by Lee Savino
“Do you mean to tell me I need defense from you?”
“Not us, lady,” Ivar said. “Never us. But some of the others...” He trailed off. His cheek still bore a bruise from where the wild warrior had hit him.
“I understand. I am grateful for your protection.”
“As we are grateful for what you have done,” Ivar said.
I blew out a breath. “I haven’t accomplished anything yet.”
“You tried. It is more than anyone has done.”
“We are grateful,” Lars repeated. “Anything you need, we are yours to command.”
“Are you?” I purred, and just like that we were back to jesting. Lars’ scruffy face split into his signature grin. Even the high points of Lars’ cheek colored red. “Then by all means, stay.” I sashayed past them, smiling to myself at the weight of their eyes on my backside. Though they were large men, warriors in their own right, Ivar and Lars seemed younger somehow. I felt lighter in their presence, a girl flirting with two handsome men, one dark, one light.
There was a bowl of fresh figs sitting on a table, along with a pitcher and some cups.
“Is this meant for me?” I asked of the refreshments.
“Yes. We brought it, lady,” Lars hovered behind me.
“Thank you.”
“You would be wise to only eat or drink what we provide,” Ivar said from where he hung back at the door. “There is no intent to poison,” he answered my worried look. “It’s only... there are no kitchens.”
“Does the king not keep a cook?”
“The king is very mighty, but he has no court. At least, not a typical one.”
He has no need of human attendants. Tristan had said nothing of inhuman ones. If the king had progressed to using magic to do his everyday bidding, he was very powerful indeed. Too powerful for me to face him, even at the height of my powers.
I may have arrived too late.
“I understand. It seems as though it’s been some time since the king had any guests.”
“Yes, lady,” Ivar sounded relieved I understood. The Corpse King was probably listening to our conversation. If not him, then one of his magical servants. I would follow these warrior’s lead and take care of what I said.
My stomach growled. I touched one of the figs, hesitating.
“It is safe,” Lars encouraged. “We plucked them earlier, for you.”
“Thank you,” I murmured. The fig was sweet, the juices cool and refreshing. The warriors watched me hungrily, and again I felt hot, too hot. I put my hand to my belly to steady myself. It had been a long time since I had been noticed in this way by a man. Back in my time, my magic marked me as ‘other.’ I still seemed strange to these warriors but when they saw me, they saw a maid, and not a witch. Another effect of the spell stripping me of my magic.
My hand fell on the pitcher which was filled not with water, but wine. “Would you like something to drink? There is more than enough.”
Both warriors murmured assent, and I poured with undue concentration. Lars took his cup with a smile. Ivar made no move to take his, so I set it down on the low table surrounded by couches.
“So,” I leaned against the sturdy wood, “How came you to be in the king’s guard?”
“We joined the ranks almost as soon we were weaned from our mothers,” Lars snorted and drank his wine.
“What? So young?”
“Lars exaggerates,” Ivar spoke up. “But the training starts young.”
Lars shrugged at my shock. “We were born to it. It’s all we’ve ever known.”
“Are there many in training now?”
“None,” Ivar said. “Lars is one of the youngest.”
“The youngest but the best,” Lars boasted. “Ivar and I are both captains. We form the king’s honor guard, along with two others.”
“Honor guard? Because you have so much honor?” I teased.
“Aye,” Lars grinned and gulped more wine. “We do, lady. And we are better warriors.”
“And so modest.” I crossed to refill his cup and set the pitcher on a low table between us, seating myself and motioning for him to do the same. When he did, I bit my cheek against laughing. His great size dwarfed the low couch. And he wasn’t the largest warrior I’d met in this place.
“It’s true, though. We are the best fighters. We run faster, we shoot farther. And when we hunt we always capture our prey.”
“Always? No matter the prey?”
Lars leaned forward, the gleam in his eye making me flush. “Always, lady.”
“Call me Yseult.”
“Lady Yseult.”
“Just Yseult. I am no lady.”
“You are to us.” Lars’ smile turned coy. How many women had he seduced with that boyish smirk? His long blond locks spilled around his face, inviting me to stroke them away. For a mad second, I contemplated sitting on the low table before him and doing just that.
“Lars,” Ivar said abruptly. “Commander wanted someone to patrol the north wall.”
“Then go,” Lars said to him, still smiling at me.
With a disapproving clank of armor, Ivar bowed to me and left.
“Forgive my brother. He is not used to speaking to ladies.”
“And you are?”
“That is for the ladies to say.” He hid his smile behind his cup.
“Well, I am no lady,” I smoothed my gown. “But I pronounce you well spoken. You have a skilled tongue.”
“You have no idea.”
I blushed and cleared my throat. “I do not fault your brother for not being comfortable around me. I am an outsider.”
“It’s not that. His mother was a farseer. A prophetess. She passed some of her ability to him. It makes him…”
“Somber?”
“Cautious. More wary.”
“I can imagine, if I Saw all the things that might be, I would be more serious.” I didn’t mention that I had a small gift of Sight, or perhaps still did, if my magic ever returned to me. “Imagine Seeing your own life—or death.”
“Mmm,” Lars hid behind his cup as he drank.
“Does he share his visions with you?”
“Aye.” Lars drained his cup and took up Ivar’s abandoned one. Once he finished that he said, offhand, “He saw you.”
“He did? When?”
“He said he dreamed you. Only,” the bright haired warrior’s brow creased. “I think I did too. And Tristan. We all did.”
I couldn’t keep my voice from shaking. “What was it about?”
“Moonlight. And your face.”
I rose and walked to the fireplace, leaning against the mantel so my arm blocked my face from view. “Why would you dream of me?” I forced a joking tone. “A simple maid?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps that is why Ivar distrusts you. You are more than you claim to be.”
Curses. Half a day gone, and I had no progress. Who was I fooling? The witches should have sent another.
A slight rustle told me Lars had moved.
“Lady?” he touched my back. “Are you all right?”
“He’s right. I am more than I claim to be.” It was a relief to admit it. His touch melted me. “I am in a strange land, without anyone. I have nothing. No protection. That is why I keep secrets.”
“I will be your protector, lady.”
I caught my breath. “You do not know me.”
“I know all I need to know.” Hands on my hips, he turned me to him. When I didn’t meet his eye, he cupped my chin. For all his friendly, open manner, the blond warrior was as big as the rest of them, with strong fingers rough from holding weapons. his face was smooth, young, unscarred. But his eyes bore a wisdom beyond his years.
“Were you sent here to seduce us?”
I bit my lip and shook my head as much as I could with him holding me fast. “I cannot seduce you. I don’t have the art.”
Lars’ mouth tilted up. “No?”
“Please, I’m telling the truth.”
“I know you are, little maid. I can sense whether or not you are lying.” He tipped my face up. Up close, he had full lips and eyelashes lush as a girl’s. “But you’re wrong.”
“I-I am?”
“Mmm.” He dropped his fingers. I sagged forward a little, my heart pounding. In that moment, I didn’t care if he drew his sword and ran me through. I just wanted to be near him.
“I think you know how to please a man.”
Heat bloomed through me, burning my cheeks. I stared at him as his blue eyes blazed suddenly gold.
“You already have seduced half the warriors here.” He tugged a lock of my hair with a wry smile.
“Only half?”
He rested his hand on my collarbone. My heart jumped under his palm. “You wish to seduce more?”
“No… I don’t want to seduce anyone.”
“Too late,” he bent his head, his breath mingling with mine. “Too late.”
When our lips touched, heat flared through me, a fire burning in my breast. It consumed me, spreading with abandon through my chest and limbs, pooling in the cradle of my hips. Lars’ lips were soft and confident. As we kissed, his hand slid around to my back, pressing me closer. His shoulders hunched as if he concentrated on gentleness, his body angled to shield me from the room. I was caught between his large form and the mantel, a cocoon of warmth, the perfect sanctuary for a secret kiss.
Only, it was not so secret.
Nearby, someone cleared their throat. I snapped back in shock and would’ve hit my head on the mantel if Lars hadn’t protected my head with his palm.
I’ll be your protector.
Tristan stood in the doorway, holding his helm. His gaze swept over us, taking in the empty cups of wine.
“I need you on the north gate.” I couldn’t tell from his tone whether he was angry or amused.
Lars nodded. “My lady,” He bowed, taking time to kiss my hand. At the touch of his lips, heat jolted through me again, this time rushing to a bright point between my legs. “‘til we meet again.”
I stayed by the mantel, heart beating fast, one part of me dizzy from all that had happened, the other part of me soaring.
“So,” Tristan strode into the room, his cloak flaring behind him like a banner. “I see you’ve been making merry.”
“Wine, my lord?” I asked, crossing the room to the pitcher. My hand shook a little, but I poured well enough, I thought. Until Tristan’s hand closed over my wrist and steadied it.
“You’re flushed,” he noted. “Perhaps you should not drink anymore.”
I hadn’t had any wine. I stepped back, pressing on my cheeks. My lips still buzzed with the memory of Lars’ kiss.
How long had it been since I flirted with a man? I had no artifice. Had I always been this awkward, clumsy girl? I don’t remember who I was before the magic remade me into Yseult, powerful witch who bent the world to her purpose. The spell stripped all that from me. I must make my way anew, awkward or no.
Now Tristan loomed over me, his close presence making me feel giddy all over again. I couldn’t deny my pull towards this conquering warrior.
“He kissed you.”
“Yes,” I couldn’t keep a small smile away.
Tristan’s face hardened.
“Are you in the habit of kissing strange men?”
“He is not a stranger. He is my protector.”
“You’ve known him but a day.”
“Not even that long. But love knows no time.”
His breath left so quickly his shoulders sank. His bereft expression hit me like a blow.
“No,” I rushed, “I spoke wrong. This is just passing attraction. Your brother likes to have fun.”
“You need to take care lady. Your time is not your own.”
I knew that. I had to break the spell. But I did not take orders from any man, commander or no. “I will kiss whomever I please.” I snapped.
He gripped my arm and pulled me to his chest before I could squawk protest. “Will you?”
He was so close his breath caressed my face. “Will you lady?”
I blinked at him and his perfect lips. Dangerous, dangerous lips.
“I kiss whomever’s worthy.”
“Worthy?”
“There are few men to tempt me. I have not been tempted,” I shook my head, “in a long long time.”
“We’re honored that you find temptation in our ranks.”
“Too much temptation, commander.”
For the umpteenth time that day, I was flushed and shaking in the presence of a man. What was wrong with me? Even without magic, I should have better control.
I realized with horror. I was a spaewife. A creature with earthly desires. Goddess made, passion. The fever would overtake me. I had left it behind when I underwent my initiation into the sacred arts. The power I handled burned my natural power out.
Tristan must have sensed my withdrawal, for he released me.
“How do you find your quarters?”
“Well, my lord.”
“Are you hungry? I wouldn’t want our guest to find our hospitality lacking.”
I shook my head, knotting my hands together. The bowl of figs still sat on the table, but I could not eat them now. They were Lars’ gift. The juice, the sweetness would all remind me of him, and his kiss.
Why had the spell stripped me of so much, to leave me at the mercy of the mating heat? Why had the Goddess allowed it? Did she not hear our prayers to defeat the Corpse King? Or was I unworthy?
“Come. I will show you something.”
He led me from the rooms, and I was too preoccupied to protest. A labyrinth of halls, and then we emerged outdoors, just within the castle walls. Warriors milled about the keep. They turned as one as Tristan led me past. I kept the veil over my hair, but it was no matter. I was the only woman, and to them, my scent must seem the sweetest treat. I knew from my time that the Berserkers could scent a spaewife. My body sang a siren song to them.
We came to an empty yard, and a set of stone stairs leading to the top of the wall. Tristan’s cloak blew in the wind as he ascended.
“What is it you wish to show me?” I hesitated on the final step. He could take me up here to throw me off.
He stood at the edge and beckoned. “Nervous? I will not let you fall.”
His challenge decided for me. I boldly stepped up to the edge of the wall. Shouts wafted up to us, along with cries and clanks of axe and sword meeting shield. In the field below, warrior faced warrior.
“They spar.” Tristan nodded to his men, and I edged closer.
One giant stood in the center of a circle of men, roaring and challenging all who came near. Challengers advanced and he repelled them all, his booming laugh echoing off the stones. He seemed familiar, but it could not be...
“Is that—?”
“The warrior you saved.”
“He’s already well?”
Tristan nodded slowly.
“You doubt your own powers?”
“I have no powers,” I said, watching the great warrior charge two men, meeting their axes and blades with his own.
“You believe this.” Tristan’s brow furrowed.
I shrugged. “I used to be very powerful. I am no longer.”
The commander turned back to the fine fighting below. “You’re powerful enough.”
On the practice field, the battle mad warrior twisted, disarming one of his opponents with a shout. He kicked the fallen axe away, and turned his assault the remaining challenger, who fell within seconds.
Victory cries rose from the field and warriors beat their shields. The great warrior, prisoner no more, looked up where his commander and I stood, his red cloak and my white garb fluttering in the fierce wind.
“Lady,” the battlements rang with his cry. “A token.”
My heart fluttered as all the warriors turned to behold me, but my eyes were only for the greatest fighter of them all. I had nothing of my own to give. Tugging free my hair cloth, I let the
wind take it from my hands to his, where he brought it to his lips and pressed it to his heart.
I waited a moment, my hair crackling in the wind like a bright flag. Then I turned and followed Tristan as he led me away.
On the last step I tripped and almost fell. Tristan caught me and cursed. “You need food.”
“No.” I had fasted for this journey, eaten only honey. My body was stronger than this.
“You will obey me,” he told me gruffly.
I pulled myself from his arms and gave a mock curtsey. It had been many a year since I’d been so weak I must yield to a man.
“Stubborn woman,” he muttered as he drew me along. He didn’t take me to my rooms, but to a low structure near the wall, outfitted with a long table and benches and filled with the smell of roasting meat.
A familiar swarthy warrior stood as we came in.
“Ivar,” Tristan greeted him, “Where is Lars?”
“About to face the challenger on the field.” To my surprise, the bearded warrior bowed to me. “Well done, lady.”
I bit my lip against protesting that I had done little. The truth was, I didn’t know what I’d done. I had a little power, subtle, latent. I did not know how to use it or what it was worth.
“Weak, frail things often have more power than we know,” Ivar said as if reading my thoughts.
I stared at him, and he cocked his head, a small smile on his lips. The worry had left his face, making him look younger, almost as young as Lars, and handsome. Heat swirled through me, a giddy warmth that rose and fell, and rose again when Tristan touched my arm and had me sit on the bench.
Tristan rapped on a small wooden door above a counter. “Food for one.”
“You’re feeding her the warrior’s mess?” Ivar raised a brow.
Tristan growled in response, something along the lines of, “Better this than what might be provided,” and Ivar nodded a response.
The door scraped open and the smell of food hit me hard. I stared at the table’s wood grain, wondering if my stomach would settle. I would blame my unease on the spell, the Corpse King’s magic, and the events of the day, but in truth I was unsettled by the proximity of so many handsome warriors. It had been many years since I had feelings like these—so long I didn’t remember. I was but a girl when I joined the acolytes and began my training, and not worldly. Initiates were expected to be pure. Men did not turn our heads, and though I had dallied with warriors—Berserkers in my own time—I had never felt this way.
