by Troy A Hill
Derog reached out and ran a finger along her skin, just above where the fabric ended and her bodice began.
“Whatever I want,” he said. His hand cupped her arse and squeezed. This time her hands didn’t slap. They stayed, guarding her bosom.
“Not so brave without men around you.” Derog breathed and stepped in close, careful of where her knees would be. No sense in taking one to his groin, and losing her again.
“You intend to take me?”
"Call it what you will," he breathed again. His finger found her chin and pushed up. "Let me see your face, My Lady. I want to look in your eyes when I take back what I lost."
“As you wish,” she said softly. Her face tilted up, and her hands pulled her hair back from her face. Her eyes… they held him. Captivated him. So red. Why did they glow? He stopped moving. His soul fell into her eyes. Those red, glowing eyes.
8
Lady Meron
“Good,” I said when he stopped moving. I had hold of the brigand’s mind now. He would go nowhere without my command.
His passion had led him to me. His desire, his lust to take my body had revealed his character. I had no reservations about taking from him now. My thirst needed to be sated after staying awake while the sun was out.
I continued to gaze into his mind for a moment. With his raw desire for my body opening the door, I could touch the surface of his mind. His passion let my mind into his and betrayed his ambitions.
Ahhh… now I understood. The lord of his land had taken his girl. He sought revenge the only way he knew. Rather than challenge the lord, and die on the blade of one the guards, he wanted my flesh, my body in repayment. I was a noble and would repay in kind for what he had stolen from him.
A pang of guilt hit me. I had thought I might have to kill him outright. Take what I needed, then break his neck. I wouldn't suffer a rapist to walk free when I could protect others. Every piece of filth I removed from the land, the better. But, no. I couldn't do that with him. He was a victim of circumstance. His anger had gotten the better of him. Perhaps just a lesson in humility was enough?
Oh, feed I would. He had given me that with his pursuit and his attempt to have his way with me. I circled behind him. My fingers ran along the bare flesh along his neck. I sensed the pulse beating there. I pulled him back toward me and leaned against the boulder. I let my teeth grow. My fangs bit into his neck. I placed my mouth over the cuts and let his red nectar flow into me.
As the warmth and energy of his blood hit my soul, I used some of its energy. He'd need memories. Different memories than what had occurred… He had lunged for me. I darted away. He slipped. I darted away.
All false memories, but safer than reality. He wouldn't remember my meal. Nor my eyes. When he had raised my chin, I had seen myself reflected in his eyes. My pupils had gone red. They always did when I fed the demon, my hunger inside of me. Red eyes. Red thirst.
I smelled a scent on the breeze and knew I could use that too. I built more memories and had to suppress a giggle. That would have wasted his blood. Life was too precious. He'd keep his life. Unless he was stupid enough to go back to those brigands. That would probably cost him dearly. With the sound of fighting that I heard as I charged away, I knew the merchants… and my new friend Brother Mihangel… yes, especially him… would find a way to even their odds.
Finally, after many swallows, that little bit of me that is the undead thirst, she finally sighed. I pulled my mouth back. The wound in his throat would be closing now. The magic that fueled my undead body would see that he didn't bleed anymore. I ran my tongue up his neck to catch the few drops that seeped out.
I still had hold of his mind. That I had fed was not a memory for him. It hadn’t happened.
"Take off your clothing," I said. The brigand nodded and complied. "Boots too. Good. Now throw them in that cave."
He did so, still not remembering any of this time.
“What do you smell in that cave?”
“Bear,” he mumbled.
“You will sleep until morning,” I said. “When you awaken you will remember a visit from… a…” I paused, searching. Not sure what the local word for a mythical elf was. I pushed the image into his mind.
“A Fae,” he said. “I hear Fae all the time in the wood.”
"Yes, the high king of the Fae is most displeased with you," I said. He nodded. "The woman you pursued was Fae, and you must not harm women. She tested you, and you failed."
“I failed,” he mumbled.
“What will you do when you awake?”
"Make amends beg forgiveness."
“To the high king of the Fae,” I said.
“The Seelie King,” the man whispered.
“Yes, the Seelie King commands that you are polite to all women,” I said in my most authoritative tone. “Help and protect any woman you come across.”
“Yes, your grace,” he said collapsed to his knees. He pressed his forehead into the hard ground. “I will be kind to, and protect all women. I swear it to be so.”
“Then you may retrieve your clothes from the bear when awake,” I said, trying to imitate a king of the Fae I had never met.
“There’s not really a bear in that cave,” a voice behind me said.
I spun. A shiver rippled up my spine.
Behind me stood a man with golden hair, and a robe of fine-spun green silk. He bowed toward me. Several small pinpoints of light swarmed about his head, serving as a crown of light. Like glowbugs, but brighter and more active. Zipping about.
“I beg your pardon, my lady,” he said with a bow toward me. “But I heard my title.”
I cocked an eyebrow at him. Waiting.
“Oh, I approve of all you’ve done. These brigands have been using our wood for several months now. When word of what he will remember gets back to the others, they’ll find another place to work their trade. I was planning several encounters to scare them away. Your little charade here will serve that plan well.”
“You are most kind, then, your grace,” I said, and dropped a curtsey to him. If this was the king of the Seelie court of this land, I had no idea what protocol was. I hoped it was like that of man. “May I inquire as to what has transpired back with the caravan?” I suspected he knew about that as well.
He paused and looked up. One of the glowing points of light settled in front of him. After a few seconds, the Seelie king smiled.
"Your friend with the stick was most proficient," he said, but shook his head. "Unfortunately, one of those from inside the carriage struck him hard from behind. Your friend was insisting that others pursue and help you. They left him behind as they fled."
“I must go help him,” I said, and began another curtsey. “If you will…”
“Perhaps,” the Fae king waved me back with a flick of his hand. “it would be best if you chose another route. “I will send one of my maidens to help him recover so he may continue his journey.”
"He'll come to look for me," I said. That I could easily guess. The little of Brother Mihangel I had seen in the carriage convinced me he was a man of honor.
“My maiden will tell him what he needs to know, so he understands that you are safe.” He smiled and pointed toward the naked brigand who had rolled onto his side, facing away from us. His gentle snores eased into the night.
“Just as you have with him,” the Fae King said, “I must command that you speak to no one of this meeting.” He raised his hand. A ring sparkled in the starlight and glowed with a green flash.
“Why the magic?” I asked. “I’m as unlikely to mention you as I am to reveal my own nature.”
“For your aid, I would offer you a favor,” he said. “Those who hold a favor from the Seelie Court may not speak of it to any others, lest they become a target of mischief to usurp that favor.”
Ah… that made sense. Kind of. Maybe.
"What kind of favor?" I asked, unsure what I was about to get myself into.
“You have given us aid, in helping u
s to drive these brigands away. They’ll not stay in a haunted woods. So a small favor in return. Not quite anything within my power, but a reasonable request will be granted.”
“And how do I redeem this promise?” I wasn’t sure I trusted a magical king. Let alone one that popped out into a forest unannounced.
He smiled and leaned toward me. He whispered one word to me. For my ear only.
"That is my name. When you have need of me, say it. But do not use it lightly. You must wait a year and a day, by the laws of my court. I will announce my grant of the favor, and any Fae who wish to contest may do so. Though I doubt they will. After the year and a day, if none have opposed, you may ask your favor." He stepped back and gave me that little smile again. "Our time in this world is growing to a close. We may only have one or two more human generations left. But until then speak my name, and I shall hear."
I stayed silent. What kind of magic could I use from a king of the Fae?
He raised his hand again, and his ring flashed again.
“The memory of our meeting is yours to keep,” he said. “But you will not remember it unless you need it.”
“So I’ll forget you, like I’ve made him,” I pointed at the naked brigand, “forget what I did.” I didn’t like the sound of that.
“Not at all,” the Fae King said. “But you’ll forget that you remember it.” He placed his hand on the trunk of a tree. A green slit appeared in the bark, pulsing and melting the bark. “You’ll only remember the brigand, and that your friend in the clearing is well and has been taken care of. Until you need to use my favor. Then you will remember to remember.”
I stood there and shook my head. A Fae king, melting bark. My imagination got the better of me some nights. Imagine that… I had this crazy idea that a … no… no one was here. Just me and the brigand.
I sighed and fished under my cloak. I pulled my sling bag around to the front. Fortunately, I had the foresight to drape it across my body before I stepped out of the carriage. I always like to have what I cherish most, in case I need to run. Since I was undead, I often had to run. A simple slip of the tongue from someone I trusted with my secret could alert my enemies.
The naked brigand still snored. I laughed at the memories I had created in his mind. Imagine, the King of the Seelie court showing up in this wood, just because a brigand had chased me. Silly idea.
But those silly ones are the most reasonable sometimes. The brigand would believe that the king had reprimanded him. And word would spread that wood was haunted. And the Fae lived here, ready to steal the souls of any who dared venture into these trees.
I shrugged, slid my bag around to its familiar spot against my right hip. All was in there. All that I needed. I took one last look at the young man. He didn’t know there wasn’t a bear in that cave. It had left after its winter sleep. With spring upon the land, it was probably off to feed and mate.
I wondered how long he’d take to conquer his fear, and slither into the cave far enough see his clothing. Would he make it that far? Probably not. He’d walk out naked.
But, for me, I was going to jog out, like I always did at night. Quiet and alone.
“Go in peace, Maria of Rome,” the wind seemed to whisper.
...
To be continued.
Maria’s story in Britain has only just begun.
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