I was about to ask what she was doing, but then she lifted her finger away from Breaker’s pommel. The digit was dyed green, and as I watched she traced it along my shoulder. I felt the Woad sap sink into my skin, stinging slightly as it began to swirl on my body.
She was tattooing me.
Like she had promised.
“You could do that while I was sleeping?” I asked, surprised.
“Aye,” the huntress answered. “Tis a bit easier, in fact. The process tends to sting and make people jump.”
“Yeah, it does sting a bit,” I admitted as she pulled away her hand. “How does it work, though?” I asked, narrowing my eyes with my next question. “And how are you able to pull the sap from my sword?”
“No idea on the second question,” Merada shrugged as she put her finger on my weapon’s round pommel. She swirled it around, as if she was dipping her finger in ink, and when she pulled the digit away the result was close. She began tracing some swirling design onto my shoulder and chest, coming close to where my heart was. “Best I can figure, near anyone can pull items out of that magic box inside yer sword. Ye might want to be a tad more careful with the thing.” She knitted her brows in concentration as she finished scrawling a line on my chest that I couldn’t see. Then she lifted her finger and began scrawling another line beneath the first. “As to how it works, that I mostly know,” she said as she began tracing some kind of circle. “But I can’t really describe. Best I can tell ye is that the art be where script magic and shaping magic meet. Tis more of a ritual, than a skill, and one ye can only do with the Woadfather’s sap. But the sap itself teaches ye the basics of the design. Ye just have to be powerful enough to make the design happen.” She finished weaving the script or symbol on my chest. Then she raised her hand over the design and closed her eyes, summoning her own green energy to filter into me. “There,” she said a moment later. “Almost done. Moving to the last part now.”
“For what it’s worth, the process isn’t nearly as painful as I’d been led to believe from people back home,” I admitted, and she smiled at that.
“Aye,” she answered. “Most tattoos take needles and such to remain inked into yer skin. But the magic does most of the grunt work for us. We just both have to be strong enough to handle it.”
“So how is the design looking?” I asked. “Not to complain, but I was kind of hoping I’d be allowed input on how my new tattoo should look like.”
“Sorry,” she grimaced. “It was mostly done to make sure ye were healthy. Breena tells me that something in yer head keeps trying to scramble ye. Something to do with either what ye went through back home, or what ye discovered back underground in Avalon.”
“I think it’s the second one, at this point,” I admitted. “It tries to keep me from Rising. But it passes as long as I fight through it. But according to my mindscreen, the danger seems to have passed,” I said, checking my condition through the semi-reliable status screen still in the process of logging all my gains.
“Well, at any rate, none of the healers knew what to do but let ye rest. I figured doing the tattoo now couldn’t hurt, since it’s strongly linked to recovery magic. Bet ye’re wondering what it’s going to do for ye, though,” she guessed with a smile and a challenging eyebrow.
“You’ve got me read pretty well at this point,” I admitted, grinning back. I shooed away the annoying corner of my mind that told me to freak out over being almost naked. “Not sure if my body can handle any further drastic changes though.”
“Aye, and yer bonded Monarch agrees with ye,” Merada replied. “Especially with all the muscle ye just gained.” She smiled, making my teenage mind desperately hope that she liked what she saw.
I glanced down and found that I had a full eight-pack of abdominal muscle now, something I didn’t even have during my best shape back on Earth.
“But the tattoo will give ye gradual benefits,” Merada explained. “For now, it’ll mainly enhance yer regeneration. Ye’ll heal faster and recover yer mana and vital guard in only half the normal time.” I raised my eyebrows at that, because that was a really big improvement. “It won’t grant ye the same protection that other tattoos grant their Gaelguard, but it will work to complement the protection ye already have, be it what ye wear or what ye work through magic.” I nodded, because that was the right call. I was already walking around with three layers of defense, including my armor. Even without it I still had my Earth and Script magic.
“It should also resonate with the magics ye already can perform, making the motions a little easier. And for now, that’s all it’ll do.”
“That’s probably plenty,” I admitted. “Thank you, Merada,”
“Yer welcome,” she said with a smile, dipping her finger into Monarch sap and scrawling a final line into my body. Then she waved a glowing hand over the spot, held it there for several seconds, and then finally sighed in relief.
“There,” she said. “All done. Would ye like to see?”
I nodded, and she brought me a silver mirror. The sight surprised me.
My tattoos scrawled down my shoulder in a series of intricate loops, until they reached my chest. There, they trailed into cursive writing, leaving two words written over the center of my chest:
Protect. Prevail.
“Stell told me what she saw in ye that day,” Merada said softly. “It be the real reason we trusted ye enough to accept ye as our Challenger.”
I touched the words on my chest, remembering the time she had pulled me crying off the ground, and made me believe I didn’t have a monster hiding inside of me. It was before I learned about the truth behind my father’s death, when everyone was still whispering that I would turn out like him one day, and that I probably wouldn’t be able to help it. It was after I met the first Hordebeast that could talk, and heard him beg me to make him into something darker, and more depraved. I had thought it to be confirmation of my worst fears, until Stell spoke into me. She threw my Deeds at me, what I had actually done versus who my fear told me I was. She did anything and everything she could think of to rip off the lies coiling around my heart, until I could see the words buried deep underneath.
Protect. Prevail.
The tattoo flared as those words ran through my mind, and I felt my heart beat in rhythm with them.
It hit me then, that whatever happened next, whatever new lie people tried to paste into my damaged and traumatized mind, I now had a permanent reminder of who I really was.
“Merada,” I said softly. “Thank you. This means a lot to me.”
“Yer welcome,” she said, looking down. “And thank ye, again. Ye’ve had the worst welcome a Challenger ever received, on any of our worlds. I even took up arms against ye. Yet ye worked as hard as any of them, began saving me people the moment ye got here.” She stared intently at me. “Do ye even know that no Challenger has ever ended a Trial as quickly as ye did, two days after ye arrived on our world?”
“No,” I shrugged. “But did every Challenger have a crack team of people behind them, Icons supporting them, and uncover an enchanted weapon that helped them turn the tide, just when they needed to?”
“Aye.” The woad-marked woman nodded. “That all be part and parcel for solving Trials.” Then she cocked her head at me. “Was that a serious question?”
Her answer had surprised me, until I remembered a couple dozen stories on my own world.
“Fair enough,” I shrugged. “I’ll take the compliment.”
“Please do.” She smiled again. Then she opened her mouth and closed it.
Great, I thought. She’s got the problem, too.
“Don’t leave,” she said suddenly. Then she looked away guiltily.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “Why would I leave? Your world still has a Tumult going on.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking back at me now. “I meant, don’t leave after the Tumult. Stay with me longer.” She bit her lip. “It was selfish of me.”
I slowly sat up. My
tattoo glowed again, throwing green light into the room.
“Merada,” I said slowly. “Why do you want me to stay longer?”
“I don’t,” she said glumly. “And ye can’t. Other worlds will die if ye do.” She chewed her lip a little. “But I wish ye could. And,” she added, taking another breath, “I want ye to want to stay, too. I’m sorry.”
“Why?” I asked as I leaned forward, frustration getting to me. “What is it you really want to tell me?” My eyes narrowed. I threw a quick glance to Breena, who was still sleeping near the corner of the room. “Can you even tell me?” I couldn’t help asking. “Or is this going to be like my conversation with Breena and Guineve?”
“That,” she said sadly. One of her hands moved a little closer to mine, then stopped. “Aye. She said I wasn’t supposed to tease ye anymore. That ye don’t appreciate it. I’ve tried to respect that.”
My chest and shoulder pulsed again.
“That’s not what I told her,” I said, looking her in the eye. “I told her I needed to know what was going on. Because I’m completely confused. Because all of you beautiful women are somehow the same person, and that you all seem attracted to me, but I don’t know for sure, and Stell has supposedly made you all unable to clarify the matter for me, for reasons I don’t fully accept. The uncertainty of it all tortures me,” I said firmly. “I hate it.”
She cocked her head at me.
“Why?” she asked. “Why would it matter what all of me feels about ye?”
“Because,” I growled. “Every side I’ve seen of Stell so far has been absolutely incredible. Every aspect of her has been fun to talk to, and funny in a way that always made me smile. Every aspect has been smart, brave, fierce. And yes, I mean you too, Merada-Stell,” I said firmly. “I’ve enjoyed fighting by your side. You’ve complemented me perfectly, whether you were teaming up with me or handling an entire army behind my back so that I could worry about something else. The fact that you also happen to be an exotic, wild Celtic princess on top of it all is just too much. So when you flirt with me, I don’t get uncomfortable,” I sighed. “I get hopeful. I think I might have a chance at a woman far beyond my wildest dreams. But I’m just old enough to know that not every woman who flirts with a man does so because she’s really interested. I think you’re beautiful and fantastic, Merada-Stell,” I said firmly. “I think the same of the other pieces of you. But I don’t really know how you feel, thanks to this stupid restriction you all have—”
“Restriction?” Merada asked, baffled.
Her hand started crawling toward mine again.
“The one where you can’t confirm or deny any romantic intentions,” I sighed again. “I assume it’s because Stell didn’t want any complications with her Challengers, but it seems that—”
Her hand gripped mine.
She lifted it, clasped her other hand over my palm, and brought my hand to her face.
“Milord Wes Malcolm,” the Woad Princess said softly. “There be no laws that bind me mouth or me heart. If ye be willing to court a wild and unruly woad-maiden, I be willing to claim ye as me hero.”
The room went completely still. For a moment I just stared at her face. Her head leaned forward, with her light-brown hair covering the woad tattoo over her face, and our three hands covering her lips and chin. Through all of that, her chestnut-brown eyes peeked out at me, vulnerable, hopeful, and so very brave.
“You mean that,” I said slowly.
“Aye,” she answered, nodding behind our hands. “I do. Did ye mean what ye said earlier?”
“Absolutely,” I said firmly, telling all of my jittery, cowardly impulses to shut the hell up. “But you’ve known me for less than three full days,” I said carefully.
I had been raised under a father that believed in the traditional school of courtship. A man was not entitled to either a woman’s heart or her body, unless he demonstrated his sincerity to care for both. That meant work. That meant a long period of protecting her reputation, her health, and her happiness, and that any man callous with those three pieces of a woman was completely unworthy of her. A number of people had insisted that stance was that of a misogynist, of an overly nice and timid guy, or even that of a ‘beta male,’ but my father had raised me not to care. If you loved something, you took care of it. Especially a woman willing to risk intimacy with you. Period. End of discussion.
The two years I was disabled, it hadn’t really come up. But it was coming up now, and that meant it was time to find out what kind of man I was.
“And?” Merada contested, with just a hint of fire entering her eyes.
“And,” I replied carefully. “A man shouldn’t feel entitled to the heart or body of a woman he just met. That’s what I was taught.”
“Ye think he should work for her,” she replied, lifting an eyebrow. “Even if she’s already willing?”
“Especially if she’s already willing,” I answered, wondering if I had just somehow made a horrible mistake. “Especially if she has already honored him in that fashion.”
She kept staring at me, and I kept thinking the very next moment she would drop my hand and walk away from me.
I’ll let you handle this, the Freaking New Guy suddenly spoke up, but if you screw this up, I’m hemorrhaging you. Just so you know.
“Right then,” she said, and for a wild moment I thought I saw traces of a grin. “So ye should at least eat dinner with me sometime?”
“For starters,” I said with a nod, relieved that I hadn’t screwed anything up yet.
“And indicate that ye’d be able to provide for me, should I need it?”
“That too,” I replied. “Especially in the long term.”
“And not lash out and try to hurt me, even if I make ye mad?”
“That one’s huge, actually,” I nodded. Domestic violence was very much a thing on Earth and it needed to not be one here.
“And meet others dear to me, and try to earn their approval?” she persisted.
“A man should try, at least,” I said with a nod. “It’s not always guaranteed, though.”
“Very true,” she said, lowering my hand so that I could see her face. She didn’t look nearly as apprehensive as I still felt. “What about respecting her, and standing up for her when others treat her unfairly?”
“Definitely.” I nodded patiently. “Those are really important.”
“Mmhmm,” she replied. “What about protecting her, or that which she cares about? Even at risk to yerself?”
“That’s the classic one,” I affirmed. “Not that you really need much protecting.”
“Ye do know I die if me world dies, right?” she asked, still keeping her eyebrow raised.
“Yeah,” I began. “That’s another reason we need to—”
She moved one of her hands to cover my lips.
“Right then,” Merada said, eyes sparkling. “Since ye’ve met all of that, be a dear and help me get undressed, will ye?”
#
My whole body froze for the briefest of moments, and then the dragon inside of me growled, and I pulled the beautiful amazon into my lap.
She shifted her legs to get comfortable on me, smiling when my body shuddered upon the contact with her. Then she rested her hand against my bare chest and began caressing my new tattoo. The words and spirals flared at her touch, bathing her hand in green light. Her own tattoos glowed in response, and I suddenly realized that Merada was the first Gaelguard I had seen with blue-glowing tattoos.
I also realized I hadn’t pulled her clothes off yet, and that my dragon was getting impatient over that.
I put all of my will into controlling my passion, making sure I touched her gently. My right hand rested on her waist, and began moving up and down, gently searching for one of the straps on her leather garments.
Slow down, part of me said, don’t take this too fast.
Her other palm reached down to guide me to her buckle, and I suddenly felt like I was moving too slow.
&
nbsp; My hand began working at her buckle, as the other hand held her waist to steady her. She smiled wider when she realized how careful I was being, and shifted on my lap again. I couldn’t tell whether she was trying to help me be careful or punish me for taking so long. The next minute it didn’t matter, because the buckle came undone, opening that side of her leather harness. She guided my hand to the latch just below her shoulder, and I almost tore it off before I clicked it open. I growled again when I realized there were more latches on the other side, and she gave a throaty laugh as she just shrugged her way out of the open half of her leather chestpiece. Now only a thin piece of cloth covered her lean runner’s torso. She smiled, then suddenly shifted again. It was fast enough to where it might have been accidental, so I reached out with my other hand to steady her, pressing gently against the side of her ribs. My gallantry seemed to amuse her, because now she was smiling enough to show teeth. She leaned her forehead closer to me, still bracing against my chest with one of her hands. Her other hand began inching her shirt upward, and the corner of my eye caught sight of her smooth stomach. I moved my hands to grip and caress the uncovered portions of her waist, waiting for her to continue revealing herself, and trying not to breathe too hard. She pulled her shirt up until her entire stomach was bare, and then she pulled it forward, letting the opening around her neck reveal the lines and inner sides of her breasts. She heard me inhale, then stopped pulling and brought her hand to my lips, telling me to wait just a little longer, chuckling softly when I growled against her finger. Then she rose out of my lap and shifted her legs to either side of my own. Her free hand first guided one of my hands to rest lower on her waist, then it guided the other one to the belt buckle on her pants. Again, I began clumsily unfastening one of her many damned straps, but before I could complain she tilted my face toward hers and caressed my cheeks with both of her palms.
Our foreheads touched. Both of our bodies suddenly glowed. Then she closed her eyes, opened her mouth and moved her lips to my own.
Woad Children (Challenger's Call Book 3) Page 49
