Vassal

by Sterling D'Este

  At some point during the sleepy lounging around the fireside, Alphonse had become acutely aware of how cruelly Delyth’s mouth curved in small smiles. How devastating it was when Delyth’s gaze lit upon Alphonse. How the muscles in her long legs flexed and moved as she stretched out beside the flames.

  It lit something within Alphonse’s belly, and she had been burning when she came into their tent. And she didn’t care if Tristan or Etienne were asleep yet, or if it was proper or right or sweet as she desired Delyth, as her hands greedily smoothed circles across the planes of Delyth’s flat stomach, working southward diligently.

  Whatever part of Alphonse that worried about respectable, orthodox things had melted away, and now all she wanted was Delyth. To make Delyth writhe and gasp and moan and say her name, the way Delyth had done to Alphonse the night before.

  More. Was that her voice? Who cared?

  Quickly Alphonse’s hand had found the top of Delyth’s pants, and she yanked on the ties. “Yes? Please say yes,” she whispered into Delyth’s ear as she kissed the shell of it, mouth devouring every inch it could.

  ༄

  Alphonse’s fingertips were coals, her tongue more flame than flesh. Everywhere she pressed against Delyth, rivulets of fire crisped her skin, set her to boiling.

  The priestess wasn’t sure if she would melt or billow out in lazy, steam-thick tendrils.

  “Yes,” she said. What other answer was there? “Yes, yes, yes.”

  The tension around the fire that evening had been palatable, Alphone close, and her eyes boring into Delyth’s. The priestess had known that Alphonse wanted her, that she wanted this, and still, the healer’s eagerness was surprising, heady.

  It ate up all the air in the tent.

  Delyth let her hands run down Alphonse’s arms, where they clasped around her waist, pressing tight against her sides. She wished she could reach more, wished she could run her fingers over phoenix-feather skin until she burned just as brightly.

  ❀

  “Kneel,” she whispered, bending the knee at the same time the warrior did.

  Leisurely, Alphonse let her fingers drift along the top of Delyth’s pants, her other hand mirroring the movements over the tops of Delyth’s breasts. She had been thinking about the journey rather than the destination and…

  Well…

  Enyo’s fantasies on the subject had been quite instructive.

  Alphonse couldn’t disagree with the Goddess; it was stunning. Alphonse could peer over Delyth’s shoulder down the tremendous sight of her body while feeling the length of the priestess’s legs straddling her own. And of course, she could feel every inch of Delyth’s silk and tempest skin…

  But by having her chest to Delyth’s back, she was afforded that modicum of privacy and solidarity that let her focus.

  Idly her soft strokes worked lower on Delyth’s breasts, over the tops, swooping across one nipple, then the other, below, across the belly, sweeping back up. The hand at the top of Delyth’s trousers slipped down one thigh, back up, down the other… Exploring. Memorizing. Devouring.

  She let herself slowly traverse Delyth’s body with her fingers, her palms, her mouth. Despite her own excitement, Alphonse took her time languidly stroking each inch of skin before finally letting her hand travel below Delyth’s pants.

  She tried to remember how Delyth had told her to touch, kissing the side of Delyth’s neck as she caressed the dewy satin folds.

  ༄

  Delyth felt the muscles in her thighs and belly tense as the healer’s hand slipped beneath her waistline. Her fingers bunched and relaxed where they curled in her hair, a motion telegraphed in the planes of her biceps.

  “Alphonse…” The name came out like a groan.

  The priestess’s thoughts were torn between the slide of Alphonse’s lips against her neck and the searching brush of her fingers, a tease of anticipation that begged the question of where she would touch next.

  Alphonse brought her fingers up, back down, up, back down… Long lashes tickled against Delyth’s shoulder as Alphonse buried her face against the priestess. “Next?”

  Delyth shuddered, the brush of Alphonse’s hair across her back cool satin. She didn’t speak right away, taking in shaking breaths.

  “Inside me.” When she did speak, the words felt like a plea. She wanted Alphonse’s fingers hooked within her, beckoning.

  “Inside…” Her tone was ponderous; still, she moved a probing finger against the warm slit. Then she slipped one finger, just as Delyth had said, inside. Alphonse seemed startled and then delighted, kissing Delyth’s ear and neck as she stroked “Oh. Goodness…”

  Delyth wrapped a hand around Alphonse’s arm, urgent and needy. Her head fell back against the healer’s shoulder, her eyes fixed blankly on some distant point above them.

  “Yes,” she panted. “Two fingers… and faster.”

  She used the hand on Alphonse’s arm to direct her, before letting it slide away, her abdomen twitching at the press of slender fingers.

  ❀

  “Oh.” She liked how Delyth was pressing against her, how tight her grip was on Alphonse’s wrist, pushing her further. Delyth was one of the most even-tempered, stoic people she had ever known.

  To see her command…

  Alphonse swallowed as she felt her own belly tightening in arousal. Later. She could think about that later.

  Quickly she complied with the warrior’s requests and moved her hand faster, finding her free hand sneaking up to cup Delyth’s breast, thumb running over her nipple.

  Alphonse could feel Delyth tightening, tension blooming from the tips of Alphonse’s fingers, and moving out until the warrior was one band of muscle from the line of her jaw to the curling hooks of her toes cradled against the furs below them. She twitched and shivered beneath Alphonse’s arms, and then she was through whatever barrier had built up within her.

  Alphonse gasped, looking down at the warrior's body and thought there hadn’t been anything made more beautiful nor more alluring than Delyth in that moment. She pushed Alphonse’s hand away and softened, still trembling.

  The healer withdrew her hand and carefully laid a kiss on Delyth’s shoulder before pulling the priestess closer, enjoying the warmth of their bodies pressed front to back. Shyly, she traced her fingertips across Delyth’s ribs, uncertain what to say or do… Thankfully, it didn’t seem like she needed to do anything.

  The warrior’s breaths were still coming fast when she turned and crumpled, pulling Alphonse into her lap. Delyth just held her for a time while the thrumming of her heart against Alphonse’s cheek lost its frantic beat.

  Finally, she tilted the smaller woman’s face up for a kiss, tender and slow. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about your cooking.”

  Despite telling herself it was about the journey, Alphonse sighed in relief as Delyth kissed her and proclaimed her skills agreeable. She tilted her head to rest against Delyth’s shoulder, reaching behind the warrior to slip her fingers across her wings.

  “I—I feel…” It was difficult to describe. She felt elated to have given Delyth pleasure, and uncomfortably close to the priestess, almost reliant on her, and relieved to have someone to lean on. Someone to hold her. And afraid of what that meant for the future. However limited it was.

  “I feel safe. With you.”

  Delyth swallowed. “I feel safe with you too.” The words echoed deep in the warrior’s chest, vibrating into Alphonse’s ear where she lay against the other woman.

  “Do you want to sleep?” Alphonse blushed, but her eyes were alight. “Just you and me…” She meant without their clothes on. Skin to skin… The way it should have been last night.

  Delyth furrowed her brows, and she looked down at Alphonse. “Are you ready to sleep?”

  She wasn’t ready to sleep, but she did like the idea of their bodies tangled up together and Delyth’s warm breath on her skin and her hands holding Alphonse close. Sharing a bedroll. It seemed profoundly personal and…<
br />
  “I don’t want to sleep, but I do want to wake up in your arms.” The healer smiled and kissed Delyth’s lips softly. The priestess was smiling when she pulled away.

  “I’d like that too.”

  ⥣ ⥣ ⥣

  * * *

  Alphonse had slept so deeply, Delyth’s arm her pillow, and her wings their blanket, that it was well past dawn when she finally woke. Her eyes were gummy and difficult to open, and her body groaned in complaint when she tried to sit up. She never wanted to leave that warm shell, cocooned with Delyth.

  For a while, Alphonse just lay there, admiring the way her tawny locks melded with Delyth’s black, their hair spilling out in an arc above their heads, like a colorful aura, even their curls intertwined.

  Eventually, she managed to roll over but couldn’t be bothered to sit up, to get dressed. She just enjoyed the feeling of their combined breaths, rising and falling as one.

  Some part of Enyo whispered that these quiet mornings were coming to an end soon, and Alphonse pushed the thought away hastily. How had she lived without this contact, so desperately needed? How had she lived so barren and cold and isolated?

  She buried her face against Delyth’s chest and wished the sun would stop rising, even if it meant the end of the world. To just stay there with Delyth.

  But her wish didn’t come true, and the sun continued its progress across the sky.

  After a few moments, Delyth started to stir. “Morning.” Her voice was thick with sleep, and she breathed in deeply.

  Alphonse shook her head minutely, not ready to admit it was indeed morning. She could hear Delyth’s voice vibrating through her chest, into the healer’s ear pressed there. Lazily she brushed a kiss to the base of the warrior’s throat and tightened her hold.

  Just a few more minutes.

  Or a few more hours…

  Because this was the last day in the cave; they would resume their trek to the temple and her fate.

  Enyo’s destiny.

  Alphonse swallowed a trickle of fear. Camping would mean less privacy, waking with the sun no matter what, and enduring whatever challenges Enyo threw at them. This quite possibly could be her last peaceful day on Illygad.

  “I don’t want to greet the day,” she mumbled, voice muffled from her position nuzzled into her paramour. “I don’t want to leave you.”

  Coward.

  It was true.

  ༄

  Delyth tilted her head to place a kiss on Alphonse’s temple. She didn’t particularly want to leave either. The tent was safe, just the two of them, free of the press of the others and the trek to the temple. The cave beyond seemed impossibly cold by comparison.

  And they would leave today, leave to continue farther in the mountains.

  Delyth didn’t think she had ever felt such dread regarding a task for her temple. Before, she had attacked her duties with fervor, if not for the Goddess, then at least for the other priests. Now, she was beginning to feel pulled in opposite directions, tearing down the middle and uncertain which part of her would give.

  She took a shaky breath.

  “Let’s put it off a few more minutes,” she said. “We’ll leave before the others start to wonder.”

  ❀

  Alphonse sighed and nodded in agreement. Of course, they couldn’t stay forever.

  But they could buy a minute more…

  Or two.

  Alphonse brushed kisses against Delyth’s throat and jaw, and finally her mouth. It felt as if this was the end of something. Lips wobbling in uncertainty, Alphonse finally sat up. Her hair was a wild mess of curls and whorls, voluminous as it haloed around her head and shoulders. Who knew a veil had kept such things hidden and in place?

  She dressed and rolled up their pallets before tugging on her stockings and boots.

  Pausing before the tent flap, Alphonse glanced over her shoulder once more, trying to memorize Delyth’s body and face, this moment in time.

  But she blinked, and the moment was gone…

  Amber melted into glowing embers, and she left without a goodbye.

  And Enyo marched to Tristan’s tent without a beat of hesitation. She ducked and crawled in to find him, her lips parting in a vicious smile.

  “Do you want to hear a secret?”

  Tristan sat up, bare-chested and messy-haired. He looked as though he had just woke. Still, he grinned lopsidedly at Enyo looking down at him.

  “You know I do.” His voice was practically a purr.

  She crawled across the top of Tristan’s blankets, coming to crouch above of him. It was less sexual and more… the way a cat looked while perched above an injured bird. Playful and divinely cruel as its prey suffered.

  Even if Tristan wasn’t her prey.

  “The mage is powerful. Annoyingly so. And while a bore, he does have a good grasp of magic concepts and laws.” Though not as much as she. And she wasn’t limited by gutless Ingolan rules. “But I believe I can bind him—To himself. When the time comes.” She smirked and reached to brush her nails over his hair, tucking it away from his highly angled face. Savage and wonderful. “I just need one thing. Do you know anyone who is a master of procurement?”

  ⚄

  Tristan’s grin widened, though he didn’t move to touch Enyo. She was too dangerous just then, all feline teasing.

  He could imagine Delyth’s face, though, if she walked in. Jealous sop.

  “I think the boy will largely take care of himself.” Tristan’s voice was lazy and conniving. “He’s a coward at heart.”

  Still, it was always good to have a… fall back, just in case—especially when dealing with something so important. He would help Enyo back, no matter the cost.

  “I know a few masters at gathering desires, Taouk, but as none of them take to wandering the mountains during snowmelt, you’ll have to do with me.”

  She smiled broadly, nearly showing her back teeth.

  “I couldn’t think of a better thief. Now, you’ll have to be very clever in procuring this item…” Enyo leaned closer and whispered, her lips tracing against the shell of his ear intimately.

  When Enyo sat back, she looked like the cat who had swallowed the canary, puffed up from her grandiose plan.

  Tristan shivered, though if it was the velvet of Enyo’s lips, the heat of her breath, or her words that drew it out of him, he couldn’t tell. When she pulled away, he was tense with a mixture of desire and excitement.

  By all the realms, she was fucking tricky.

  He leaned back to soak her in, his face a grinning mirror of her own.

  ⥣ ⥣ ⥣

  * * *

  Etienne supposed he should have been glad to dismantle his shield. They were moving again, off to the temple, where he would rebind the Goddess and free Alphonse. Free his old friend.

  Instead, he felt alone.

  There would be no going back to how things had been before Enyo was summoned. Alphonse was tainted, changed on some fundamental level by sharing her body with evil. And she had Delyth. Someone new to care for.

  Even the night before, after Etienne had spun a story that should have made her remember, should have brought her back to him, Alphonse had only stared at Delyth from across the fire.

  Damn her. It was like she had lost all sight of what they were here for. Delyth wasn’t one of them. Alphonse was supposed to be on his side.

  Etienne shook his head vigorously to clear it, unnerved by the direction his thoughts had been heading. What was making him think this way? He had never before been prone to such dark musings, such a bleak outlook. He supposed it could have simply been a result of the situation they were in, but still. He could not shake this black mood, except in the quiet hours he managed to steal when all the others were sleeping.

  Behind him, Etienne heard the strike of clay on stone from where Alphonse had been standing to look at the cave mouth. Irritation spiked in his chest, stopping his hands in their work, his breath in his lungs. He didn’t bother turning around, and it wa
s some time before he could resume his work on the shield. Finally, he brought it down with only a small spray of snow dusting the rock floor.

  ❀

  Blinking slowly, Alphonse looked around in confusion. How had she gotten to the edge of the cave mouth? Why was she holding a cup of— She gasped and dropped the cup. The dark contents sloshed and spilled, oozing over the floor.

  Blood? Whose blood had that been?

  She stepped away from the liquid chasing her, creeping for her boot tips.

  Sputtering, Alphonse found the metallic tang on her lips and hastily wiped at her mouth, the back of her hand coming away with dark gore smeared across it.

  What had happened?! She remembered more and more of Enyo’s time awake, yet today was as dark as those first with Enyo within her. Could the Goddess choose to block her out?

  Heart pounding, Alphonse stumbled and grabbed the cave wall to brace herself. That was when she felt the pain in her hand. She yanked her grip away and looked. Her palm was cut deeply. The blood in the cup was surely hers.

  What had Enyo done?!

  She looked around. No one was near, all packing up, and Etienne preparing to take down his shield. Hastily, Alphonse ran her thumb over the cut, hiding the injury in a flash of green light.

  No one need know. No one had to be aware of how powerful Enyo was becoming. Yanking Alphonse out, blocking her own sight and memory. Harming her body without Alphonse waking. Not to mention the weight loss and muscle wasting… Her body was becoming weaker, frailer.

  The Goddess was taking root in her soul.

  Alphonse hurried away from the blood and the wall, keeping her amber eyes firmly on the cave floor. Ashamed. Doomed. Cursed.

  Joining the others at the cave entrance, Alphonse had to fight the urge to wipe at her mouth over and over again, certain everyone could see the red staining there. See the stain in her mind. In her core. But no one mentioned it, no one asked.