The Edge of the Blade

by Jeffe Kennedy

  Then, with a sudden lurch, as if the Hákyrling were a cork popped from a keg long sealed, we emerged on the other side. I knew it as surely as I knew my own name—though how Queen Andromeda had known that was an entirely other question. The sea remained as lovely, as serene and sparkling, but somehow . . . less. Not quite as deeply colored or vibrant. Hard to describe exactly, and I’d made a career of observing and reporting salient details.

  A massive change nonetheless.

  Queen Andromeda sagged abruptly, Rayfe catching her and sweeping her up in his arms. That explained his previous caution. And the presence of the Tala healer, because she abandoned me to tend to the queen. She and the king exchanged concerned expressions. Zynda caught my eye. My cue there. I got to my feet. Not perfect, but exceedingly better than I’d been.

  Kral had a speculative look in his eye I mistrusted. “If the enchantress is exhausted by her effort,” he said, “we can provide them with accommodations.”

  “I’ll mention that,” I lied, and turned to Rayfe, asking in Common Tongue, “Does Queen Andromeda need anything, Your Highness?”

  King Rayfe flicked me a wry glance over her limp body. “Soon you’ll be more a diplomat than even Lady Mailloux. She needs to get back across the barrier and into Annfwn. She predicted this might occur. Unfortunately, I don’t have a form that can carry her, which means we need Zynda.”

  Oh. Zynda gave me a rueful shake of her head, making me realize how stricken I must look. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I hoped that I’d be able to stay, or that we’d at least have more time after to talk.”

  “Kral, please ask Jens to stay close to the barrier,” I asked, very politely, I thought, though he predictably scowled at me.

  “It’s not wise.”

  “No fish-birds here,” I retorted. “Call it a favor I’ll owe you.”

  That speculative gleam deepened. Great. “Done,” he replied, and folded his arms, armor clinking. Clearly going nowhere.

  “Quick,” I said to Zynda in Common Tongue, “what of Dafne?”

  “No news, but the High Queen herself is on a ship to Nahanau even as we speak. She gave me this letter for you.” She pressed a scroll into my hands and I clung to it without looking. I’d choose hearing the words over reading them every time.

  “She’s going in person? What ship? Did she commandeer one? It will take weeks to get around the Crane Isthmus and the weather will be terrible. They could wreck. What in Danu—”

  “Jepp!” Zynda took my shoulders, Rayfe impatiently glaring behind her. “Listen. She got a ship from—” Rayfe cleared his throat, eyeing her. “A friend,” Zynda amended, flicking her eyes in Rayfe’s direction from an angle he wouldn’t be able to see. Interesting. Very interesting. “I went ahead of her over the pass, so she’s taking a shortcut. Got it?”

  The pass could only be Odfell’s, between Ordnung and Annfwn, which fit with the ship in question belonging to the Tala. If she sailed from there, she could possibly be at Nahanau already. Zynda nodded, seeing my relief. Though I hoped Ursula had taken plenty of reinforcements.

  “Did Harlan go with her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. If anyone can handle Nakoa, she and Harlan can.”

  “Them and Dafne.”

  “Cousin,” Rayfe said, steel in his tone.

  Zynda kissed my cheek. “I’ll come back and find you. I’m not leaving you out there alone.”

  “No, you don’t know the way and—”

  “I’ll find you if I have to swim all the way to Dasnaria!” she repeated, then scooped the unconscious Andi into her arms, ran for the rail, and jumped, Rayfe pacing her, then snapping into the raptor at the last moment.

  I ran to the rail also, wondering how in Danu—no, in Moranu’s name—she planned to hold on to the queen, when I saw her shift midfall into the impossible. She remained recognizably herself from the waist up, though bare breasted and with her fair skin scintillating in a way that reminded me of the fish-birds’ scaly gleam, and with a powerful silver fish tail below. No sooner did she cleave the water than it churned with other aquatic creatures, including the healer in seal form again, and they all swam out of sight, vanishing behind the barrier.

  As if they’d never been.

  “Was that . . .” Kral beside me, helm tucked under his arm, now that we were safe from the fish-bird scourge.

  “The tales in my part of the world call them mermaids,” I replied, still feeling stunned at that, the gamut of emotions, physical sensations, and the speed with which my friends had come and gone. “I never thought to see one in the flesh. Of course, I never thought to see a dragon either, so there’s that.”

  “It’s a strange world we’re living in,” Kral agreed. “I must say I’m thankful to be back in the nonmagical part of it.”

  I wondered at his confidence in that, given what I’d been sent to discover in Dasnaria. Their Temple of Deyrr had worked magics that made Zynda becoming half fish—or maybe more than half, given the appearance of her scaly skin—look pretty mild by comparison. I didn’t mention that, however, as keeping up the appearance that all I cared about was making connections in the Dasnarian court would be key. Couldn’t have Kral watching over my shoulder as I infiltrated one of their most powerful, quasi-illegal temples.

  However I planned to do that. I’d skin that deer once I brought it down.

  Kral was still eyeing where the Tala had vanished. “Mirrorlike on this side, too. Will it have the same properties, keeping us out?”

  “So past experience informs me,” I said, remembering the frustrations of Branli.

  “Yet they passed through as if it weren’t there.”

  “That’s Tala magic for you.”

  “Magic that spans much more than Tala territory.”

  He had a point, but I shrugged. Not my expertise, and I sure wasn’t going to give him more detail on that aspect of the Thirteen. Especially with Ursula away from Ordnung. I wondered at the wisdom of her leaving the High Throne so early in her reign, but what did I know? I was a simple Bryn woman of the hills, a decent hunter and an excellent scout. The running of kingdoms belonged to others.

  “So.” Kral’s tone had gone quieter, more intimate, and he leaned over me. “About that favor you owe me.”

  I turned in the circle of his arm and indulged myself by running my fingers through his sweat-damp hair. A sweaty man always worked for me. Made the muscles glisten and him ever so much more masculine. Both men and women worked for me, for different reasons. But with my libido up and Kral right there, filling my head with his scent, well . . .

  “What have you got in mind?” Maybe it was an aftereffect of the magical healing, but I wanted him like never before. Enough to feel all hopeful about it.

  “Looks like you’re feeling better,” he noted. “And I’ve heroically restrained myself, having you in my bed these last days.”

  “Me looking like carrion shouldn’t have tested your restraint much.”

  “Nevertheless.” He pressed lips to my temple. I nearly climbed him like a tree right there. “Come to bed with me, hystrix. Let me rub that soft underbelly.”

  I put a hand on his chest to stop him, and his lips tilted in question. “How about you come to my bed—no nasty bloodstains on the floor.”

  “You have a hammock,” he pointed out. “Not nearly so comfortable. Or expansive enough for what I have in mind.”

  He did have a way of whetting a girl’s interest. “No strings or expectations?”

  “Not beyond what you already agreed to.”

  “My memory isn’t that short, General Killjoy. Do you plan to attempt to extract promises, or that stupid apology from me, and leave me hanging if I won’t go along? Because I can tell you right now that, tempted as I may be, I’d much rather take to my uncomfortable hammock and my own hand than go through that again.”

  His sultry smile dimmed ever so slightly, and he ran fingers through my hair, much as I’d done to his. He’d shucked the gauntlets, to
o. “That had not been my intention. I miscalculated, not realizing how seriously you took the game—or the depth of your obstinacy.”

  “Oh, honey, I have depths you haven’t even guessed at.”

  “I hope you’ll show me.” His gaze went to my mouth, the shark in his eyes. “We still have that bet to discuss, as well.”

  “I have some ideas there.”

  “No doubt you do. I must consult with Jens; then I’ll meet you in my cabin.”

  “Fine, fine.” He did have a point about the room. “Any special requests for this favor?”

  His face lit with surprise and desire. Hey, I can play nice, especially if he’d give me what I wanted. No, what I needed with burning intensity.

  “In the cabinet with my clothes, at the back, there are several outfits you can investigate. Any will please me, though it’s difficult to say if any will fit.”

  Not intended for me, then, but for those mysterious Dasnarian females who must be as tall as their men. “If I know you, these outfits weren’t intended to cover much anyway.”

  “True.” His smile went wolfish.

  I stood on tiptoe and bit his earlobe. “Don’t take long. I might get bored and turn to practicing my handwriting.” Putting on my best sashay, I headed for Kral’s cabin with his eyes on my back. Not how Dafne would have done the ambassadoring, but the key to learning martial arts of all kinds was making them your own. It would never be enough to imitate the moves of others, no matter how clever or skilled. Taking those techniques, internalizing them, and bringing them out again with your own personal polish—that was the way of Danu. I’d see how much of Her Majesty’s letter I could puzzle through later.

  Hlyti had conspired to send me into the Dasnarian Empire with only one ally, and I intended to keep him close. Being Kral’s lover would make spying that much easier. The rest was completely a side benefit.

  Danu, I loved my job.

  The dark recesses of Kral’s clothing cabinet held more than a couple of outfits. I put back the stacks of what looked like lengths of folded silk and examined several of the toys, some I knew the purpose of and others that sparked my imagination in delicious ways. Clearly a man of interesting appetites. I considered using one of the toys on myself, just to take the edge off, but I’d waited this long; I might as well hold out for the grand prize.

  Had I been another sort of woman, I’d have wondered who else had worn and employed these things. But that train of thought led to the pitiable Karyn, who Kral had never offered or delivered any kind of exclusivity, nor did she get to indulge in variety herself. She might as well be one of the White Sisters, forever locked in their cloister, doing whatever in Glorianna they did all day. It wouldn’t alter Karyn’s life a whit if I fucked Kral or not, but I still didn’t like thinking about her.

  If it wasn’t me, it would be another woman. Or many women, the way Kral talked about it. I didn’t have any particular moral problem with Kral catting around on his virginal wife. Followers of Danu tended to be either celibate or promiscuous. Most fighters weren’t terribly monogamous either way, mainly because the life rarely allowed for the kind of roots spouses and children required. I found it ironic, in truth, that Kral insisted on exclusivity from me, whereas I didn’t much care who he diddled.

  Easy for the only woman on the boat to decide, perhaps—and I was pretty sure Kral wouldn’t give any of his men a try, if only to preserve the chain of command. Mmm. Nice image, though, to picture him with another man. Like Harlan and Blagor staging that wrestling match, all oiled skin and bulging muscles. Then whoever won could peg the other.

  What a sight that would be to see.

  Embroidering on that in my mind, I picked out a flimsy little chain-mail number. Amusing, given that none of the Dasnarian women were fighters, from what I understood. Still, it suited my style and my mood. When I took the scroll from the High Queen to my cabin, I also grabbed a pair of high leather boots for riding that might suit the outfit, along with a dressier knife belt than I normally used. Too bad I’d given my mother’s jeweled one to Dafne, as it would have matched perfectly.

  But then, some things were sacred even to me. I’d never have worn it for dirty sex. Giving it to Dafne had been an impulse, but the right one. Perhaps my mother’s spirit, wherever it might be, would watch over the librarian and guide her.

  I set that thought aside as no more productive than contemplating poor Karyn.

  The cabin had a disused feel from being empty the last few days, just a place to keep my things, along with all of Zynda’s. Though neither Kral, nor anyone else on the ship, could read Common Tongue, I felt better hiding the scroll in there. No one seemed to go in and mess with our things, but I felt discreet and spy-like tucking the scroll away in some of Zynda’s clothes.

  At the last moment, I unfastened one of the chairs from the floor and took that with me, too. Back in Kral’s cabin, I put down the cabinet door that served as a dresser, found fresh water inside, and used that for an additional sponge bath.

  I finished in time to strike a pose at the sound of Kral’s distinctive tread, one boot on the seat of the chair, hand on cocked hip, tits out, and head high. Judging by the way he halted midstride, expression going avid, I’d succeeded in my mission to begin driving him out of his mind. I had all kinds of revenge planned for him.

  He closed and bolted the door, tossed aside the helm and gauntlets, then advanced on me with a slight smile quirking his clever mouth. “Trust you to find the hardest-looking outfit in there.”

  “If you don’t like it, why do you have it?”

  “Oh, I like it all right.” He settled big hands on the inward curve of my waist. “Though another woman would have left off the blades.”

  “You should know by now that I’m not much like your Dasnarian women.”

  “Or any other woman I’ve met, for that matter.” He ran his hands up my rib cage and down again, one stroking over my upraised thigh. Oh, yes. “I see you found a chair.”

  “Thought maybe I’d teach you a thing or two.”

  “You think you can?”

  “I look forward to the attempt, anyway.”

  “It’s good to see your lovely skin in one piece again,” He dropped a kiss on my bare shoulder. “And to know you won’t scar.”

  “There’s days ahead to acquire more of those. Plus I have others, old ones.”

  “I know, but I prefer you don’t gain more serving me.”

  “I’m not serving you.” I nipped his neck in reproof. “I’m serving my captain and High Queen.”

  “Still,” he growled, part arousal, part annoyance. “I find them—and you—as fascinating as your callused hands. Put them on me, hystrix.”

  “You’re wearing rather a lot of armor for that.”

  He grinned, all shark. “Yes, you’ll have to take it off for me. Bathing me afterward wouldn’t go amiss either.”

  I gave him a considering look. Not that it wouldn’t be a joy to make free with his truly excellent body and relearn every bit of it, but . . . “Is this the favor?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have kind of a fetish for me being your handmaiden, don’t you?”

  He stroked my thigh thoughtfully, not going close enough to where I really needed those diligent fingers. “I do,” he said slowly. “Does it help if I confide that it’s all the sweeter for knowing you’re the farthest thing from a handmaiden? Knowing you could take me apart with those delicate blades makes seeing your tender underbelly that much more delicious.”

  He made me all kinds of warm and mushy with those words, and not in my belly, but somewhere in the vicinity of that heart I’d lost somewhere along a well-worn campaign trail.

  “Makes you feel more manly, huh?”

  “Yes, you do. Both more and less manly. I don’t quite understand it.”

  I licked my lower lip, then pursed them, drawing his eye. “But you like it.”

  “Gods help me, I do.” He growled the words.

  “You make
a persuasive case, so I’ll agree to that, but I need something from you first. Call it proof of goodwill. I promise it won’t take long. And you’ll enjoy it.”

  His eyes darkened, further intrigued and aroused. “Will you ask nicely?” Teasing me this time, mouth quirked in a half smile.

  Taking my foot off the chair, I leaned into him and rose on tiptoes, wrapping my hands behind his thick neck. “Please, General Kral, prince among men. I need you in a bad way. Will you indulge me and give me a good fucking? Hard. Fast. Ruthless.” I punctuated each word with a kiss, writhing against him, giving vent to genuine need, not needing to playact at all.

  “I’m still in my armor,” he breathed, wrapping a viselike arm around my waist and crushing me to him anyway, returning my kisses in greedy bites. “I’ll bruise you.”

  “Oh, Danu, I hope so. Do it, Kral, and I’ll play handmaiden like you’ve never seen.”

  That did it. With a snarl, he spun me around and bent me over the high back of the wooden chair, pushing me down with a firm hand on my neck and kicking my feet apart. If I hadn’t already been slicker than a spring mudslide, I’d have gone there immediately. Kral yanked on the skimpy chain-mail bottom, snapping the threads and sending metal pieces flying. Next I knew, he thrust into me to the hilt, cold metal armor hitting my ass. Stretching me to oblivion and back.

  I came instantly, with a grateful scream.

  Danu bless him, he didn’t even pause, just kept fucking me with all the relentlessness I craved. Hand vised on my neck, the other holding me by the hip, he pumped in and out of me while my breath sobbed. I climaxed again, digging my short nails into the wooden chair for whatever purchase I could manage while the rest of me spun off into a haze.

  Yes. This was all I wanted. Him, his magnificent cock filling me, the man grunting Dasnarian sex words at me, taking me up higher, so I climaxed yet again before he slammed against me one last time on a shout, grinding into my ass.

  Danu! The man sure could fuck.

  We held for a few endless moments, ragged breath synching, diverging again. Sweat dripped into my eyes and I blinked it back.