Just One Knight

by Bridget Essex

  “Lady,” she whispers, searching my face. She looks so serious, just now, so earnest, every bit of her, but then she straightens, taking a step back, turning away from me, her beautiful face in profile. “Lady,” she repeats, whispering the word with a sweetness to her low voice that sings along every bit of my skin. She kneels slowly, reverently before me, and every inch of me is a pounding heartbeat as she looks up at me with flashing, need-filled eyes. “Would you do me this greatest of honors?” she growls.

  “Yes,” I whisper in the dark, and then I watch as she nods, a smile passing over her lips before she opens them again. She breathes out, in the dark, and then her hands are at her throat, where her cloak has been clasped. She unclasps the thing and snaps it wide in the darkness, settling it against the ground beneath that sweet scented tree.

  She offers me a hand, breath making her chest plate rise and fall faster now, in the dark.

  “Please lay with me,” she murmurs.

  I step forward, and I take her hand. I turn and brush the errant bits of hair that have gotten out of my braids again (damn them anyway), and I shiver as I glance back at her, over my shoulder. I kneel down beside her.

  “Help me?” I whisper.

  Her hands are at the back of my neck, at the first closure of the dress. The leather of her gloves is hot against me as she undoes each clasp. Down my back, her fingers curve, and then the back of my dress is open, and she’s reaching up to my shoulder blades, pressing the fullness of her palms there, inching fingers under the shoulders of my dress and peeling the sleeves down from within. I shiver, feeling the cool breeze of the night kiss my skin, and then it’s not just the wind, but her mouth, the heat of her, against the back of my neck. I moan, pressing back against the knight and her mouth and her perfect hands as the top of my dress falls down to my waist, and I am naked from the waist up, except for her hands, her hands that are suddenly at my breasts, the heat of them making me shiver like I’ll never stop.

  She cups my breasts with the palms of her hands, still encased in those leather gloves, and she rolls her thumbs and fingers against my painfully peaked nipples. It’s almost lazy, the sweet slowness of her motions, like she’s trying to remember, for always, what my nipples feel like beneath her touch, what my skin tastes like, as she traces her tongue over the soft curve of my neck and shoulder. I shudder against her, leaning back tightly against her, and I can feel her heart pounding, beneath the armor, and it’s like a song all its own.

  I turn, on the cloak, and I regard this knight, this beautiful woman, and want her in every way with such a great surge of desire that I’m almost breathless from it. I take quick, shallow breaths as I reach out, as I gather her hands in mine, pulling her toward me.

  “This,” I pant against her, glancing at the armor. “It’s got to come off.”

  Her mouth smiles against me as she kisses my neck, my breastbone, dipping her head low. “It’s…not that easy to get on and off,” she tells me softly, her voice muffled as she dips her mouth low, tantalizingly low, and close to my breasts.

  “I don’t care. I want to feel you. Please. I need to.” I reach up, find the first leather thong, the one at her right shoulder, and I begin to undo it.

  I’m no stranger to the workings of a knight’s armor, and how to remove it quickly when you absolutely need to. I try not to think about Asla as I undo the armor, but it seems strangely familiar, each motion I do, as I divest her of the bits of metal that hide this knight from me.

  But it’s easy to forget Asla, it’s easy for the pain to lessen, when the armor comes undone, when the leather undergarments are removed. Then, it’s only Talis at her truest self. Talis and Talis alone.

  I find I’m breathing slower now, because I’m trying to savor these moments as if they’re the most perfect cake I could ever devour. They’re sweeter than that, lovelier, and yet I know that once a piece of cake is gone, it’s gone forever…only the memory remains. A few crumbs. Nothing more.

  I’m aware, very aware, that the clock will toll two bells eventually. Perhaps sooner, rather than later. I’m aware that all of this will end much too soon, and then…well. I don’t know what happens outside of this night. No one knows what will happen, truly, one moment to the next. Your life can change so quickly. Look at mine, after all.

  But as I press my palms against her shoulders, let my fingers trace down her arms, moving across the sculpted plains of her muscles, her breasts, her stomach, her hips, her thighs, I commit it all to memory. I commit the way she shudders against my hands as I palm her breasts, I commit the way she throws her head back in the moonlight when my mouth finds her perfect breasts, the smallness of them just right within my palms, filling them perfectly, like my hands were meant to hold them, like we fit one to the other exactly.

  I commit to memory the way she breathes out, the way she wraps her arms tightly around me like there is no possibility of letting go, ever. We lie down side by side on the cloak, utterly naked, entwined limb for limb, heart to heart, and when she kisses me now, I taste jubilation on her tongue, taste victory upon her mouth as she trails a path of kisses, pushing me over gently, so gently, so I’m on my back, and she rises over me like a celestial body, shining her light down upon a light-starved world.

  I feel the way her shoulders move above me, the way she steadies her hands on either side of my head. I press my palms against her back, tracing the muscles of her ass beneath my hands, delighting in every curve of her as she spreads my thighs with her legs, presses her center against my own. She curves over me, and she watches me carefully, her eyes never leaving mine, as she begins the oldest rhythm in the universe, as she moves her body against mine, a friction of delight that fills me. I bend under her, moving to meet her, the both of us finding the perfect cradle we both need. I hold her between my thighs, she moves over me like stars, and we dance.

  Her mouth against me is a feast of sensation, her right hand finds my breast, oh, she finds it, and she makes it hers. The calluses of her fingers, her thumb, are hard against me, and rough, too, and my skin is on fire, a delicious fire, that licks my bones and skin with a desire I’ve never tasted before, but will crave again for always.

  “Cinda,” she whispers against me, tasting my name like I taste her mouth, like her fingers taste my thigh, my center, oh, my wetness with her fingers trailing in it. “Cinda,” she repeats, as her hand, its calluses, its perfect fingers, begin to curve inside of me, the pad of her thumb pressing against my clit like she knows exactly what I need. She doesn’t have to learn what my body responds to. She moves like she knows already.

  Everything about the arch of her shoulders, her body, her mouth and hands, her center and its slick wetness against my thigh, are a bright heat of pleasure. She wants to please me, her entire being is setting its course toward that star, and I can feel it like I’ve never felt anything before. She wants me, she wants to delight me, and as I shudder against her, as the white heat inside my center starts to grow, I know that I love her, and I don’t know what to say about it, so I don’t say anything. I feel it, instead. I feel her fingers inside of me, curling and questing, touching and claiming, I feel her mouth over my heart, devouring me wholly, and I feel…I feel too much as I come, as my whole body experiences that white heat unfurl, splendid, infinite, and all that I’m aware of as I’m remade in those moments is the places where she touches me, and how complete I feel because she does.

  She is the adventure I’ve been waiting for. She is the part of my life I’ve been searching for.

  It was her, all along.

  And I found her in just one night.

  Chapter 17

  TALIS

  I look down at this lady, and everything I am inside of me begins to unravel. There’s the pain and poignancy of perpetuating a falsehood against her, yes. But it’s more than that.

  She’s remaking me from the inside out. There is something inside of her, something so deep and intrinsic that I can feel it when she moves against me, when I tou
ch her, when I taste her. It’s as if I found the beginning and end of all magic, and it isn’t a star or a moon or a pillar of crystal—it’s her. Magic is this living, breathing beauty who lies beneath my body now and looks up at me with eyes full of such undying devotion that I can feel the entirety of my being shifting, somehow.

  I love her.

  I found her a few hours ago. I did not know she existed before this night. But there was such a sallow emptiness to my days that I couldn’t see. I moved around the emptiness, and I carried it with me, and I couldn’t see it, because to see it would be to admit that I needed something.

  Someone.

  I loved my mother to all the ends of my days, and I loved her fiercely, and when she passed…well, it taught me that to love anything was to lose it, and I could not abide losing something ever again. So I salted my love, and I refused to let it grow, and I ignored the pain in my heart because it was easier than facing it.

  But now, now I’m facing her. We are naked, we lie heart to heart, and beneath me is the universe in the body of a woman, in the heart and soul of a woman who I’ve spent all my days in quest of. I sought to fill the emptiness with knighthood, with striving for something I could do or be.

  But it was always love I sought, my body turning toward it, my heart longing for it.

  And now here she is.

  And now…now I’m afraid again.

  Cinda reaches up and wraps her soft arms tightly about my neck, holding me close, as if this moment cannot end. I bend my face, and nestle it against that perfect curve of her shoulder, and I breathe her in. There is such a sweetness to her skin, to all that she is, and such a strength. I tasted it when I tasted her, and it was sublime.

  But I know, can feel the thrumming of it beneath the moment, as tender and beautiful as it is—there’s the knowledge.

  What I love is what I lose.

  I shove away the thoughts that begin to cluster at the edge of my heart, hungry devils that tear at my spirit with sharp, poisoned teeth. They all whisper that Cinda won’t understand why I lied—that she’ll think I deceived her. She wants a knight. I am not a knight.

  What I love is what I lose.

  I rise, pushing myself off the ground with my palms firmly against it, and Cinda looks at me, worry passing over her face as she rises, too, lying back on her elbows now.

  “What is it?” she murmurs, and then she reaches up, tenderly cups my cheek with her warm, soft palms. “Talis?”

  I close my eyes, reach up, place my hands over hers, interlacing fingers so that we’re interwoven again, at least a little, she and I. I breathe out, breathe in, the flowers of the tree above us nodding their moon-bright heads as a breeze moves through the garden, bringing with it the music from the square, the laughter from the square. I look toward it, working my jaw, and I breathe out.

  “It’s almost time—” I start to tell her, but I don’t get to finish it.

  For the bell tolls.

  The bell resides in the palace somewhere, and it must be gargantuan to be able to hear it so clearly out here—or magiced so that the sound emanates throughout the entire city. Either way, we hear that bell toll, once, twice, and then we’re scrambling, Cinda and I, trying to get back into our clothes and armor, trying to right ourselves…

  “We must hurry,” I tell her breathlessly. “Everything can be thrown off if you make a thief wait. We start to think too much. Our mind gets out of the game.”

  “I’m sorry I must make you wait.” Cinda’s sincere as she searches my face, but then an impish little grin crosses that sumptuous mouth of hers. “But it’ll make it all the sweeter when I get to taste you later.”

  It’s immediate, the blush that races across my face, and I’m ducking my head, rubbing at the back of my neck, completely and totally delighted. “I…can’t believe you just said that.”

  “You’re going to utter that phrase quite a lot, my dear,” says Cinda, pulling the sleeves of her dress up, righting her undergarments. She turns to me, glancing with a coy seductiveness over her shoulder as she shimmies a little. “Will you do me up?”

  “I regret nothing more,” I murmur, leaning down and brushing my mouth on her shoulder as my fingers find the first button at the small of her back, “than hiding away those perfect breasts.”

  She glances over her shoulder again, and there’s wonder on her face. “You think they’re perfect?”

  “They’re objectively perfect,” I tell her without hesitation.

  “It’s just...” She sighs, shaking out her shoulders a little. “I’m sure you’re usually with younger ladies.”

  “Not…really,” I tell her, my fingers lingering gently on the last button.

  She turns to face me quickly, wraps her own fingers in the gap on my chest plate. “Listen to me, Talis,” she tells me then, and her tone is low, urgent. “Something…happened. Just now, when we made love. Did you feel it, too?”

  I stare down at her, transfixed. “Yes.”

  She searches my face, and there’s fear there for half a heartbeat before she draws herself up to her full height, tipping her chin up. “I need you to know: I care about you.”

  I nod. “Yes…I do, too.”

  “But it’s more than that.” Her fingers tighten, and she searches my face. “Why is it so frightening to say this?” She licks her lips, her voice soft, urgent. “I…I think I lo—”

  “Talis?”

  We both start, and then turn guiltily, looking toward the square. “Shit,” I murmur, and I scoop up my cloak, my fingers fumbling with the leather thongs along my side. “We’re late. We’ll finish this later,” I promise to her, and I reach out, take her hand in mine. “I want to tell you something, too. I promise, later.”

  “Later,” she repeats, and she looks sorrowful, for a heartbeat, before she nods, and the two of us race across the gardens—doing our best not to run over anyone—and we enter the side street that’s off the main square.

  “There you are,” sighs Tahlia, throwing her hands up into the air in exasperation. Tahlia, Fane and Lellie are all standing in the side street, and though I feel guilty for making them wait, I’m fascinated that they even had any idea of the direction we might have gone.

  “How did you know where to look for us?” I ask, but Fane taps the side of her nose and gives a big grin.

  “I’ve got a good sniffer on me. All Draco do. Is everyone ready? Sated?” she asks, raising a brow, and I can’t help but smile, biting my lip as a blush creeps up my neck. This is not Cinda’s reaction, however, and she pats the Draco on the shoulder with a wide smile.

  “Completely sated! How about you ladies?” She waggles her brows at the three, and Fane and Lellie glance at one another, both of them smiling in a fairly satisfied way.

  Well, then.

  “I didn’t have time for such things,” says Tahlia, waving her hand airily, which means she got rejected quite a few times, and is currently trying to nurse her bruised ego. “Let’s just get this show on the road. We’ve got to get in and get out while everyone’s having fun and is fairly inebriated.”

  “Oh, that will be all night, don’t fret.” Fane shrugs. “It’s Wild Night, after all. No, we have to move quickly because we don’t want to get caught. Have you seen what Draco do to people they’ve caught in illegal acts?”

  “No, no,” I start to mouth, drawing my finger across my throat, but Fane continues blithely, even as Cinda’s mouth hangs open.

  “They usually eat them. Sometimes. It depends on if they’re hungry or not, but criminals usually get eaten.” Fane grins, and her entire mouth is full of points as she smiles at us. “So…we’d best get moving. The sooner we’re in, the sooner we’re out, and the sooner we can be on our way.”

  “That’s…not the rousing speech I was hoping for,” murmurs Lellie, adjusting her front chest plate of armor so that it lies a little snugger against her. “Couldn’t you…I don’t know…Tahlia, can you say something uplifting? Inspiring? You must give a little speec
h before you go on raids with your bandits to inspire them to, I don’t know…steal harder.”

  “Steal harder? That may just be the entirety of my next speech.” Tahlia grins and gives Lellie a wink. “And I do give speeches, yes, but it seems that Fane has taken the wind out of my sails just a wee bit, what with talk of being eaten and all.” Tahlia grimaces, and then glances at me, her brows up. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so unsure of herself as she is right now, looking to me. She’s never looked to me before. She shifts the weight from one foot to the other and clears her throat. “Uh…Talis. Do you want to take the helm? Maybe say a few words?”

  I stare at my sister, and then I blink. Oh, she’s being serious. She really does want me to say something to the others, a rousing speech that will inspire them. I’m already tongue-tied because of everything I wanted to tell Cinda and did not have time to do again, and the gods know I’m not the give-big-speeches-in-front-of-people type. I’m quiet. I have thoughts, but I often keep them to myself. Tahlia’s the one who can leap up on a table and get the entire tavern singing along with her.

  But she wants me to try now. And I close my eyes, think of how Ma used to get the thieves going. She’s the one who taught Tahlia how to jump onto tables, after all, how to get the entire group of people on your side, get them stirred up, get them excited.

  I remember how she’d grin down at us all, leaning back onto her heels on the tabletop, her hands on her hips, her chest puffed up like she couldn’t be prouder of her bunch of brigands than she was right at that moment. It did something to you, made you feel important, somehow, seeing her pride in us.

  I open my eyes, smile softly at Cinda who looks at me with a very similar expression. Like she cares about me. As if, to her, I am important.

  I forgot what that felt like, but it’s good, how it slowly flows through me, that warmth, as if my heart is pumping different blood through my body.