Vixen's Challenge

by Aron Lewes

  “So, it's good news all around. I like good news.”

  Wilhelm pressed his lips against Kylin's bare shoulder. She was naked from head-to-toe, with only a silk sheet to cover her. Her husband preferred her that way.

  “I hope you still think it's good news when I tell Larien what I've decided,” Kylin said, pilfering the timepiece from Wilhelm's pocket. Her brow pinched as she studied the pocket watch's rotating hands. Human clocks still confused her. “Speaking of which, King Larien's fleet should arrive at any moment. I should probably get some clothes on.”

  Her husband pouted. “Must you?”

  “Yes... unless you'd like me to greet the king in the nude?” Kylin popped out of bed and threw on a robe—the traditional garb of her people. It was bright and purple, and tied with a silky sash.

  “I definitely don't want that,” Wilhelm said. “This body is for my eyes only!” With a playful growl, he threw his arms around Kylin and scooped her off her feet. He carried her all the way to the ship's deck, grinning at her squeals of delight.

  Vala was standing on the starboard side with a spyglass to her eye. A sneer twitched on her lip when she spotted her brother and his giggling wife. “Put her down, for fuck's sake!” Vala cried. “You two are so precious together, I'm about to throw up my breakfast.”

  “You're just jealous,” Wilhelm said.

  “You're right. I am,” agreed a sighing Vala. “Larien turned out to be a prick who didn't care about me at all! I guess I was foolish to think I could snag a king's love. Why didn't you warn me?” She lightly smacked Wilhelm's forehead with her spyglass. “Speaking of Larien, his fleet is on its way. You can see them on the horizon. Kylin, have you decided what you're gonna say to 'im?”

  There was hesitation in Kylin's nod, and weakness in her smile. She had agreed to meet the king after a short break, at which time she would decide to continue or abandon her Unsilencings. Wilhelm wanted to quit, but Vala wanted to continue. While it was ultimately Kylin's decision, her answer had changed several times in the last hour.

  “There he is... the handsome bastard,” Vala announced, moving the spyglass back to her eye. “I can see Larien on the deck of his ship. There's Esha, and... some girl I've never seen before.”

  “Really?” A bit too eagerly, Kylin snatched the spyglass from Vala and checked for herself. “I wonder who she is?”

  “Maybe he's gone and found himself another Chosen?” Vala suggested. “Would that bother you?”

  “No. Of course not. Why would that bother me?” With a roll of her eyes, Kylin returned the spyglass to Vala. “Wilhelm and I are very happy, you know!”

  Several minutes later, King Larien boarded their ship with a half-dozen stoic soldiers. He greeted Kylin with a kiss on the hand, and Vala with a raised eyebrow.

  “It's lovely to see you again, my lady,” Larien said. “How was your much-deserved break?”

  Kylin answered with a wavering smile, “It was... good.”

  “And... have you reached a decision?” Larien asked. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't force it out of you so quickly, but—”

  Kylin cut him off. “I want to continue helping the Silenced. I believe in your vision, Your Highness... those people should be free. We'll have our share of struggles, and not everyone will agree with us, but I feel in my heart that it's the right thing to do.”

  Larien glanced at Wilhelm, who didn't look particularly surprised by Kylin's answer. “And Wilhelm? Is he alright with this?”

  “I don't have to love it, but I can accept it,” Wilhelm said. “I support my wife's decision, as any good husband should.”

  “Good. I'm glad to hear it. And... speaking of husbands...” Larien spun on his heel, facing Vala's direction. Before she could greet him crassly—as she undoubtedly would—he slipped a ring from his pocket and dropped down on one knee. “Will you marry me, Vala Stroud?”

  “Are you shi—” Vala stopped herself before she cursed. Lowering her voice, she started again, “Are you kidding me, Your Highness? You wouldn't make a joke of me in front of all these people, would you?”

  “Of course not. This is a very sincere and heartfelt proposal.” Larien waggled the ring, encouraging her to take it. “I've been alive for thirty-some years, but never has my life been more exciting than when I'm with you. You're vivacious and hilarious. You're daring and dangerous and so damn lovely. I don't care if you're a commoner or a queen, I just know I'm better when I'm with you. So... marry me.”

  Vala tried to speak, but only a gurgle came out. She took the ring from his hand, and when the massive diamond winked in the sunlight, she flinched.

  “I don't know what to say,” Vala whispered. “A part of me thinks you might be taking the piss out of me.”

  Larien laughed at her audacious reply, as he often did. “I'm absolutely serious! I want you to be my wife, Vala. No one in this world could make me happier than you.”

  “Mad king. You should be dethroned!” Vala said—as she slipped the ring on her finger. “A mad king for a mad queen, eh? I think we'll be perfect together.”

  SARA WAS INTRODUCED to everyone over supper, but most of the conversation revolved around Larien and his unexpected proposal. It caught everyone off-guard, including Esha, who knew most of the king's secrets.

  Sara was glad the focus wasn't on her. Most of the time, when she met someone new, they asked about her face or her wheelchair, forcing her to remember unpleasant memories. The king's friends treated her like a normal person who needed no more attention than anyone else. She could breathe around them, which was more than she could say for most people.

  After supper, Sara joined Esha on the deck, where she enjoyed a slice of strawberry cake under a tapestry of blinking stars.

  “Strawberries are my favorite,” she told him. “This almost earns you a kiss.”

  Esha's fingers snapped with disappointment. “Almost? I even bribed the baker to put extra strawberries on yours. I guess my tactic failed me.”

  “I know you're teasing, but... who did bake this? It's excellent.” Her words were half-muffled by the large strawberry in her mouth.

  “I think Kylin made it,” Esha said. “Kylin is... she was my Chosen.”

  Swallowing her strawberry, Sara asked, “Chosen? What's that mean?”

  It was going to be a long story, so Esha collapsed in a stool next to Sara's chair. He told her about the beliefs of his people: they had one soulmate, identified by the Resonance, and when a Chosen was found, they mated for life. He explained that Kylin was his Chosen, but she had rejected him for another man.

  “That man was... Wilhelm?” Sara guessed. “They were holding hands the entire time, so I assume...”

  “Right. Kylin chose to be with Wilhelm instead of me,” Esha told her. “But I have no regrets, because now I get to spend time with you.”

  Sara whispered to herself, “As if I could be a replacement for that beautiful girl...”

  Esha, not hearing her whispered words, continued, “Anyway, the funny thing is, I waited for my Chosen all my life. For almost twenty years, I was totally faithful to a girl I never met. It's embarrassing to admit, but I'm entirely in the same boat as you, Sara. I've never kissed anyone.”

  “Was that supposed to be a pun?” Sara asked. “Because we are in the same boat. Literally.” She pointed above her, where the ship's sails thrashed overhead.

  “You're not surprised?” Esha asked. “Most people would probably tease me if they knew I've never kissed anyone.”

  “Why would I tease you? I'm the same as you,” Sara said. “I mean... I didn't meet my Chosen and have my heart crushed, but we're basically the same.”

  “I wouldn't say I had my heart crushed,” Esha said. “I barely got to know Kylin before she... ditched me.”

  “And yet, the word ditch doesn't make you sound happy about it,” Sara pointed out. “I don't blame you. I'd be bitter too.”

  “I wouldn't say I'm bitter, exactly,” Esha tried to correct her again. “It's more like
I'm—”

  Sara laid a finger against his lips, stopping him in mid-sentence. “You know what?” She cocked her head and winked at him. “I think we've both earned a kiss. Don't you think we've waited long enough?”

  Sara didn't need to ask twice. In an instant, Esha's hand was on her cheek, gliding across the blemished flesh that made her feel less than beautiful—but Esha barely noticed it. His fingers slipped past her ear, disappearing into her hair. Sara squeaked with anticipation when he bought his mouth to hers, and when they kissed, she let out a moan. Both noises were involuntary and totally embarrassing, and she expected to have red cheeks for the rest of the night.

  As soon as their mouths touched, Esha felt a curious sensation.

  A peculiar flutter, deep within his chest, had him smiling against her lips.

  Author's Notes

  THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR reading this series! If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review, as it would really help me out.

  If you're looking for something else to read, keep scrolling for a short sample of School for Spirits, a paranormal romance about a dead girl and a samurai.

  Please note, I also write steampunk & fantasy under the pen name Caylen McQueen. To hear about future releases from both pen names, sign up for my mailing list here: http://eepurl.com/c-PqSH

  Take care!

  School for Spirits – Chapter One

  MY NAME IS LEIGH RILEY. I'm seventeen years old. I'm standing in front of a church at half past midnight, looking at my corpse.

  Yeah, that's right. I'm dead. At least, I think I'm dead. If I'm not dead, I'm having the weirdest out of body experience anyone's ever had. I can't really think of another reason why I would be staring at my broken, twisted, bloody body.

  Death has terrible timing. In three weeks, I was going to be a high school graduate. Everyone always said I had a bright future ahead of me. I busted my ass to get into Yale, but none of that matters now. As soon as I was hit by the truck, everything I've ever done was for nothing.

  I turn my attention to the idiots who hit me: Aidan and Geoff. They're both drunk—not that it makes a difference. With or without alcohol, they're awful human beings, and there's no excuse for what they did to me.

  “Shit, man... do you think she's dead?” Geoff squawks. The sound of my bones crunching under his truck's monstrous tires seems to have sobered him up a bit. He moves a bit closer to my motionless body and leans over my face. “Oh shit. I think she is!”

  “Do you think we should call someone?” Aidan asks. He looks a little less panicked than Geoff, but he's no less pale. He probably thinks he's less culpable because he wasn't the driver, but I blame them both.

  “Are you kidding me, man? Hell no!” Geoff shoves him in the direction of the truck. “We've got to get out of here!”

  “Seriously?”

  “Uh... yeah. Or do you want everyone to find out we killed a girl?”

  “You killed a girl,” Aidan corrects him—but like I said, he's responsible too. Aidan was the one who started pestering me, and Geoff joined in.

  Long story short: my best friend wouldn't give me a ride home, so I left her party at midnight. My parents would have been livid if I got home much later than that, but walking alone in the middle of the night was a huge mistake. Geoff pulled up to me, Aidan begged me to get into the truck, and I refused. When I heard the vehicle revving up, I ran into the church parking lot, hoping to escape.

  But I didn't escape. Obviously. When I swerved, they swerved, and before I knew it, I was standing over my lifeless body. I was killed by two of the biggest jerks in high school.

  “Dude, just go!” Geoff insists as he gives his idiot friend another push. “We need to leave. I'm serious. I don't want to spend the rest of my life in prison, bro!”

  As I watch them climb into Geoff's truck, I can feel my nose puckering. In my opinion, he deserves to spend the rest of his life in prison. Being dead hasn't really cooled my rage. I thought it would make me more forgiving or loving—or something—but it hasn't. Now, more than ever, I'd like to punch those douchebags in the face.

  “What now?” I whisper to myself as the truck pulls away. I don't see any white light and I don't hear a choir of angels. There's no pearly gate, god, or friendly family member to greet me. I'm not surprised by the last one, because I'm actually the first in my immediate family to die. Believe it or not, all of my grandparents outlived me. I even have a great-grandmother who's still alive. I genuinely don't know any dead people. None. Does that make me lucky or unlucky right now?

  “Leigh?”

  When I hear someone say my name, I heave a lengthy sigh of relief. I don't care who it is, I'm just glad I'm not alone right now.

  “Leigh Riley,” the female voice repeats my name. When I turn around, I'm staring into the golden brown eyes of the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. She looks about thirty, give or take a few years. Her skin is deep mahogany, her smile is warm and welcoming, and her hair is a chaos of delightful black coils. She even smells lovely, like vanilla and lavender, but sweeter. No pun intended, but I'm dying to know her.

  “Yeah. I'm Leigh,” I introduce myself, then I ask a question with an obvious answer. “Am I... dead?”

  “I don't like the word dead. It suggests an end to your existence, but the fact is... you're still very much alive,” the woman tells me. “You've taken on a new form. A new frequency. You're existing in a different dimension. It's nothing to be afraid of, and it's nothing to mourn. I promise.”

  “O... kay.” I know I sound doubtful. If she wants to convince me, she'll have to try harder, because I'm feeling pretty bummed about this. I don't want to leave my friends and family behind! This is terrible!

  “I suppose I should introduce myself.” The woman suddenly thrusts out a hand. “I'm Amber. The angel, Amber.”

  As I shake her hand, my mind is stuck on a single word. “Angel?”

  “Yes, dear. I'm an angel.” Amber's smile broadens, suggesting a pride in her role.

  “But don't angels have... wings?” I ask.

  “Indeed. I do have wings,” Amber assures me. “But most of the time, I don't have them out. They're a bit of a burden, if I'm being honest. They're large and cumbersome, and I rarely need them.”

  “Really?” My forehead crinkles at the thought. “But... I always thought it would be pretty awesome to have wings?”

  “Oh, it is. For the first ten minutes,” Amber laughs. Her laughter is one of the most pleasant sounds I've ever heard. It's gentle and smoky. It's exactly the sort of laugh I'd expect from an angel. “You'll eventually have a chance to earn your own wings, and when you do, you'll see what I mean. The novelty wears off.”

  “I can become an angel?”

  “Of course. But you shouldn't get too far ahead of yourself. First, you'll have to become a spirit guide... which, naturally, you'll want to do. Oh!” Amber suddenly points over my shoulder. For the first time, I notice the bald, middle-aged guy sitting on the church steps. For some reason, he's crying. “You should meet your spirit guide, George.”

  “Nooo!” George wails. “She shouldn't meet me! I don't deserve it! I failed!”

  “Umm...” Amber nervously nibbles her lip. “That's George. You're not seeing him at his best right now, I'm afraid.”

  “Uh huh.” I scratch my head as I watch him sob. “Why's he having a meltdown?”

  “I think he believes he's let you down,” Amber explains. “It was his job to protect you and... well...”

  “I failed!” the bellowing George repeats. “I failed, I failed, I failed! I'm a complete and total failure! I hate myself!”

  “He, uh...” Amber's teeth clench as she struggles to explain my spirit guide's self-loathing. “George hasn't been on his own for very long. In fact, you were his first solo mission, so... I think he's feeling pretty bad about your death.”

  “Bad? I feel awful!” George attempts to clear his blocked nose with a tremendous snort. “I'm so sorry, Leigh! I'm so sorry!”<
br />
  I don't want to make George feel worse, so I decide to change the subject. Lowering my voice to a whisper, I ask, “So... those guys who killed me... will they ever be punished for that, or will they get away with it?”

  “On earth or in the afterlife?” Amber asks.

  “Umm... both?”

  “I'm afraid I can't answer that.” Sensing my disappointment, Amber gives me a pat on the shoulder. “But you shouldn't worry about them. Not yet.”

  “How can I not worry about them?” I'm wrestling with a strong need to gouge out their eyes. They've taken away everything. They stole my future. Thanks to them, I'm a sad, dead virgin who never had a boyfriend. Is there anything more pathetic than that?

  “Oh, I don't know. Just... try not to be too upset.”

  My eyes roll at Amber's remark. “Seriously, how can I not be upset? What about my family? Will I ever get to see them again?” My little sister is going to be wrecked by this. I'm her best friend. She doesn't really have anyone else.

  “Yes. You'll see them again... but you'll have to wait. I know how it feels. Trust me. When I died, I had to leave my husband and child behind. It devastated me. But... now I'm with them all the time.”

  “I guess that makes me feel a little bit better.” My shoulders pop into a slight shrug as I try to accept my fate. Behind me, I can still hear George's sobs. I think my spirit guide is taking this way harder than I am.

  “Well then...” Amber begins, “if you have no more pressing questions, it's time to take you away.”

  I try to guess our destination. “To... Heaven?”

  “Indeed. That's one name for it. If Heaven is what you call it, that's perfectly acceptable.” Amber smiles at me. “Our destination has many names. Heaven, Nirvana, Elysium, Paradise. The Other Side. We usually refer to it by whatever name makes people comfortable.”

  “What do you call it?” I ask, hoping for some insight.

  “What do I call it?” As she repeats my question, Amber's smile morphs into a cheeky grin. “My dear... I call it Home.”