by JK Ensley
Uriel snorted again. “Mind your place in this universe, Guardian. Interfere in this thing, and you will regret the day you were ever born.”
“Ahh, but I wasn’t born,” Vareilious said with a sneer. “As an Arch, I thought you’d know something like that. Hows about this… you do what you do, and I’ll do what I do. Then we’ll just see where the feathers fly. Hmm? Sound like a plan?”
Uriel only growled before entering the clouds and leaving the massive Guardian standing within the palace on Jinn.
“Did you catch that, Brother?” Vareilious grumbled.
“Aye, every wretched word,” Vittorio said as he came to stand beside him. “Seems our wee lass may have a rough go of it with Valencia.”
“Yeah… seems like,” Vareilious said absently.
“Yer thinking aboot her smell. Are ye nae?”
“Yeah. You caught that, huh?”
“Aye, of course I caught it. Yer talking aboot the woman I love, Brother.”
“Could you tell what it was exactly?”
“It was Dragon,” Yui said as he entered, carrying a laden tray.
“Aye there, pretty wee ninja lad. What do ye mean… Dragon?”
Yui began pouring the steamy nectar. The enticing scent of steeped rose petals filled the air, mixing deliciously with the dozens of blue roses now lining her room.
Vittorio turned from the exquisite sapphire dress spread out atop her bed, and smiled when he saw her treasured teapot.
“Have a seat, gentlemen,” Yui said. “This is going to take a while.”
Chapter 16
Izaru
(EE-za-roo)
Jenevier burst through the clouds over layer eight and landed solidly beneath those incredible cherry trees. Sakura fluttered all about her, covering the ground at her feet.
Shall we go make our introductions? Nilakanta asked.
“No. Not just yet.” Jenevier winced when she felt the shivering pain of Vashti going dormant within her. “Well, it looks like we are meant to walk from this point on.”
She sighed heavily and then held out her hands, palms up. Amatiste and Iole Máni sprang to life.
“At least I still have these beautiful little treasures.”
But when she smiled and dropped her hands, the ethereal blades clattered to the ground.
“What the…” She bent down and picked them up, her brow furrowed in confusion.
That rare magic will not be allowed here, Naga. It appears you will be carrying your weapons upon your back, as do the Earthlings.
She rolled her eyes as she sheathed her glowing blades. “Fine.” She sighed. “I need to start thinking like a human again. This is going to be much harder than I thought. I have forgotten what being just a woman is like… again.”
Nilakanta’s chuckle rolled through her. You will also have to remember you cannot jump off balconies into only thin air, little one.
She snorted out a laugh. “Keep reminding me of such, Brother. I would have totally done that.” She visibly shuddered at the thought.
So, which way from here, Naga?
“I do not wish to go to the palace.” She looked in that direction as she spoke. “I don’t like it there, Dragon. Besides, Uriel never said I had to let Suou know I was here… only that I am to protect him. Hmm…”
What are you toying with, Little Fire?
“I was just thinking… Perhaps I can do that minus his knowledge—protect him. Let’s head over to the encampment outside the palace grounds… feel the situation out just a bit before we show all our cards.”
Forget not, little one. You are horrible at cards. Plus, your poker face leaves much to be desired. I don’t particularly agree with your reasoning in this thing. Well, not so long as you are human and I am minus my fire. But we will do as you wish, Naga, for now. The Dragon half chuckled. Uriel would just love this.
“Yes, well, Uriel can go suck on some sour grapes, for all I care. This is my mission. And although I may die here, I have no intention of just throwing my life away. Whoever claims it will have to earn it.”
Hmm… I cannot say I do not like your fire, Guardian. But what makes me think there are numerous bruises awaiting you in the very near future?
She snickered quietly as she slipped through that enchanting garden and over the stone wall fence bordering Suou’s gilded home.
*****
Holding a hair-band in her teeth, Jenevier pulled her curls back into a ponytail as she eavesdropped just outside the largest tent of the gathering troops.
The voices inside were muted, yes, but she had little trouble making out the gist of it.
When you pull your hair back like that, it only makes your scar more prominent.
“So says the Dragon who just painted two-thirds of my body in sapphire scales,” she grumbled under her breath.
Yes, but your clothes mostly cover my mark. Just do not make a habit of going about naked and none will be the wiser.
She rolled her shoulders, tilting her head to the side, popping the bones in her neck.
“Why do I feel so stiff and heavy?”
What do you mean, Little Fire?
“I’m not sure, Dragon. It’s not a huge difference. But my arms feel a bit sluggish, and it is as if weights have been tied about my ankles.”
Ahh, yes. You have been grounded, Naga—all Angel removed. Tell me, little one. Did you forget what gravity felt like?
“Perhaps I did.” She paused, focusing on the subtle differences between her celestial and human forms. “I don’t like it, Dragon. I feel fat and slow.”
He chuckled. You will have to stop putting so much sugar in your tea, Kagi Naga. I do not wish for my scales to be all stretched out when I reclaim them. You are only borrowing them, remember? Best lay off the sweets while you are human.
“Has anyone ever told you, you have a sharp tongue?”
You know that they have, little one.
They both chuckled.
“You there!”
Jenevier spun toward the approaching man as he stomped up to her.
“What are you doing there?”
“Just getting a feel for the place.” She casually shrugged her shoulders. “Trying to figure out where best I shall fit in.”
“Fit in?” The man looked both angry and disgusted. “There’s nowhere you will fit in here. This is soon to be a battlefield. Women have no place on the battlefield. The gods of war forbid it.”
Jenevier stood, slack-jawed. “Are you being serious?” she half whispered, half laughed. “You have no female warriors?”
“Of course not.” His patronizing scowl hardened. “War isn’t a woman’s purpose. How do you not know this?”
“Not my purpose?” She growled under her breath. “Then what the hell is my purpose, if it’s not to rend souls?”
He eyed her suspiciously. “You are not from here, are you?”
She cocked one eyebrow. “And just what, pray tell, gave me away? My sapphire scar? My golden curls? Or perhaps it was my pink ones.”
“No, of course not,” he snapped. “Why would any of those things be proof?”
Her practiced smirk faded away as confusion set in.
I did not realize these things were commonplace on layer eight, Nilakanta said.
They’re not, she thought. You should have seen all the stares I garnered at the royal ball.
Something is wrong here, Naga. Are you certain we came to the right place?
I am no longer certain of anything, Brother. Anything except… that bloody Arch is probably having a good laugh right about now. One day, Nilakanta, one day I will mar Uriel’s pretty face up for him—leave my mark upon his sculpted jaw.
“Come with me.”
Her internal dialogue was cut short when the questioning man grabbed her by the arm, leading her away.
I told you, did I not? Bruises… and sooner than I had imagined.
She rolled her eyes. Yes, Brother. You called it, all right.
The man r
ounded the tent and headed for the front entrance.
Brace yourself, she warned.
Only a few feet from their intended destination, Jenevier jerked free. Grabbing the man’s arm, she pulled it behind his back, shoving it up as high as she could. His muffled cries drew unwanted attention from the posted guards. When she released him and turned to run, she found herself facing even more armed men. The troops began to surround her.
She slowly withdrew Amatiste. “Well… here we go,” she grumbled.
Naga? Are these not the men we were sent here to help?
Fret not, Brother. I will not kill them, she said, as the first one lunged at her.
The raucous sound of ringing blades caused the surrounding tents to spill out their curious occupants as well.
Six men lay unconscious before she heard the commanding voice coming from behind her.
“What’s going on here? What is the meaning of all this?”
She spun toward the speaker, Iole Máni pressed firmly against the seventh man’s throat.
Aww, hell no. Not him. Anyone but him.
What is it? Nilakanta asked. Do you know him?
Jenevier locked eyes with the smirking white-haired man in full battle array.
“…Izaru,” she whispered.
*****
“And why am I not surprised to see you nosing around where you obviously do not belong?” Izaru asked, as she was roughly slammed down into a chair, both shoulders gripped firmly by the two guards.
She glanced up at each before answering.
“I came here to help.”
“Help?” Izaru snorted. “Is that what you call it?”
“I am here for Suou, not you. Release me at once. I demand to speak to the Prince.”
Izaru leaned back against the table laden with maps and other documents. He confidentially crossed his arms over his chest before continuing.
“Soo… you mean to tell me his Royal Highness sent you out here himself?”
Jenevier didn’t answer the smirking man.
“Come now, Maiden,” he chided. “Don’t play shy with me. I know better. Tell me. Does the Prince even know you’re here?”
Still, she held her tongue.
Izaru smiled, it was a viciously lethal, cold smile. “No. Of course he doesn’t. Prince Suou would never let his precious little Sakura Mankai anywhere near this place. He would fear her delicate petals might wilt.”
“Why don’t you ask him yourself,” she snapped.
The unexpected blow one of the guards landed against the side of her face, did more than fill her mouth with blood. It almost rendered her unconscious.
Naga! Nilakanta yelled inside her addled mind.
I am fine, she thought, coolly.
Jenevier spit the blood out near Izaru’s booted feet, then looked up to meet his disgusted smirk.
“I guess this means we will not be involving His Highness, then.”
“And all this time I thought you were just a feisty little piece of ass,” Izaru said sardonically. “It seems you might have some sense after all… pity.” He glanced up at one of the guards. “You know what to do.”
“Yes, sir.”
“But make sure you gag her first.” Izaru matched Jenevier’s cold glare. “She has a bit of a mouth on her. And while I do enjoy the screams, I cannot abide her haughty lip.” He grabbed each arm of her chair and leaned toward her, their noses nearly touching. “Just how much pain can one tiny woman endure before she completely cracks?” He lightly ran one bent finger down her cheek, admiringly, before the look in his eyes turned sadistic. “You must be sure to let me know, lovely Sakura.”
One corner of her mouth turned up in a sardonic smirk. Her lips parted and she chomped her teeth together, only a fraction from his sharp nose.
Izaru jerked back, momentarily startled, before raw anger kicked in. He slapped her hard across the face.
She slowly turned back to face him, her set smile, fierce. “That all you got… Butler?”
Whether he would admit it aloud or not, Jenevier saw the fear plainly in the white-haired man’s dark eyes.
He jerked on the bottom of his jacket, straightening out the creases. “Go. Get her out of here.” He waved a dismissive hand toward the back of the tent. “She bores me.”
“That doesn’t look like boredom playing out in your heartless dark eyes to me, you old weasel,” she said, smiling. “Looks more like you wish to dance.”
The guards jerked her to her feet then.
Jenevier didn’t struggle, neither did she protest, as they led her out and away from the encampment entirely.
I do not like this, Naga.
Yeah, well… I’m not turning cartwheels here myself, Brother.
Perhaps you should have listened to Uriel and gone straight—
Don’t, Nilakanta, she said, cutting off his words. Just… don’t.
*****
Izaru turned her ethereal blades over in the dim light.
“Never have I seen steel crafted as such. I wonder… from whence does it glow?”
Flinching when Iole Máni’s razor sharp edge bit the tip of his finger, Izaru cursed aloud as he tossed Jenevier’s heavenly weapons into a chest, slamming it shut just as he heard the Prince enter.
“How goes it, Izaru? Any news?”
The deceitful butler turned toward his Crown Prince, a radiant smile painted across his cold features.
“Nothing of note, Sire.” He bowed low.
“What’s this skirmish the men are whispering about?” Suou asked as he took his seat behind the map-strewn table. “I leave for fifteen minutes and it seems a maid stole into camp.” He glanced up at the startled man, lifting his eyebrows. “Is it a new love, Izaru? Hmm? One who cannot bear to be parted from you?”
“Sire?”
“Do not play coy with me, Izaru.” The Prince displayed a sly smile. “I am not deaf, old friend. Just because I do not comment on it, does not mean I haven’t heard of your many, somewhat strange, exploits with the women.”
Izaru opened his mouth, but the Prince raised a hand, halting his unspoken words.
“Ah, ah, ah… no need to explain. I have received no complaints from the maids, only heard the gossiping chatter. Besides, I care not what consensual deviant behavior you may partake in. Just keep it off the battlefield.”
Izaru bowed, relieved. “Yes, Sire. Apologies.”
“No need. No need,” Suou said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Have you taken care of her?”
“Sire?”
“The maid who came to you. Did you give her what she wanted?”
Izaru thought back to Jenevier’s busted lip and blood-stained teeth. “Not exactly what she wanted, Sire. No.”
“Well then, get on with it. We have much to discuss.”
Izaru tilted his head to the side, but didn’t speak.
Suou began sorting through some of the many documents, but looked up to his silent butler. “Izaru, I don’t want your mind wandering off on some needy woman. Go. Take proper care of her and then return here with all haste.”
“Yes, Sire,” he said, bowing again, smiling to himself.
“Oh… and, Izaru?”
The snow-crowned butler turned back to face his Prince. “Yes, Sire?”
“One day, I expect you to share with me in some of these sordid exploits of yours.”
“Exploits, Sire?”
“I mean… the stories I have heard…” Suou chuckled, then smiled. “…they cannot possibly be true. Not all of them. You must tell me how you come by so many willing lovers. I am curious to know your secret.”
Izaru blushed. “As you wish, Sire.”
*****
“Is it done?” Izaru asked the guards as he approached the cave entrance.
“Yes, she is restrained.”
He entered the dimly lit cavern. Holding a torch above his head, Izaru could make out the wavering silhouette her motionless body cast upon the wall.
Naga, wak
e up, Nilakanta urged. Can you hear me, Little Fire? Wake up now!
No response came from the tiny woman whose head hung limp—hands shackled together above her, unceremoniously gagged. All of Jenevier’s weight hung against the metal cuffs cutting mercilessly into her bleeding wrists.
Izaru could tell by the haggard way her chest barely rose and fell, she was slowly suffocating. But the sight of her like this… it made his mouth water.
“Never is a woman quite so beautiful… as when bound and gagged and completely helpless,” he whispered against her tear-stained sapphire cheek.
She didn’t respond.
He gave one of her curls a tug, causing her head to loll back loosely, a muffled gurgling sound rattling in her throat.
Slowly pulling on the corner of the sweaty rag stuffed back in her mouth, Izaru beamed with delight when she involuntarily coughed, gagged, then retched up blood and spit together. He brushed back her matted curls so he could watch as the remnant slowly dripped from her open mouth, falling into the sickening muck pooled at her feet.
“Now I can appreciate your rare beauty more fully, Milady,” he whispered softly. “Now I can understand the hold you claimed over my noble Prince. In this fragile state… you are truly breathtaking.”
Jenevier drew in a noisy breath, her face twisting with the pain the action caused.
Her demented captor’s smile only grew. “I’m going to take you now, Kagi Naga,” he whispered, sliding his hand up the inside of her thigh. “I am not a gentle lover, tiny cherry blossom. You won’t mind, will you?”
He reached for the soiled collar of her tunic just as a man called out from the darkened entrance.
“I am here to receive the package.”
Izaru glanced toward the approaching man. “It seems now is not our time, tiny Empress.” He lightly kissed her ear. “Wait for me in the next life, delicious lady. I will eagerly treat you to the ecstasy that was just stolen from us in this one.”
“Are you Izaru?” the newcomer asked. “Did you not send word you had a special delivery for Lord Akio?”
“I am, and I did,” Izaru said, turning to face him. “And who might you be?”
“My name is Duhrias Rogallis, sworn sword to Lord Akio. He sent me here with a rather weighty purse and bade me hasten in my return.”
