by Jean Johnson
Tempted as he was to knock over the lamps and burn everything to the ground, to ruin even those few traces that might remain, Kenyen refrained. Eventually, the Magister would want to know what happened here. A part of him also wanted the other face-stealing Mongrels to know that something could hunt and kill them. That their days were numbered.
He did take one thing from the former owners. A scrap of toweling cloth from the kitchen area, one large enough to knot in a loop, since there were no baskets with large enough handles in the hut. Other than that, there was nothing he wanted from the place. Blowing out the lamps and leaving the banked coals on the hearth to dwindle and die on their own, he left the cottage, letting the door swing shut behind him.
Sister Moon had finally risen in the east, bathing the meadow in faint, silvery blue light. It was enough to see by even with normal eyesight, so Kenyen didn't bother shifting his eyes. Traver and the woman, Parma, had already squirmed their bodies between the oval curves and arching handles of the baskets. Each had an oilcloth bag slung over their heads, and Solyn was repeating the directions one last time for them.
Quickly stripping out of his borrowed clothes, Kenyen rubbed the last of the lanolin-rich ointment on his gloves into his soles before letting each foot touch the ground. Bundling up the spare clothes, he moved to Traver's side and stuffed them into the bag.
"I'll hold on to the rest of your things and treat them well," he promised under his breath, eyeing the younger man. "Keep the two of yourselves safe, until you can reclaim them."
Traver nodded. He hesitated, one hand holding the basket at his waist. "... Did you really marry her today?"
"I did. By her choice," Kenyen added.
"If she doesn't want you, you'll let her go?" he asked.
Kenyen nodded. "We don't hold our women prisoner on the Plains. Not the true Shifterai. When the truth comes out... it'll be a mess, trying to untangle all of this, but she knew who I was within the first few days of my taking your face. She knew when she married me."
Solyn chuckled at those words. Finished with her instructions and reassurances for the older woman, she retorted quietly, "I'm sorry to say that he may have perfected your face, but he is not you, Traver Ys Ten. I'm very much glad I didn't drink Sister's Tea with the brother of my heart, earlier today. My choice may have been hastily made... but I think it'll be a good one."
"Well, if he doesn't treat you right, you come tell me," Traver ordered her, before looking at Kenyen. "I don't know how, since I'm not a shifter and I'm not a warrior, but I will find a way to beat you worse than they beat me, if you do anything to her she doesn't like."
"I don't have a problem with that," Kenyen agreed. "Fly carefully, you two."
"You have no baskets," Parma said, looking at Solyn. She glanced briefly at Kenyen, but only briefly, considering he was now naked. "How... how will you leave?"
"He'll shift into a bird shape, and I'll find something else to enchant," Solyn told them. "Go. Fly. Make good use of the moonlight. We're somewhere west of the Nespah Valley, maybe slightly north by a couple hills. The capital is somewhere to the south of here—if nothing else, you'll see the lights of the people who live in whatever big towns lie in that direction."
"And if it's big enough to be lit at night, it's probably big enough to have a Magister on hand," Traver agreed. Glancing at Parma, he lifted his chin. "Ready?"
"Ready." Squatting, she gripped the handle with both hands—and oofed in surprise as the basket, still at a bit of an angle, started forward without warning. She bounced across the grass, feet quickly lifted out of the way. Skidding, she finally lifted up into the air. Not quite as awkwardly, Traver gripped the handle as well, though he lifted to counteract the forward thrust of the tilted wicker loop. It had been years since his last try at the strange method of travel, but he caught the hang of it quickly enough.
Solyn bit her lip, smothering a snicker. The unlikely pair lifted up higher, getting the hang of the swooping, unnatural form of flight. As soon as she was sure they could handle basket-flying, she turned to Kenyen. "Well, shall I go find a basket?"
"Cullerog didn't have anything suitable. Can you enchant this instead?" Kenyen offered, holding up the loop of cloth salvaged from the shepherd's hut.
Taking it, Solyn studied the linen, thinking. She finally nodded and slipped it over her head. Spreading the middle of the material so that it cupped her bottom, she crouched a little, tugged experimentally, and finally said, "... I think it'll work. It won't be quite as stable in flight, but I can adjust it with magic as I go." It didn't take her long to mutter the right spell words. "Are you ready?"
"Almost," he said, rubbing absently at his nose. It didn't actually itch, but he was lost in thought. The other two had flown past the barn as they left, and that had reminded Kenyen of the sheep cooped up inside for the night.
Moving over to the door, he unlatched it and swung it open. A couple of the animals inside baaed at the noise he made, but they didn't leave the shelter of the building. Satisfied they would be able to get out and graze in the morning, he returned to Solyn's side. At her curious look, he explained his actions.
"They don't deserve to die of thirst or starvation, in case it takes a couple of days for someone to come by," he said.
Solyn smiled at him. "You're a good man, Kenyen Sin Siin. Alright... ready to fly?"
Shifting shape, he shrunk himself into the familiar feathers of his owl form. She gripped the cloth strap in both hands—and squeaked, shooting forward awkwardly. With stumbling, running steps, she hauled up and swung herself into the sky. Hooting in amusement, Kenyen launched himself after her, more than ready to return to their temporary home.
* * *
Twelve
Sneaking back in again was as easy as sneaking out. The worst part came when she used a clever little spell to unlatch the shutters of her bedroom window. That made him sneeze. Kenyen hadn't known owls could sneeze, but he did.
Hopping in first, he fluttered to the bed and landed on it, reshaping his ears and cocking his head to listen for any sounds that might indicate their return had been noted. Hearing nothing but the faint sounds of a household deep in sleep, and the oofing of his wife as she slithered through the narrow opening on her belly, Kenyen reshaped himself into his natural form.
He was now short two changes of clothes, leaving him with just two to wear, and missing more than half his original travel funds. Crawling off the bed, he crouched by the chests containing his, or rather, Traver's things. I'll have to see what sort of replacements I can afford. And when Manolo gets here—when, not if, I know he'll come soon—I'll see if he can loan me a few more coins. At least until we get back to Family Tiger and I can repay him...
The lamp on the bedside table lit with a single muttered word. That startled him into standing. A moment later, arms wrapped around him from behind, preventing him from completing his turn. Warm feminine fingers slid down his abdomen and into the nest of modesty feathers habit had made him retain around his groin.
Solyn pressed herself closer to the warmth of his back. Not that the summer night was cool, but the wind of their flight had chilled her a little. As had the things they had done. The things she had done, giving that other woman a chance to murder—No, not murder, she corrected herself firmly, caressing Kenyen through his feathers absently. Justice. That poor woman, all those years she suffered. He's right. They're rabid dogs, and you just kill a rabid dog. Swift and clean. That's what we did... but I want to forget. And we did win, didn't we? At least, this fight?
"I think we should do something else now. Don't you?" she asked.
Kenyen recognized some of the way she trembled and the slight hitch in her voice. Her first brush with real violence, is my guess. They deserved it, and it was more merciful an end than the curs had earned, but I don't think Solyn is that far off from being a true Healer herself. Healers mend; they don't end. Which means my wife needs a distraction... just as we all once did, in the warband.
&
nbsp; It was his turn to play the earth-priestess, the comforter, the distraction needed. Turning around in her arms, he lifted her chin with one finger and dusted kisses over her brow, cheeks, and nose. Words from his own counseling came back to him. They applied to her, as they had applied to his younger self. "You were very brave today."
"But I didn't do much," she pointed out.
"You were willing to, and that's what matters," he reminded her. "We may have to face more of them in the future, but for tonight, we won. Your friend is saved, as is that woman Parma, and you and I still have a few hours left in our wedding night. Whatever the future may bring, we will celebrate our victory and our joining, tonight."
His choice of words made her smile. "Is that what they call it on the Plains? Joining instead of twining?"
"I meant our marriage," he countered, chuckling. Looking into her hazel eyes, he smiled. "Though whatever label we use, from near or far... it will be making love, between us."
"Making love?" Solyn asked, caught on that last word. She knew how she felt about him, but his feelings were a mystery. "Is that how you feel? Do you love me?"
He hadn't had time to truly consider how he felt about her, yet. Kenyen wasn't going to lie to her, but neither would he lie to himself. "I think so. It's a bit sudden, and tangled up with everything else," he admitted, "but... I think I do."
Solyn hugged him. That was good enough for now, in her opinion. "I feel the same way about you. I think we will make love, between us."
His arms tightened reflexively around her, holding her close. Making love. He liked the sound of that. Kenyen was a warrior and merchant by trade, not a craftsman, but that was the one thing he knew he could make, with her. Instinct brought his lips to hers. His training helped him to tease her with little nibbling kisses, until she slid her hands down to his feathered backside, pulling their bodies closer. Desire deepened their kiss, banishing modesty from his aroused flesh.
This is my wife. Whatever may happen in our future, I am determined she will not be displeased with her choice, tonight.
Smiling at the thought, he reached for the buttons of her tunic. In her haste to trade clothes earlier, they were misbuttoned, offset by one. He shifted to kiss the skin he exposed, but she turned the tables on him, moving from his mouth to his throat, seeking the best, tender spots to suckle and lick. Such was her enthusiasm that he found himself backed up under her assault, until his legs hit the frame of the bed, and he toppled with a push from her. A push, and a giggle.
Solyn smirked at him, feeling confident in her task. Undoing the last two buttons, she shrugged out of her tunic, then unbuttoned the waistband of her skirt and stepped out of that. The only things left to drop were her sandals and her undertrousers, and the sandals were easily removed.
Scraping her toes against the straps cupping her heels, she stepped out of the footwear, then toyed with the ties of her undergarment. He watched her with heat in his gaze, his mouth curved up on one side and his elbows supporting his body. Wanting to see the other half of that smile, she dropped to her knees in front of him and kissed his thighs.
He lost the smile, mainly because his lips parted for an indrawn breath. They stayed parted in anticipation as she kissed her way toward his now featherless groin. Pleased with the hitch in his breath, she swayed forward and licked his half-hardened shaft. It twitched against her mouth. She snickered and licked it again, amused that she could make his flesh jump at her demand. I wonder what other things I could do...
Her teasing was going to drive him mad. Kenyen couldn't quite bring himself to move, however, not when a swirl of her tongue made his toes tingle. But when she started stroking him with her hand as well as her lips, he knew he didn't want things to end that quickly. Twisting out from under her, he scooped her up and laid her on the bed. She groaned in disappointment, reaching for him; catching her hand, he kissed her fingers, then knelt on the bed and licked her knees.
The ties on her undershorts were tangled. Knotted awkwardly. For a moment, he debated just breaking them. A wicked thought changed his mind. Kissing his way up her cloth-covered thigh, he pressed his lips to her mound and patiently picked at the strings. A kiss, and a tug. A lick, and a pluck.
Frustration made her growl. Batting away his fingers, Solyn focused on unknotting the string herself. She succeeded on her third attempt, but only barely; the dampness along her gusset wasn't just from the teasing of his tongue. It was her turn to squirm free, giving her the room to kick off the garment. For a moment, they faced each other, both of them on their knees. Then he shifted forward, rubbing his cheek against her arm and purring very much like an overgrown cat.
Lifting her hand, she stroked her fingers through his long, soft hair. His head twisted under her touch, and a moment later his tongue flicked around the tip of her breast. Caught off guard, Solyn shuddered. He did it again, and again, before nuzzling his way down her belly to her thighs, where he nipped just enough to sting.
Her thigh jerked up and out reflexively. That was all the room Kenyen needed to twist onto his back. Hands reaching for her backside, he pulled her down, onto his mouth. She moaned, knees parting wider, sinking deeper into his nether-kiss. Teasing, flicking, suckling, he coaxed more of her personal honey from her depths until she shuddered in bliss.
Curling low, trembling with pleasure, Solyn didn't realize how close she was to his own groin until his shaft brushed her hair. He kept licking her folds, prolonging her desire. Determined to repay him, she cupped the turgid flesh, coaxed into bending close enough for a hungry kiss. He grunted and licked harder, tongue swirling and dipping in parody of the next step.
Parody wasn't enough. The hunger inside her needed to be filled. He clutched at her hips when she tried to pull away, growling and lapping harder, patently hungry for more. She stayed in place, his shaft half forgotten, until a second set of spasms rippled through her nerves. In thanks, Solyn swirled her tongue around his manhood, dampening the skin and encouraging it to stiffen further.
It wasn't easy, focusing through his own continuing attack, but she persevered until his head dropped back onto the bed, lungs heaving for air. Faint whimpers escaped him with each pant. Satisfied he wouldn't resist, Solyn crawled off him and turned around. His hands did reach for her, but when she came back, they helped her to straddle him.
That one-sided smile was back. Grasping his shaft, he teased her slick folds with rubbing strokes of the tip. Solyn rocked her hips, at first trying to find the right spot to seat him, to finally twine fully with him. The feelings evoked from his flesh rubbing against her pleasure nub made her rock her hips harder, until both sides of his mouth curled up in masculine smugness. She didn't care. It wasn't like his mouth, but it did feel good, and she wanted more.
Kenyen brought his other hand into play. Twisting his wrist, he teased her with his fingers, coating them. One slipped into her depths, following the rocking motion of her hips. A second soon followed, gently fluttering as they worked. There was only so much he could do in the height of passion to change the size of his shaft; it wasn't a matter of skill so much as focus, so he wanted her body as ready for him as possible. He was definitely ready for her.
She shivered and bit her lip, hips slowing, then shifting direction. Now it was his fingers she stroked. It was his thumb that rubbed her little peak. His touch that guided her passion. His fingers, which weren't enough. Pulling his hand free, Solyn grasped his shaft. Together, they guided it to the right spot, but the act of sinking onto it was all hers.
It was a tight fit, and it stung just getting the head inside. Both of them drew in a sharp breath at their joining. After a moment, Solyn sank a little lower. That stung as well. His thumb brushed lightly against her peak, distracting her. With teasing little touches, he coaxed her hips into circling. Into sliding up, then down. Each circle lengthened the depth of her strokes, until he grabbed her hips and thrust, impaling her fully.
Solyn gasped. His move was a dual shock of stinging pain and sweet fu
llness. The former faded after a few moments, letting her know that the latter was what her body craved. It helped that he held her tightly in place, letting her get used to the feeling, until she rocked her hips, rolling them a little.
Pleased she was no longer so tense, Kenyen resumed his teasing thumb strokes. She was hot, wet, and tight, the perfect sheath for his flesh. The trick now was to hold on to the reins of his own pleasure while giving her lead to rediscover hers. Moving his other hand up to her belly, he splayed his fingers over her skin, rubbing a little. Her stomach muscles trembled. They shuddered when he tickled his way up to the undersides of her breasts, and tightened when he rubbed one nipple.
The combination of circling strokes, identical in speed but opposite in location, brought her pleasure back in a rush. Biting her lip, Solyn moaned low and long. Her hips moved again. His thumbs stroked harder, faster, until she just had to move. This time, the stinging was negligible, enough to ignore.
Instinct made her thighs flex, made her rise and fall. Slowly at first, then with increasing speed, she found herself restrained only by the hand that shifted from her breast to her hip, keeping her from rising too far. Wanting more, she dropped harder with each stroke, wresting faint grunts from her lover. Her husband.
He couldn't take much more. Whether or not she had learned of this in her Healing lessons, Kenyen would have sworn on a Truth Stone that Solyn was an absolute natural. Her pace was the perfect tease, deep and strong, the kind that had him whimpering, but not fast enough.
Giving up some of his control, he grabbed her hips and braced his heels, thrusting up into her as soon as he had enough purchase to move hard and fast. It was her turn to whimper, her turn to brace herself with one hand on his chest, her turn to rub his nipple with her thumb. Her other hand slipped between her thighs, playing with herself.
