by T.M. Nielsen
***
“Lady Kyrin?”
Kyrin sighed and turned behind her. “Don’t call me that.”
“I’m sorry.” The young tailor came in with a garment bag and bowed.
“First off, don’t bow either. Second, I don’t need any more clothes. I have three entire outfits already.”
“I thought… well… I heard what you said… to the other tailor. I thought you might like this.” His nervousness irritated her.
“What is it?”
“A dress, sort of.”
This caught her attention. “What do you mean?”
“Well, we’d need to check with the king, but it’s not long, as is proper.”
She smiled. “Really? Let me see.”
Kyrin took the bag and disappeared behind the dressing curtain. She pulled the dress out and was fairly impressed. It was deep blue and gray, and had no embellishments or jewels. The top was a halter top with an under shirt of dark gray and the skirt was full but would only come to her knees.
She slipped it on and looked in the mirror. It was much nicer than the tunic she wore every day but not nearly as fancy as what they usually made her wear. She moved a bit behind the curtain and saw that it wouldn’t restrict her movements at all. The body was fitted and not at all bulky, and she had free range of motion with her flail.
Kyrin came out and smiled. “I like it.”
“We still, well we have to get it approved through the king,” he said, looking over his work.
“Why’s that?”
“It’s not proper.”
“Well, he’s not my king, and I like it.”
“We still…”
“No, we don’t. Now can you make me a way to hold my flail?”
He nodded and then rushed off.
Kyrin had to smile. Alric was going to love the dress, even with its modifications. It wouldn’t inhibit a fight, so she thought she may actually like it. Because it was fitted on the top and flowing at the bottom, she didn’t think it would get in the way at all, and it was much cooler than the tunic and pants she’d been wearing.
It wasn’t but an hour later when the young tailor returned with a belt made out of the same material as the gray shirt. It was thick and accentuated her small waist but had a loop for her flail that fit perfectly. She was nervous about looking as feminine as she did but figured she wouldn’t wear it out of Paragoy anyway.
“Perfect!” Kyrin said, slipping her flail into her belt.
“Ma’am, I need to get permission, please.” The tailor seemed even more nervous.
She turned to look at him. “Why?”
“I’m new. I can’t cause problems, or I could get sent back to the village.”
“You designed this dress?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Stop calling me ma’am.”
“Yes, okay.”
“Let’s go talk to Alric.”
“What?!” His eyes grew wide.
“Alric, your king.”
“I know who he is. I just… why bother him?”
“Because I have an idea,” she said, and started out the door. The nervous tailor followed her and kept watching around him. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be walking around the castle with the Lady, and he knew he wasn’t supposed to be designing dresses for her.
When she knocked on Alric’s office door, the young tailor cringed and sunk back slightly away from her.
“Who is it?” Alric called out.
“Me,” she said, and then glanced behind her.
“Come in.”
Kyrin opened the door into the massive office. She often suspected she could fit Creteloc’s entire home into his office, and it seemed ostentatious, but so were so many other things in Paragoy.
“Hello,” he said, smiling. Alric stood and moved to her and then kissed her lightly after taking her hands.
She backed away, still irritated that he held her hands, and she turned to the nervous man. “I want him as my tailor.”
Alric was looking down at her dress. “Wow.”
She looked down. “What?”
“You’re wearing a dress, and no one died.”
“This one… I like.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said, and walked around her. A proper dress had long sleeves with billowing cuffs, long, full skirts with petticoats and sometimes even a hoop, and low necklines.
“That’s why I want this tailor.”
Alric looked up at the tailor, who was just starting to back out of his office. “Who are you?”
The tailor bowed deeply. “Dison, sir.”
“You made this?”
Dison simply swallowed hard and nodded.
Alric grinned. “How did you get her into it?”
Kyrin slapped him on the arm. “He didn’t force me. I told you, those dresses you all put me in don’t allow me free movement. If I can’t fight, then I won’t wear it.”
“I… I… well… I heard… and then,” Dison mumbled, looking at the floor.
“Are you afraid of me?” Alric asked him.
“Sir?”
“You look like you’re going to have a heart attack.”
“Well”
Kyrin sighed. “He’s afraid because apparently he thought he had to get the designs for this dress approved by you.”
Alric grinned sheepishly. “That is true.”
“Why do you have to approve my clothes?”
“It’s not that exactly. You’re… well… for all intents and purposes, barely dressed.”
Kyrin looked down. “I’m covered.”
“We’re just used to women being more covered.”
“And helpless.”
“That too.”
“Well either he’s my tailor, or I go back to pants.”
Alric leaned back on his desk. “Dison, you came up with this?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Based on what she said to someone?”
“To the head tailor, sir.”
He smiled. “Perfect.”
“I can move in it,” Kyrin explained. “There aren’t any long sleeves to get caught on things, and no long skirts. He even gave me a spot for my flail.”
“Yes, I saw that.”
“If he’s going to take the time to listen to me, then he’s the only one I want to sew for me.”
“No one, not even me, has a personal tailor.”
“Then I don’t need a tailor at all. I already have three entire outfits,” she said, crossing her arms.
Alric studied her, appreciating how the dress showed off her figure. “Fine. Dison is your personal tailor.”
Dison’s eyes grew wide. “Sir?”
“Tell the head tailor that you are Kyrin’s personal tailor.”
Dison nodded, bowed, and then left quickly.
Alric tensed when he felt the hair on his neck stand up again. His entire body was suddenly alert, and he looked around, as if a dark shadow should have covered the land.
“What’s wrong?” Kyrin asked, frowning.
“I feel an evil again.”
“I’m right in front of you.”
“No, a greater evil,” he said, looking out the window. “I’ve felt it before. Once when Creteloc came to me, and then when Daemionis is in Paragoy.”
She smiled. “Creteloc’s here?”
“I don’t know.”
“Other than those times, you’ve never felt it?”
“No, and it’s making me nervous.”
“I can go look.”
He turned toward her and then smiled. “No, stay in here where it’s safe.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Or… just stay in here with me?”
“Depends, are you going to hold my hands?”
“Yes”
“That’s getting old.”
“You still tense when I kiss you,” he said, moving toward her slowly. “Until you stop, I have to hold y
our hands.”
“I told you I won’t cast on you.”
“I don’t trust you.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “That’s probably not a bad idea.”
“Why would Creteloc be here?” he asked, now just inches from her.
“I don’t know. She does what she wants.”
“She’s your friend. I figured you’d know.”
“Creteloc doesn’t have friends,” she said, backing up until her back hit the wall.
“Running from me?” he asked, leaning toward her with his hands behind her on the wall.
“I don’t run.”
He grabbed her wrists in his hands and then kissed her softly. She fought to get her hands loose but couldn’t.
After a few minutes, Kyrin turned her face away from him. “Let my hands go.”
He shook his head and then began to kiss her neck, working his way up to her lips again. She hated how his kiss made her stomach flutter and how her body seemed to draw closer to him. As much as it made her nervous, part of her craved it and couldn’t help but respond if he persisted.
When he broke the kiss and let her hands go, she was able to compose herself enough to sound on the verge of being angry. “Stop holding my wrists!”
“No”
“Then stop kissing me, and you won’t have to hold my wrists.”
He grinned. “No to that too.”
Without another word, Kyrin spun on her heels and walked out, furious when she heard him laugh behind her. She hit the stairs running and ran into the apple orchard to get away from him.
By the time she reached the trees, she was mad and didn’t care who saw her. Engaging her speed boots when she hit the tree line, she flew through the forest. When she was far enough from the castle to know she was alone, she slowed down and looked around.
While she inwardly yelled at herself for the feelings her body put out for Alric, she looked around the area. She hadn’t been this far north before and wanted to see what she could find.
The more she thought about Alric, the madder she became, and tears started to form in her eyes. She knew better than to let herself get attached to a man and figured Creteloc would probably punish her if she were to find out.
She couldn’t fight the tears, the main reason she’d run from the castle, and finally sat down and buried her face. It wasn’t often she cried, but when she did, she preferred to be alone. The feelings she had for Alric were in conflict to what she learned growing up and while running from the Shadowmere.
“Greetings”
Kyrin sprang to her feet when she heard the soft voice. She turned slightly and faced the shadow elf that stood before her. “Hello.”
The way he moved was indicative of an assassin, so she slowly grabbed her flail and kept a close eye on him.
He smiled. “You are going to fight me with a weapon?”
“Yes”
“Why not use magic? I heard it’s not banned here.”
“Are you a shifter?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
“No, I was led here.”
“By who?”
“You know who,” he said, and began to circle her. She spun with him, never letting him at her back.
“Why would Daemionis send you here?”
“To watch over you.”
“I don’t need a tender.”
“Don’t you? You’ve fallen in love with a human in this dimension… a good aligned dimension.”
“I have not.”
“Daemionis tends to disagree.”
She sighed. “So you’re going to stay here now?”
“For a while. Just to see where this is going.”
“I’m not sure Sithias or Alric will agree to that.”
“They don’t have a choice, do they?”
“They could send me packing,” she said, starting back for the castle.
“Not dressed like that they won’t,” he said, and she could tell that beneath the dark hood, he was grinning.
“Don’t insult me. I don’t like you already.”
“Then don’t dress like a girl.”
“Shut up!”
He followed behind her, though she couldn’t hear his footsteps. She’d learned with Creteloc not to expect a single noise out of a well-trained assassin, so it shocked her when she heard a tiny twig snap. He paused and then continued to follow her.
“New to walking?” she asked him as they neared the orchard.
He didn’t answer, so she smiled and walked to the castle. The knights instantly moved to block the dark figure from entering the castle.
Kyrin turned around when she heard the assassin unsheathe his dagger and step back.
“He’s with me,” she said, although she wished he wasn’t.
“We cannot let him enter.”
“Then bring Alric down.”
“To face this dark one? No.”
Kyrin shook her head when the shadow elf tried to fade into the shadows and managed to fall on his way, knocking over a suit of armor that stood beside the door.
The knights chuckled. “Issues?”
“You’re sure Daemionis sent you?” Kyrin asked him.
“Yes,” he whispered, still trying to be cool and calm, when he’d managed to attract half of the castle.
“What’s going on?” Trox asked, walking up to them.
Kyrin sighed. “Daemionis sent a babysitter for me.”
“So what was the racket?”
“He is having noise problems.”
Trox looked over and immediately recognized the short figure of the shadow elves. “Get the king, now!”
Two of the knights ran up the stairs to get him while Kyrin watched the assassin try to act inconspicuous as he was being watched by fifty knights.
“Trox, what’s wrong?” Alric asked, running up to them.
“Daemionis sent a black elf into our kingdom.”
Alric looked at the hooded figure. “You’re sure?”
“Shadow elf, actually,” Kyrin said, “and yes, he did.”
“I’m surprised we found him, from what I’ve heard,” Alric said, studying him.
“Well, he’s not very good at his profession.”
“I don’t have to put up with this!” the assassin yelled.
“What happened to the door?” Alric asked, looking over at the pile of armor.
“He ran into the armor and knocked it over,” one of the knights told him.
“Why are you here?” Alric asked the shadow elf.
“I came to watch over her,” he replied, trying to sound harsh, but his voice turned throaty, and he started to cough.
“Why?”
“Daemionis doesn’t trust you with her.”
“That can’t be it. He knows we are honor bound not to hurt her.”
“Unless she does something you don’t approve of.”
“Like bringing an assassin home?” she asked, irritated.
“Where did you even find him?” Alric asked her. He was still trying to sort through all of this.
“I was out in the woods north of town, and I ran into him.”
“I followed her from the orchard, but she didn’t see me until I caught her crying in the trees,” the shadow elf told him.
Kyrin shifted nervously. “I was not! You couldn’t have followed me either, so stop lying or at least make it good.”
“I’m not lying!”
“You are too and you know it. You can’t keep up with me.”
“Elves are pretty fast, Kyrin,” Trox said.
“Not as fast as I am.”
He just frowned and turned back to Alric. “Sent by Daemionis or not, we can’t let him stay here.”
“No, we can’t.”
“If he leaves, I’ll go with him,” Kyrin said.
“Why?”
“If Daemionis sent him to watch over me, then I have to stay with him.”
“That’s stupid! You’re safe here. Safer than anywhe
re else with the Shadowmere trying to kill you.”
She glanced quickly around, but no one reacted to that. “Still, I have to stay with him.”
Alric looked at the assassin as he noisily dug around in a bag. “What can it hurt?”
“Are we sure you aren’t supposed to protect him?” Trox asked.
Kyrin shrugged. “It’s possible. I’m more of an assassin than he is.”
“Hey,” the shadow elf yelled.
“We could let him stay out in the old wood-cutter’s cottage,” Alric said.
“No, I stay with Kyrin,” he told them.
“I could stay there too,” Kyrin suggested.
“I’d rather have you here,” Alric said.
“Something’s not right,” Kyrin said, and watched the assassin.
“What?”
“Daemionis expects perfection.”
“This elf is far from that.”
“Or he wants me to kill him.”
“No! Let’s just imprison him and see what his true purpose is.”
Using her speed boots, Kyrin disappeared from the castle’s entryway.
“Where did she go?” Trox asked, shocked.
“Not only that, but how did she move so fast?” Alric added.
“And you think I’m slow,” the assassin said, evil returning to his voice.
Kyrin hit the trees and kept going. Daemionis wouldn’t send a bumbling idiot into another dimension. In fact, Daemionis would have killed the inept fool himself. He had to be a distraction, to pull their attention away from the true evil in the land. She remembered Alric saying he felt an evil presence, which furthered her feeling that he was a deception.
Once out where she met the assassin, she stopped and looked around. “Creteloc? Are you here?”
“I was wrong,” someone said off to her side.
She spun and looked toward the voice but saw no one. It wasn’t Creteloc’s voice she heard but a male with harsh tones. “Who’s there?”
Whispers sounded as a breeze blew through the trees.
Kyrin readied her flail and looked closer into the trees. There was no noise, but she knew she was being watched.
“What were you wrong about?” she asked, her body tense.
When he stepped out of the trees, he stayed in the shadow, and his face was completely obscured. “I told Daemionis that you wouldn’t realize I was here.”
“Apparently, I’m smarter than I look.”
“Creteloc disagreed with me, as usual.”
“What do you want?” She watched him closely, knowing that good assassins could simply disappear into shadows, never to be found.
“I have a message from Daemionis.”
“He sent you across dimensions for a message?”
“Yes”
“Why?”
“He cannot risk the gods of this land seeing him here.” The assassin suddenly appeared in the shadow of a tree to her right. She spun to face him.
“Okay then, what’s the message?”
“Two of them, actually. The first is he demands a sacrifice. He said you are lax.”
“I have to be careful here. He knows that.”
“He desires what he desires.”
“If I kill someone from Paragoy, the gods will be angry, and I’ll be forced to leave. He wants me to stay here,” she told him, unbelieving.
“That is why Creteloc sent the idiot.”
“Creteloc sent that assassin?” Kyrin asked.
“Do not refer to him as such. He wants to know the dark ways but lacks any form of discipline.”
Kyrin smiled. “So, Creteloc found him and wants me to kill him.”
“Correct”
“Easy enough. What’s the second request?”
The assassin finally stepped out of the trees, so she could see him, though his face was still in shadow. “It is time for you to marry the Holy Knight.”
She frowned. “No.”
“You say no to a request from Daemionis?”
“He wouldn’t tell me to do that. I haven’t done anything to be punished that severely.”
“It is not a punishment.”
“Then why?” Her heart was racing. She couldn’t imagine defying the orders of her god, but she couldn’t be tied to this man either.
“Daemionis does not tell me his wishes, other than what I have told you.”
“Well I don’t believe you.”
“Are you refusing to do as he commands?”
It was hard to speak. “I can’t marry him.”
Kyrin was struck with such pain it caused her to fall to her knees, unable to breathe. Blood began to ooze out of her skin as she slumped to the ground, losing all strength.
The assassin watched her silently, and when the pain backed off and she could breathe, she looked up at him when he spoke, “Again, do as you are told.”
“I can’t do it,” she gasped, just as the pain started again. This time a scream escaped her, and she fell back against the crisp fall leaves that lined the forest floor.
The assassin seemed uninterested in her pain and carefully watched to make sure no one was going to interrupt. This time, when the pain ended, she stayed on the ground. Blood seeped from her pores, and her eyes were blood-shot.
“Agree to marry him, and I will leave,” the assassin told her.
“Please, Daemionis, don’t do this.”
“I want out of this wretched land, and to do so, you have to marry that useless king,” he told her.
She shook her head and screamed again as her body erupted in pain.
He sighed. “Stop being difficult, girl. How bad can it be to marry?”
When a tear escaped her eye, it was blood that fell, and she groaned and again shook her head.
“Daemionis, leave her alone,” Sithias said, appearing in the clearing.
The assassin fell back into the shadows, and his voice grew angry, “Stay out of this. She is not yours.”
“I will not allow her to be needlessly tortured in my dimension.”
“Back off!”
Sithias knelt down beside Kyrin and ran a hand over her. She relaxed against the ground, no longer in pain and seemingly unconscious. The god then stood up to face him. “Tell Daemionis that he cannot force her to do this.”
“He can, and he will,” the assassin told her.
“We both wish for this union, to see what children it will produce, but we cannot force it.”
“You may not completely control your followers but Daemionis does, and he expects her to comply immediately!”
The assassin watched her, but it was obvious that he was listening to something else. Finally, he snarled. “If she will not obey, then he will have to remove her from this place for punishment.”
Sithias stood tall. “Tell him to face me about this. I don’t want you in my dimension any longer.”
“He reminds you that she is not yours to protect.”
“She’s young, and I don’t believe she had a choice in following Daemionis. There is good in her.”
“Then you’re a fool.”
Sithias calmly smiled. “Tell Daemionis that we agreed to leave her here for observation, and torturing her isn’t part of that deal. He is to leave her alone and not take away her choice in such a personal matter as marriage.”
“He does what he wants!”
“Not on my land. Now you may leave.”
The assassin looked down at Kyrin, and then turned and swept out of the area.
Sithias gently picked her up and watched until Daemionis took the assassin back out of Paragoy.
