"A beautiful dress, my dear. It complements your auburn locks perfectly. An excellent choice," her mother commented with an approving nod, even as her father chimed in. "My lovely daughter shows us all she is as much to be admired in settings of grace and elegance as she is to be feared upon the training grounds. It is good to have you with us. Come, eat! You must be hungry after your exercise."
A smiling Apple shook her head. "It is a lovely shade of green, I'll grant you, as all your dresses now are, but could you at least stop humming, Jess? You're so out of tune that it hurts my ears to listen. And I tell you this all the time!"
Jess gave her sister a hurt look as she sat down. “There’s nothing wrong with my humming. It’s a loud, strong hum.”
Her sister sighed, giving an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "That's not the point, Jess. It is indeed a loud hum that happens to be utterly out of tune. It's so discordant, it makes my ears bleed."
“Now, now, Appolonia. No need to be quite so critical. Your sister’s humming is not so bad as that,” their mother placated, before turning to Jess. “But your sister is correct in that musical expression should be left in the hands of bards and musicians during repast, sweetheart.”
Jess gave her sister a frustrated look as she turned to sit down. “You always say my music is out of tune, Apple, but you never explain what you mean by tune!”
Morlekai smiled, nodding to Jess as she took her seat across from his own. “A tune is a series of musical notes that form a melody. A pleasing arrangement of sound that captivates, echoing through one’s memory, even resonating through one’s very being, if one truly has the gift for it.”
Jess blinked, feeling her heart suddenly race, caught once again in the mesmerizing gaze of the smiling Morlekai. Perhaps he was her tune. Or at least her muse. His helmet now removed, Jess noted ointment had been placed to a very slight bruise on the side of his forehead, just over his left temple. She felt a curious desire to run her fingers through his brilliant white hair, shimmering with a fierce vitality that made Morlekai seem somehow timeless, an eternal hero pulled free of direst legend. For some reason, she could not take her eyes off of him, even as Morlekai's smile turned somewhat apologetic.
“I still don’t know what that means,” Jess said softly. “I hum. It’s a strong hum, and shows my contentment. What more is there to it than that? I can hum louder, if that’s what you mean.”
Apple gave a sad shake of her head. “Don’t even bother, Del Morlekai. No matter how many times we try to explain, she just doesn’t get it.”
Morlekai gave a suddenly uncomfortable Jessica a warm smile. She hated it when people spoke of things she just couldn’t grasp. “I think, perhaps, Del Jessica, that your song of steel is the most worthy one I have come across in a Spring Delver. No, I am sure of it. It is a sweet series of notes indeed with which you struck me free of my own pretensions of mastering our last dance. That being said, I suspect the sword is the instrument fate chose for you to master. Not the lute, nor the harp, nor any other vocal tools. And what need have you of those? You dance with the blade, mastering its art, allowing the song of your steel to make your mark through this age of man. It is the ultimate expression. And it is the one I favor as well.”
Morlekai's gaze turned strangely reflective, glimpsing sights Jess could only imagine. “To triumph in the orchestra of battle, the grand opera that shapes nations and rulers. Heeding neither the angelic song of existence that would ultimately dictate all our fates, nor the vile discordance of the Fallen below, all too willing to torment the souls of man in a desperate bid to prolong their own doom, so afraid they are of the eventual death that must one day come to us all; mortals, angels, and Fallen alike. Far better the pure song of steel, where we master our own fates, follow our own code, and the life and death that shapes our story is the one we chose to tell. Truly, my dear Jessica, what need have you and I for any lesser instrument?”
Jess grinned, happy with most any analogy that ended with the mention of swords. "The song of steel is one I at least understand. And how well you have mastered your instrument is apparent to all, when you stand triumphant over whoever dares to challenge your prowess."
Her sister grinned. “Yes. Precisely. Stick to steel, Jessica. It is definitely your best instrument.”
Jess grinned back, before turning her attention fully upon the man across from her, a slight smile to his lips as he listened to the family’s interplay; lithe, muscular build hid not at all by his dark blue silken doublet, open at the neck, his pristine white cotton undertunic seeming to caress his powerful chest. He looked every inch the elegant lordling who had chosen to dress for comfort, his fine attire seeming to caress his skin with every indulgent lift of crystal glass to lips as he sipped his apple brandy, and Jess found herself wondering idly what it would be like to have those lips gently pressed against her skin. She shivered with the thrill of it, even as she felt his knowing eyes effortlessly read her every desire, his lips curving in bemused approval.
Jess felt her cheeks heat up and she shook herself, finally pulling away from his captivating gaze sufficient to focus on the plate of honey coated crepes and rashers of ham and bacon before her. She took a deep breath, enjoying the savory aroma flooding her senses, heightened by a sudden awareness of that curious male musk that could only be Morlekai. She devoured the plate of food before her, delicious fantasies of devouring other things dancing through her imagination sufficient that she quite ignored the murmur of conversation entirely, until the focus of her ardor opened his lips to speak to her once more.
“I quite enjoyed our bout, Del Jessica. I do look forward to a rematch, should you be interested in such.” This last was said with a tinge of uncertainty; one would almost think worry, if one wasn’t captivated by the poise and utter confidence of the powerful looking man who had uttered the words.
“Of course!” Jess agreed immediately, face lightening up with a pleased grin. “I would love to have a rematch. How about tomorrow?”
Morlekai looked thoughtful for a moment, before giving a resolute nod. “I do have concerns of a certain nature, but nothing that won’t look after itself for a while. Yes. Agreed. With your father’s permission, we can renew our match on the morrow. I would very much enjoy that.”
Jess gave her father a hopeful look, he gave a slow nod. “It warms my heart to see you in fair spirits, my daughter. And I have no doubt the exercise does you good. So long as you obey your mother’s lessons in the morning, I see no problem with you sparring in the afternoon.”
Jess grinned happily and the matter was settled. And before she knew it, she had gotten through another morning's lessons on dance, proper etiquette, and presentable attire, and was once again before Morlekai, both of them fully armored, wielding the same weaponry as they had the day before. Jess grinned with anticipation, heart racing, taking deep, energizing breaths; reveling in those moments of calm just before the battle commenced, even as she awaited her father's sharp whistle, and once uttered, Jess and Morlekai began their dance anew.
Time seemed to slow, to stretch in that curious way it did when Jess was immersed in glorious battle. She could see Morlekai’s individual droplets of sweat fly from his body, twinkling like little diamonds suspended by invisible strings in the afternoon sun even as she desperately parried and countered Morlekai’s vicious onslaught, struggling to regain the initiative her opponent had near instantly seized.
Off balance from their last furious exchange, Jess lashed out with a lightning fast Oberhau strike aimed at Morlekai’s head, even as she stumbled back to regain her balance, at the last moment morphing her strike into a furious lunge. But it was all to no avail. With a single furious wrench, Jess’s sword was torn free of her grip, flung away by her opponent’s battleglove, her desperate tumbling roll to retrieve it to no avail as she found Morlekai's blade at her throat, his battleglove slamming into her back with the lightest of blows, even as her father’s whistle blew sharply.
Her opponents wild-
eyed grin of triumph was a perfect counterpoint to Jess's cheeks, hotly flushed with shame.
"A good bout, dear Jess," Morlekai quipped, "though there is no doubt who won this round."
“I know. You don’t have to rub it in.”
Morlekai raised an eyebrow. “Don’t I? perhaps. Yet far better I salt a young Delver’s pride, then leave it to the fates to dress you with far more grievous wounds.” His next words were clipped in the firm cadence of a drill master. “You now know the strengths and weaknesses of falchion and battleglove, Jess. Take every bout seriously. Assume you are fighting for your life, because one day you will be. Keep your range, don’t let me close, and don’t lose your balance.”
He then strode off, cocky and confident, to his side of the training circle, even as his words burned in Jess’s ears. Her father favored her with a measuring gaze before nodding his head slowly, raising his whistle to renew the contest once more.
“By the gods. How fast you two move!” her brother gazed in awe at them both. And at that moment, her father’s whistle cut through the air and Jess found herself once more desperately countering Morlekai’s furious onslaught, grinning in savage delight. For however bitter the taste of defeat, it made the challenge all the sweeter, she found. Not since her haunting dreams of glorious adventures just on the edge of memory did she recall feeling so exhilarated as she did at that moment, fighting desperately to counter all of her opponent’s blisteringly fast maneuvers and seize the Vor once more, their blades testing and teasing one another, lighting fast lunges and strikes each countered by the other with exquisite skill and an intuitive sense of their counterpart's follow up attack.
Morlekai was ever ready to snap up her blade in his gauntlet to control the fight once more, Jess step-sliding back in an exquisite dance of steel and movement designed to keep him at bay when he tried such, her blade set to lunge for and slam into her foe’s knee, calf, or any other opening that presented itself.
And the afternoon waned as both exhilarated in their mutual struggle for supremacy. Jess seized three matches, Morlekai seven, though none had been a gift, as her opponent had wryly quipped more than once. Yet somehow during their final bout they had ended up astride one another.
Jess had sought to take advantage of the element of surprise. Having before then striven to avoid close combat, she instead rushed him, slamming the hilt of her blade into Morlekai's surprised face even as she had skillfully batted aside his teasing lunge, her sudden charging onslaught resulting in his arming gauntlet barely hooking a light blow into her back, even as her hilt cracked into his helmet.
To give her blow credit, it was sufficient to rock him back, even as she gripped the blade half-sword, slamming the weapon into his temple quarterstaff style, her hands quite well protected by gauntlet and technique both, even had it been live steel. Yet she had underestimated her foe's own inhuman resiliency, his gauntleted fist hammering into her side, even as she angled to smash his helmeted skull with her hilt once more, having positioned her instep so as to trip him off balance with the torque of her blow. Yet his own powerful strike could have smashed stone, she thought, and had certainly been sufficient to knock her off balance, the pair of them tumbling to the torn earth as one.
And from there on it was a desperate struggle as both strove to successfully pin and master the other. Jess heaved, and with a tremendous grunt of effort, she managed to break free of her opponent's inhumanly strong grip, twisting around to pin his arm and neck in turn, only to be sent flying by Morlekai's own furious struggle to free himself from her hold.
Never had she fought anyone quite so strong. Exhausted but invigorated, they both slammed into each other anew, Jess sending Morlekai tumbling over with a classic flip, rolling upon her back, a single foot placed in his gut sending him flying. Yet even as she rolled to her feet he was upon her, slamming into her hard, and Jess found herself breathless and stunned. Morlekai straddling her, his fierce, powerful body pinning her in place, even as he gazed down at her, panting, eyes alight as was his fierce smile.
Her father’s whistle went ignored. Jess, caught up in his brilliant gaze found all desire to struggle fading, reveling in the feel of his fierce body upon her, powerful hands gripping her flesh even as his own hot stare began to fill with another emotion that Jess was hard set to describe but sent a curious tingle coursing through her, even as she felt her heart race with excitement that had nothing to do with battle. Yet everything to do with it. Without even thinking about it, Jess raised her visor as Morlekai raised his, gazing at her with strangely soft eyes, and without precisely knowing how it happened, she was kissing her opponent with fierce passion, suddenly hungry beyond words for a conquest of an entirely different nature, melting into his strong masculine lips, his tongue teasing her and filling her and awakening unspeakable hungers. She heard her own low growl as he chuckled darkly, Jess rolling astride him, kissing him savagely, near overwhelmed by her sudden need for him.
Her father’s increasingly sharp whistles went utterly ignored.
"I told you this was a bad idea," Agda declared sometime later in Jess's room as her husband joined her to gaze reprovingly at their now red-faced daughter, freshly washed and dressed, their guest having given his bemused apologies for them both having gotten carried away in the heat of battle before he had made his exit, Arthur dryly commenting that perhaps it would be best for them to avoid grappling in future sparring sessions.
In truth, Jess and Agda had both been surprised that her father had not used the impropriety as an excuse to call off the sparring sessions, though Jess would have fought it, tooth and nail. Yet her father had been strangely firm.
“I am sorry, my wife. But we gave our word. Impropriety aside, our House owes the man a great debt, and we will honor it.” He gazed wryly at his wayward eldest daughter. “To be honest, I am almost happy to find my daughter does have a genuine interest in engaging in pursuits with boys that involve more than just combat. Until now, I had feared her insistence was simple placation. It merely behooves us to find her the right partner, for that sort of sport."
“By the angels above, Arthur! Must you put it quite so candidly?” Agda sighed, though in no way disagreeing with her husband’s assessment.
"I like boys just fine," Jess had mumbled. "As long as it's the right boy." Her father had deduced so much of what life had truly been like for her as a Squire of War. And if he wished to think it had only been in the arms of girls like herself that she had found succor after the horrors of battle, she would say nothing to dispel the conceit.
Assuming a man could love a girl as far from innocent as she was, as haunted by nightmares and inhuman strength as she was, in her secret heart of hearts, she hoped for it still. Delving, however, seemed a much safer bet; exhilaration and glory in droves, and heartache not at all. Oblivion? Perhaps. But at least rejection she was spared. Still, after losing herself in Morlekai's eyes, feeling his lips upon her, she thought that perhaps there might be the possibility of love in her future, if she was very, very lucky.
Her mother shook her head sadly, gazing at Jess as if she were a lost cause, a look Jess was all too familiar with. "Sadly, my child, I fear your criteria for the ideal man leaves much to be desired."
Her parents then began speaking all too enthusiastically about her upcoming semester at the Royal Ladies Academy finishing school, and Jess groaned, flopping over upon her leafy bed to cover herself with her blankets and pillows.
"Really, Jess, must you sleep on a pile of vines?" Her mother gazed exasperatedly at the sad state of Jess's bed. Jess shrugged. Though perhaps a bit unusual, she found the foliage plush and comfortable, the entire bed seeming to caress her and hold her close and snug whenever she slept, the leaves almost seeming sentient in how they distributed their weight among themselves.
The fact that almost nightly she had to resist the gently seductive desire to reconnect with her home, to meld herself once more to the living colony of trees that together made up their manor was a
temptation she felt it best not to share with her already worried parents.
"It's fine, Mother," Jess assured. "I love my bed just the way it is."
"Very well, honey. But promise me you have no plans to transform the Academy into a gigantic… tree house." Her mother's gentle gaze hardened as the silence stretched. "It would be a comfort to hear you say those words, Jess."
Jess rolled her eyes. "Very well, Mother. I promise not to transform the Academy into a gigantic conjoined hive of living trees… unless there's a really good reason for it," she qualified, darting her head underneath a pillow before she could be pinned down by her mother's rebuking stare.
“Jessica de Calenbry,” her mother sighed, before giving it up as a lost cause. “Very well. And it had better be a damned good reason. Come, Arthur. Time to see to the head chef and our dinner, and give our daughter a chance to consider the downfalls of overly impulsive acts, in the heat of battle or no.”
With that, both her parents left, her father giving Jess a gentle pat on the shoulder as they left her quarters, her exquisitely wrought door shutting of its own accord. Jess knew she was grounded, of course. So what else was new? With any luck, though, her mother would still allow for morning crepes.
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