by Jasmine Walt
Riann’s eyes lit up. He climbed up onto the bed between her legs, pushing the green fabric up around her hips. She wore no underthings beneath, and the cool air hit her wet, aching flesh as he gazed hungrily at her.
“Since we are trying new things, perhaps I can do this a bit differently,” he said. Tariel opened her mouth to ask him what he meant, then cried out as he slid his hot tongue along her slit. Her hips jerked upward instinctively, pressing her more firmly into his mouth. Laughing, Riann held her down, exploring her at his leisure. A groan worked its way up her throat as molten desire flowed through her entire body. Intense warmth rippled across her skin, as though she had a fever, and Riann was the only cure for her affliction.
“Gods, you taste divine,” he growled, and his words vibrated against her flesh, sending little jolts of pleasure through her. He licked her again, and Tariel cried his name as his tongue found that sweet spot of hers. “Do you like that?”
“Yes,” she cried, twining her fingers in his long, golden hair. He continued teasing her with his tongue, until she was at the breaking point, her entire body screaming out for release. “Please,” she begged. “I want you inside me.”
Riann rose up onto his knees, using his legs to nudge hers apart. He stripped his tunic off, exposing his broad, muscular chest, and Tariel burned hotter, loving the sight of him kneeling naked before her. Gripping her hips, he slid inside her in one smooth motion, burying himself to the hilt. A wave of pleasure rippled through Tariel, and she ground herself against him, seeking release.
“Yes,” she chanted as they moved frantically together in a frenzy of passion. She clawed at his back, and the sensation of her nails scraping against his skin only seemed to spur him on. His lips crashed against hers, and she could feel the ferocity of his need through the bond, as well as the swell of deep emotion that matched her own. He was her shining knight, her protector, the man who would always keep her safe and secure in his arms.
When she finally came, he held her tight, murmuring endearments in her ear. She shattered to pieces in his arms, then came back together stronger and brighter, glowing with power.
“You are a vision,” he whispered, stroking her face. The tenderness in his gaze stole her breath, and she tilted her head up for another kiss, lifting her hips in encouragement. He moved inside her again, and they rocked gently together until he finished, burying his seed deep within her.
“I wonder if I’ve planted a babe in your belly,” he said as he stroked her hair. “It’s bound to happen sooner or later, at the rate we’re going.”
“Actually,” Zolotais said, popping up out of nowhere again. Riann made a strangled noise in his throat, and quickly threw the blanket over them to shield Tariel’s modesty. “Fertility does not come easily to most mages due to the strain practicing magic puts on their bodies. Tariel has not performed any particularly large spells, but because she is still learning, it is the same thing. Once she masters her magic, she should be able to produce children so long as she does not overtax herself.”
“Oh.” Tariel blinked, placing a hand on her abdomen. It seemed as if she was learning new things about herself every day. “I imagine now would not be a good time to get pregnant anyway, since we are still in danger.”
“Agreed,” Zolotais said. “Even so, you might want to whip up a contraceptive while you’re here. A house this size should have a decent amount of herbs stored away.”
Tariel agreed, then dismissed the desert spirit. She dressed and went downstairs with Riann, and after a quick meal in the kitchen with Calrain—who had sliced up some cheese and dried meat, and had even found a bit of stale bread to go with it—Tariel went to the cellar. There, in the cool darkness, she found a sizable storage of herbs and plants. Delighted, she mixed up the contraceptive that Zolotais had suggested, then combined the dried flowers with other household ingredients to produce a dye.
“Is that for me?” Calrain asked dubiously when she’d finished.
“Yes,” Tariel said. She made him strip down to his underthings and then sit in a chair as she colored his hair with the mixture. “It should disguise your distinctive hair, at least so long as you do not wash it, or go for a swim in the ocean.”
Calrain shivered. “My extremities would ice over,” he said. “I’ll stick to land, if you don’t mind.”
“At least until we board a ship,” Riann said. “I do hope there is one leaving for the Empire soon. I want to get out of here as soon as possible.”
Tariel finished dying Calrain’s hair, and he looked quite pleased with himself. After it had dried, she found a jerkin and coat that were less fine, and adapted them to fit him.
“There.” She stepped back to admire her handiwork. “You should be able to pass as a student at the Academy,” she said, referring to the university in Fjordland.
Calrain grinned at that. “Excellent. Perhaps I can sneak into the library after all.”
The three of them parted ways, Tariel using her magic to disguise herself and Riann as young noblemen. While Calrain went out to buy fresh supplies, Tariel and Riann went to the harbor to see if there were any ships from the Empire they could use to escape.
“Oh,” she sighed as she took in a lungful of salty sea air. The ocean looked even more beautiful up close, the deep, dark blue water beckoning her to the edge of the docks. Riann had to grab her arm before she crouched down to touch it.
“Unless you can swim, I wouldn’t advise doing that,” he warned.
Tariel’s cheeks colored. She had never learned how to swim, as there was no lake or pond big enough for her to practice in. “Do you know how?” she asked.
“Of course,” Riann said. “I learned as a boy, before my father sent me to Castle Tyrook to train as a knight.”
Tariel gave him a cheeky grin. “Then you can rescue me if I fall in.”
She bent down and skimmed the water with the tips of her fingers. It was icy to the touch, and her fingers came away with a thin string of green, slimy material. “What is this?” she asked, frowning.
“Kelp,” a man said, approaching them. He was dressed in a long blue coat and matching hat, and looked to be in his thirties. “Can I help you young men?” he asked, looking at them a bit suspiciously. Tariel suddenly realized how close she and Riann were, and she straightened hastily, putting some distance between them. Liaisons between persons of the same sex were illegal in Fjordland, and could result in having them both thrown in jail for the night if anyone suspected them of buggery.
“We’re wondering if any of these ships are taking passengers,” Riann said casually. “I have long wished to travel south to find my uncle, Alaris. He went off on some expedition several years ago, and we haven’t seen him since.”
The harbor master shook his head. “Adventurers,” he muttered. “Never understood why anyone would want to leave this fine country just to get embroiled with heathens and their sinful ways.”
“Oh, I agree,” Riann said sagely. “That is why I wish to go and retrieve him. If he is still in good health, it may not be too late to save his soul.”
The harbor master nodded. “You are a good nephew, then,” he said, looking out at the ships floating by the docks. “Unfortunately, the only ship we have here from the Empire is that one,” he said, pointing toward a baghlah. It was a large ship, the planks crafted of dark wood, with three bold red sails currently furled on the trio of masts. “It belongs to some rich Maroyan noble, Yarim Itolas, but it has been anchored here for several months now.”
“Several months?” Tariel exclaimed. “Why would any Maroyan wish to stay here this long?” She couldn’t imagine wanting to do so herself. Hopefully once she left Fjordland’s shores, she would never return here again.
The harbor master shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine,” he said. “I have no idea when he plans to leave, but if he is going to, he must do it soon. In the next couple of weeks, the eastern passage will become impassable—the first icebergs have already been sighted.
“So soon?” Tariel asked with dismay. “But we are still in the middle of summer.”
The harbor master scowled. “The winters have been coming sooner and sooner every year,” he said. “I am glad Sir Jerrold is still hunting so ferociously. Maybe this time, when he catches this witch, Roisen will finally relent, and get rid of these long winters and terrible plagues.”
“If the passage does ice over,” Riann interrupted before the conversation went south, “how long will it be before it opens up again?”
“A good five months. Though with our luck, probably longer.”
They thanked the harbor master for his time, then left, walking back up the harbor. “I had no idea that the eastern passage was closed off for nearly half the year,” Riann murmured.
“Neither did I,” Tariel said, shaking her head. “It was foolish for us to come here. We should have headed straight for Carliss.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Riann said gently, reading her feelings. “None of us knew. This was my idea as well, remember?”
They had nearly made it off the docks when two guards dressed in blue and white livery stopped them. “You there,” the one on the left said to Riann in a clipped voice. “We hear that you are seeking passage to the Maroyan Empire.”
“Yes,” Riann said, lifting his chin. Tariel followed suit, burying the chill of fear that raced through her at the suspicious glint in the guards’ eyes. “What of it?”
“Perhaps you’d like to come with us and explain your interest to our captain?” the second guard suggested. “It is not often that our countrymen look to journey south, away from Roisen’s protection.”
“How dare you treat me this way?” Riann thundered, drawing himself up with self-righteous outrage. “Don’t you know who my family is? I can have your pay docked for threatening me!”
Tariel held her tongue as she let Riann take over the situation, throwing an impressive tantrum in true nobleman fashion. She supposed he was technically a nobleman himself, as the son of a baron, though he rarely acted like it. Eventually, the guards relented.
“All right, all right, Sir,” one of the guards said, holding up his hands. “We did not mean to cause offense. Of course you may go, though we will need to follow up with our superiors. Might we have your address?”
“Certainly,” Riann said stiffly. He gave them a false one from one of the villas a few blocks from their own. “I will be telling my father about this,” he said, brushing past them.
Tariel and Riann said nothing as they briskly walked away, taking a roundabout route back to their boarded-up mansion so that they would not be followed. Calrain was waiting for them in the kitchen, looking quite cheerful, with an impressive amount of food spread out on the counter.
“I sold a silver cup I found here, and it netted us quite a bit of coin,” he said. “I was able to buy eggs, and some fresh bread, and even some—” He paused, finally seeing their dire faces. “What is it? Did something happen down at the docks?”
“We were waylaid by two of the royal guard,” Riann said grimly. “They wanted to know why we were enquiring about passage to the Empire, and wanted to take us to their captain for an interrogation.”
“Riann managed to convince them to let us go by pretending to be a noble with connections,” Tariel said, “but it won’t be long before they figure out it was a ruse, since we gave them a false address.”
“Then Sir Jerrold will know we are in the city for certain,” Calrain said, looking worried. “We need to get out of here before he sniffs out our location. Were you able to find out if any of these ships are leaving for the Empire?”
“There is only one, belonging to a Maroyan noble named Yarim Itolas,” Tariel said. “But he has been here for months, and no one knows for certain when he plans to leave. The harbor master told us if we do not set sail soon, the passage will ice over, and we will be stuck here until spring.”
“Then we had best find this Itolas, and quickly,” Calrain said. His eyes lit up, and he broke out into a sudden grin. “Luckily, I think I know just the way to get in touch with him.”
22
Thank the gods for Calrain’s resourcefulness, Tariel thought silently as she stepped out of the hired carriage, assisted by the waiting footman. She gazed at the well-lit manor, perched on a cliffside overlooking the sea, where they were about to attend a masquerade ball. Calrain had heard about it while he was at the market, and they had agreed that it was the perfect place to approach Itolas, who was almost certain to be there.
Tariel smoothed the skirts of the red dress she had altered, pilfered from her unwitting host’s closet. It was a work of art, with filigree patterns embroidered in gold on the bodice and sleeves, and ruffles in the skirt. In fact, it was quite daring for a Fjordland woman, but because it was a masquerade ball, Tariel felt she could get away with it. She and her men had all bought masks the day before, and the red and gold one that covered the upper half of her face matched the rest of her outfit perfectly.
“Are you ready, darling?” Riann drawled, offering her his arm. His mask was midnight with silver embellishments, just like his outfit. Tariel had used her magic to change their features completely so that there was no chance of being recognized, but he was still as handsome as ever.
“Yes,” she said, placing a gloved hand on his forearm. She tucked an errant curl over her left ear and walked toward the mansion. Even though she had disguised her dark skin and hair, turning herself into an exact copy of Marilla, she still drew the attention of every man there as they made their way toward the open double doors.
“Invitations?” the guard at the door asked. Riann produced the envelope Calrain had given them, and the guard opened the expertly forged letter. “Welcome, Lord and Lady Sansmere.” He inclined his head and allowed them to pass.
A servant just inside the door took their coats and waved them on toward the festivities in the ballroom. Though most of the noise came from the ballroom, quite a few guests lounged in other rooms, drinks in their hands as they flirted and giggled with each other. A woman sat in a man’s lap, playing with his hair while she practically pressed her bosom into his face. Tariel imagined that the masks, plus the alcohol, went a long way toward lowering the inhibitions of an otherwise very stoic people.
“I think it was a good idea to pose as Marilla and her husband,” Riann said under his breath as they stopped at the refreshments table. “So far, no one has recognized us.”
Tariel nodded. She had disguised Riann to look like Poltan, the noble who had been so in love with her, and Calrain to look like his cousin. Marilla and her husband had never traveled to the capital, so there was little risk of running into close friends, and if they did happen to run into an acquaintance, they could mimic their mannerisms well enough to pass as the real Lord and Lady Sansmere.
As they scanned the crowd, making small talk with the guests, Tariel searched for Itolas. It wasn’t hard to find him—his thick, dark hair and swarthy complexion stood out in the crowd, and he wore a splendid glittering gold robe that was quite shocking next to the tamer doublets and trousers the other men at the party wore.
“Rather flamboyant, isn’t he?” Riann murmured as they watched him joke and laugh with the countess who hosted them. The woman seemed charmed, though her husband wasn’t amused at his wife’s fondness for the dark foreigner.
“I think he’s rather handsome,” Tariel said, teasing Riann a bit. From what she could see beyond the mask he wore—a scrap of metal that barely covered the space around his eyes—his face was exotically sculpted, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw dusted with stubble. He turned his head, and Tariel felt a jolt as bold violet eyes met hers. An instant connection formed, making Tariel’s veins sizzle, and she took a step toward him without thinking.
“You like him, don’t you?” Riann asked. His voice was without inflection, but Tariel could feel the jealousy stinging along their bond, and she flinched inwardly with guilt.
“As I said, he�
��s handsome,” she said. The countess said something, and Itolas turned his attention back to her, his white teeth flashing. “I don’t know enough about him to like him, but I should like to find out. Perhaps he would be willing to help us.”
Riann found her hand and squeezed it. “Just be careful,” he said.
She squeezed back, sending a wave of reassurance through the bond. “I will.”
They mingled with the other guests while she watched Itolas out of the corner of her eye. Eventually, he took his leave of the countess, and after speaking with a few others, retreated to a corner of the room with a glass of wine. His violet gaze swept the room, sharp with cynicism.
Perhaps the flirtatious foreigner wasn’t as enamored with the Fjordlanders as he appeared.
Surreptitiously, she made her way across the room to lean against a pillar near him. “You look like you’re having a grand time,” she said, allowing a hint of amusement to color her voice as she grabbed a fresh glass of wine from a passing servant. “Is the entertainment not to your liking, my Lord?”
Itolas smiled. “Ah. The young woman who stared so boldly at me from across the room.” He raised his glass of wine to her, then took a drink. “The entertainment is…lacking, compared to the great parties and balls I’ve attended in the Empire. This troupe of musicians,” he said, gesturing to the four men playing toward the back of the room, “is quite underwhelming.”
Tariel cocked her head—the music sounded fine to her, but she supposed her experience was limited. “Are you merely a critic, or do you play?”
“I am both,” he said, grinning at her. “If I had brought my kamancheh with me, I would play you a song that would give you chills and make your heart soar higher than the twinkling stars.”
“All at once?” Tariel laughed lightly, but his words charmed her despite herself. There was something inherently romantic about Itolas, and she imagined he was quite the womanizer.
