FORBIDDEN TALENTS

by Frankie Robertson

  The Dark Elves have spies in Quartzholm. Dahleven’s stomach clenched.

  “And that other? The one you fought with?”

  “He serves the Dark Ones.”

  “So you’re here to watch the servants of the Dark as much as us. What do you know of their plans?”

  The pinnsvin made a face. “At last an intelligent question! The Dark Ones have never welcomed your kind. They think they’ve found a way to remove you from Alfheim.”

  “Why now? We’ve been here for hundreds of years!”

  “A hundred years is nothing to the Elves, you twit!”

  Dahleven resisted the urge to forcefully teach the pinnsvin better manners. “So they will attack us. When? How?”

  “No. The Vanir, the old gods, have commanded the Fey to not raise our hands against you. Only after Ragnarok will Alfheim be free of humankind.”

  “So how are the Dark Elves going to remove us from Alfheim if they can’t attack us?’

  “What did I just say, you dolt?”

  Dahleven blanched. The Dark Elves hoped to summon the Jontunn, bring about the death of the gods, and the end of the nine worlds? “Ragnarok?”

  “But that would destroy all they hope to regain!” Fender exclaimed. “That can’t be.”

  “He didn’t actually say the Dark Elves were going to start Ragnarok,” Celia said softly. “You are very clever, Baruq. Now spit it out. What are the Dark Elves planning?”

  “Do you think they confide in me?”

  “I think you are an excellent spy. How long have you wandered these halls undetected?”

  “Fifteen years.”

  “And in that time how many servants of the Dark Elves have you vanquished?”

  “Twenty-three.”

  “You are a mighty warrior as well as a talented spy,” Celia said.

  Baruq didn’t smile, but his lifted his chin. “You are quite correct, Lady Celia. I am.”

  “And you must have gained a great deal of information from those you defeated. Please tell us. You know the Light Elves hold us in some favor since they gave us the gift of their sight. You do them no dishonor to share the information with us.”

  “Since you ask so nicely, I will tell you, Lady.” He gave a little bow. “I don’t know.” Dahleven moved forward and Baruq glanced at him before looking back at Celia. “Truly. You will have to ask the Lios Alfar.”

  *

  Saeun lay staring up at the branches twining overhead and wondered if she’d see those strange eyes blink at her again. She snuggled deeper into the pillowed bed, considering her situation.

  The storm had not abated. She’d spent the day alternately fearful and awed as Valender took her about and introduced her to various Elves and a gofle dressmaker. She’d eaten their food again, more than once. There was no point to refusing now that she’d taken that first bite. Unless the effect was cumulative.

  But she felt no different now than she had two days ago.

  The Elves Valender had introduced her to had been variously cool, amused, delighted, and condescending, but none had offered her harm or insult. Most of them appeared as handsome men and women, but once they’d come upon an Elf before she could assume a glamour.

  Saeun’s breath had caught in her throat. The Elf was beautiful. Her water colored eyes slitted vertically like a cat’s and slanted over high cheekbones. Long pale hair fell to her hips. Her full lips opened in surprise above a delicate chin. Then the image wavered and Saeun blinked. Before her stood a lovely russet-haired, human appearing, woman.

  Saeun glanced at her repeatedly, trying to find the flaw in her appearance, something that indicated her true nature, but to no avail. The woman was perfect. Beautiful.

  Was this a first sign of madness? Had she only imagined the woman had looked different? But these were Elves. Of course they used glamour to conceal themselves.

  “Why do you all do that?” Saeun asked when Valender led her away.

  “Do what?”

  “Try to look human.”

  “Is my appearance not pleasing to you?”

  “Of course it is,” she snapped. “That’s not the point.”

  “We took Allya unawares. But now that she knows you’re about she won’t surprise you that way again.”

  “But why do you bother at all? Allya is beautiful just as she is. Why does she hide it in front of me? Why do any of you?”

  Valender looked at her soberly for a moment. “To be less fearful to you.”

  All her life Saeun had been warned about straying into the woods at twilight, had been filled with stories of the Fey-marked whose minds were stolen. It wasn’t their appearance that made the Fey fearsome.

  “Is it difficult for you to—what do you call it?” she asked.

  “It’s a glamour. No. It’s not difficult. Just a bit tiring, if held overlong.”

  “Then don’t. Not for my sake. I’m scared anyway. I’d rather see you as you truly are than imagine you’re hiding horrors from me.”

  Valender regarded her silently for a moment.

  What was he thinking? Had she broken some rule that no one had told her about? Did it break some Elven law to let her see them as they were?

  Valender shimmered, and in a blink he stood before her, transformed. Or untransformed. He was still tall, but his muscles were leaner than they had appeared in his human guise. Leaner but just as hard. His cheekbones slanted below almond shaped eyes the color of clover honey. Long hair, the shade of summer wheat, was gathered at the nape of his neck. His ears were delicately, subtly, pointed. Even his clothes were different. He now wore black silks bloused at the wrists and ankles in place of the brown leather of the illusion.

  He waited, regarding her with his cat-like gaze.

  Saeun swallowed hard. He was beautiful. Other. But beautiful, nevertheless. “Thank you.”

  Valender smiled, revealing sharply pointed canines. They gave him a feral look. “Are you less afraid now?”

  Saeun considered the stories she’d been told. None of them seemed to apply to the person standing in front of her. “Yes.”

  “Good. I’ll tell the others not to bother with the glamour then. Now, will you drop your own illusion?”

  “I have no glamour!”

  “But your name is not Synda, is it?”

  Saeun felt herself color. How had he known? “No.”

  Valender waited.

  “I am Saeun Lyndsdatter.”

  Valender nodded. “Perhaps later you will gift me with the rest of your story. Now, let us be off to the dressmaker.”

  The gofle batted feathery eyelashes at her as she took Saeun’s measurements, clearly curious at having a human to fit, and clearly shocked that Valender was not in glamour.

  Her escort instructed Cletis, as she was called, to make clothing in both the Elven and human styles, choosing certain fabrics for Saeun and asking her opinion on others. Then the little dressmaker snipped and cut and pinned a cloth pattern before fitting it to her.

  Halfway through the process Saeun jumped as a pin jabbed her, but it was Cletis who squealed in pain. “Oi! Oi!” Cletis shook her feathered fingers. Then she bent to pick up the dropped pin, but she jerked back sharply. “Iron! How did that get in here?”

  Valender picked it up with a piece of folded cloth.

  Saeun looked at the other pins securing the pattern around her. They were all still silver. Freyr and Freya, she’d done it again! “I’m sorry. Are you hurt? I didn’t mean to. When you pricked me it just happened.”

  Valender looked sharply at the gofle. “You pricked her?”

  “Oi! My pardon! It was an accident! Forgive me!” Cletis wrung her hands and bobbed her head repeatedly.

  “No harm was done,” Saeun said.

  “Apparently carelessness is its own reward. Be more cautious in the future.” Valender put the folded cloth and the iron pin in his belt pouch.

  As he escorted her back to her room, Valender said, “The wind still rages, but it will diminish tomor
row. There should be a few clear days before the next storm falls. Do you still wish to leave?”

  Saeun’s heart jumped, but she wasn’t sure if it was with hope or the opposite. “You would allow it?”

  “We have said so.”

  She could go.

  “But then you wouldn’t get the new clothes Cletis is making for you.” Valender teased.

  Saeun laughed. As if new clothes would divert her. But where would she go? Would the enclave of the Daughters of Freya welcome her? Did she have the right to endanger them by asking their aid? She was a hunted woman. Could she even get to Forsvaremur before the next storm hit?

  “You are welcome to stay for as long as you wish. By spring, those who search will have forgotten you.”

  Gert had died helping her escape. She couldn’t waste her friend’s sacrifice by risking her life recklessly. Treskin and Joori had saved her from Edelstena. Valender had healed her. She owed each of them a debt of honor. A debt she could not repay if she fled.

  “You need not decide immediately. Sleep on it,” Valender had said before leaving her outside her room.

  Sleep on it. Saeun stared at the woven branches that formed the ceiling of her “room.” As if she could sleep. She hardly knew what to make of what she’d seen, and thought, and felt throughout the long, unusual day. She ought to be afraid. Everything she’d been taught as a child told her so. But it was hard to be afraid when offered nothing but kindness. True, the Elves were strange, and their gofle servants were stranger, but even eating their food no longer inspired fear. Maybe that’s a sign of Fey-marking. Maybe I’ll walk off a cliff, unable to recognize the danger.

  How could she decide when she didn’t trust her own mind?

  She wished she were back in Quartzholm, snuggled safely in Ragni’s arms, or sitting across from him playing King’s Table. The memory of their last game brought a smile. Had it only been a week ago?

  *

  “Prepare for a drubbing,” Ragni had said as he set up the board.

  Saeun laughed. “As I recall, it was you who suffered defeat last time.”

  A smile curled his lips. “I wouldn’t call it suffering exactly.” From the glint in his eye she knew he wasn’t referring to the game.

  “And this time? What will you forfeit if you lose?”

  “I’d rather talk about what I’ll get if I win.” He grinned.

  She looked the question.

  “You. At my mercy.”

  Saeun laughed. “You set your prize too low. You’ll have that anyway.”

  “Nevertheless. And you? What do you want?” Ragni asked, his voice suddenly serious.

  He was the son of the Kon. What could she ask for that he couldn’t give? But there was really only one thing she wanted.

  She grinned. “The same. You at my mercy.”

  “Always.”

  She played the attacking force while Ragni had command of the ivory king and his defenders. She chased him all over the board before finally capturing him.

  “They should call this game King’s Retreat, the way I play it,” Ragni grumbled when it was over.

  Saeun laughed and stood.

  “That was well fought. Would you like another job training the Kon’s guard?” Ragni tried to pull her onto his lap, but Saeun stepped away.

  “No, my lord. You lost. Time to pay your forfeit.”

  Ragni chuckled. “Very well. I’m at your mercy.”

  “Take off your clothes.”

  “If I must.”

  “You must.”

  While Ragni disrobed, she removed her own garments, then put her over-dress back on. It was split in front and closed only at the waist, leaving her breasts nearly exposed, and allowing Ragni glimpses of her sex as she moved.

  When he turned and saw what she’d done, he grinned and reached for her. “I definitely approve of this fashion. Do you think the other women will adopt it?”

  Saeun stepped back out of his grasp and gestured at the bed. “Lie down,” she said sternly.

  Ragni affected a pout but complied.

  “Now put your hands above your head.”

  She couldn’t believe she was doing this, giving orders to the son of a Kon, even in play. But from the glint in Ragni’s eyes, he liked it. And truth be told, so did she.

  “Very well, sir. Are you prepared to pay?”

  “I am.”

  “And will you give me your parole not to move your hands?”

  Ragni wiggled his fingers, then relaxed. “You have it.”

  “And you’re not to speak unless spoken to.”

  “Not even to tell you how beautiful you are?”

  She gave him a stern look and shook her head. “No.”

  He tried to look solemn and failed. “I hear and obey.”

  “Excellent.” Saeun crawled onto the bed and knelt by Ragni’s legs. Her position spread the split front of her over-tunic, and Ragni’s eyes flickered to her revealed thighs before returning to her face. She pulled the pins securing her braids, then ran her fingers through, loosening the strands until her dark hair rippled over her shoulders. Ragni remained silent as he watched, a faint smile playing on his lips. He’d told her often how he loved her hair, and he always took his time brushing it after their love-making, so she kept her movements slow, drawing out the show. He was already hard.

  She pulled her hair over one shoulder and leaned forward. The over-tunic gaped, giving Ragni a clear view of her full breasts. His fingers flexed on the pillow, but he didn’t move. Then she drew the long tail of her hair across his chest, letting it fan out over his skin.

  “Mmm,” Ragni purred.

  She did it again. And again. Then she trailed her tresses down his thigh and up the other. Ragni’s breathing was deeper now. She hid a smile.

  Slowly, so slowly, she stroked his legs with her hair, then let it spread over his jutting erection.

  Ragni drew in a swift breath.

  Again she drew the strands across him, as his member danced in response to her silky caress. Then she snaked her hair around his shaft, spiraling it continuously around and around and around.

  “Saeun,” he groaned.

  She chuckled low in her throat. “Do you like that?”

  “No. Not at all.” The pace of his breathing said otherwise.

  “Then I’d better stop.”

  Slowly she pulled the hair from him and straddled his hips. He lifted up to meet her, but she rose on her knees out of range.

  “Not yet.”

  He settled back. Saeun unfastened the waist clasp of her tunic and shrugged out of it. Then she leaned forward and trailed the tips of her breasts over his belly and up his chest. Her nipples tightened and she ached to have his hands on her, but she wasn’t done with him yet. His head came up and he tried to capture one with his mouth, but she pulled back. Again she teased and tickled him, and rubbed her face against his hard stomach. He smelled of the scented candles on Baldur’s altar, soap, and his own sharp maleness. She scooted backward and pressed her breasts fully against his arousal. His shaft pulsed upward and she throbbed in response. Ragni groaned. Then she moved further down, and licked the hard velvet tip.

  She was rewarded with a gasp. His excitement fueled her own heat and hunger. She rained little kisses down the length of him and back up again as his muscles twitched and strained. Her tongue teased and stroked, tasting him. Ragni’s fingers were white where he clutched the pillow.

  Finally she took him into her mouth.

  For a moment he stopped breathing. Then he sucked in a ragged breath. “Saeun!”

  She hungered to feel him inside her, but she continued kissing and licking and sucking.

  “Saeun!” His voice was hoarse. His muscles were taut beneath her.

  She didn’t stop.

  “Saeun!”

  She raised her head. “I release you—”

  Before she’d finished speaking, Ragni had rolled her beneath him. “Wicked woman,” he said, grinning as he drove into her.
She was ready for him. More than ready. He took the tip of one breast in his mouth and sucked hard, sending a bolt of pleasure shooting through her.

  She rose up to meet his thrusts, a satisfied smirk on her face. “Wickedness …has its rewards,” she gasped just before she fell off the edge.

  *

  A sob rose in Saeun’s throat as aching loss rode in on the tail of sweet memory. Saeun blinked futilely at the tears that welled and escaped. She rolled onto her side, gazing with blurred vision at the roots that surrounded her bed like loving arms, wishing she were in Ragni’s.

  *

  Celia twined her fingers through Dahleven’s as they headed toward Neven’s suite. Fender had taken Baruq away after they’d finished questioning the pinnsvin. Dahleven had stayed in her room last night, but he hadn’t come to her bed. Instead he’d sat up, staring into the fire, thinking.

  In the dark hours she’d awakened to find him still there, but he only shook his head when she asked him if she could help, and told her to go back to sleep. Instead she’d risen, wrapped herself in a blanket, and sat at his feet until the sun rose, her head resting on his knee, his fingers stroking her hair.

  He still hadn’t told her what weighed so on his mind. There were plenty of troubles to choose from. His father’s illness. His use of Saeun’s magic. The secret of their Fey-marking. Eirik’s murder. The Tewakwe’s request. The pinnsvin’s information. All of it was on his shoulders now as the acting Jarl of Quartzholm.

  The ongoing storm delayed the dawn. They’d dressed and breakfasted without talking of anything of consequence. She wanted to help him, if only to be a sounding board, but Dahleven just shook his head when she tried to bring up any of their worries and continued to eat in silence. She’d wanted to shout at him that a good marriage meant sharing burdens, but the way his brows were drawn tightly together made her keep her silence. He had enough to worry about. Right now she’d support him by not making demands. But she would definitely have that discussion with him later.

  “You’re sure you don’t know anything that would help Father?”