by Amy Raby
“I felt trapped up there,” said Justien. “But after I thought it over, I realized I couldn’t accept the award. I told them you’d outshot me and I couldn’t accept the prize. So I went back down to the field, and they conferred to pick a new winner. I was hoping they’d do the right thing this time and name you.”
Her eyes swam, and her heart swelled with warmth. She wanted to hug Justien for standing up for her when no one else would.
“They didn’t, though,” he said. “Instead they named Caellus.”
Now she hurt for Justien as well as herself. “I hate to say it, but in a way I wish you’d taken the job. Better you than Caellus, and they would never have given it to me.”
Justien shook his head. “After what happened, I couldn’t take it. And when I turned the job down, I felt relieved. Can you believe that? After wanting that job so badly, I was glad I wouldn’t be stuck with it. Because I’d have known every single day that I didn’t deserve it.”
“Caellus deserves it even less.”
“I know,” said Justien. “I can’t help that.”
She went to the bed and sat beside him. “I wish I hadn’t wasted my money on the entry fee. Maybe I should go back and demand that they return it. Obviously I wouldn’t have entered if I’d known they wouldn’t let me win.”
“They won’t give it back. If they did, they’d be admitting their deceit.”
She sighed. “Captain Felix—that jack-scalder! I hope the authorities hauled him in and questioned him about the horse race, at least.” She blinked. Was it possible she’d been passed over because of reporting his presence at the stable? No, probably not, otherwise Felix would have passed over Justien as well.
“He wasn’t the only judge.”
“They’re all jack-scalders,” she grumbled.
Justien raised a finger to her cheek and traced one of the old tear tracks. “I’m sorry it happened. I really am.”
She turned away, flushing, and rubbed her face. But it wasn’t his touch she objected to, and to make that clear, she scooted closer to him. After a moment, he slipped an arm around her waist. “I almost forgot. I brought you a present.” Metal clinked gently as he fished something from his pocket. “Here.”
She opened her hand, and he poured a necklace into it. Sparkling yellow citrine winked up from her palm. She smiled. “From the jewelry tent.”
“I figured if I was going to come here after what happened this evening, I’d better bring an offering. Let me put it on you.”
She handed him the necklace and turned so he could fasten it around her neck. His hand on her tender skin sent a tingle all the way down to her toes.
“Thank you.” She’d almost forgotten about the jewelry tent and this necklace. It was touching that Justien had thought to go back there and buy it for her.
Justien wrapped an arm around her. “Why don’t we discuss what comes next.”
She wriggled closer, leaning against his shoulder. “Nothing comes next. I’m paid at the inn through tonight. Tomorrow I’ll leave town and look for work somewhere else. Riat is too gods-cursed expensive when you don’t have a job.”
“But you’ve no money to travel with.”
She shrugged. “I’ll get by. It’s not the first time I’ve been broke.”
“I’ll be leaving town too,” said Justien. “There are no other jobs for war mages here; I’ve looked. I was thinking we could leave together.”
She looked up at him. “Leave together and do what?”
“Look for work,” he said. “As a team.”
The idea had merit. Jobs for war mages were scarce, but most people hiring one at all needed several. Why not throw in her lot with Justien? They might struggle, but at least they would be struggling together. And there was no one else she’d rather be with.
“And maybe get married,” he added softly. “If that appeals to you at all.”
That was sudden. And yet the proposal was not unwelcome. Justien was the first man she’d met since leaving Vereth who felt right for her. She wished their financial future were not so uncertain, but this was the man she belonged with. Of that, at least, she was certain.
“There’s no hurry as far as marriage is concerned,” he said. “I just want you to know where I stand. I want you, but if you’re not ready, I’ll wait. You said you were out of money, but I’ve got some from my last job. I can keep us going long enough to find some kind of work, whether it’s guarding a caravan or chopping wood. It’ll be cheaper to buy one room on the road instead of two.”
“I’m ready,” she said. “Let’s get married.”
“Really?” he blurted. After a moment’s stunned surprise, he hugged her so hard he stole her breath. “Until just now, this has been the worst evening of my life. And now it’s the best.”
She hugged him back. She might have lost the city guard job, but she didn’t care so much anymore. Let Caellus have it.
“How do you want to do it?” asked Justien. “Big ceremony?”
She thought of her family at home and how horrified they would be that she was marrying a Polini. She tried to imagine a wedding in which both Keldens and Polinis were in attendance. That was not going to work. “No ceremony. Let’s just find a clerk and sign the papers.”
“Think we could find one right now?”
“I’m sure they’re all in bed.” Her eyes met his. She’d like to be in bed too. Not just sitting on it the way she was now. She licked her lips. “We can do the paperwork tomorrow.”
“All right.” His breath quickened, and after a moment of silence, he said, “Your hair’s still braided for competition. Shall I take it down?”
She swallowed and nodded. She was going to sleep with him, and it was going to be tonight. Why wait? Until a little while ago, the evening had been a disappointment, but the rest of it didn’t have to be.
“Turn this way.” He positioned her so he had access to her hair and picked up her braid. “You don’t use a tie?”
“I just knot it at the bottom for competition. The goal isn’t to be fashionable; it’s to keep the hair out of my face.”
“It looks nice,” said Justien. “Still, I like it better down.”
She felt him untie the knot at the bottom and separate the strands. He was gentle and meticulous with his unbraiding, far more so than she’d been herself when putting it up in the first place. She’d tossed the braid together carelessly, leaving a smattering of stray hairs that poked out. He sorted through them, returning the strays to their fellows.
She sighed with pleasure. It felt good, his hands on her hair. As he worked his way up, his hands brushed her neck and scalp. Finally he completed the task of unbraiding and lowered her long, unfettered hair onto her shoulders. “Do you have a comb?”
“I can fetch one.” She hesitated, not wanting to get up and lose the feeling of his hands on her, but the thought of his combing out her hair was even more appealing. She rose and took a comb from her travel bag, then sat in the same position as before, edging close to his body.
He took the comb and worked carefully, lifting her tresses and combing them out from the bottom to work out the tangles, moving steadily upward. When he reached her scalp, he cradled her head with his other hand to steady it. The comb slid smoothly through her hair. She leaned in to Justien, suddenly aware of how tired she was and how stiff and achy, less from the exertion of the competition than from her tense unhappiness about it afterward. It felt good to be taken care of.
She was almost sorry when Justien finished. But then he turned her head, leaned in, and kissed her, and she wasn’t sorry at all.
It occurred to her that Justien must be tense as well after the evening’s activities. Perhaps she could do something about that. “Would you like a back rub?”
His brows rose. “Gods, yes.”
“Let me get behind you.”
They swapped positions on the straw tick, but physically it didn’t work. He was too big for her to reach his shoulders with quite the angle she wanted. He
needed to either sit on the floor, which looked uncomfortable, or lie flat on the bed. She decided on the latter.
She patted the tick. “Lie here. Face down.”
He gave her a devilish smile. “As you command.”
Despite his great size, he was agile. He maneuvered his bulk onto the tick with more grace that she thought possible. He dwarfed the tick, not to mention the bed, but that couldn’t be helped; these rooms were meant for southerners.
Since there was no room for her to sit beside him, she climbed atop him, settling herself gently onto his bottom. “I hope you don’t mind if I sit here.”
“Nalica, you can ride me any time.”
Her cheeks heated, but she dismissed the images those words summoned. There would be time for that later. She laid her hands on his shoulders. This was not going to be easy; his muscles were like iron. She made a few exploratory touches, and found that his tunic got in the way of her hands. She lifted the fabric. “Can we take this off?”
“Absolutely.” He raised himself just enough for her to free the fabric and pull it off over his head.
His half-naked body was as beautiful as she’d imagined. War magic generally kept a man, or a woman, well-muscled and in good condition even if they did nothing more strenuous than stand guard or sit a horse all day. But if the war mage engaged in activities that built muscle—combat training, manual labor, that sort of thing—the effects of the magic were stronger still. Justien’s broad back was the most perfect expanse of human flesh she’d ever seen. He was sleek and muscular. She ran her hands down his back for sheer appreciation. Then she leaned forward, placed her hands on his shoulders, and began to knead out the tension.
“Oh gods,” he moaned. “I think you’re the first person who’s been able to do that properly.”
“Is this common for you—a woman offering you a back rub?”
“No,” he said. “But I can tell you there aren’t many people, male or female, who could do what you’re doing.”
She believed it. His shoulder muscles, especially those in his drawing arm, were round and solid. It took all of her magically enhanced strength to work the knots out of them. Though it was not easy work, she enjoyed it. Engaging her magic was pleasant; it made her feel powerful. And she loved touching him and feeling him melt beneath her hands. When she’d softened up his shoulders, she worked her way down his back, loosening the tight muscles on either side of his spine.
He groaned as she released each muscle in turn. Then he said, “I heard you were once engaged to marry. Back east.”
“You’ve a good memory.” She found a particularly troublesome knot and worked it with her thumbs, feeling him grunt and shift beneath her.
“It must not have led to anything. What happened?”
“Nothing exciting,” she said. “It was an arranged marriage between clans, but there was a quarrel between clan members. The quarrel had nothing to do with me or him, but the marriage was called off.”
“Do you ever regret it?”
“Not in the least.” She worked her way down to his hips. These weren’t so heavily muscled. She massaged them gently, and his flesh jumped beneath her fingers. Apparently he was ticklish.
“Gods, woman, you’ll drive me crazy.” Justien lifted his great body, forcing her to slide off him. “It’s your turn. Let’s swap positions.”
She took his place on the straw tick, lying face down. He climbed atop her and rested gently on her backside, taking some of the weight on his knees so he didn’t crush her. He tugged at her leather vest. “May I take this off?”
“Go ahead.” She lifted her chest just enough to undo the ties in front, and let him slip it off her. Then he tugged the undershirt over her head. She sighed with relief as her breasts fell free from the confining material. She always wore tight shirts when shooting to keep her bosom from interfering with the action of the bow.
Justien’s big hands went to work on her neck and shoulders. She groaned, first with pain as he dug deep, and then with an almost orgasmic relief as he loosened up muscles that had been tight since—well, for as long as she could remember. She sank boneless into the tick, ceding all control to Justien, trusting him fully.
“No one ever goes deep enough,” he said. “You know what I mean?”
“I know exactly what you mean.” He found a particularly good spot, and she added, “Oh, gods. Do that some more.”
He complied.
“Did you have a woman back east, before you left?” she asked.
“Nothing serious,” he rumbled.
He would have been an adolescent at that time. She wondered about the years following his departure from the east. He was strong, charming, and handsome; he would not have had trouble finding partners if he wanted them.
As if anticipating her next question, he continued. “I’ll tell you the truth, Nalica. There haven’t been many women. Those years in the battalion—I don’t like to talk about this, but there were, uh, ladies of the night who followed the battalion from place to place. That sort of arrangement has never interested me. I am...how do I say this? I don’t like to share.”
“I understand that.” She didn’t like to share either.
He’d softened up the muscles along her back. Now he stroked her gently, as if in apology for the trauma he’d inflicted. The pain of the deep massage was fading, to be replaced by a feeling of blissful relaxation. He moved his hands lower, stroking her sides. His fingers brushed the sides of her breasts, and she felt herself twitch. That was an entirely different kind of sensation. She’d been halfway to falling asleep, he’d relaxed her so much, but now her body rekindled. Once again she wanted his touch, but in a different way.
“Later, when I was doing odd jobs,” he said, still lightly stroking her and occasionally teasing the curve of her breast, “I didn’t spend much time with women either. Sleeping with a stranger has never been something that interested me. And I moved around so much there was hardly an opportunity to get to know someone.” He lifted his body, giving her room to maneuver. His voice had turned husky. “Turn over.”
“Yes, sir.” She twisted over onto her back.
His hungry gaze took in her half-naked body and lingered on her breasts. “I want you, Nalica. If you don’t want this, you’d better say something right now. In a little while I won’t be able to stop myself.”
“I don’t want you to stop.”
“Are you warded?” he asked.
She nodded. “I had my wards done in Riat.”
“Mine aren’t so recent, but they’re still good.” He reached for her pants and undid the ties. She helped him draw them off her legs and drop them on the floor. His eyes followed her, reverent, and he made a small noise of appreciation. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“According to you, you haven’t seen many,” she teased.
“I don’t need to, when I know exactly what I want.” He touched the ties on his own pants. “Get these.”
She unknotted his belt and pulled down his pants. As he kicked them down to the floor and settled himself atop her, she looked on his fully naked body. He was ready for action, his cock thick and erect, cods drawn up tight. He was as big as his body size had suggested he would be.
“Like I said, it’s been a while,” said Justien. “This first time, I don’t think I can be gentle, and I might not last long. I’ll make it up to you, I promise, hopefully on a number of occasions—”
“That’s all right. I don’t think I’ll last long either.” She didn’t care if he wasn’t gentle. She liked it a little rough.
He moved atop her and slid himself in. He was a tight fit, but she was wet and ready. As he slid home, she groaned. He felt right for her, exactly right.
He thrust once, slowly. “Gods above,” he moaned. “Not going to last long at all.”
She didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. He felt so good inside her. He was big and powerful, and he was all around her, arms and legs framing her. Her own signi
ficant size did not diminish her desire to feel engulfed by a man, to feel protected and cherished, safe and loved. She closed her eyes, giving herself over to the sensations as his movement accelerated.
She could tell he was holding back, that he was trying to be gentle this first time. But his gentleness was a slow torture; her body demanded more. “Faster,” she said. “Please.”
He responded with a burst of pent-up energy that made her cry out, and she realized just how much he’d been holding back. Pleasure spiraled through her as he thrust more forcefully. His mouth covered hers, and his hand found her breast. Suffused in sensation, she lost awareness of everything, of the inn’s walls around her, the straw tick beneath her. There was only Justien, inflicting the most delicious violence upon her body.
“Almost there,” she gasped.
He grunted, incapable of speech.
A feeling unlike any other radiated from her core, and she groaned, lost to it. Her body shuddered from her toes to the tips of her fingers, and he moved with her, stiffening and crying out as he reached his own climax.
There was a moment of stillness as they panted together on the tick. Justien was still inside her, and she floated through a haze of pleasant nothingness, drunk on sex.
As their breathing returned to normal, Justien kissed her gently and shifted his bulk so he was lying beside her instead of atop her. The tick was hardly big enough for one of them, let alone for both, and yet they made it work, fitting their bodies together like cogs in clockwork, holding each other tight.
Nalica slept dreamlessly in Justien’s arms all night and through part of the morning. Then she awoke, quite suddenly, to someone pounding on her door.
5 After
Nalica rolled out of bed and in an instant was yanking her clothes on. Justien was on his feet too, surprisingly silent for such a big man.
The pounding at the door, which had paused, now resumed. She had the impression there were several people in the hallway. Voices rose and fell behind the door as they talked amongst themselves. Justien glanced at the door and wrinkled his brow as if trying to make out the muffled words. Then he grabbed his pants and slinked in the opposite direction to the window. He cracked the shutters and peered out into the streets.
