"No!" She caught him before he hit the floor, sliding an arm under his shoulders and lowering him gently to the ground. "Brother—how…?"
"Brother?" Alais repeated, bewildered.
Emelyne raised a gloved hand to her mouth. "Oh, no."
Their questions, their horror barely reached Maud. "It was you?" Her eyes welled. "It was you, all this time? But you don't—you're no mage!"
Or at least, he hadn't been when Maud had fled their childhood home.
Male warlocks were a rarity, their gifts seldom developed beyond the bare minimum for control. History was rife with the names of their infamous predecessors; to a one, they all turned wicked or power-hungry, and the Order had to step in to subdue them.
"A gift," her brother wheezed, grinning through his pain, "from the Regent himself."
They'd never been close. Born ten years apart and as different in temperament as two people could be, Maud and her brother had seldom entertained more than a cordial relationship. She couldn't begin to guess what would have possessed him to take such a senseless gamble. "Why?"
A smirk twisted his mouth. "He… he promised… retribution… for my sentence."
Maud stared down at him, understanding dawning slowly. Only one pledge could tempt her brother to forsake his vows and turn on his own family. "Clemency." She knelt beside him, her hands stilling in the buttons of his overcoat. His clothes had seen better days. A life on the run suited him poorly. Perhaps he could still be saved, but Maude couldn't bring herself to call for Emelyne and her healing arts. "You betrayed your country."
Her brother chuckled wetly. "Twice." Shivers had already begun to ripple through his body. Blood loss was making itself known. "First to the French, now to their agent…"
Maud could barely breathe. It felt as though a hand were squeezing at her heart. "Why? Why would you hate us so much…?"
Her brother's eyes found hers. "Why should it be you… and not me? I… I am first born… I d-deserved… deserved more." Crimson spittle beaded in the corner of his mouth. Not just a lucky shot: the dagger had found purchase between his ribs. His lung must have punctured.
You inherited our father's lands. His title. This house. Why couldn't you let me have one thing for myself? Words clotted in Maud's throat.
"And then y-you walked away," her brother rasped. "You little… fool." His exhales were growing more laboured. Soon he would be choking, drowning in his own blood.
It would be a horrible way to go.
Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, Maud blinked away tears. "I'm sorry," she said and hefted the claymore.
"Wait!"
Alais's voice reached her a beat too late. Between the Earth's pull and the claymore's own heft, Maud couldn't arrest its descent. The rasping, agonised inhales ceased. The ache in her chest eased fractionally as she pushed herself up.
Her brother's eyes were still open, staring up at the cherubs on the ceiling, a noonday glare combing over his sallow features. Maud took one long, last look at him, and turned on her heel.
Alais reached for her, but Emelyne squeezed her shoulder, aborting the attempt. Emelyne must have meant well, but for once, Maud wished her old friend didn't know her so well. She wished Alais would have comforted her.
She wished she knew how to let herself fall apart.
*~*~*
The sounds of the revels in the tavern below wafted in through the open window. Maud had risen twice to close it, but couldn't bring herself to follow through. Each time she tried, she faced the threat of silence, with only her thoughts for company.
She couldn't face that.
Had it been anyone else, she would have rejoiced along with the townspeople. A rogue warlock was dead. Holsworth's brief torment was over, never to be repeated—at least until the Regent sent his next agent to punish the locals for daring to take in one of his sworn enemies.
But the rogue warlock hadn't been just anyone.
The door creaked open. Maud blinked away the memory of her brother's face, in those last moments before he'd passed, and glanced over her shoulder.
"Alais."
"I thought you might be hungry." A tray in hand, Alais hesitated on the threshold, as though unsure if she was welcome.
Maud was to blame for that. "Thank you. You can set it over there." She gestured to the dresser, wishing she possessed Emelyne's conversational prowess or Katrina's unflinching courage. Wishing above all else that she had never trampled Alais's good opinion. "You didn't have to do that."
Alais turned, her brow creased.
"You are no longer in my service," Maud pointed out.
"You may not be my mistress, but I should like to think that you remain my friend. And you've suffered a grave loss today."
The less she thought on it, the better. "Still," Maud insisted, "I thought you had found someone more… worthy of you." Someone like Katrina. She could hardly hold it against Alais. Katrina was a good woman. Solid and sensual. Unlike Maud, she would not disappoint Alais.
"Do you believe my affections so easily altered?"
Sensing danger, Maud pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth.
"We have made mistakes, you and I," Alais went on, sighing, "and we've hurt each other."
"You haven't."
She cocked an eyebrow.
"Katrina is very beautiful," Maud deflected. "I am happy for you."
"I see. You believe she has taken your place." Alais stepped closer to the bed. "You don't simply think me inconstant, but easily seduced. Am I meant to find this noble?"
Maud rested her hands on her splayed knees, fingers twitchy. "I did not wish to offend—"
"You never do." Alais slid a knuckle beneath her chin. "And yet you do it with such skill." Before Maud could dig herself deeper with an apology, she tipped forward, pressing their mouths together.
Kissing Alais was familiar, a mere retracing of known territory. Maud's hands came up, hovering in the air for a beat before clasping her hips. She didn't need to pull Alais into her lap; Alais went willingly, the skirt of her blue frock stretching as she settled astride Maud's thighs.
Maud palmed the back of her head, helpless against the taste of her lips. She felt graceless and awkward, as callow as though this was the first time she'd taken a woman to bed. Alais was there to rescue her. As the kiss deepened, their bodies slowly entwined, friction building between them within moments.
Alais landed, sprawled on her back on the bed, her breaths hitching. Her eyes cut to the door, suddenly distracted.
A shaft of light slanting through the bedroom door gave away the reason.
"Hm," Katrina drawled from the doorway. "We're interrupting."
"Are we?" Emelyne murmured, wedged between her and the door jamb.
Sitting back, Maud met their eyes—first Emelyne's, who knew her better than she knew herself, then Katrina's. "No." Her lips ached with the pressure of Alais's soft lips. She could feel her own racing pulse kick up a notch as she peered at her lover.
"No," Alais repeated, and tugged Maud to her by the lapels. Her flat chest pressed against Maud's bound breasts, long legs parting to let Maud settle between her thighs.
The glare of the tavern lights was snuffed out as the door closed behind Katrina and Emelyne.
Maud became conscious of hands on her, pulling at her waistcoat, prying her shirt from her trousers. She heard soft murmurs as she dipped her lips to Alais's pale neck, but couldn't say who was touching her. It would have made little difference. When next she pulled away from Alais to shrug off her shirt, she found Katrina already nude and stroking long fingers through Alais's hair. Emelyne, too, had undressed down to her chemise, her curls tumbling in red waves down her shoulders.
"You came around," she murmured, pleased.
Overwhelmed by her own desire, Maud clasped Emelyne by the nape and slotted their mouths together. It was only as she felt Emelyne's lips curve against her own that she realised this was a first.
Their friendship had ebbed and flowed for b
etter than a decade. They had grown up in each other's constant orbit. Yet it was only now, with Katrina nude and expectant beside them and Alais undoing the laces of her own bodice, that they crossed the line into something more than camaraderie.
Emelyne's eyes were bright with delight as they parted for breath. "Katrina did say you're a magnificent kisser…"
"Did she?" Maud's disbelieving snort was meant to conceal her mortification. She doubted its success when Katrina clasped her by the chin and proved it with a kiss of her own.
"I was right," Katrina crowed smugly, withdrawing. "But now I'm curious… What else can you do with that beautiful mouth?"
"This." Never one to back down from a challenge, Maud lowered herself to the edge of the bed, her knees hitting the floor with two thuds, and hiked up Alais's frock.
One glance up her body was all she allowed herself. Alais lay there like something out of a dream: dishevelled, flushed with desire, biting her lip in anticipation.
Maud made short work of her stockings and undergarments, baring Alais's hardness to the chill of the room. She was already stiff and her flavour spread over Maud's tongue from the first stroke.
She cried out, her whole body going rigid for a breathless instant before she surrendered to Maud's ministrations. It would always be so—that flicker of resistance before she gave herself over, that hitch of hesitation as her body responded. Maud slid a hand down her own body, into her breeches, pressed two fingers inside, quivering with need.
Above, she heard soft murmurs, the sounds of lips meeting fevered flesh. She looked up to find that Katrina had made short work of Alais's gown and was kissing her way down her chest. She held Maud's gaze as she flicked her tongue over a pebbled nipple, coaxing the nub to harden even further. Not to be outdone, Emelyne had claimed Alais's mouth, stopping her whimpers with languid kisses.
Wetness slicked Maud's hand. She had to summon what little self-control she had left to arrest her furtive strokes, to resist relaxing her jaw and letting Alais finish in her mouth.
Alais keened as she pulled off. Not even Emelyne could distract her from the loss of friction; she turned her head, seeking Maud's eyes, an apology already brimming in her gaze. "Did I…?"
Maud shook her head. Those small, abortive thrusts of Alais's hips were too pleasurable to put her off. She stripped the remainder of her clothes hastily, fumbling a little as she struggled to unravel the bindings around her chest.
"Let me," Katrina said, sitting up.
Maud wanted to protest—there was no need to neglect Alais on her account—but Katrina already had hold of the loose end of the linen wrap. It was easier, in the end, to simply turn on her heels and let the bindings fall away. Her ribcage heaved with a first unbridled inhale. She staggered as she came to a stop, but Katrina was there to steady her.
Fingers slid down her flanks to her hips. "Beautiful," Katrina said and pressed her lips to the valley between her breasts.
"Flatterer," Emelyne murmured from the bed as Maud shivered with pleasure. There was no heat in her voice, nor resentment in Katrina's eyes as she shifted back, tugging Maud down with her.
Tempted to reject their compliments, Maud found herself fumbling when she tried to dismiss the naked hunger in their eyes. She wasn't much to look at—too broad-shouldered, too tall and masculine for a woman—but they desired her anyway. Alais stirred at the sight of her and tipped up to kiss her lips as soon as Maud settled astride her hips.
Their sighs intermingled. Their bodies moved together for a few precious moments, heat against heat, before the wait became too much to endure. Katrina reached between them and clasped Alais in a tight fist, holding her steady.
Slowly, as Emelyne kissed away her startled gasp, Maud sank down her length.
"Oh—oh, heavens," Alais panted, "you're so…"
"She is," Emelyne agreed, reaching down to take one of Alais's hands in hers. "As are you, dearest."
Katrina claimed her other hand and, between the two of them, they pinned her gently to the bed, holding her still as Maud began to move.
At first, a slow, gauging roll of the hips was easy to sustain. But Alais seemed to swell inside her, those lovely doe eyes trained on Maud in worshipful adoration. Desire got the better of Maud and, crushing their mouths together, she rocked her hips faster, moaning against Alais's lips as pleasure built to a delicious peak.
Alais cried out, arching away from the bed, but the hands that gripped her wrists held fast. Maud watched her through the blur of that draining, blissed-out ecstasy. The perfect oval of her face, her liquid brown eyes.
They were simultaneously alone in their climax and surrounded, coaxed down from the edge by Emelyne and Katrina.
Always eager, Alais tipped her cheek into Emelyne's hand and tilted her head up for a kiss. Maud couldn't disguise a quiver of arousal as she witnessed the meeting of their lips. She only tore her gaze away when Katrina pushed her to her back and slid into her arms.
"Is this a goodbye tryst?" Bluntness had ever been her weapon of choice, a natural complement to the bow and arrow.
Maud felt more than saw Emelyne and Alais part, suddenly intent on her answer.
The cottage was gone. Her childhood home was an abandoned tomb, best forgotten. Dark forces were gathering across the country, aiming to usurp the throne and destroy the Order once and for all.
"On one condition," Maud said. "Alais comes with us."
Katrina smirked. "We were hoping you'd say that."
Her kiss was a rough, bloody promise. Maud gave herself over to it—to them—willingly.
Fin
About the Authors
CORA WALKER
Cora Walker is a writer, editor, and canon bisexual. Cursed with too many interests, she has been telling stories since she was about five, and years of trying to find a more stable income has only shown her how much she would like to make a life out of words. A Seattle local, she has a background in game design and sometimes speaks publicly about the nuances of representation. Much to the disappointment of her neighbors, she’s learning how to play the violin, and has found a typewriter helps tame rampant ADHD into creating readable prose for you, the reader, to enjoy.
She lives in the suburbs, where she’s completing her MFA in Creative Writing & Poetics and spends her days resenting the slow onslaught of time. She has two dogs, and wants you to know that, in any title with her name on it, the dog, cat, llama, or other lovable pet will always be okay.
AVERY STILES
Avery Stiles is a published author of both fiction and non-fiction, specializing in science fantasy and speculative fiction with a focus on queer representation. She resides in the dry heat of the southwestern US with her wife and cats. More info on Avery and current projects can be found at AveryStiles.com or [email protected].
CHRISTINA DZA MARIE
Christina “DZA” Marie is a god, creator of worlds and giver of life…which is just a fancy way of saying she’s a fantasy/sci-fi author. She runs the blog “Dragons, Zombies and Aliens” and had a slightly unnatural obsession with knitting.
TS PORTER
TS Porter is a tiny geek frequently mistaken for a collection of knobbly twigs wearing glasses. When not sleeping, they are usually found obsessively writing or baking sweet delicacies. TS’ physical location and momentum varies, but home is always online.
Tumblr: http://ts-porter.tumblr.com/
HEATHER MORRIS
Heather Morris is a cyborg librarian living in North Carolina. Her work has appeared in Apex Magazine, Strange Horizons, and Daily Science Fiction, among other places. You can find her on Twitter @NotThatHeatherM
B.A. HUNTLEY
B.A. Huntley is a salacious romance writer who, when not happily curled up with a book, is busy painting and gaming. This is her first published endeavor.
HELENA MAEVE
Helena Maeve has always been globe trotter with a fondness for adventure, but only recently has she started putting to paper the many stories she’s co
llected in her excursions. When she isn’t writing romance novels, she can usually be found in an airport or on a plane, furiously penning in her trusty little notebook.
Website: http://helenamaeve.wordpress.com/
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