Barbarian Alchemist (Princesses of the Ironbound Book 3)

by Aaron Crash

  Della leaned forward and kept her voice down. “You’re curious, aren’t you? I am. I’ve never been with a mermaid.”

  “And I haven’t been with a human, though you’re not human. Half-elf?” Beryl raised an eyebrow.

  The Princept nodded. “We can’t go to my chambers.” She wasn’t going to let this mermaid anywhere near the Fractal Clock.

  “Going to my room might be difficult as well,” Beryl said. “Gharam has his wives out doing rounds. Sometimes I think you should call it the barracks and not the Imperial Palace.”

  An idea hit Della. “I know a place. But first, let’s drink a little of that wine you brought. And I’ll share the Amora Xoca with you.”

  Beryl poured, while Della unwrapped the xoca treat. It wasn’t like this was an official meeting, and so the Princept walked around and sat with the mermaid in another chair in front of the desk.

  Ymir continued to study, though he would be looking. He sat there to keep tabs on the Princept, which felt oddly comforting. In truth, Della liked glancing up to him there—at least he wasn’t summoning demons or making any more of those Tree-damned rings while he was there.

  Beryl lifted her glittering glass. “To friends.”

  “To lovers.” The Princept clinked her glass against the mermaid’s. “Now, let’s see what this xocalati does to us.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  DELLA PENNEZ FOUND her heart beat a little faster, drinking the wine, sitting next to this beautiful mermaid, tall and stately.

  The Princept broke off a piece of the square, which had the official Amora Xoca stamp on the front. She set it into her mouth. After the wine, which was a bit fruity, the bitter taste of the candy was striking. It not only tasted good, it felt good, and the world took on a warm glow.

  The mermaid tried a piece, and her eyes opened wide. “This is extraordinary. You know, the merfolk deal in xoca beans, though we’ve had trouble working with the Undergem Guild. Marrib is smart to have some connections to local vendors who—”

  Della held up a hand. “No, Beryl, we’ve talked business. Now is the time for pleasure.” The Princept felt her nipples tighten, and yes, there was a heavy feeling in her belly. She adjusted her legs under her robes, and she was feeling the effects of the Amora Xoca. She smiled. “A tickle in your glitter box indeed.”

  Beryl shifted forward and touched Della’s leg. “Your skin is so soft. I’ve thought of doing this with you on so many nights. And on some days. I went to the water, to feel the ocean on me, and I thought of you.”

  “Did you touch yourself?” the Princept asked in a thick voice.

  The mermaid nodded. “I did, but not in the water. When finned, my sex is hidden. It’s only when I’m legged or tentacled that I can access my...ohi. I think that’s the word.”

  “It is. The elven word.” Della wanted the hand on her leg to push up her robes farther, to touch her between her legs. But Ymir wasn’t the only scholar in the Librarium. The upper shelves, though, would be closed for the night to the normal scholar. The Princept and the mermaid could find some privacy there. “Let’s finish the wine, quickly, because if I don’t kiss you soon, I might very well die.”

  “We can’t have that, can we?” Beryl said with a little laugh. Was there an edge there? Was Beryl another assassin?

  No, pleasure before business—Della had earned it.

  They each guzzled the last of their wine, and then tried to make a show of leaving at different times. The pair ascended the steps on the other side of the citadel from Ymir and hurried up one staircase after another until Della pulled Beryl past shelves to a little alcove on the sixth floor, a very hidden and private alcove near the door to her chambers. The lightning that kept the iron off the books sparkled on the other side of the citadel, so they could hide in the darkness.

  The alcove had a single cushioned chair next to a table where a Sunfire lantern sat, unlit. A comfortably thick carpet covered the stone floor.

  Della’s mouth found the mermaid’s, who had to stoop. This woman was so tall, the tallest woman Della had ever been with. She’d had sex with orcs before, and they were bigger, and wider, and far smellier. Beryl’s perfume—the fresh ocean, the sweet lavender—had a muskier scent to it, thanks to the Amora Xoca. That candy was dangerous.

  Beryl’s mouth tasted salty, but her lips were full and her tongue was soft. Their kiss turned messy, but Della liked that—she liked her sex wet and messy. Her hands went underneath the mermaid’s coat and found the thick dress, but it was warm, she was warm, and all those stories about the merfolk being cold were simply lies.

  The mermaid shrugged off her coat. Della moved the table to the side. She then attacked Beryl, helping her get her dress off, until the woman was naked. Beryl trembled in the chill air. The Princept, still in her robes, pulled the mermaid close. Della cupped her ass, which was only a handful since she was so thin. And her breasts were small, with small nipples, but they were the perfect height for Della to suckle on them. She licked and sucked on the mermaid’s tits, and yes, her skin was saltier. Della’s hand went from her ass and up her back. She felt scales appear and then disappear. This mermaid’s body was strange and wonderful.

  Then Beryl leaned down to help Della take off her clothes. They both sank naked to the carpet.

  Della shivered in the chill, but she liked the illicit cold on her naked body. To get caught would be embarrassing and potentially career-ending. But her life was always like that. She would lean into it, she would dance in the fires of passion, but she wasn’t completely foolish.

  Beryl knelt and sucked on Della’s tits. Della liked her tits—they were perfect little scoops of flesh with sensitive nipples, and she kept her belly flat from hours of practicing the Sunfire combat arts.

  There was so much skin on this mermaid, so much to explore, so many cracks and crannies. It was a shame they had to do it hurriedly and out in the open like this. At the same time, getting caught had a thrill of its own.

  “Jelu devocho,” Della whispered. Her Focus ring flashed.

  Beryl leaned back with a questioning face. “What was that about? Are you trying to scry me?”

  “Just the opposite. I’m hiding us. And if anyone comes, we’ll have a warning.”

  The mermaid grinned. “I’m not sure I can get dressed that fast. I’m not sure I want to.” She leaned back and took in Della’s body. “You have hair on your sex. I’ve heard of such things. And it’s white, like your head. Do Gruul women have tusks down there?”

  “No,” Della said softly.

  The mermaid shivered again.

  “Put on your coat, Beryl,” the Princept encouraged. “I’ve sucked on your tits. Now I want to see your pussy. That’s the human word.”

  Beryl found her coat on the floor. She slipped it on and went to kiss Della more. But Della had other ideas. She forced the mermaid to turn around and then forced her down on her knees, arms resting on the reading chair.

  Della got behind her. The Princept raised the coat over the mermaid’s cute, round butt. Scales appeared on her spine and then disappeared, like gooseflesh. The Princept started at her feet, kissing them, and then licking up her calves. At the same time, she caressed the bone spurs coming out of her heels, so strange, so alien. Della could smell her own spit as she licked the back of the woman’s knees, and then up her thighs. Her legs were thin, but they jiggled like a woman’s should.

  “Oh, you’re teasing me, Della,” Beryl sighed.

  The Princept had worked her way up to what she really wanted, the puckered back hole and the bare slit of this long, sexy fish woman. The lighting flashed on the shelves around them, giving Della a view of the mermaid’s sex.

  She had a surprisingly pink little pucker above hairless lips that dribbled juice down the thighs of the woman. Her oheesy was fatter than what Della expected, with thin little lips that barely protruded from her hidden cleft. Her ohi was tiny as well, a little pearl hanging under a swampy hole. All of it was pink and perfect. Della t
ook her thumbs to spread open the swollen labia majora, opening the woman to reveal her tight tunnel. Fresh juice leaked out. This was new for Della—there was so much cream coming out of the mermaid.

  “Lick me,” the long woman begged. “You’re not teasing me. You’re torturing me.”

  “No, Beryl, I tortured myself,” Della said. “For weeks. I’ve wanted this. I’ve wanted to taste you, and smell you, and experience all of you.”

  “Please, now, Della,” the mermaid whimpered. “Please do it now.”

  Della complied. She kissed her way across the little ass cheeks of the tall woman until the kisses turned into licks. And then she was licking up the woman’s sex, from her pearl up her thin lips to the little pink rosebud at the top. And then she worked her way back down. The woman’s sex was saltier than most, but mostly it was just the sweet musk of an excited woman, wanting to be pleasured, wanting to be sent over the edge into heaven.

  Still more juice dripped down onto Della’s face. It was weird, wonderful, and nasty. Della could hardly breathe, she was so excited. The cream helped Della get three fingers into the clutching channel, such a little hole, spread so wide.

  Beryl backed herself up onto Della, fucking herself back. “It feels good, Della, but I can’t come like that. Can we turn? Can I turn around and sit? Then you can suck on my clit and fuck me. And then I’ll come. I promise you I will.”

  Della withdrew her fingers as the mermaid turned. She sat on the chair, legs spread. The coat had fallen away to reveal her little tits and her tiny hard nipples. Della had to wipe her face with the back of her hand. “Do all mermaids get so wet?”

  The mermaid was having trouble thinking. “I don’t know. Maybe. The women I’ve been with have. But I need to come, Della. Please. I need to come.”

  The Princept got on her knees in front of the big woman, so long her legs seemed endless. Della felt so small compared to her. Della lapped more cream from the gooey slit, and her face was soaked again. She concentrated on sucking this woman’s clit while she fucked that gushing hole with three fingers.

  It wasn’t long, and Beryl had a fistful of Della’s short hair. More juices dripped from the woman and onto the coat beneath her. They’d need to clean both that coat and the chair underneath. If they couldn’t get the smell out, Della would put the chair in her own room.

  Then Beryl let out a whimper, and her oheesy squeezed Della’s fingers, over and over, as the woman rode her orgasm.

  Della was beside herself with lust after the wet convulsions of the mermaid. The Princept climbed up the woman’s body—or that’s how it felt, until her hairy pussy was over the mermaid’s pretty face. Beryl was so pretty, and older, a woman with experience. It was even better to see the mermaid rubbing her little pearl now, even as Della, with her feet on the chair’s armrests, lowered her quivering sex to the woman’s ready mouth.

  “Oh, you smell so good, and that hair, it’s so strange, and—”

  Beryl couldn’t talk because her lips and tongue had other things to do. Della sucked on her still-warm, still-wet fingers, the same fingers that had been inside the mermaid. Della found herself over the edge too soon. She wanted to wait, to really enjoy this, but she’d been too turned on.

  Wordless, she couldn’t even announce her coming. She simply let all the sensations overwhelm her mind. Tingles spread across her body. She whimpered at every spasm of her own long orgasm.

  Yes, she was cognizant that she was out in the open, in the Coruscation Shelves, where they could get caught. They wouldn’t be able to dress quickly enough. People would know. She imagined Ymir walking up the steps, defying her warding spells. He would watch them as he stroked his huge cock. He’d watch his Princept come.

  That thought sent her spiraling back into another orgasm, and Beryl was grunting and straining, her fingers rubbing her clit so hard, so fast. Both lost count of their orgasms.

  As the fire of lust faded, Della found herself curled up in the arms of the mermaid, and again, she felt so small. Their kisses were sweet. The Princept wasn’t worrying about getting caught now. Her spells would hold.

  She was only worried about one thing. She kissed Beryl a final time. “When can we do this again?”

  The mermaid brushed some of Della’s white hair out of her face. “When can you get more of the Amora Xoca?”

  It was a joke, clearly, but it did make Della wonder again. How much could she trust this strange creature from the sea? And next time, could they have sex in Beryl’s tentacled form? Della had found a new lover, and the possibilities of what they could do together seemed endless.

  Chapter Twenty

  YMIR WALKED TO CLASS that Monday morning, the day after he watched the Princept and her mermaid girlfriend have wine before sneaking up to the top of the Coruscation Shelves. He paused to watch the rain gush out of the mouth of a gargoyle outside the feasting hall. It was another gray, rainy day, and the air smelled like wet stone and ocean.

  The clansman had to smile. He liked how Della was trying to hide her little encounter with the older mermaid. He liked that he had one more thing to hold over her if the time came. It was good that the Princept had found a lover. In his experience, if you didn’t let your lust out for a walk every now and again, you lost it. He’d seen several old people in the clan become bitter, hateful people because they’d forgotten how to fuck.

  He’d studied into the night on Sunday, though they had another week until Second Exam. He’d made some progress on Derzahla Lubda’s poem from Akkiric, Akkoric, Akkarotic. Many scholars had read the work, and some of the sources called it ridiculous and overwritten. Others wanted to take it seriously, and they themselves had tried to craft the Yellow Scorch Ring. Yet, even among those who believed in the accuracy of the poem, they couldn’t agree on what certain things meant.

  The first four lines, for example:

  The Reveler’s fruit spoiled into chaos; what was sweet is now just stained

  A sorcerer’s voice that has long been silenced; the speechless dead might speak again

  Sour is the vineyard’s grieving; malleable becomes the ossified throat

  Pale blue is the peroxide water; dark crimson becomes the living heart

  Some thought that this meant to make the ring, you had to murder a sorcerer, get a bone from their throat, and soak it in a mixture of wine, water, and blood. Others said you had to pour wine down the throat of a skeleton and murder wasn’t necessary.

  Ymir thought it all sounded like dark magic indeed. Tori had basically given up on the poem and had focused completely on the machines they needed to process the xoca pods. She’d also insisted on paying for the second floor of the annex, and she’d hired workers to make it into a factory. She said it wasn’t a loan, but an investment. The dwab worked herself into exhaustion every day. Without her Inconvenience as a distraction, she got a lot done.

  The xoca beans were currently fermenting in the annex, which would take a week, and then another week to let them dry. Then they’d be ready.

  Tori came bustling out of the feasting hall and grabbed Ymir’s hand. “Okay, Mr. Man, let’s get on to my favorite class, Basic Alchemy with Brodor Bootblack. Though have you noticed he can hardly stand to look at me? I find it hilarious.”

  “I’ll look at you enough for the two of us,” Ymir said easily. They walked under the covered walkway that hugged the side of the feasting hall, avoiding the dripping the rain that had overflowed the gutters on the edge of the eaves. “How goes the machinery?”

  “Oh, I’ll be ready for our big Solstice break cook. I have most things I need, and Professor Bootblack, while he’s not the easiest person to get along with, has given me some parts I needed. My room looks like a loremaster’s shop. Ribrib complains of the mess and the noise.”

  “Of course she does.” Ymir chuckled. The mother was getting all the love, the daughter none.

  “And how go your Flow classes?” the dwab asked. She had her storm cloak back so her red hair was visible, with little
dots of moisture clinging to it. “How is your favorite professor? You and that Issa Leel, two diamonds in the same rock, you are.”

  Ymir had to slow his steps so the little woman could keep up. “That professor saved us all by freezing that wave. She’s conscious, but still recovering, so I’m having to deal with the mermaid teacher and the fairy professor, Lolazny Lyla.”

  “How is that?” Tori asked.

  “More giggling than I like,” he answered. “You know I’ve never liked Professor Leel, and yet, I have to admit, I admire her strength and courage. And guess who’s giving her sketches and writing her letters and singing her songs?”

  Lillee emerged from the Librarium and saw Ymir and Tori. The elf girl threw on the hood of her storm cloak and hurried over.

  They stopped under an overhang in the Flow courtyard to chat.

  Tori gave Lillee the most unexpected look. “Lil, you’re not being nice to Issa Leel, are you?”

  Lillee smiled. “I am. You can’t live a thousand years peaceably and hold on to grudges. I’m sketching key scenes from her favorite books. Gatha has been helping me. I’m pretty sure Gatha has read every book ever written. I talked with Doctor Naymer, and she has a lute. I’ve been playing for Issa. Of course, she has to correct me every time I miss a note or get a lyric wrong.”

  Tori shook her head. “Are you referring to her as Issa, Lil? Well, your kind is different, I’ll tell you what. Orcs and dwarves can hold grudges better than anyone. We might lose our minds when we get older, but we never lose our hate. Good for you. That’s wonderful.”

  The elf gave them both a secret little smile. “I shouldn’t, but I enjoy her like this. She’s far less cruel to me when she’s so weak. And I like the professors who took over her classes.”