by Melody Rose
This young spellmistress of a realm teeming with weak mortals was able to discover her magical abilities when none of my comrades could do the same despite their best efforts. Eventually, we all gave up, and we all had to accept we would be all might and no enchantment. Did Lady Rosalind deserve this when she wasn’t even trying to find it?
I sought to humble her if only for a moment. It was for her own good and not at all a way to distract myself from my own insecurities.
“I am, of course, eager for you to display your talents and have my clan praise you,” I claimed as I studied her thin dress with appraising eyes. “But this attire won’t do. It’s lovely, yes, suits you well, and is not in disrepair, but you’ve been in it during your entire time. No one will take you seriously in it. I regret that you haven’t been able to amend this all this time…”
Lady Rosalind blushed and rubbed the back of her neck. “I guess it’s partially my fault that I didn’t whip myself up a wardrobe before I got sent here. I was just so caught up in the zone over at the library that all that mattered was food, sleep, and reading.” She then smirked. “But not necessarily in that order. I have a couple of other interests outside that, but I thought I’d just be alone my whole life, so who would care what I wore?”
I arched an eyebrow, examining her pleasing curves and exquisite, delicate face, both angelic and alluring, like a painting of the fey. It was fascinating how little effort she put into herself, even clothed in the same smock for days on end. While that didn’t lessen my attraction to her, her priorities were unusual. The battle maidens of my clan still found time to groom impeccably and present themselves even amid all their training and fighting. Kohl for their eyes, crushed reagents to add color to their faces, elaborate braids for their hair, all manner of embellishments I couldn’t even recall. Our women had an array of costumes for different occasions and would balk at the Sorceress’ utter apathy about her appearance. I certainly did not wish for her to embarrass herself with her plain dress.
“While I certainly understand your enthusiasm for your… books… and have little concern for your looks, which are quite lovely, I don’t think this is the best approach for your performance,” I gently warned. “Our battle maidens would frown upon donning just a single outfit your entire stay here and would deliver unfortunate barbs if you were seen in… that… tonight.”
Lady Rosalind shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, her face paling as she imagined the taunts she may receive. “Well, what do you expect me to do?” she asked a bit testily.
“Not to worry, my spellmistress,” I stood up and stroked her hair affectionately. “I do not say this to diminish your natural charms, but rather to elevate them before this special occasion. I wouldn’t want anyone to doubt you because of superficial judgments. Let’s just ensure you look as radiant as your enchantments, yes?”
The raven-haired beauty shifted her eyes to the side before meeting my gaze. I could see the self-consciousness shine through her, but I knew this was a necessary sacrifice. While she may be a bit ashamed now, she would surely thank me for intervening by the time the night was over.
“Alright,” she agreed mildly, perhaps a bit distant. “It’s not like I have any say in the matter… and what you’re proposing doesn’t sound so bad.”
“Oh, surely you do, Sorceress. I wouldn’t recommend deviating from my advice, as I know my clan best, but you’re certainly entitled to do what you wish,” I smirked rakishly and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Now, I will introduce you to our stronghold seamstress and have her design a fitting ensemble for you. Would this be acceptable to you?”
I held out my arm, and in what I assumed was an assent, she wrapped herself around its crook. I rearranged her embrace so that it looked more like I was escorting her as a guest than as a lover. While I certainly wouldn’t have been opposed to this, the moment didn’t seem appropriate to parade her around in such a way. My heart warmed at Rosalind’s willingness to follow me and remain close to me, and I found myself quietly pleased that she did not spurn me.
I looked forward to beholding her in all her glory, resplendent with power and costumed like a queen.
16
Rose
I wandered around the quarters of the Weaver, Nadine. As I brushed my fingers against the smoothly polished spinning wheels, I admired the vibrant, partially complete textiles that lay on its base. The phrase “pretty procrastination” came to mind as I noticed the tables adorned with silk gowns about a third of the way through or wooden mannequins barely clothed in the finest fabrics and beadwork. The woman must have had quite the waiting list, and I had to wonder if clan members had to request outfits several months in advance just to get what they needed. It all seemed really inefficient, but who else could I turn to with this no-enchantment ban looming over me?
“This is all gorgeous,” I announced. I didn’t want to draw attention to how they were all obviously works in progress. I’m sure Nadine already knew that, and there was no reason to keep driving home that point.
“Oh, you’re just trying to console me.” The mousy yet pretty young woman waved her hand dismissively. Nadine had really subdued coloring compared to the rainbow assortment of fabric all around her, grey eyes scanning the room as she shyly rubbed her silver-blonde hair. “I’m really worried that they’re going to toss me out like refuse and leave me to the Drikkende if I don’t pull this off for tonight.”
I tilted my head to the side and looked at her with sincere sympathy. “But I thought that the Jörmungandr clan finds a place for all of its kind? I mean, this really seems to be your talent, and they’re all very nice to Bard Pomi even though he doesn’t fight at all.” Then I paused and looked up to the ceiling in thought. “Except maybe Astrid, that is.”
“Yes,” Nadine agreed flatly and sighed. “She really hates me, too. Not only does she think I have no purpose here, but she turns into such a scary tempest of a woman when I have to fit Champion Troy for his ceremonies.” Her tone hopped up to a defensively high pitch. “I can’t help it! It’s quite literally my role here! I haven’t touched him improperly, so much as made a suggestive comment, but that won’t help me. Astrid looks like she’s going to murder me every time I’m set to make him a set of clothing.”
My fingers rose to my lips self-consciously, my cheeks burning as Nadine’s words haunted me. What would that vicious battle maiden do if she found out what I’d done with Troy just some short time ago? The seamstress must have taken this reaction as horror over what she had to endure, so she kept going on with her complaints.
“And to answer your question, I’m not even one of them! I’m not a Jörmungandr dragon! I always live in constant fear, wondering if I’m going to be thrown to the wolves or to put it more precisely, those damn spirit-drinking daemons. Can you believe that I asked to be here?”
While I didn’t have that much time and learning more about Nadine wasn’t why I was here, but I thought it gave me some important insight into how the clan operated. I wanted to know what I was walking into if I was going to stick around.
“What do you mean by that?” I pressed on. “How d'you get here? Were you some prisoner of war? Did you beg them to spare your life?”
“No,” she admitted. “The Jörmungandr clan came to my tribe’s forest because we were revered in the whole realm for our ability to weave outfits out of flowers, leaves, even thin air. They were going to negotiate with us, offering us a good deal of coin to commission us for clothes, even employ many of us in their stronghold. I suppose they wanted to rebuild their kingdom, their former glory, and we Tisserandes could clothe them like emperors and empresses.”
I smiled and nodded. “Well, that certainly sounds like a win-win situation. What happened?”
Nadine looked into the distance, a glossy sheen of tears making her grey eyes look like smoke. “The warriors didn’t arrive soon enough, for the Drikkende had already had their way with us, sapping us of all our powers so that we were as good as dry soil
. It was fortunate they didn’t fell our trees. Fortunately, since we were neutral and not their enemies, the dragons didn’t decimate us. They didn’t even take any of our tribe’s artifacts or demand our territory. They just wanted to move on with their mission and hardly gave us a second thought.”
“I see.” I looked at her with rapt interest. She was like a walking novella, even though this was clearly difficult for her, she had excellent delivery. “So, what made you want to travel with them instead of staying behind?”
Nadine nibbled on her lip, and just then, I thought about how pretty she’d look with some smoky eyeshadow and eyeliner to bring out her stunning grey eyes. She must have been similar to me, so immersed in her work that she didn’t think about how to fix herself up.
“When I laid eyes on Harlin, their Chieftain, I… was moved. His strength was so apparent to me, and his passionate confidence so unlike everyone else in my tribe, so docile,” she explained. “I begged him to take me with him because I was so afraid of any other invasions, and he agreed after I told him I was a prodigy when it came to tailoring. I mean… it was true, but it’s just so cursedly difficult without my enchantments!”
I smirked at her blatant crush on Harlin, who I’d only seen briefly. I could see what she meant, even though Troy was way more my type, with his luscious brown hair, raw magnetism, and handsome mystique that was reminiscent of a pirate. I wanted it all to work out for both of us, so I tried to steer us back gently toward what we were actually supposed to do.
“Well, hey,” I patted her on the shoulder, “if I have a say about it, everyone will be able to see how incredible your talents are, and that will really capture Harlin’s heart. It just so happens that I’m a Sorceress that the Drikkende haven’t been able to mess with yet.”
Nadine placed her hand on mine gratefully, looking at me with wonder. “So that’s what Champion Troy meant by preparing you for a spectacular ceremony. I thought that perhaps you would be a new battle bard, perhaps a dancer. I feel too out of place to attend the Jörmungandr gatherings, so I wasn’t certain who you were.” She then gave a little leap, causing me to giggle at her bubbly energy. “You could be the Fated Mate! Harlin once spilled his secrets to me during one of our… fitting sessions… and he revealed that everyone’s magic would be restored if our Champion could see reason and bond with the right woman. That sounds like it could be you if you can cast! We have to adorn you in the best garments and make everyone, especially Troy, fall in love with you!”
I blinked in confusion, I hadn’t heard of a Fated Mate before, but this sounded like the stuff of romance novels. I mean, I guess almost anything could be possible now that I could manifest meals and furniture on command, but it seemed a bit too much to have an entire clan’s destiny depend upon me. It sounded like everyone got really screwed over by all the Drikkende, and now I’d have to pick up the pieces and clean up this mess. Even though I didn’t know how to make all this happen, I didn’t want to dampen Nadine’s spirit.
“Fated Mate?” I asked bashfully but didn’t really protest. “Do you really think that could be the case? Should I be going through with this? It sounds like a pretty big commitment.”
“All the signs seem to point to the prophecy,” Nadine remarked breathily, as though she were the one swept off her feet. “You’re from another realm, and the Champion was able to carry you across the dimensions. I imagine that you’re able to decipher their texts, and most of all, you can cast spells in a world where everyone has lost their will. Troy seems protective of you and would be pleased to see you succeed, and you must prove your loyalty and abilities in front of the entire clan. Not a single aspect is missing from what the Sage has foreseen!”
The seamstress then held out a finger and scurried over to what looked like a mannequin veiled in a cloak of opaque fabric. With a flourish like a well-seasoned magician, she pulled off the bolt of linen to reveal a truly dazzling gown. Sure, it was risque, designed to show the entire length of the wearer’s legs and expose the hips, with three gold chains that latched at the top of an emerald silk loincloth. Nadine’s creation seamlessly blended form and function, its bodice form-fitting and yet reinforced with a durable leather treated to match its attached slitted skirt.
Not only did the chest piece protect one’s vital organs, but it was also so regal it could easily be worn either in the battlefield or a ballroom. Gold, silver, and copper dragons were embossed into it, demanding respect and denoting the clan pride of the wearer. While the trio of silk panels making up the skirt could be easily torn up, I imagined that whoever was lucky enough to don this piece was quick enough to dodge any swords. Plus, it was also possible to throw in some leather leggings without ruining the gown’s appeal, depending on how much coverage a person wanted. Even though it was achingly seductive, the ensemble was strangely practical based on my estimations.
From what I’d read about the blessed riders who had their soul-bound dragons, it was necessary to have attire that would allow unturned clan members to remain mounted on their flying beasts. Plus, the Jörmungandr clan wasn’t a squeamish one, perfectly comfortable with both bloodshed and sexuality. After all the legends I’d read about epic battles and “rutting” festivals, I wasn’t really afraid that I’d lose face in front of the crowd by showing a lot of skin. In fact, it would probably win most of the clan members over if I adapted to the customs and brushed aside any of my human prudishness.
“It looks glorious!” I cried out in complete honesty. I wasn’t really a vain person at all, but I would’ve been stoked if it actually worked with my figure. It really radiated warrior princess energy, and I wanted to be able to be seen as more than just some quiet prize that Troy had dragged in. I wanted to inspire awe and respect, quite a transformation from the shut-in librarian I’d once been.
“Isn’t it?” Nadine chimed. “I had a really vivid dream about this during my first evening in this stronghold. I woke up, ignited with inspiration, and had to set to work on designing a gown exactly like I’d imagined. I’ve slaved over it for over a year, adjusting it here and there, then I apprenticed with a stronghold blacksmith for another year to create some gold plate accouterments, and my third year, I was tutored by a bootmaker to design the finishing touches. It’s truly been a labor of love!”
“I would love to try it on,” I confessed, eyeing the ensemble with obvious envy of the mannequin. “Would you be okay with that? I know that you’ve put a lot of effort into it, but it looks like it might just fit, and that’ll save you the time of having to add onto your other creations!”
“But of course,” Nadine remarked as she petted her vibrant design, the verdant silk slipping through her fingertips. A cool shiver coursed down my back as I imagined the sumptuous texture against my skin. I’d never been so impressed by a dress before. “Three years. Can you imagine, Lady Rosalind? My fingers just ache thinking about it.”
The seamstress then pulled the gown off the mannequin and tenderly draped it over her forearm as she strode toward me.
“My esteemed Sorceress, I hope with all my heart that you are Champion Troy’s Fated Mate because living in a realm devoid of magic has been abhorrent. Terrible, I say,” she complained with damp eyes. “I really hope these Drikkende are put in their place one day, and that this dress aids in that effort by helping you seduce our Champion.”
I gratefully accepted her offer of glimmering silk, my heart bursting with awe for all that Nadine had put into this very moment and confident that she would mold me into opulence before my performance. And a bit strangely, my soul burst with the desire to subdue the daemons that continued to terrorize this realm.
Come hell or high water, I would do all I can to vanquish the Drikkende if the Jörmungandr clan would allow me to ally with them fully and fight alongside them.
17
Troy
Nadine walked out on the wooden stage with Lady Rosalind’s hand intertwined with hers, both of the women comely as nocturnal goddesses. The midnight b
lue backdrop, dappled with glimmering stars, behind them played against their regal attire. As Chieftain Harlin’s eyes trailed over to our respected seamstress, his lips slightly parted as he absorbed her unconventional appearance. Typically, Nadine simply wore an inarguably practical work smock, a nearly shapeless dress of undyed linen that allowed all of her vibrant creations to stand out.
Now, she was clad in a form-fitting lavender gown that dropped down to her ankles, tapering at her waist and drawing attention to her generous bosom. The usually bare-faced maiden was adorned with our enhancing powders, deep black kohl and shimmering peach paint lending her grey eyes a supernatural beauty. Still, despite Nadine’s fetching looks, I simply was not drawn to her in any primal sense. Some unspoken message told me that she was marked by my Chieftain.
However, once my eyes turned towards the spellmistress and traveled down to Lady Rosalind’s legs, almost impossibly long and toned as though she were crafted by a master sculptor, any thought of Nadine was thoroughly burned from my mind. I hadn’t recalled Rosalind putting any undue effort in training her body, especially since she was so enamored with her tomes, but those legs were utterly perfect. I wished to have them wrapped around me, and perhaps that would come to be after she was fully christened as mine.
Her gown, its sides split all the way to the top of each hip, was the height of fashion in our clan. I had seen illustrations of such a riding gown, the preferred trappings of princesses and queens of yore. These women often remained unturned in order to utilize their logic and discipline in battle, untainted by primal rage. Such noble ladies were instrumental for steering our dragons true, assuring they did not devolve into unstoppable chaos. But such flickers of the past were mere sparks compared to my admiration of the Sorceress’ figure, lean and vigorous. I eagerly await what I might do with it once she proved herself to my comrades.
