by P. C. Cast
“Guess you’re kept pretty busy.”
“As Lead Huntress it is my responsibility to travel from herd to herd, training and overseeing all of the young Huntresses.” She shrugged her shoulders again. “It leaves little time for courting.”
“Well, Vic, maybe someone should tell them that.” I gestured to the young centaurs who were still sending her looks filled with longing.
She laughed and winked at one of the staring centaurs, who promptly dropped the meat he was pulling off the flank roasting on the fire. As he frantically tried to grab it out of the hot coals, Sila, who was reclining comfortably across the fire from us, laughed aloud.
“Take care with what you are doing, colt. I will not mend burns caused by foolishness.” At that, the young centaurs all chuckled at themselves good-naturedly.
But they didn’t stop sneaking looks at Vic.
“They are intrigued by the power of a Huntress. When one is intrigued by who I am—Victoria, not the Lead Huntress—then I may be willing to make time for him. Until then they are sweet diversions, and no more.”
I was dying to ask her about centaur sex, but ClanFintan chose that moment to join us, and, well, when girlfriends talk about sex it is a girl-exclusive subject, even when one of the girls is part horse.
“Huntress, this is exceptionally choice venison. May I commend you on your hunting today?”
See, I knew we’d been eating Bambi.
“Hunting is easy in this forest. It is brimming with game.” Vic sounded nonchalant, but I could tell she was pleased by ClanFintan’s praise.
I started to tell her that I thought it was good, too, when Dougal cleared his throat and caught my attention.
“Lady Rhiannon—” his eyes were shining and his cheeks were flushed “—I have been asked to inquire if we could entice a story from you tonight.”
Oh, jeesh. Here we go again.
“That would be lovely, Rhea.” Victoria gave me a girlfriend grin. “I have heard you are a master storyteller, trained by the Muse.”
Great. Actually I’m a master teacher who memorizes well enough to plagiarize pretty easily.
I could see ClanFintan shifting nervously at my side, obviously worried that Shannon couldn’t hold up to Rhiannon’s reputation.
He should have known better by now.
I wiped my hands on my pants, tossed my hair back and stood.
Smiling at Dougal, I said, “I would be delighted to tell you a story.”
At my words, exclamations of happy surprise went up from the group around our campfire, and I noticed several centaurs within hearing passed the word that Rhiannon was telling a tale, so my crowd began to grow.
For a teacher, that’s a good thing.
I cleared my throat and put on my storytelling voice, which was part actress, part teacher and part siren. Tonight I made sure it was heavy on the siren part, while my mind was questing ahead, changing and rewriting the romantic legend of the Phantom of the Opera.
“Once, long ago, a child was born with a horribly disfigured face. His eyes were mismatched, his lips were deformed, his skin was thin and yellow, like old parchment, and where his nose should have been, there was only a grotesque hole.” My audience made murmurs of disgust. “His mother abandoned him at birth, but a kindly goddess—” I searched my brain frantically “—the Muse of Music, took pity on him. She carried him to her temple and allowed him to live in the catacombs beneath it. To make up for his terrible disfigurement, she gifted him with that which was most important to her, a magical ability to make music, both with instruments and his voice. So, the child grew into a man, living in the bowels of the temple, worshipping music and perfecting his craft. His only love was music; his fondest joy was to listen to his Goddess training the voices of the neophytes who came to study at the temple.”
The centaurs were rapt with attention—a seriously good class.
“He never allowed himself to be seen, he even fashioned a mask, white as moonlight gleaming on snow, which he wore always to shield his face from the shadows and spirits that were his only company. He even believed himself to be a shadow, or a spirit, and he called himself the Phantom of the Temple.” (Well, it worked.)
“He convinced himself that he was content with his life, convinced himself he needed nothing more than music to fill his dark days and endless nights. Until the day he happened to hear a young neophyte auditioning, and he made the mistake of glancing at her through a hidden mirror. He fell instantly and irrevocably in love. Her name was Christine.”
I moved around the fire, weaving a bastardized version of the timeless story. I loved teaching the story to freshmen—every year I had them read Gaston Leroux’s original, then I would read aloud to them from Susan Kay’s 1990s romantic retelling. Then we would listen to Andrew Lloyd Weber’s amazing musical. By the time the final scene was played, there were very few dry eyes in my classroom.
For my centaurs I mixed the best of the three versions together, recreating a tale that mesmerized them.
“…and when he finally had Christine alone, down in his chamber beneath the temple, he knew there was only one chance she would love him—and that one chance was if his music could move her heart enough that she could forget the horror of his face. So he wrapped her in his words and sang to her of The Music of the Night.”
“What did Christine choose?” My husband’s voice was thick with emotion. The world had narrowed so that it seemed we were alone.
I smiled through tears and told a big ol’ whopping lie. “She overcame her fear of his appearance and chose the beauty within him—and they lived happily ever after.”
A cheer went up from my audience, followed by lots of loud clapping and stomping of hooves. In the midst of it all, ClanFintan pulled me into his arms and kissed me long and hard, which caused a lot more cheering and stomping. Then he picked me up and, to the accompaniment of lots of ribald shouts, carried me quickly away from the campfires. Over his shoulder I was surprised and touched to see Sila smiling wistfully as she wept openly, and Vic wiping tears from her shinning eyes with one hand, and waving at me with the other.
Clearly, I’d been a hit.
“And you didn’t think I could do it.” I kissed his muscular shoulder, then (on second thought) gave it a sharp bite.
“You know I can bite back.” He looked down at me with mock seriousness.
“I’m counting on it.” I kissed the place I’d just bitten.
“It is not that I did not think you capable of entertaining them…” He paused. I stayed silent, allowing him to continue as he carried me away from the firelight. “It is just that I know you do not like to be thought of as Rhiannon, and storytelling is a very…”
His voice trailed off and I offered, “A very Rhiannon thing to do?”
“Yes.” He looked relieved that I understood.
“Our lives overlap—” I shrugged “—I can’t help that. All I can do is make what was hers my own.” I wondered briefly what kind of mess she was making of my life. Then I squelched that thought. This was my life; there was nothing I could do about what she was or was not doing in another world. If I dwelt on the possibilities, like how badly she must be hurting my friends and family, it would drive me insane with frustration. There was no going back, no fixing it. I looked up at my husband’s strong profile, and admitted to myself that even if there was a way for me to go back, I wouldn’t. I understood it was a selfish decision, but he was my love and with him was where I chose to make my life. I closed my eyes and rested my head against his chest, wishing sincerely that Rhiannon would get hit by a bus.
CHAPTER 11
“You are not asleep, are you?”
“No.” I opened my eyes and looked around.
ClanFintan had been traveling north, and we had passed out of the area in which the army was camping. I heard him answer a sentry’s hail, pausing only long enough for him to acknowledge the centaur’s salute before he continued moving. He veered to the right, and we were soo
n encased by the darkness of the forest. The moon had risen, and points of silver light drifted down through the ancient trees, washing everything in a surrealistic glow.
“Where are we going?”
“I have a surprise for you.”
“Really?” I started patting his vest for pockets.
“What are you looking for?”
“A jewelry box.”
He laughed. “Not that kind of surprise.”
He began looking around at the floor of the forest, like he was searching for something. Then I heard his satisfied grunt as he came to an old fallen tree. It looked as if it had been split almost exactly in half, probably by lightning. ClanFintan walked over to the largest half.
“Stand on this,” he said as he carefully deposited me on the log.
It was wide and sturdy, and I didn’t have any trouble balancing on it. I looked at him and grinned happily.
“Hey! I’m almost even with you now.” And I was. Almost. My eyes came about to his chin. I looped my arms around his shoulders and leaned into him, kissing the cleft in that chin.
He responded by wrapping his arms around my waist, finding my lips with his, and beginning a slow, sensuous kiss that seemed to have no end. I parted my lips and let him devour me, losing myself in the heat of him. I was glad he had his arms around me, because my knees began to feel decidedly weak. He pulled me against him. His lips began a hot trail down the side of my neck. I leaned into him, letting my hands travel over the hard muscles of his shoulders and back.
Without pausing in his exploration, I felt him untying the laces of my leather top, which he deftly pulled off me. His head lowered to my breasts as he began alternating erotically between nibbling, sucking and kissing. Then I felt his hand untying the laces of my pants. I held tightly to him and stepped out of them, so that now all I was wearing was one of my tiny thongs. I whispered, more than a little breathlessly, “I thought it wasn’t smart for you to shape-shift right now.”
His hands cupped my ass and he pulled me roughly against him again, whispering back into my mouth, “I am not going to shape-shift.” He playfully took my bottom lip between his teeth.
“Oh,” I said when he released my lip. “Then what—”
“That is the surprise.”
Staying in the safety of his arms, I leaned back a little bit so I could see his eyes.
“I don’t understand.”
He kept one arm around me as he talked; the other was busy with my body. First he caressed my breasts gently.
“I had a talk with Carolan—” His voice was low and seductive, and what his hand was doing was making my head feel dizzy. “About human female anatomy.”
I blinked, not sure if I’d heard him correctly.
“What? I still don’t understand.”
His hand traveled from my breasts to my waist and stomach. “Relax, you will.” His hand dipped down, slipping inside my thong and sliding easily over the hot moistness he found there.
I sucked in my breath and leaned my head against his shoulder, letting my own hand roam under his open vest.
“I asked him how I could pleasure you when I was not able to shape-shift.” His fingers moved back and forth. “He explained several things to me.” He bent and captured my mouth again, while his fingers kept up their erotic dance.
Slowly, he broke the kiss, and whispered to me. “And our talk gave me an idea. Trust me, and I think you will enjoy yourself.”
“I’m already enjoying myself,” I said breathlessly.
He smiled. “There is more.”
“Oh, God,” I moaned.
He smiled again and explained, “I am going to put you on my back. I want you to scoot forward, press your body against me, and wrap your arms tightly around me. Then move with my rhythm.” He kissed me again.
I made a mewing sound when his fingers stilled, then retreated. He held me with one hand, and with the other he quickly stripped off his vest, leaving his torso bare. Then I felt his strong hands encircle my waist, and he lifted me, placing me firmly on his back.
He turned his head and spoke over his shoulder. “Hold me tightly.”
I moved myself as far forward as I could, loving the feel of my naked breasts against the heat of his back. I wrapped my arms tightly around him, stroking my hands from his chest down to his hard stomach, while I kissed and nibbled on the line of his shoulder blades.
“Now press yourself against me as I move.” His voice was thick with desire, and I felt chills travel down my inner thighs in response.
He started out, moving in a rolling canter. I felt my pelvis rock with him, back and forth, back and forth, as if his hand was still caressing me. I moaned and buried my face between his shoulder blades. His arms covered my arms. Then, slowly, his gait increased, and the rhythmic rocking increased…and increased…and increased…until suddenly I found myself exploding and dissolving into him.
It was so good it made my back teeth ache—I swear.
His gallop decreased in speed as he circled back to our log. By the time we were back where we started, I felt as if I had no bones left in my body. Not that I minded.
“Rhea, I’m going to set you on the log.”
I nodded sleepily against his back, and he gently lifted me to the log.
“Open your eyes so I know you will not fall when I let go of you.”
I opened my eyes and stretched like a cat.
He watched me for a moment with a pleased expression on his face. Then he asked, “Did you like your surprise?”
“Absolutely.” (Note to self: thank Carolan.) I looked at him dreamily. “But what about you?”
“Me?” He was putting his vest back on and searching around for my shirt and pants.
“Yeah. You know, is there something I can do to, um, pleasure you?” I held my breath waiting for his answer.
It came in the form of a horse-size belly laugh.
“I think not, love,” he said when he was able to control himself.
He handed me my clothes, still chuckling to himself.
I was feeling a little disgruntled and slightly embarrassed as I jerked my clothes back on, trying to tie the intricate laces myself.
“Let me do that.” His fingers took over for mine as I swept my hair out of the way.
When he was finished he noticed my (unusual) silence. I didn’t meet his eyes, but I felt him study me, and when I did allow myself to glance up at him I saw his eyes widened in sudden understanding. He took my chin in his hand and tilted my face so that I had to meet his gaze.
“I did not mean to belittle or embarrass you. I am pleased that you offered, but—” his smile lit up the night, and I felt my lips turning up in response “—you are such a small human.” He chuckled again and kissed me gently.
I let my arms slide around his shoulders, and he put one arm around my back and one arm under my legs, carrying me close to him as we headed back to the camp. I rested my head on his shoulder.
“But it doesn’t seem fair. I want to please you, too.” Although I did really enjoy the fact that he thought of me as “small.”
“Your pleasure is my own,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice and kissed the top of my head. “Do you not understand that I was born to love you?”
You belong to one another, Beloved.
The Goddess’s words filled my mind. “Yes, I understand.” My voice was choked with emotion. I watched his strong profile in the moonlight, and saw his lips turn up in a contented smile.
It was at that moment that I vowed to myself, I will never be parted from him.
CHAPTER 12
The sounds of horses’ hooves rustling through dried leaves called me from my deep, dreamless sleep. Then I smelled something that reminded me of scrambled eggs…and frying meat. I rolled over, trying to find a comfortable spot on the hard ground so that I could drift back to sleep, but deep voices shouting orders made me crack open my eyes. It was still dark, but I could see that a pale hint of dawn was beginning
to push night away.
“Good morning, Lady Rhea!” Sila’s cheerful voice assaulted me.
“Morning,” I muttered in reply, rubbing my eyes.
“Victoria found a nest of partridge eggs, do they not smell delicious?” She beamed at me as she reached down and stirred the contents of an iron pot that was perched between two rocks so that it hung above the campfire.
“Yeah, they smell great.” They did, but the aches and soreness in my slowly awakening muscles sucked the life out of the pleasure I took in the yummy smell.
I’d forgotten how horrible traveling centaurback for a protracted period of time was. Every muscle in my body screamed for my mineral pool and a nice massage. I stood slowly, feeling each second of my thirty-five-plus years, multiplied by ten. My hair was a nest. My back hurt. And my breath probably smelled like someone’s dirty toes.
I really hated camping.
I tried to return Sila’s perky smile (great—another morning centaur). “I’m going to, uh, freshen up.”
“Wonderful! The eggs should be ready when you return.”
How could anyone be so happy before the sun had risen?
“Okay,” I mumbled and began limping toward the riverbank. On the way centaurs kept calling me by name and wishing me a good morning. I did my best to be polite, especially when several of them commented graciously on the Phantom of the Temple story. I found a receptive bush, and managed to scale my way to the river, wash my hands, face and scrub my teeth with my finger, then scramble my way back up the bank.
Ah, the Wonderful World of Camping—may it rot in hell.
A huge amount of scrambled eggs mixed with reheated Bambi was hot off the grill as I grumbled my way back into camp. ClanFintan, Dougal and two more young centaurs I recognized from the night before were already eating. I wondered where Vic was, but common sense told me Ms. Huntress was probably already scouting around, looking for something tender to kill.
“Good morning, my Lady.” ClanFintan gave me a quick smile and handed me a wide leaf filled with steaming egg and meat.
