THE CHOOSING

by PhyllisAnn Welsh

  His lids had a sleepy, sensuous droop to them, and she watched with excitement as he dropped his gaze to her lips. Feenix slowly licked her bottom lip, knowing the sight of her tongue would be hard for him to resist. She felt him suck in his breath sharply. Then her fingers crept up the nape of his neck and, using only a tiny amount of pressure for encouragement, she waited for him to find her lips with his.

  The wait wasn’t long.

  As soon as their lips met, he deepened the kiss, pulling her body into his, molding his hips and thighs to her own. This kiss wasn’t like the other. There was no anger or hate in it, but rather a desire to learn more about her, and it felt as if she had been fashioned by the gods to be a perfect fit for him.

  Feenix opened her mouth and welcomed his tongue. She savored the taste and feel of him, and his groan of pleasure sent a thrill to her heart. The ground moved beneath their feet. Lights seemed to explode behind her closed eyes. She felt like she could fly in this elf’s arms, and she prayed the kiss would never end.

  One final jolt and the kiss ended with Feenix and L’Garn each trying to steady themselves. The lift had stopped.

  Before L’Garn could say anything, Feenix looked out from the lift, away from the shaft, and caught her breath in amazement.

  The sun had just set behind the western mountains, and the meadow was cast in a deep blue shadow. The sky glowed golden and pink, with dusky blue-black clouds streaming across the vast expanse.

  Stretching out before her eyes, from one horizon to the other, a large meadow dotted with trees and neat rows of crops lay at her feet. Tall mountain walls encircled the land, standing as effective barriers to intruders, holding the valley securely captive within a giant, stone palm.

  A breeze, laden with the scent of new crops and pine, caressed her face. Twilight descended softly upon the hidden valley.

  “This will be your home, Teela, while you learn your new duties.”

  A feeling of dread slipped through her chest to settle in her stomach, chasing away her feeling of joy.

  “And what duties would those be, elf-man?”

  The glint in his eyes proved without a doubt that he was savoring this moment to its fullest.

  “Why, the duties required of my concubine, of course.”

  He had been wise to keep the chains on her, she acknowledged. Otherwise, he would be nursing another sore jaw.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The shaft for the lift had been carved out of the side of a cliff, and so as she stood with her back to the east side of the wall of mountains, she could look out over a bowl-shaped valley. The mountain walls towered high above their heads, and the setting sun’s warmth still lingered as the heat radiated from the living rock.

  As lovely as the view before her was, Feenix had no mind for scenic vistas. Her total concentration was on L’Garn and his egotistical comment about the duties of being his concubine.

  “Tell me, elf-man. Just what makes you think I would be so asinine as to agree to be your mistress?”

  She watched him lead the way from the shaft down the side of the mountain. The path was smooth from many feet, and the going easy. She didn’t know where he was leading her, but she was determined to follow him, if for no other reason than to find out just what in Mac Lir’s wide world he meant by concubine!

  “You did not seem to mind kissing me,” L’Garn’s voice floated up to her as she lost sight of him around a sharp bend in the trail.

  “You took advantage of the situation! I was feeling uneasy in that lift that brought us here. Believe me, prince,” she continued, trying to trot down the trail without falling, her hands still useless for balance in their fetters. “If I had my wits about me I would have never come near you in that contraption!”

  She rounded the bend at a full jog and almost collided with L’Garn, who had apparently decided to wait for her to catch up. The spot where he had chosen to linger gave her a wide, unobstructed view of a fertile land laid at their feet, lush with vegetation and well-husbanded crops. Off to the right were rows of trees which could only be an orchard, although she was too far up to identify the type of fruit.

  “Strange,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders to steady her as she fought to remain on her feet after coming to such an abrupt halt. “I seem to remember you were the one who initiated that kiss. No matter.” He turned from her and again set off down the trail. “The kiss was pleasant and I feel confident that you will make an adequate concubine.”

  “Adequate?”

  How dare he imply that Feenix of Port Marcus would make anything less than a stupendous concubine? That is, if she wanted the position.

  She hurried after him again, the jingle and clanking of her chains creating an effective counterpoint to her feet slapping the trail in indignation.

  “Listen, you elf scum! I would make an outstanding concubine, if I set my mind to it!”

  A crack of laughter met her statement.

  “Really? Well, that is reassuring. I admire a female who believes in self improvement.”

  “By Mac Lir’s blue eyes, I could not care less what you admire! I will not be your mistress, you arrogant pig!”

  She was finding it difficult not to stare at his trim buttocks as she followed him down the mountain side. He was a much more interesting sight than the panoramic vista offered by nature. His legs were long and muscular, and as she had noted before, his backside was one of the best she had ever admired. Perhaps the best. She began to wonder just how his skin would feel if she touched him there...

  No, by the god’s gray beard! She had to concentrate on learning all she could of Cragimore so she could report to Rendolin when he next contacted her. Mooning about this half-elf prince was not the way to affect her escape or win the war.

  “Your opinion does not matter in this, Teela. You will be my concubine.”

  The path had leveled out and they were now following a road that stretched through the meadow towards the east. Feenix could see lights in some buildings off in the distance. Probably the farm buildings, she surmised, since the twilight prevented her from making out any details.

  “Here is where we raise many of the crops we need to survive. As you can see,” L’Garn said, motioning with his hand as if they were not in the middle of a very personal discussion of another topic, “the valley is fertile and large enough to grow wheat, corn, vegetables and many kinds of fruit. We have two orchards as well as a vineyard.” Again he stopped and turned toward her.

  “I don’t give a damn about your blasted crops or fruit! Stay on the subject! If I say I will not be your concubine, elf-man, you can be sure my opinion will matter to you!”

  “It just occurred to me.” L’Garn waited for her to reach his side before resuming his trek. “If you are worried about my treatment of you, have no fear. Many females have vied for my attention, and none have ever had cause to complain.”

  By the god’s left eye! The elf scum had more nerve than a wagon load of Port Marcus guild masters!

  “Where did you get this unhealthy opinion of the powers of your own attraction? It seems to me that the females of Cragimore should be pitied if you are the shining example of their ideal mate!”

  “I did not say I was their ideal mate, although many lovely females have voiced an interest in me for that purpose.” He ignored the nasty look she threw in his direction. “Concubines are temporary, as you know, and mates are a different matter all together. No, I am interested in a concubine, Teela, not a mate. However, I thank you for your interest.”

  How in the Seven Cella World’s creation did he live with himself, she wondered? The prince of the Night Elves needed to be taken down a peg or two, and she was just the woman to do it!

  “I was not expressing interest in becoming your mate! I’m not interested in you in any way, you conceited pond scum! When I take a man to my bed, it is of my own choosing!”

  L’Garn had stopped again, but instead of making a show of ignoring her, he scowled at her.
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  “What makes you assume that you would not choose me, once you had sampled the delights of being my concubine? As I said, many have.”

  “You are not my type.” Feenix tried to march past him as he stood in the middle of the road, but he put his hand out and stopped her.

  “And what would that type be?”

  “A man well able to satisfy my needs and wants. One must only guess at the performance of a male such as you. I need a complete man, not some half-elf, half-man monstrosity who is so puffed up with his own consequence it’s a wonder he can stand to be in the same world with anyone else!”

  For a long moment the two stood in the road staring at each other with murderous intent. Feenix had seen the same ferocious mask descend upon L’Garn just before he had so brutally kissed her in his room. Her heart did a leap as she feared he would force himself on her again.

  Feared…or hoped?

  She didn’t have time to decide as he whirled around and stomped off towards the farm buildings, dragging her along. His fingers dug into the flesh of her forearm, but she would be roasted alive before she told him he was hurting her.

  “Get your hand off me. I can walk on my own!”

  But the prince ignored her and continued to lead her through the warm evening, as if he were on an important mission.

  He pulled her up the steps of the largest building—a house or cottage it seemed to her—and pushed her through the door. With each step it was obvious L’Garn was more and more angry. The rage and danger seemed to radiate from him like heat from a baker’s oven.

  Once inside the building, he pushed her away and slammed the door. She stumbled and lost her balance, falling to the floor, but breaking the fall with her chained hands.

  “By Mac Lir’s blue eye, what is the matter with you, elf-man? Can’t deal with a little rejection?”

  His breathing was deep and rapid. The walk to the house had not been that strenuous, so Feenix knew it was an effort on his part to gain control of his emotions. It looked as if he was failing miserably.

  “Oh, I can deal with rejection, human.”

  L’Garn’s voice held a quality Feenix hadn’t heard from him before. It was an odd combination of fury, sarcasm and self loathing. She recognized it, for she had used it often and successfully in her years before Sasheena.

  “I have perfected the art of dealing with rejection, in fact. Have dedicated my life to the project, you could say.”

  He stepped towards her, a menacing force of male fury, and she could not help but scoot out of the way. She realized what she was doing and cursed herself silently. To back down was to die. Hadn’t she learned that lesson eons ago on the streets of Port Marcus?

  Feenix stopped moving and glared up at this new dimension of the prince of the Night Elves. This was her enemy. He had lulled her into thinking him kind and even a bit gentle while they were in the caverns, but this was the true L’Garn, and she was in danger if she took a misstep.

  She struggled to regain her feet, and he watched her with hooded eyes. She didn’t expect him to help her, but she had expected something other than a menacing stare. What?

  “Everyone has to learn to accept rejection in his life, elf-man. Even a prince of the Night Elves.”

  “You know nothing of my life, Teela, so do not try to make light of something you can not comprehend. You are a human and a female.”

  He lunged for her, but she dodged by jumping behind a large wooden table. For the first time she noticed the room was huge; it contained many tables and chairs and looked like an eating hall.

  “I know that life is only what you make of it! If you don’t like what the gods have dealt you, change it!”

  By Mac Lir’s beard, wasn’t she living proof of that?

  He picked up the end of the table and threw it to the side. She quickly moved out of the way, and found herself boxed between a wall and a huge fireplace.

  He moved with the smooth grace of a large hunting cat.

  She felt like his prey.

  “You know nothing! But you will learn, Teela. Oh, yes, you will learn.”

  He lunged again and slapped the palms of his hands against the wall behind her, imprisoning her head between them. She was trapped between the wall and his body, as before. But this time, he did not close the space between them. He merely glared down at her and panted like a winded beast.

  Wrapping the chains around her knuckles, Feenix brought her fists together and braced herself to bring her hands up and smash him in the face. Before she could do more than raise her arms a few centimeters, he stepped back and clamped his hands around her wrists.

  “You’re very good at this threatening stuff, aren’t you, elf-man? At least when you’re threatening a female in chains!”

  “I am very good at threatening people who are not in chains, also. Make no mistake about that.”

  Silently they battled with their hands, she trying to break his grasp and punch him, he trying to force her arms back down.

  “If I had my weapons, you half-elfin scum, you would be dead in a heartbeat!”

  A light seemed to flash in his eyes, and he stepped away and released her. A grim smile curved his lips, giving him the look of a wolf.

  “So you say, again and again, Teela. It is becoming rather monotonous hearing the same obvious lie from your pretty lips every night.”

  “It’s no lie! By Mac Lir’s ears, if you were half a man you’d take these chains off me and let me prove it in a fair fight! But no,” she pushed at him with her words and angry eyes, “Night Elf scum that you are, you’re too much of a coward to put my words to the test!”

  “Half man I may be,” he said in a low and deadly tone, “but I am no coward, Teela.”

  He turned his back on her and stomped to the far side of the room. If she had any wits about her, she thought, she would take advantage of the reprieve and bolt like a rabbit. Instead, she watched unmoving as he pulled some keys from inside his tunic and unlocked a solid wooden door.

  The twilight had faded long ago, and the room had only a few strange lights scattered around. While they were enough to for her to identify chairs, tables and fireplace in the room, they did not shed enough light for her to see what was behind the door L’Garn had unlocked.

  Her curiosity was soon quenched.

  He stepped from her sight for a moment, and when he returned, he was carrying a long sword in each hand. His face was grim and, in the shadows from the weak lights, she thought he looked like a walking scull.

  He advanced to within a couple of meters of her then tossed a sword in her direction.

  “Now we will put an end to your ridiculous claims, Teela.”

  Her arms had somehow become entangled in the chains, and when she put her hand out to catch the hilt of the expertly tossed sword, she missed, like a novice recruit.

  Feenix felt the heat of humiliation rush her cheeks as L’Garn smiled smugly.

  “Take these chains off me, so I can fight you,” she yelled in anger. “Or are you afraid of the damage I might do in a fair fight?”

  He kicked the sword across the room, away from her, and took another key from his tunic.

  “Hold out your hands, human. I will remove the chains, and we shall soon see how adept you are with a sword.”

  A cold rage still burned in his eyes, but she could see he had himself in control. She was secretly pleased; a true warrior needed to be in control of his emotions in order to fight well. If not, the victory would most likely go to the opponent.

  Then she realized she should be disappointed that he had regained his control. She intended to win this confrontation, and her chances would be better if she could get under his skin again. Nonetheless, Feenix was glad that L’Garn understood this basic fighting tactic.

  She stood still as he released the lock, drawing the chain through the manacles and through the ring on the neck collar. He kept the chain and then stepped back warily, as if he expected her to leap on him.

  “The co
llar and manacles remain, Teela, but the chain does not have to be replaced if you vow you will not attempt to escape.”

  Slowly she flexed her arms, smiling at the burning, tight feeling in her elbows and shoulders. She bent over a couple of times and worked the kinks out of her arms, back and sides. Biding her time, trying to think of an effective way to beat him and then make good her escape, she ignored his comment and rubbed her wrists.

  Finally, after making him wait for a few long moments, she was ready to respond.

  “No.”

  “No? You would prefer the chain?”

  “I have already told you, it is my duty to escape. Nothing has happened to change my mind. However,” she added with a slight smile, “I will make you a wager.”

  Feenix could see he was not happy with her words, but curious in spite of himself.

  “What wager?”

  “I’ll give you a lesson in sword play. If I win, you will remove the slave collar, manacles and set me free.”

  He laughed harshly.

  “Is that all, Teela?”

  The sarcasm dripped from his voice. That really wasn’t a very attractive part of his personality, she thought.

  “No, as a matter of fact, there’s something else. You will call me by my name. Feenix.”

  He walked over to the sword on the floor and casually picked it up, but she noticed he kept his own blade pointed in her direction, even if it was in a lowered position.

  “I see no advantage for me to make such a wager, Teela. You will not win, and nothing will change. What is my reward when I am the victor?”

  “If you really believed that, elf-man, then you wouldn’t be so worried about making the wager. However, I can see you need a bit of encouragement.”

  She stepped away from the wall and approached him slowly, holding her hands out by her sides in a non-threatening way. “If you manage to win our little wager, I will agree not to escape.”

  He smiled evilly. “You will agree to serve me faithfully without argument, forego any escape attempts, answer to the name of Teela, and accept your fate as my concubine?”