by D. L. Carter
Eioth raised an eyebrow toward Mitash who nodded. So little was required for communication between the two, thought Halidan. With one gesture, the order for her guards to be issued horses was given and accepted.
Halidan tried to gather what dignity was left to her, which wasn't much. Paralyzing fear held her when the Elves burst into the room. If she’d been capable of movement, no doubt she would have run screaming. So many bodies had been between her and the door it was likely that she would have done what Mitash suggested so lightly and jumped from the window.
It was embarrassing that she'd frozen. Never mind acting in her own defense, she hadn't moved a fingertip.
She could cope with most of life's problems calmly enough and found very few personal problems that couldn't be resolved by threatening the villain with her father's book brace, but men with swords not so well.
The meal was completed in near silence. Eioth tried his usual question regarding recently read books twice without any response from Halidan. Considering the amount of attention she was directing toward her plate, she ate very little. Eioth cursed those who had disordered their peace. Poor Halidan sat still and silent beside him, from time to time tunneling her hands up under her headscarf and rubbing as if trying to shake unwelcome thoughts from her head. Eioth’s eyes narrowed as he contemplated the scarf. Now he thought of it, he was accustomed to seeing mortal women wearing similar head coverings although usually better decorated and of brighter colors than the one Halidan wore, but he had no idea of its purpose.
He reached out one hand to touch the fringing and had Halidan withdrawing from him so quickly she near fell from her chair. She turned fear-filled eyes toward him, which only served to increase his curiosity.
“Why ever do you wear such a heavy thing in this weather, Halidan?” asked Eioth. “It can hardly be comfortable.”
“It is Traditional for mortals,” said Halidan.
“You have me at a disadvantage,” said Eioth. “I do not know this Tradition.”
Mitash raised his head and stared as if he had not noticed the scarf before.
“It does not match your dress, Halidan,” observed Mitash.
“It is the only one I have . . . that survived the fire.”
“And wearing it is so important that you wear it even when the colors clash?” asked Eioth.
Halidan’s lip twisted and the words, when they came, came reluctantly.
“Color is the reason we wear it,” said Halidan, after a pause. “Mortal hair cannot compare with the ash blonde of Traditional Beauty.” She waved a hand toward the long waterfalls of hair adorning both males. “More commonly our hair is brown or black or red. Rather than compete where we cannot win, mortal women decided long ago that we would wear bright, decorated scarves instead. Our men cut their hair short so as not to offend the eye.”
“I never realized your people thought themselves wrong in the color of their hair,” said Eioth. “Surely, you are as the Elements make you.”
“Congratulations, High Lord,” said Halidan wryly. “You have learned something new today.”
Mitash sniggered and directed his attention to his meal. Eioth sighed, but let the comment pass since Halidan was now distracted enough to forget the earlier invasion.
Fortunately, by the time the meal was completed Mitash was showing signs of fatigue and he was happy enough to be dismissed to his rest. Halidan leapt to her feet as soon as Mitash began speaking of retiring, but Eioth waved her back to her chair.
“Grant me a few moments of your company, Halidan.”
Halidan nodded and did not meet Mitash's eye as he departed. Eioth waited until his footfalls faded down the hall before addressing Halidan.
“From your reluctance to discuss your reading, I suspect you have taken my advice and spent some time with Norfarland's adventures.”
His only answer was Halidan's heightened color.
“I am pleased that you are expanding your knowledge. I would suggest that you would be well served to have practical as well as theoretical new experiences.”
“High Lord, I am far from ready to consent to lie with you . . . ”
Eioth almost groaned at her immediate rejection. At least she wasn't shivering like a half frozen puppy and trying to flee his presence.
“Peace, Halidan, that is not what I am saying. I agree if you would believe it that you are not ready. My only suggestion is that we begin with small steps.” He waited until the panicked expression faded from her face. “I was about to say we should begin with you kissing me goodnight.”
Blushing, Halidan knotted her fingers together and tried to appear composed.
“I do not know how to kiss.” The confession was forced through pale lips.
“Exactly my point.” He smiled and tried to appear nothing more than friendly.
“I don't think so.” Halidan's voice was firm. The last time Eioth had heard that particular tone in her voice was when she'd reprimanded the wagoner back at Blue Waters Sanctuary. “Kisses inevitably lead to . . . more and I am not prepared to do more.”
“It is not inevitable.”
“Norfarland . . .”
“In Norfarland's world no doubt it seems to be so; every kiss leads to bed and sex. I swear to you, in reality, that is not so.”
Halidan gave him a suspicious glare which only amused him.
“Come, Halidan.” Eioth rose and reaching behind his back with both arms, clasped his hands. “See, I will do nothing. It will be only your effort. I promise to remain as I am and let you set the pace.”
Eioth waited, watching her thoughts and emotions passing across her face. He could have shouted with the joy of victory when, after several moments, Halidan took first one, then another step toward him.
She refused to look at him as she approached and pausing just within arm’s reach she rose on her toes. Moving her head to one side, then the other she considered her approach. She attempted twice to bring her face close enough to his without making contact, but each time she overbalanced. Reluctantly, she put one hand on his shoulder, fluttering once or twice before settling, then rose to press dry lips to his. Shaking her head, she stepped away.
“I cannot see the attraction. I feel nothing at all.”
Careful not to laugh, Eioth remained as he was.
“Try again. Only this time soften your lips. Wet them with your tongue before the contact.”
When the tip of Halidan's tongue appeared and moistened her soft lips, Eioth stiffened and struggled to conceal his reaction. Heat pooled in his groin and his breath came a little faster. He knew at this moment that he would succeed. Halidan would be seduced and it would happen with her full cooperation. It was only a matter of patience and time.
Again there was no more than the briefest contact of lip to lip. She did not move to embrace him nor did she move any closer than needed to reach his mouth, yet this time there was the beginning of heat, of softening. He kept his lips closed and waited. When it was over, she stepped back, a puzzled expression on her face.
“Not good?” Eioth kept his voice mild. “I am sorry to hear it. Ah, well, perhaps practice will improve matters. Until tomorrow, Halidan. Goodnight.”
Obviously surprised to find herself dismissed without being ravished, Halidan blinked, bowed, and left. Eioth relaxed his posture and smiled. Tonight, if he was any judge, Halidan would have interesting dreams. He would wait for her natural curiosity to drive her into his arms.
Chapter Eight
The Uses and Complexity of Sex Magic
Do not underestimate the back of your Sex Magic partner especially in rituals for which the rear entry posture is effective. The back of a woman is particularly sensitive to touch and stimulation. Manipulating the side of the neck or behind the ears, surprisingly, will result in significant arousal and increase in Power. Likewise sensitive are the flanks beneath the edge of the ribcage – consider using tongue along rib line and the flare of the hipbone down to the tip of the crease of the buttocks.
Also useful is the size and shape of the back. Should you be performing a complex ritual involving many steps – e.g. the ritual for purification of ore – you may write out reminders on the Sex Magic partner’s back.
Recommendations: Use washable ink.
That evening set the pattern for the next few days. Each night after the evening meal, Eioth would dismiss Mitash and keep Halidan with him for a short time practicing her kissing. Eioth maintained himself under slowly eroding control and let Halidan kiss him with little response. On the fourth evening Eioth judged that Halidan had gained sufficient trust for him to risk returning pressure for pressure, heat for heat, and opened his mouth enough to sweep his tongue along the seam of her lips. Shocked, Halidan leapt away. Before she could flee, Eioth congratulated her.
“A good beginning,” said Eioth, keeping his hands folded into his sleeves. “In just a few days, your skills have markedly increased.”
Halidan did not respond, but crossed to the side table and busied herself with her books and pens.
“Before I wish you a good night, Halidan, I wish to make a request of you.”
She cast a suspicious glance across at him, but did not speak.
“If you would, go to bed naked.”
Wide eyed, Halidan could barely speak. “What? No! I have not agreed.”
He smiled when he saw her hands tighten reflexively upon the pens.
“My dear Halidan, I know you have not consented to lie with me. That is not what I'm suggesting. Just as you had no practice with the thought of kissing, I know you are unprepared for further intimacy. Nakedness is a natural requirement of intimacy. Go to bed unclothed. It is a request only. Do not worry; in the morning, I shall not ask if you complied. You shall know yourself when you are ready for that step.”
With that Eioth bowed and took himself away, his grin widening as soon as the door closed behind him. He knew enough about Halidan after just a few days that the suggestion would work on her mind. If not tonight, then one night soon she would do as he requested.
And he would be yet another step closer to sharing her bed.
* * *
Naked! Naked! Halidan stalked around her private chamber picking up scattered clothing and trying to find new places to put them. It seemed she had more clothes every day with no idea how they kept appearing in the travel case. It wasn't as if she spent any time shopping. And if anyone else was buying her clothing she didn't want to speculate about who it was.
An hour had passed since the High Lord had left her presence and still her mind couldn't settle. Every time she tried to calm herself and prepare for sleep his deep voice would echo in her mind.
“Go to bed naked!”
Impossible.
Of all the things to say.
She folded and refolded the fabric in her hands. She was never naked. Aside from that brief time when she was bathing, she was always dressed to one degree or another.
As if it would mean anything . . . change anything. She wore fabric clothes and her sheets and blankets were made of fabric. If she did take off her clothing, she would still be decently covered by the sheets. There was no point to do what he suggested. At any point in the day she was naked under her clothes.
Having clarified the matter to her own comfort, she changed quickly and without being entirely naked at any point from her day clothes to her night robe and climbed into bed. Once there, her mind and body refused to accept sleep. She tossed and turned, beating her fist into the pillow in the hope that it would transform from an instrument of sleep deprivation to a comfortable cloud of unconsciousness.
A fruitless hope.
After an hour of wrestling with herself and her blankets Halidan sat up and stared into the darkness. There would be no sleep for her until she proved to herself her state of dress or undress made no difference. In bed, out of bed, naked skin under fabric of any kind was all the same thing!
Damn the High Lord for putting the idea into her mind!
Pulling the sheets up over her shoulders she wriggled her robe up over her hips then chest, and finally with gritted teeth over her head and off. She dropped the robe on her blankets, settled back, and after a pause started cursing.
Damn the High Lord. It was different.
She wasn't sure why, but it was. Her breasts free of constraints were enveloped by the soft fabric that teased and tormented her nipples. The weight of the blankets pressed the sheets down upon her loins. She shifted a little, her legs parting and the sheets came to rest between them starting heat building in her core. She moved her hands lightly over her uncovered belly and tears formed in her eyes. She'd touched her own naked skin before while bathing. Why did it seem so different lying in bed?
It didn't make sense.
The same heat that filled her body while she was reading Norfarland’s adventures flushed her skin with a fine sweat. The slightest movement brushed the sheets across her nipples, her belly, and her body.
Impossible that such a small thing gave her these unnamable cravings.
Her clothing touched her all over all day and nothing stirred. But, bedsheets? Maybe there was some magical power of the night and bed. She considered getting up and dressing again, but gave the idea away with a sigh. It was possible with continued exposure to nakedness she would become inured to it. That the wanting would fade away.
So with her arms folded over her blankets and staring up into the dark, Halidan waited out the night.
In the morning at breakfast, the High Lord did not ask how she spent the night. He only glanced at her as she entered the room. Under his gaze, heat built in her face and his smile broadened.
He knew!
He knew how disordered her thoughts. Likely he knew that strange ache that still rested between her legs, all the needs that kept her sleepless and wanting.
Damn him, he knew and he was enjoying the knowledge.
There was no justice.
The remainder of the journey passed in much the same style. During the day, travel. In the evening, kissing practice. As the days passed, the kisses became warmer and Halidan began to feel almost painful sensations in her loins while her lips rested against his. She began to wish he would not stand so straight, his arms behind his back, but would at least try to embrace her. Hold her. Enclose her.
It seemed the High Lord was determined to keep to his promise.
And when he wished her goodnight with just a lift of his eyebrow, Eioth challenged Halidan to continue sleeping without clothing. He seemed to find her leaving snarling and muttering to herself amusing.
Over meals, they continued with conversations on a wide number of subjects and during the hours spent in her carriage, Halidan worked her way through book after book, scribbling notes on ribbons, which acted as bookmarks for interesting facts. Cris and her two other bodyguards, Nittel Dorin and Morae Noname in some combination or another accompanied her everywhere – except the interior of the coach. Their manner was always respectful. While Halidan was inclined to consider them equals in the employ of the High Lord, at some point it had been made clear to them there was a difference in their relative status and the guards would not risk their place by too familiar behavior. Which was not to say they were not good company.
Nittel and Cris were riding with her one morning while Morae who wasn’t as good a rider traveled with the driver of Halidan’s coach. Since Halidan had not ventured far from the House Pitchuri in her adult life, she was fascinated by the stories her bodyguards told. Nittel was teasing her with a description of a waterfall a lei in height – she refused to believe such a thing – when his voice faded away and he scowled at a flag fluttering from an upper story window of a house they were passing. For a moment it seemed that Nittel was going to spit, but he thought better of doing so in Halidan's presence. Instead he glared at the ground until they'd ridden past. The breeze stretched out the fabric and Halidan could see the Sigil for South East Demesne.
“Whatever is that doing here?” she deman
ded with her voice pitched loud enough for Mitash and Eioth to hear. “I thought we were still in the North West lands.”
“We are,” said Mitash, frowning at the flag. He kicked his horse to a faster pace and when he was close enough he leaned over to whisper a few words to the High Lord and received a shake of the head in return.
“I hope Morae doesn't see that,” said Nittel. “He hates Chandri, High Lord of the South East.”
“For reason?” asked Halidan in surprise. “How does he know that High Lord?”
“For good cause,” replied Nittel, his voice hard with anger. “When Morae was a child, Chandri sent his troops through South East Demesne and rounded up all those of mixed blood. Didn't matter if they were too young to leave their mothers, they grabbed all of them, drove them like cattle to the edge of the demesne and commanded by personal order of Chandri that they not return. Chandri said he didn't want any bastard half breeds claiming the South East as their home.”
“That's cruel,” whispered Halidan. “How young was he?”
“Ten or so. That's not the worst of it. At the border, everyone's personal papers were destroyed.”
Shocked, Halidan turned in her saddle to stare at Nittel. “What did they do? You cannot go anywhere, do anything, without papers!”
“Morae was lucky enough to be pushed over the border into True South. They issued him new papers, arranged a place for him in a Sanctuary until he was older. But, because he couldn't prove who he was he lost his name as well as his home.”
“What of his mother? Couldn't she say his name?”
Nittel glanced back over his shoulder. “Best not to ask him about it. I've never had the whole story from him.”
Halidan sat, shocked speechless by the description of that long ago cruelty. The only thing she could compare it to in her own life was Matriarch Pitchuri’s actions, but that insult was issued to just Halidan and her father. She could not imagine the gathering of all half bloods to evict them . . . to send children away without their parents? It was amazing that any survived. Halidan tucked that information away and thereafter treated gruff Morae with particular gentleness.
