by Jaide Fox
Instead of setting her on her feet when they reached the suite, Talin kicked the door closed behind then and strode to the bed, climbing onto the mattress with her still clutched against his chest and settling heavily against her even as he laid her on the mattress. Covering her mouth at once, he kissed her as he traced the fitted bodice of her gown. Reaching down, he grabbed a handful of fabric and tucked her skirt around her waist, exposing her legs and belly. Cool air caressed her through the thin fabric of her undergarments and then brushed her bare skin as he thrust the confining fabric out of his way.
Anxious to feel the touch of his hands on her bare skin, Aliya reached behind her back and tugged at the ribbon that secured her bodice, loosening it only fractionally. It still restricted her ribs, making it difficult to breathe as her heart began racing with excitement.
Abandoning his exploration of her belly, Talin slipped his hand upward again, scooping one breast from her bodice. As he dragged his mouth from hers and covered the puckered tip of the beast, he reached down again, searching for the opening he had unearthed before in her under garments.
Aliya gasped as he found it, his clever fingers sending sharp stabs of pleasure through her as he parted the tender flesh of her woman’s mound and teased the tiny, exquisitely sensitive bud of flesh there. Desire seemed to pour through her in a fiery tide from both points, colliding in her belly. Moisture gathered inside of her clenched sex.
Her body began to quake and shudder with the need to feel him filling her.
“Talin!” she gasped, arching against his hand, digging her hands into the mattress.
Lifting his head from her breast, he surged over her, parting her thighs with his knee and settling his hips between hers. She arched against him, silently pleading with him to ease her distress.
She nipped at his shoulder and then sucked it as she felt the head of his cock slipping into her wetness, stretching her. Her hips seemed to come up off the bed of their own accord, pressing forward to sheath his hard flesh.
The building pressure eased as he ceased to push, withdrew slightly. She dug her head into the mattress, arching her neck, lifting her hips to receive him when he thrust again. Blindly, she clawed at the mattress as he moved deeper inside of her, panting for breath as her body adjusted to his possession, clutched at him.
Burrowing his face against her neck, he slipped an arm around her tightly and thrust again, began a rhythm of thrust and retreat that was the sweetest of sword plays. Gasping, groaning, she joined him in battle, parrying each thrust with her hips, demanding more with the movements of her body.
Gasping hoarsely, he gave, began to race toward the summit they both struggled toward at a desperate pace. A keen cry was wrenched from her throat as her body reached its peak and broke apart in crashing waves of rapture, convulsing so hard it sent him over the edge to join her in the expenditure of bliss.
The explosion and the shock waves in its aftermath seemed to drain her of every ounce of energy. Limp, totally sated, Aliya struggled to catch her breath as Talin relaxed heavily against her.
Slowly, her heart ceased to hammer so frantically it felt as if it would explode. Her lungs stopped to labor for breath.
Drowsy in the aftermath of their lovemaking, she tried to block everything from her mind and reach for the comfort of sleep. When Talin moved away from her at last and then slipped from the bed and began to dress, however, sleep evaded her. She lay still for a few moments, but she found she could not bear for him to leave without speaking with him.
“You are going?”
He glanced at her, but there was no surprise in his expression. He had known she wasn’t sleeping. “I must.”
Gathering the sheet to her breasts, she sat up, feeling a coldness wash over her. “You are going to fight.”
He frowned. “You will be safe here.”
“You will not be safe, though,” she said shakily. “You were going off to war without saying anything to me at all?”
He grimaced. “I would rather take the memory of the sweetness of our time together with me for warmth than the bitter taste of yet another argument. Do not demand something of me that I can not give you.”
Chapter Twenty
Aliya felt a welling of hurt that almost took her breath. Her mind instantly interpreted that to mean he could not profess feelings for her that he did not have. She could not be certain that that was what he meant, of course. It occurred to her that he might be referring to her demand that he try to make peace with her father, but she knew well enough that that opportunity had passed. No one spoke directly to her about the things that were happening beyond the walls of Tetan and beyond the borders of Goldone, but she had heard enough to know that no one would be untouched by the war that had broken out.
She found, though, that she really didn’t want to know what he had meant. When he was safe and had returned, that would be soon enough to speak of what they felt for one another, to draw the boundaries between them if there were to be any.
She didn’t want to think that he might be distracted by anything she had said, particularly an argument, when he needed his full attention on the business of staying alive. “I only wanted to ask that you take care of yourself … for me.”
He studied her for a long moment and finally moved back to the edge of the bed. Leaning down, he kissed her with a heat that belied their recent satiation with one another. To her disappointment, though, he did not linger.
When he reached the door, he paused and turned, surveying the room. “I had not realized before what was missing from my home.”
Aliya sent him a questioning look, wondering what particular thing she had done that had pleased him. The bed hangings perhaps? The rug she had spread on the floor between the bed and the hearth? “What?”
He smiled faintly, his gaze caressing her. “You.”
An unidentifiable emotion constricted her chest at that, squeezing her heart.
“I will return in a few days. You must be ready then to travel light and fast, for I will most likely move my household.”
Aliya was so stunned by that announcement that she was still staring at him in disbelief when he exited the room. Was it as bad as that, she wondered fearfully?
She had been certain that the royal palace was virtually impregnable. That had given her no comfort, at first, when she had only thought in terms of being freed by her father. When she had realized that her feelings had changed completely and that she was content to stay with Talin, even if she was not completely content to hold only the place of his second wife, she had looked upon the situation of the palace with relief. Whether her father would talk peace or not seemed to matter little so long as he could not actually engage in war with the folk of Tetan.
She should have known the moment she realized that Talin was planning to go out and meet the army that something had changed the whole face of the war.
And there could be only one reason that Talin had begun to doubt the invincibility of his fortress in the sky.
Her father had brought in a conjurer of the black arts.
She should have known that, she realized, when she had seen what had happened to Solly. Instead, she had been so completely wrapped up in her personal concerns that she had not considered how alarmed Talin had been about it, indeed all of the castle folk.
It chafed her to think she could do nothing but wait and worry. As hard as she worked to fill her days with worthwhile tasks that kept her from feeling completely useless, her mind still wavered back and forth between wondering where Talin was and how he was faring and trying to figure some way that she could reach out to her father and try to stop the madness before the land ran red with the blood of innocents.
It was a waste of time, of course. There was no way that she could leave the palace unless she could convince someone to take her, and she not only doubted she could convince anyone to do what would amount to treason, but she could not bring herself even to try. If she had been more certain that she could re
ason with her father, she might have felt that the risk was not too much to ask, but she was not at all certain he would even speak to her, let alone listen. And she did not think she wanted anyone else’s blood on her hands.
The penalty for treason was death, a slower death, perhaps, in peace time, a swift one in times of war.
* * * *
Of all the clans of the man beast, the Wyvern were the only folk who had focused their beast inward and discarded what they had considered the dubious advantage of their ability to change form. Since they no longer had the gift of flight, it fell to the other clans who still had that gift--the Golden Falcon, the Condor, and the Eagle--to handle the bombardment of the army formed up on the plains below them.
The clan of the Condor, led by Hadrian, attacked first, but either because they had less bravery, or less experience, their bombardment was largely ineffectual, for they did not fly low enough before releasing to hit a great deal.
Talin contained his fury with an effort. Although it did not escape him, or anyone else for that matter, that the Condor managed to stay well out of range of the archers, he realized they would have to give them the benefit of doubt if they were not to part ways at once.
The clan of the Eagle did somewhat better. They, at least, displayed no hesitancy about flying low enough to do considerable damage, but their accuracy left something to be desired and many became so enraged when they saw how little actual damage they were doing that they ceased the bombardment and began diving at the soldiers below, slashing at them with their rapier sharp talons and beaks until the soldiers finally drove them off or killed them.
His own clansmen, either from an equal but opposing idiocy, or from a misplaced determination to make quick work of a bad business, took chances they should not have. Their bombardment was effective, more than any had anticipated, for they flew so low to drop their bombs that he lost damned near a quarter of his men to the archers, who felt smug right up until the moment that the great Falcons began to rain from the sky. The deaths of the man beasts brought about utter chaos as they slammed into the earth, killing or maiming any of the man children unfortunate enough to be standing in their path and too slow to get out of the way.
It turned the tide of the battle, however. The ranks broke and the panicked men began to run. Before the leaders could rally their men and return the ranks to order, the army of the man beasts, many of them armored as the man children were, charged from the forest surrounding the battlefield, cutting down hundreds of the man children before they even realized that they had fled right into an ambush.
By the time the sun began to set, the bodies of the man beasts and the man children littered the ground for miles. Both armies withdrew to count their losses and lick their wounds.
In consideration of those among his men who were too wounded to withdraw any great distance, which included Talin himself, the Falcon clan settled in the foothills to do what they could for the wounded. The Wyvern had brought with them potions concocted by the Wizard Mortiver, but these, they found, were largely ineffectual against the magic the man children brought to battle. Those who had been ‘bitten’ by the poison tipped arrows died in spite of everything anyone could think to do. Those, like Talin, who had been fortunate enough only to catch the shafts with invisible tips survived because Talin had learned that only removing what they could see would not be enough. Weakened by the loss of blood, they had, perforce, to remain where they were for another full day before they were all strong enough to move on.
There was some sense of accomplishment to buoy their spirits. Despite their own losses, which were great, they had managed to do what they had set out to. They had whittled the man children’s army down to a size they had some chance of defeating.
Certain King Andor would gather what remained of his army and move as quickly as he could now to join with the army from across the sea, Talin took his own clan members home to rest and recuperate while they could.
Despite the dangerous amount of time Talin had allowed for the injured to heal, he was so weak and exhausted by the time he reached the palace that he was aware of very little beyond the fact that Aliya had come out to watch their return. When he woke later, he discovered that he was ensconced in his bed and Aliya sat near the hearth as she had before when he had been injured.
This time he had not had to feign being worse off than he was. He did not even have a clear memory of the trip from the foothills home.
As if she sensed his gaze, Aliya looked up from the needle she was plying. Smiling when she saw he was awake, she set her needlework aside and crossed the room, settling one hip on the edge of the bed. “Hungry?”
The warmth he’d felt at her nearness vanished. “If it is to be gruel, then no.”
Aliya chuckled. “I will send for whatever you like.”
Catching her around the waist, he dragged her across his body and pressed her into the mattress. “I hunger for you,” he murmured, burrowing his face against her throat.
“I am not at all certain that is the sort of sustenance you need right now,” she murmured.
“Which goes to show you have no notion of what I need.”
She stroked his hair and ran a hand lightly along his back. As tempting as it was to give in to his lovemaking, she did not want to tire him more and delay his recovery. In any case, there were matters of state that required his attention. “There is someone waiting to see you.”
Talin lifted his head to look at her quizzically.
“The council elders returned while you were gone. They have brought a man whom they believe will be able to help us.”
Talin’s gaze sharpened, flicking over her face measuringly. Somehow, she didn’t think that was entirely because of her announcement, but instead of pursuing the matter, she climbed off of the bed and moved to the bell pull she had had installed, glancing back to see if Talin was suitably impressed.
He was watching her curiously.
When a maid appeared after a few moments and she sent the woman to fetch the visitor, he frowned. “As much as I enjoy your coddling, I am not so weak and ill that I must receive in my bed,” he said chidingly.
“But you will indulge me?”
He sent her a wicked glance. “Only because it suits my own preferences at the moment,” he murmured in a voice laden with promise.
As tempting as it was to pursue that line of conversation, Aliya knew the elders had been waiting impatiently to be allowed to speak to Talin so she merely sent him an arch look and crossed the room to retrieve her work basket.
“Stay,” Talin said when he saw her intent.
Aliya glanced at him in surprise. “They might not be comfortable speaking of state matters in front of me,” she pointed out.
“They will get over it.”
Shrugging, Aliya settled with her work once more. A few moments later, there was a tap at the door. At Talin’s summons, the council members trooped in followed by a fifth man.
Talin pushed himself slowly upright as he studied the stranger.
His attire was strange enough, for he wore only a length of pure white fabric wrapped around his waste that ended at his knees and resembled a very short skirt rather than breeches or loincloth. His strange appearance went far beyond that, however, for his skin was golden, more like the precious metal than his own tan skin, which was more of a warm brown than real gold.
The hair that grew from his head and fluttered around his shoulders in a long, straight mass was cerulean.
“I am Syrian,” the man said, bowing respectfully. “I am most happy to offer my services to your cause.”
Talin frowned. “You are a wizard?”
Syrian smiled apologetically. “Alas, no. I am well versed, however, in Alchemy, which you may find useful. Primarily, I have come to offer my gift of sight.”
Talin glanced from the man to the council elders, who were beaming at him as if they had produced a miracle. “My own sight is quite keen,” he said slowly, wondering if he would
have to guess what purpose the elders had thought the man would serve.
Syrian’s smile broadened. “Apologies that I failed to make myself clear, Sire. But even you can not see what I can see.”
“What is it that you can see?”
“The future. The past. What will be. What might come to pass. I am a Seer.”
Talin merely stared at the man for many moments. Finally, he nodded. “I am not interested in hearing how the war will end,” he said finally, keeping the irritation from his voice with an obvious effort.
Looking unperturbed, the Seer merely bowed. “Would you find it useful to know where your army will go? When? How many men he will have with him? What strategy he has planned for each confrontation? Would you find it helpful to know what magic he uses so that you would know how to guard yourself against it?”
Talin looked at him with more interest. “You can see these things?”
Syrian nodded. “I will not boast that I can always see all things, but many things, yes, that will help you in this battle with your enemy.”
Talin frowned. “What could I offer you in return that you could not gain for yourself?”
“Acceptance. A home. Peace among people who will not despise me for being different.”
Talin considered it for several moments and finally shook his head. “I can not guarantee any of that save that I will do what I can for you if you will help me to save my people. I will see to it that you find a place among the man beasts, respect, and peace from harm or pursuit. But only you can ensure your acceptance.”
Syrian executed a movement that was somewhere between a salute, a bow, and a nod. “I do not expect to receive what is not yours to give,” he murmured and then glanced at Aliya, his expression growing somber, his eyes sad. “And I can not prevent a war that was foretold long ago.” He returned his attention to Talin. “I am here because it was written that I would be the instrument of the man beasts’ salvation. When the elders came, I knew that it was time.”
