Queens (The Wielders of Arantha Book 2)

by Patrick Hodges

  Kelia quickly moved a hand to cover Maeve's mouth, cutting her off. Kelia's voice shook as she spoke again. “Do … you … desire … me?”

  Long seconds passed, and Kelia allowed Maeve to respond. Finally, the word Kelia wanted to hear slipped from Maeve's mouth. “Yes.”

  Relief swept through Kelia in a wave so potent she nearly lost her balance.

  Was this part of Arantha's plan? Would the divine goddess approve? For the first time in her life, Kelia didn't care. If being with Maeve was contrary to Arantha's wishes, so be it. She would accept whatever punishment lay in store for her. Nothing could be worse than resisting what every fiber of her being was screaming at her.

  Her eyes never leaving Maeve's, Kelia took two steps back, moving her hands behind her neck, to the clasp of her sleep-robe. She unfastened it, and the cloth tumbled from her shoulders and back. Two well-placed tugs, and the robe puddled on the ground at her ankles. Maeve's eyes widened at the sight of Kelia's naked body.

  “That is all I need to hear,” Kelia said, stepping into Maeve, encircling her waist and crushing Maeve's mouth with her own. Fire consumed her body as she drew Maeve into herself again.

  They separated seconds later, staring into each other's eyes. That's when Kelia saw it. Want. Need. A burning, longing ache with only one possible cure. And just like that, Maeve's lips were on hers again, pressing with ferocity, her fingers entangled in Kelia's long, thick, waist-length hair.

  Twelve years, it had been. Though Kelia remembered with great clarity being intimate with Ilora, the memory of how she'd felt when it happened had faded over time. She never expected to feel like … this again. Every repressed desire, every wanton fantasy exploded from her at the touch of Maeve's lips upon hers. The last vestiges of her self-restraint, dissolved. Her passion, long dormant, resurrected.

  Just for a moment, the pressure slackened and Maeve pulled back. Kelia half-expected to see Maeve's unwelcome, recurring doubts flash across her face, their contact to break, but no. All she saw was a smile. The most beautiful, sensual smile she'd ever seen.

  “You are the most incredible woman,” Maeve said, sliding her hands down Kelia's back. “I never thought –”

  “You need to stop talking. Right now.” Kelia grasped Maeve by the back of her neck, pulling their mouths together again.

  A soft mmm-hmm came in reply.

  Kelia felt the Terran woman's lips part, felt Maeve's tongue flick delicately against her own. A low moan escaped both their throats as their tongues caressed, snaking around each other in a writhing, slippery dance.

  Kelia could contain herself no longer. After giving a cursory wave that extinguished all but one of the candles, she gripped the cloth of Maeve's half-shirt, lifting it up and over the curve of her breasts. Maeve obligingly raised her arms, allowing it to be pulled off her body before it fell to the floor. And still they kissed, their bare breasts pressed together as their hands continued to roam.

  They paused just long enough for Maeve to remove the rest of her clothing and Kelia to guide her to the large, soft pile of lyrax pelts on the floor. They tumbled to the ground together, Kelia on top, their legs and arms entwined as they kissed, over and over again, as if their life, their sanity, their very souls depended on it.

  No more doubt. No more denial. Only Maeve's amazing face and gorgeous, painted body mattered. Kelia took her time gratifying her lover, pleasures Maeve accepted without reservation. The Terran woman's flesh quivered under Kelia's kisses, eliciting sounds of rapture that fueled Kelia's desire even more.

  The wind picked up, and the whap-whap of the window shade grew louder as the room cooled to a level many would find uncomfortable in their naked state. Both women were too busy to notice. Kelia's back arched as Maeve took her turn, bringing Kelia to the heights of ecstasy time and time again. To combat the growing cold, Maeve paused just long enough to pull the lyrax-fur blanket over both of their bodies before resuming her vigorous lovemaking.

  Kelia had expected Maeve's hands to be rough, weathered; the hands of a soldier. It delighted her to discover her lover's caresses to be gentle, even tender. For someone who had only ever known a man's touch before, Maeve threw herself into satisfying Kelia with wild abandon.

  For the briefest of moments, Kelia chided herself. She should not have been surprised by Maeve's expertise. After all, she thought with a blissful smile, who would know better how to please a woman than another woman? Another flood of orgasmic pleasure crashed over her, sweeping this thought away.

  Finally, they slumped, utterly spent, into each other's arms, panting and gasping and stealing ever more delicate, gossamer kisses. The last remaining candle had burned out, and the wind had dwindled to a light breeze. The infernal whap-whap of the window shade had ceased, and the room had cooled to the point where gooseflesh erupted on their skin. Kelia warmed the air once again with a casual flick of her hand before returning her attention to the woman who had stolen her heart, who had given her own heart in return.

  Sweat mingled with tears. Laughter mixed with sobs of joy. No words were exchanged, only more exhausted kisses. And then sleep came.

  By the will of Arantha, Kelia's nightmares did not return.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Mizar remained silent as he walked alongside Vaxi. They kept a slow, deliberate pace as they crossed the courtyard on their way to the Great Hall, where the summit was to be held. She cast several sidelong glances at him along the way, trying to read his expression, but the High Mage's face was inscrutable.

  After parting ways with Warran following the archery contest, she'd returned to Mizar's study to find him, as well as a portly black-clad man, tending to Sen. She'd blanched at the sight of Sen's injuries, and her stomach had leaped into her throat when Mizar told her who had inflicted them. Guilt washed over her in a wave so intense she began to tremble, then shake. The vile young prince had beaten Sen half to death because of what she'd done.

  The court physician, Alvus, had applied several aromatic balms to Sen's face, claiming they would numb the pain and seal the wounds. When Sen's strength returned, he would be able to heal himself properly. This brought enormous relief to Vaxi, though her heart felt like a ball of ice within her chest.

  Mizar had upbraided her for wandering away and landing herself in exactly the type of situation he'd wanted her to avoid. However, now that the entire castle, and probably soon the entire country, knew of her existence, there was nothing to do but concentrate on the reason he'd brought her to Randar in the first place.

  She then helped Sen back to his quarters and onto his mattress. He did not object as she removed his shoes, placing them at the foot of the bed. She draped a thick, woolen blanket over his body and held his hand as he drifted off to sleep. Despite the purplish bruises dotting his face and his swollen eye, he looked peaceful. Before exiting the room, she'd run her fingers gently through his hair, moving it away from his face. Then she'd planted a hesitant kiss upon his forehead. He stirred briefly, but did not wake.

  On Mizar's instructions, a room had been prepared for her, a short walk from his study. It contained a comfortable bed and some other furniture, but her thoughts were too clouded to appreciate their opulence. With only the crackling of the fire in the room's fireplace keeping her company, she lay on the bed for several hours, unable to find sleep. She didn't even bother to remove her dress as, in the wee hours of the night, she finally drifted off.

  The next morning, she joined Mizar in his study for a light breakfast, which the servants had brought for them. He informed her that all of the royals participating in the summit had arrived, and that they were both required by King Aridor to attend. Warran would also be there to support his father, but Agedor would not. Relief flooded through her when Mizar told her the bully prince had left the night before per his father's orders, slinking back to his command and away from her. Away from Sen.

  Rather than take the wide, well-lit, spacious corridor to the Great Hall, Mizar led her through the castle
kitchens instead. A wonderful array of scents vied for supremacy, and it was all Vaxi could do not to rush over and see what delicacies were being prepared. All of the kitchen maids bowed their heads to them as they passed through and into a darker, dingier corridor that she guessed was meant for servants.

  They eventually emerged into a narrow but well-lit hallway that led to a huge wooden door. From the scraping and shuffling noises coming from the other side of it, Vaxi guessed that the room beyond was the hall where the summit would take place, and tables and chairs were being set up in anticipation of the event. A cold shudder danced up her spine. She could already feel the eyes of the entire world upon her, and the summit hadn't even started.

  Mizar directed her through a smaller door several yards further down the hall. As she crossed the threshold, she beheld a spacious antechamber. The sun's rays poured in through three windows near the ceiling, illuminating a polished stone floor and smooth stone walls covered in regal-looking portraits of what Vaxi guessed was the royal family and their various ancestors. Unlit torches bound in ornate sconces stood at eye level.

  “I am to wait here?” Vaxi inquired, her eyes still scanning the impressive room.

  “Yes,” said Mizar, standing behind her. “I cannot say with any certainty how long it will be before your presence will be requested, or if it will even happen at all. When the most powerful men in the world congregate in one place, it's not a rare occurrence for time to get away from them.”

  “I see,” she said, even though she didn't.

  “Please, sit down. There are things I must tell you, and time is short.” Mizar gestured to a large, plush couch with billowy cushions set against the far wall.

  The cushion yielded several inches under Vaxi's weight when she sat, and she had to grip the armrest lest the couch swallow her up. Steadying herself, she looked up at Mizar, who remained standing.

  “Back at my family's farm, I made a promise to you that I would do everything in my power to protect the secret of your people's existence. Do you remember?”

  “Yes.” A sudden sense of dread constricted her throat as Mizar's expression became apologetic.

  “I regret that I must break that promise. I am deeply sorry.”

  Her fingernails dug into the armrest. “Mizar … High Mage, you can't—”

  He held up both hands, silencing her. “You must understand, Vaxi, I do not make this decision lightly. Believe me, my desire to protect the Ixtrayu from harm is far greater than you can know, and has become even stronger since I learned of my own origins. However, there are factors at play that you do not know about, and I simply cannot in good conscience put your tribe's lives above those of every person on Elystra. For that is what's at stake.”

  Vaxi opened her mouth, ready to beg him to reconsider, but his words took her aback. “Every person on Elystra?” she quavered, her lip trembling. “What are you talking about?”

  “I've told you of the usurper, Elzor, and his sister, Elzaria, the lightning-Wielder,” he said, taking a seat on the couch next to her. “I have also told you of his invasion of Agrus.”

  “Yes.”

  “What I have not told you is that, based on what Sen and I discovered yesterday in Merdeen's final diary, we now know what his ultimate goal is. I don't have time to explain it to you in detail, but suffice it to say, if he fulfills his quest, there will be nothing on Elystra to stop him.”

  “N-not even you?” she quaked.

  “No.” Worry lines creased his face, and he suddenly looked so much older than when they'd first met.

  This couldn't be. Mizar was an Elemental Wielder, just like Kelia, a master of air, earth, fire, and water. Despite his age, he was a formidable, powerful man. But if he couldn't stop what was coming …

  “What are you planning to do?”

  He gave her hand a reassuring pat. “That, my dear, will depend on what happens today. It is my and King Aridor's hope that, with the help of the other rulers, we can reach an accord to join forces and stop Elzor once and for all. I believe I have convinced the king that your tribe deserves his aid. Whether we can convince the other royals of this is a different matter. That's where you come in.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, Vaxi. I know you didn't ask for this responsibility, but the success or failure of this summit will depend a great deal on our ability to reveal to the royals many truths about our world that they may refuse to accept. We need to prove to them that the Ixtrayu, and especially Kelia, are necessary allies in the coming war. Because a war is coming, child. And many, many lives will be lost if you and I fail today.”

  Vaxi sank back into the cushions, all strength gone from her body. She hoped this time that the couch would swallow her up. “I'm … I'm just a huntress,” she stammered. “I'm just one woman. How can I convince such powerful men of anything?” She buried her face in her hands, unable to look at the walls of the antechamber, which seemed to spin and close in around her.

  Mizar took hold of both her wrists, pulling them away. He leaned in close to her, his eyes blazing with determination. “You are not 'just' anything, Vaxi. You are a survivor. You are strong. You faced six Vandan raiders and lived. You survived injuries that would have killed most. And just yesterday, you performed feats of archery that have never before been seen in this kingdom. You did so in front of hundreds of men. Your nerve, your valor did not fail you then, and it will not fail you now. Do you hear me?”

  His powerful gaze, the touch of his hands, and his words ignited something within her. The knot in her stomach loosened, and the tension melted from her shoulders. She hated the idea of being shoved, like a prize gurn, in front of a group of men who would no doubt see her as a mere child at best, a threat to their reign at worst.

  The evidence was clear: the Ixtrayu were responsible for unleashing Elzor and Elzaria upon the world, a world that might now fall before the twins' combined might.

  For so many years we've hidden, living our lives far away from the countries of men. Like it or not, though, we are Elystran. We helped shape this world. The High Mages of Darad would not have existed if not for us.

  Neither would Elzaria.

  Vaxi took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

  “Your vision,” she whispered, “the one about the three female Wielders …”

  “Yes?” Mizar said, also in a hushed tone.

  “It seems clear my people, or at least the Protectress, are destined to join this battle. I would be honored to act as a representative for the Ixtrayu. If Arantha wills it, we will forge an alliance to rid Elystra of this menace.”

  A wise but gleeful smile broke across Mizar's careworn face. “If he … erm, she wills it, it will be so.”

  She couldn't stop the grin from coming. This was the first time he'd ever referred to the divine goddess as a 'she'.

  A knock at the antechamber door interrupted their mirth. The door had opened, and a guard in full armor filled the space. “Excuse me, High Mage, but the King requires your counsel,” he said, his head bowed. “At once.”

  Mizar nodded, turning once again to face Vaxi. “I must go. Would you like me to have some food or drink sent in while you wait?”

  The mention of food set her stomach grumbling. It had been hours since she'd had breakfast. “Yes, High Mage, thank you.”

  He patted her hand again and stood. “I will see to that immediately. I will also give instructions for the door to be guarded until you are sent for. Just a precaution,” he added with a wink.

  “I understand.”

  He bent forward at the waist. “Do. Not. Leave. This. Room.”

  She grinned. “I won't. Promise.”

  Mizar straightened up, gave a cursory bow, and followed the guard from the room. The door clanged shut behind them.

  * * *

  Time ticked by slowly as Vaxi waited. Through the door leading to the main hall, she heard muffled voices, often raised in anger, though she couldn't make out any words. It seemed that the summit wasn't goi
ng well, and she hoped she wouldn't be asked to step into the lyrax's den while tempers were running so hot.

  A guard had brought her a tray full of food, much like the meal she'd shared with Mizar and Sen at the King's Rest: roasted breast of a bird she couldn't identify, a loaf of chaska bread with a side of what the guard called acacius butter, and an assortment of red, green, and yellow vegetables. He'd also brought a flagon of honey cider, which warmed her belly and boosted her spirits even more.

  She was ready.

  After finishing her meal, there was nothing to do but wait. To quell the boredom, she inspected each of the portraits lining the walls of the circular room, one of which bore the likenesses of King Aridor and Queen Belena, standing in front of a golden throne flanked by purple velvet curtains. Aridor wasn't smiling, though his eyes glinted with wisdom. Queen Belena was resplendent in an elaborate blue robe with gold trim that hugged her slender frame, while her husband looked the pillar of strength in his fancy armor and kingly attire. They both looked to be in their twenties, and Vaxi guessed that the portrait must have been painted right after Aridor's coronation.

  A knock at the door startled her, and she spun around to see a woman in an elegant, flowing gown. Burgundy in color, with a triangular neckline punctuated by a thin layer of white fur, the gown was cinched at the waist by a thin, bejeweled belt. Another dark red jewel hung from a narrow, golden chain around her neck, and the size of it took Vaxi's breath away. Even if she had not already matched the woman's face to the one on the portrait she'd just been admiring, she still would have known this woman's identity.

  “Queen Belena … Your Highness,” Vaxi offered, springing to her feet and bowing her head as the woman swept into the antechamber. She searched her mind for something else to say, but her tongue seemed to have vanished from her mouth.

  “So,” the Queen said in a deep, rich voice that reminded Vaxi a lot of Kelia's, “you're the girl everyone is talking about.”