The fondness these citizens displayed toward each other was going to take some getting used to.
She attempted to shake the unfounded feeling and turned her attention to one of the Master Trainers.
Herus was one of four trainers present. She was a tall, older woman, at least fifty term cycles in age. She exhumed pride and confidence with her skill. Sera watched her with both enthusiasm and appreciation, as she faced younger, stronger males and females. She moved with unrestrained gracefulness. Her silver braid flittered about her head. Her sword slashed through the air with such ease and precision that Sera guessed the women must have spent much of her life engaged in combat. The gold-ringed feather badge on her vest verified that it was true. With little effort her challengers’ swords were flying. She brought the best of the best to their knees. She snorted as she stood over a Noble who she had thrown to his back. Warrior after warrior faced her, and she defeated them all. When she grew tired of toying with them, she moved to her juvenile apprentices. With the youngsters however, Herus’ demeanor changed. She instructed them with firm but motherly guidance.
Herus was a respected woman. Her advice and experience was well received by all.
"She’s amazing, is she not?" A woman sat on the bench beside Sera.
"Remarkable," Sera replied without averting her attention from the activity in the arena.
"She’s a grandmother, you know."
Sera turned her head toward the woman. She recognized her. "You are Ezra."
"Nai Sera. I am surprised you know me considering your condition that rise."
Ezra reached for one of Sera’s hands and held it between her own. She looked up to examine Sera’s face.
"Your color is good. Are you still in pain?" She smiled gently at Sera.
"Not much. Jerad said he will remove the stitches on the next rise."
Ezra’s attention was drawn to the Grandstage floor. Sera followed her gaze to where Jerad was facing his next rival. The swordsman, who engaged Jerad, was large and well muscled. His tawny mane was thick and full. It framed a face that looked harsh and fervid. A picture of a ferocious lion formed in Sera’s mind. An uneasy feeling washed over her. There was something frighteningly familiar about him, but she was sure that she had not seen him before.
With swords raised, their match began. They quickly began crossing ground. Others in the arena scurried from the floor to give the fighters liberty. Sera watched the combatants with mounting anxiety. There was a belligerent edge to the competition that appeared to be more of a confrontation than just a friendly sport.
Sera turned her head toward Ezra and watched the woman’s expression turn grim.
"They have been the best of confidantes since childhood," Ezra remarked, as she tracked the movements of Jerad and the other swordsman. There was a twinge of worry in Ezra’s voice.
Sera allowed her gaze to return to the arena. The warrior rushed at Jerad, putting him on the defense. He began a relentless attack with his sword. Jerad blocked and retreated, but only briefly. Jerad gained the offensive and advanced toward his opponent. The fray grew to such a contentious pace that Sera was near fretting. It looked as if Jerad’s contender meant to do him harm. Because Ezra appeared as equally distressed as she did, Sera assumed that the encounter was more than a typical game of practice. She was thankful that the blades were dulled. The thought of Jerad being hurt was upsetting. At first, she attributed her feelings to her sense of humanity, but realized her concern for the other warrior was less than compassionate. She wanted to see Jerad’s opponent lose.
Silently she cheered Jerad on. He was her warrior, her consort, her friend.
How had she grown to care so deeply for him in such a short time?
And why was no one stopping this clearly, reckless match?
Sera looked about the arena. All eyes were centered on the pair, but not one citizen seemed willing to interfere. Even Herus, who watched the two warriors with a disapproving expression, did not move to suspend the battle. It was allowed to continue until both men were sweating and out of breath. Amazingly, all attempted strikes were blocked by both combatants with neither succumbing to any harmful blows. Jerad finally called for a halt, despite the fact there was no victor.
The Grand Masters moved in and then waited to see if their intercession was required. The match had quickly escalated dangerously close to becoming a full-fledged Honor challenge, and this they could not allow. Not without the Magistrate’s consent. The warrior dropped his sword first, and Jerad responded in like. There appeared to be a collective sigh of relief that flowed among the observers in the Grandstage. Herus approached the warrior and whispered something to him. He stormed to the side of the arena floor, but not before scoffing savagely at Jerad. Herus shook her head at Jerad, and Sera noted the muscles in Jerad’s jaw tense. Something was definitely wrong. She had a sense of impending doom, and knew with profound awareness that it was her marriage to Jerad that caused the discord.
The other Nobles in the Grandstage returned to the floor, and as if nothing unusual had just occurred, all activity returned to normal. Sera however, could not as easily put the incident to rest.
"You know the one who fought with Jerad?"
"Ah, but nai. He is my consort, the Noble Chancellor Aryan, of the Second Corridor."
Sera looked toward the arena. Aryan was glaring in their direction. His baneful expression bore into Sera with such intensity it caused her to shudder. Sera looked away. She did not have the courage to stare him down, nor did she wish to compete with him, should he become further antagonized. He could strike her down with one blow. She decided to ignore him.
Ezra released her crushing grip on Sera’s hand. She had been holding it tightly while suffering her own anxiety over the match between Jerad and Aryan. Sera looked down as Ezra withdrew her grasp. She noticed that Ezra’s left hand was tattooed in a delicate vine of yellow rosebuds and leaves that began on her palm and wrapped around her wrist. It ended at the back of her hand. The design was elegant, aesthetically pleasing to the eye. The colors were brilliant and the shading was creatively embellished to give it a three-dimensional illusion. Sera was tempted to ask her about it, but now, did not seem like the appropriate time.
"His scowl is for me as much as it is for you," Ezra shot a defiant, but flirtatious smile in her husband’s direction.
Aryan leered back, fixating his glare on the two women as he buckled his baldric into place. Then he slowly and deliberately withdrew his broadsword and began to diligently polish it. Ezra was not intimidated by his attempt at provocation.
Sera however, was very daunted by the looming warrior. She stole a skewed glance in his direction and then briskly averted her gaze. "Why is he so angry?"
"He does not like my conversing with you."
"What have I done wrong?" Sera bit her lip, not sure she was ready to hear the answer, but it was too late. The answer came.
"Ah Sera, you have done nothing wrong, but you should know, it was his sister you killed. They were gemini."--twins.
Sera grimaced. Her muscles tensed. That explained why he looked so familiar. Aryan shared many of Sondra’s features. The woman she killed was the sister to a close friend of Jerad’s. Aryan must deeply hate her for what she had done. At the moment, Sera could not have felt more like an outsider, an intruder. What did the rest of the Corridor think of her?
"May I ask you a question, Ezra?"
"If you wish."
"Why are you so accepting of me?"
Ezra looked at her with a confused expression. "What do you mean by this question?"
"Why is everyone around here, except for Aryan of course, acting like my killing Sondra is no bid deal."
Sera watched Ezra as she mouthed the words big deal.
"Your words are strange Sera, but I think I understand what it is you ask. I will try to explain."
Ezra paused momentarily and hissed in her husband’s direction. Aryan’s eyes narrowed and the fierce looking man sna
rled back at his petite wife. Under different circumstances, Sera would have viewed Ezra’s lack of intimidation with more amusement, but at the moment she was relieved to see Aryan turn and stomp away.
"Sondra was not so highly respected here," Ezra continued, ignoring her consort’s annoyance with her. "Aryan’s family grieves, but others, they do not. No one here expected less than a battle for Jerad’s crest. It was no secret that when, or if he married, it would be to another. What is much a surprise to all, is that it is you who stands breathing instead of Sondra. You have earned much respect for your courage."
Like I had much of a choice, Sera thought.
"I could have called a halt had I known about it." Sera whispered with a culpable breath.
"Had you done so, the outcome would have been less than favorable for you. Sondra had an unnatural obsession with Jerad. Your death would have been her pleasure. She too could have called a halt, but Sondra was presumptuous, and I suspect she repudiated the notion that you had bested her. It is merely the way of things sometimes."
Jerad had said much the same, yet it didn’t alleviate Sera’s anxiety. After witnessing what was supposed to be merely sport between Jerad and Aryan it was apparent that the matter had not been put to rest.
Ezra nudged Sera with her elbow, shaking her from her thoughts. "Beware Sera."
"What?"
Herus was standing before them, motioning for Sera to enter the arena.
"Your presence has been noticed."
Ezra placed a hand on Sera’s upper arm and leaned toward her, careful to hide her words from Herus. "Do not refuse that one. She does not fare well as an enemy.
Then she chuckled. "I will take my leave now before I find myself tripping on my own feet in the middle of the Grandstage."
Ezra looked toward the door. Aryan was waiting for her. His mood appeared unaltered. "Besides, my consort is pounding his chest and growling at me."
She dashed for the door and disappeared with her husband.
Herus approached, grabbed Sera’s wrist and yanked her from the bench. Sera opened her mouth to protest, but instead found herself at the mercy of a big, bad mama called, Herus.
"Come girl, don’t be shy. We have much work to do if we are to make a fighter out of you," Herus bellowed in a robust voice.
"But... no... wait." Sera attempted to pull back, but Herus had a firm grip on her, and was literally dragging her to the middle of the floor.
"It was by the grace of the Origins, Noble Sera, that Sondra did not split you in two."
Herus made no recourse for Sera to respond, and before Sera could say boo hoo, or help, a blunted sword was shoved in her hand. Herus took a stance in front of Sera and raised her blade. Sera lowered her sword to her side. Herus scowled at Sera’s defiance, but Sera made a quick recovery, moving toward the great warrior woman. With her modesty in tow, she softly whispered close to Herus’ ear, "I am not wearing any underwear."
Herus jerked her head back and she gave Sera a once-over. Then with instant understanding she roared with a boisterous laugh, drawing the curious attention of those nearby. Sera blushed profusely. Herus slapped her on the back, sending her body flying forward at least several feet, but at least the woman had the decency to make no further comments on Sera’s state of incomplete dress.
"Off with ya!" Herus motioned to the onlookers, shooing them away. They immediately obeyed, returning their attentions to their own activities.
Sera was off the hook.
Relieved, Sera turned to leave the arena, but Herus caught her arm.
"Not so fast girl!"
Crap.
Sera’s hips were flexed to a ninety-degree angle. Her knees were flexed to a ninety-degree angle. She was chair sitting against the wall, except there was no chair beneath her. She had been in this position for at least a quarter segment, but it felt like a full rise. In two hands she held a sword that probably weighed five pounds, but felt like fifty. Every now and then Herus would strike Sera’s blade with her own, from the right or from the left, or from overhead, daring Sera to fall over or drop the sword. Sera gritted her teeth, her perspiration drenching her. The muscles in her thighs ached, the muscles in her butt ached, the muscles in her arms ached, but Herus was relentless. Each time Sera began to slide downward, Herus hoisted her back up. Who would have thought that inactivity could be so exerting.
Jerad, still engaged in his sword sport at the opposite side of the arena, occasionally glanced her way, a jocular grin on his lips. Sera responded with a pointed, I’ll get you for this, glare, in his direction.
"Discipline girl! Pay attention. You will have time enough later to attend to your consort!" Herus clanked her blade against Sera’s once more. "Let your mind be master over your fatigue and victory will be yours!"
"If you are done torturing my wife, Herus, it is time we took our leave." Jerad approached, and stood just behind the woman.
Herus frowned, more disappointed than disapproving. "Very well. You are finished for now, Noble Sera.
Sera blew out the breath trapped in her lungs and slid to her bottom. She could have licked Jerad’s boots at that point, dirt and all, she was so grateful he had finally come to rescue her. Herus grabbed Sera’s arm and with a quick jerk, pulled Sera to her feet. Jerad moved in and caught Sera as her knees began to buckle. Herus stood by, laughing.
"She is lovely. A strong woman. It is a good choice you have made laddy." Herus slapped Jerad’s shoulder approvingly. Jerad rolled his eyes. Herus consistently referred to any man, even those only slightly younger than she, as laddy. He did not mind. Despite her gruff demeanor and her oft condescending way, he was fond of the woman.
Jerad took Sera’s hand. "Come my tharros, we are expected to sup with the Magistrate Council this luna."
He called her his heart. Sera’s own heart skipped a beat with his term of endearment. His affection warmed her immensely.
Jerad turned to Herus. "A pleasant rise to you, Herus."
"Nai, of course, and to you, laddy boy!"
With Sera’s hand still in his own, he moved to leave the Grandstage.
"Thank you for your help," Sera politely remarked to Herus. What she really wanted to do was get out of there as fast as she could and never again be caught in Herus’ presence. Unfortunately her quivering, lower limbs would only allow her a clumsy, limping escape.
Chapter Eleven
Jerad pushed the door open, and he entered the dwelling. Sera followed, closing the door behind them. He began unhooking and releasing his accouterment, dropping it to the floor. Without looking back he proceeded through the doubled doors leading to the garden, stripping his clothing until he was completely unclad. He crossed the stone terrace, and slipped into the tarn.
Sera removed her cloak and boots and sat at the pond’s edge. She pulled her skirt up to a modest height and dipped her aching limbs into the soothing waters. Jerad’s back was toward her, allowing her to discreetly and shamelessly peruse his naked backside. A subtle tingle crept through her, then surged, pooling at her feminine muscles. They clenched in aroused delight. He was a much tempting sight to behold. Jerad abounded in masculine flesh. He had broad shoulders that tapered to a taut derriere and powerful, exquisitely sculpted thighs.
And she was married to it...
Ahem... Him.
She blew a slow, appreciative puff of air and wet her lips. She continued to admire the attractive view, until Jerad sank below the surface, and out of her sight.
Oh nai.
She definitely wanted him.
Jerad broke the surface of the water just below the cascade and Sera watched him shower. He was seemingly oblivious to her presence. Sera bent toward the water, swirling and scooping it with her hand. When she looked up again, Jerad was lazily prowling toward her, his dark, passion filled eyes locking and capturing hers.
Look away Sera, she pleaded with herself, but her self just did not listen.
Sera’s breath quickened at the imminent view, and the likely
onslaught to follow. He began to ascend, the water becoming shallow around him. His skin was wet and glistening.
Oh Lordy me!
It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him naked before, but that was different. He was in the grips of death then.
Jerad paused, thigh deep in the water. Sera finally managed to snap her lids shut, but only briefly. They flew open like they were spring loaded and she was eye level with a part of him that showed every indication of being fully, really fully, alive.
Now how the hell was she going to handle that?
Sera’s heart started pounding wildly. She felt a tremble begin in the tips of her fingers and toes that vibrated through her until it gathered in a strangle hold inside her throat. She swallowed a hard lump. A ripple sparked low in her belly, causing a radiating heat to imbue her flesh. Sera thought to jump into the pool to extinguish the flame that was slowly searing her with heightening arousal, but that would only bring her closer to the source of the fire.
She wanted him to touch her, but not now. It was too soon.
Run, she told her feet, but they were immobile beneath her. Sera looked down at her betraying appendages, somewhat baffled that her mind would so forcefully fight what her body most assuredly wanted.
Move damn it!
Her feet disobeyed.
Awe cripes! She looked up.
Jerad stood still, hands on hips, naked, and oh so proudly erect--in more ways than just one, flashing a handsomely broad and devilish smile.
Then he--Oh gawd, he flexed it, and it bobbled, up and down, up and down. He waggled his eyebrows at her.
The Third Corridor Page 13
