilwileth. Given the spirits of the silver-maned, white mare and his own were so intertwined, she would always come back by way of him whistling, or his whispered wishes carried by the winds.
As she waited for Saeldur’s return, she continued her lesson with Blaze, who was now five ti
mes the size he was from the start of her lessons over a moon ago. Still honing her spiritswaying skills, she found enchanting him to fly back to her over increasing distances a taxing challenge. While Sparrow had mastered bewitchment of various creatures through their eyes, doing so solely through their minds made her question her aptitude. The once onerous trick of shooting fire from the dragon’s nostrils was no longer a chore for her; she now executed it with impressive skill. Yet she realized she had to be more mindful of where his nose was pointing before doing so.
During one lesson a fortnight ago, Sparrow almost set her mentor’s buttocks afire when he bent over to retrieve his fallen tome, The Art of Spiritswaying Beasts. Yet before fire touched skin, Thalion saw the flames hit his robe and extinguished them before any harm was done—but not without him ribbing his friend immediately thereafter.
“I guess the rumors among the elven ladies are true.” The Spiritswayer had scowled at him curiously. “Saeldur’s got a hot ass!” A grin had stretched across the young elf’s lips before he boomed into laughter.
“Very humorous! What are you, a court jester?” The Elven Master had whipped his head around to glower at the girl. “Not exactly the way to stay in my good graces,” he had admonished her while inspecting his garment for damage.
“I’m so sorry, Saeldur.” She had offered a meek smile while cringing under his dark brows. Though the memory made her chuckle now, at the time, she had dreaded the mishap for what ill could have arisen were it not for Thalion’s quick thinking.
Sparrow tried to bring her wandering mind back on course and lure Blaze toward her. She gathered he was about twenty dragon leaps away before he disappeared into the ancient oaks and pines fringing the glade. Since he had scampered off farther than she intended, she closed her eyes, focusing on enchanting him to emerge from the trees and close the distance between them.
Weeping pines rustled in the forest ahead as she listened, the monstrous thundering of feet and swooshing of wings alerting her to the approach of a creature far larger than the more diminutive Blaze. Her heart clamored in her chest, and she opened her eyes. Before her stood a magnificent beast with smooth, flaxen skin and a blue-violet iridescence that danced under the sunlight as it moved. The dragon measured at least eight times longer than Sparrow was tall, and its wings of violet, blue, and cream spanned even greater in width. A crown of three polished lapis lazuli horns, one long sandwiched by two shorter ones, adorned its head, and a trail of notches ridged along its spine and tail.
It ambled toward her and hunkered down, lowering its head before her. Scents of cinder and ash flooded her nose as its breaths whisked her hair. The dragon’s eyes were striking. Their colors lazily swirled like violet and blue smoke captured in giant glass spheres. Sparrow was mesmerized by their beauty, their hues in motion, and felt a sense of serenity watching them… a sense of something familiar.
“Thalion?” She uttered his name without thinking, and the dragon swept its smooth tongue up her neck and gazed into her eyes again. Sitting on its haunches, the beast leaned down and cocooned her within its wings. For her, there was no trepidation, only tranquility, while in the embrace of this massive creature; she sought to comprehend this feeling. Perhaps the Elvish tales from her childhood rendered her immune to fear this magical world with all its beasts. Maybe the spirit of Aeweniel was always within Sparrow, and with it, an acceptance of all her mythical creatures. Perhaps, for once in her life, she found somewhere she belonged and someone who would love her for who she was. Whatever her thoughts on the matter, she let them go for that moment and focused instead on the surrounding warmth and thudding in her ears. The girl was comforted by its echoing heartbeats, its breath misting her hair. Then all about shimmered a blazing rainbow, and its wings lifted away. In a wink, Thalion was standing before her and embracing her. Then Sparrow tilted her head up and asked, “It was you, wasn’t it? You were the dragon I encountered at my journey’s end?”
“Yes, it was, my darling.” He brushed his fingers over her cheek, and she saw his eyes mist over.
“But why? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” It pained her to think he was encumbered with hiding his true nature from her. Though she could understand, as she was guilty of the same, having kept secrets of her own.
“I didn’t wish to frighten you away from me. In one regard, my beast has been a burden through all my years. Love never seemed possible… so long as I’m bound to him.” The elf broke his gaze, willing tears away. He stood silent for a while, then held her hands and looked at her. “But after coming to know you, I sensed your heart was open to receiving me, beast and all. Leastwise… that was my hope.”
“Oh, Thalion, you needn’t hide your true self from me. Of course I accept you as you are,” she replied, before pulling him in for a kiss. How could she deny him for who he was? Sparrow realized long ago the encumbrance of living in the shadows, of living in fear of rejection and persecution for differing from those around her. When she thought she had found love in her former intended, Geoffrey, she had confided in him the precious secret of her magical skills, only to regret doing so later.
One moon and a fortnight before her arrival in Aeweniel, the girl had planned to reveal her magic to him early one evening as they strolled the wood near her cottage. Along the path, she knew of chaffinches nesting close by and had wished to include them in this revelation through a romantic gesture she had dreamt up the night before. As they had come around the bend where those birds lived, she told him, “Wait here, Geoffrey. And hold out your hands so.” Palms facing up, she had cupped her hands before her.
“Why?” he asked.
Her lips brimmed with mischief. “It’s a surprise like none you’ve ever seen before, so why not?” Not lingering for his response, Sparrow twirled about and walked toward a crooked oak where she spotted a male chaffinch. She fixed on it until his teensy, black-buttoned eyes flitted to meet her. Once she relayed her wish on what she desired it to do, the little chaffinch did her bidding. Flying off the branch, it swooped down to pluck a petite posy of white anemones growing between the buttresses of the old oak. The bird then flew to Geoffrey, perched on his thumb to gift him the flowers, and took wing.
His jaw dropped in astonishment. “How did you do that?”
“My magic,” she proclaimed, exuding pride. Sparrow was ecstatic, having found the courage to trust her beloved Geoffrey with her secret. After twelve months of courtship, she figured she owed him that. But her elation was short-lived when his amazement soured.
“Your magic?” he spat, as though the word were putrid and vile. The young man tossed the tiny bouquet with the urgency of a priest discarding a satanic relic.
Wounded by his gesture, she replied, “Yes… it’s a talent I was gifted at birth and—”
“Enough! I don’t want to hear another word of it!” The girl never fathomed he would respond this way; she believed he loved her, as those very words had crossed his lips.
“Geoffrey!” she implored, reaching for his arm as he turned away. But he swung his head around, and those hazel eyes raged and fixed on her.
“Don’t touch me! You do the Devil’s work!”
She released him as if his burgundy doublet had caught fire.
“My gift isn’t born of wicked things! Please, believe me!”
Geoffrey scurried off through the woodland with Sparrow in tow as she struggled to keep pace with him. He hurried his stride, weaving through thickets of evergreens while a chasm widened between them. “Get away from me!” he shouted back as he charged up the rocky path that curved along an upslope. Pine limbs flogged her as she ran to catch up with him. Shhk! Shhk! Shhk! They thrashed her arms and face, snagging her gown and yanking her hair like an angry mob of zealots exacting their fury on a heretic being dragged to the gallows. A fleeting thought struck her of how fitting such retribution was for trusting her secret to anyone besides her mother.
How can he be so cruel?
Tears blurred her vision, and she col
lided with something.
It was Geoffrey.
For a few moments, he stood there, motionless, a rhythmic creaking the only sound breaking through the light winds whistling through the trees. “Dear God, what have you done?” The young man spun around, possessed with horror. “Your fellowship with Satan has brought this upon you!”
“What on earth do you mean?”
“Just leave me be!” he yelled out as he recoiled from her, staving her off with raised hands. He turned and hared up the closest offshoot trail.
Perplexed, Sparrow had watched on as he disappeared into the darkening forest. The distant creaking had returned, nudging her to look in its direction. In the thick of the twilit wood, where Geoffrey had peered only seconds before, hung a woman clad in a periwinkle velvet gown with an airy overdress of lilac silk. The twisted limb from where she swung had groaned from the burden of her limp body.
“Mother,” she murmured, reliving the horrible memory of losing one so dear to her. The one person who loved her, unreservedly.
“What of your mother, Sparrow?” Thalion whispered.
Tears burned as they welled up, but she could not speak of it. The pain was too close. Hence, she spoke of the one truth she learned as a child and replied, “A mother’s love is a sweet lesson in the acceptance of others.” And with that, Sparrow embraced the elf and buried her cheek in the softness of his blue velvet tunic. She found solace in the warmth of his arms and his vulnerability he laid bare to her.
“You never had to fear my denial of you, Thalion.”
CHAPTER 10
MAIDEN’S DELIGHT
Twilight fell upon Forest Aeweniel as they left Saeldur’s cavern to meander along a trail in search of Maiden’s Delight mushrooms. Though she wondered why they were traveling farther than needed, knowing there were patches of them nearby, she did not ask Thalion why. She trusted he had his reasons. Moreover, Sparrow loved walking alongside him with held hands while enjoying the scents of jasmine and honeysuckle that mingled with the subtle chirps of bedding birds and the splashes of moonlight on the winding path ahead. As they rounded a sharp turn, they came upon a copse of silver birch trees, deeper in the wildwood and away from the weathered trail, surrounding a radiant bed of the periwinkle mushrooms.