Fencer

by Viola Grace

  He sighed and released her. “Spoilsport.” She grinned. He had been counting on her pride to get in the way. She was far too used to the instructors in the Alliance who demanded acquiescence until you could defeat them. A master instructor was a Master. It was that simple.

  Meena spent a pleasant morning with Kebril, and by the time they stopped for a meal, every muscle in her body ached. She groaned and massaged her neck while the bots set up their breakfast.

  Kebril frowned. “Did we do too much?” She grinned and shook her head. “No. It felt good to work beyond my normal capabilities. I think my reaction time was even increasing toward the end. Either that or I was hallucinating.”

  He poured tea for them both and held her cup out to her. She took it with a hand that trembled slightly.

  He scowled. “We did too much.” Meena carefully used both hands on the cup to steady it. “No, we did just enough. There is no learning without some difficulty. To find what you seek sometimes requires pain.” Kebril raised his eyebrows. “Quoting the Masters of Dhema?”

  She grinned. “One of my first instructors was of Dhema. He stressed flexibility of the mind as well as a healthy attitude toward pain. A little pain is good, a lot tells you you are screwing up. Avoid a lot of pain and welcome the little.”

  He served her breakfast, and when her hands were still trembling too much to eat, he grabbed her hands and she felt an electric shock run from his body to hers.

  A glow moved up her hands and across her body in thirty seconds. The pain faded and the muscle fatigue stopped jerking and twitching her body.

  “That is cheating.”

  Kebril stroked her cheek. “I don’t like seeing you in pain, however minor.”

  She got out of her chair and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. “Thank you.”

  He smiled softly and gestured for her to eat her meal. “It was my pleasure.”

  After breakfast, she returned to the Guardian base with a promise to return the next morning for more lessons. Kebril had business in the capital, so he was busy for the rest of the day.

  The Saluth blades were fun to work with, but she definitely needed a break. She hadn’t worked that hard since the first days of training in the Alliance.

  As perverse as it was, she looked forward to doing it again the next day.

  Chapter Seven

  The routine was set. Every morning, she climbed into the pod and it flew her to Kebril’s to get her ass handed to her. He hadn’t tried to seduce her since that first time. He seemed far more interested in her growing skills with the blade.

  She was wearing the first outfit she had chosen, the wide trousers and wrap shirt. As she stepped out of the pod, there were no blades in attendance and Kebril had a pensive expression.

  “Meena, I have a request to make of you.” She stood in front of him and inclined her head.

  “After the help you have given me, ask and it is yours.”

  He smiled and took her hands. “Accompany me to an event this evening?”

  “That’s it?”

  “Well, it is a formal-dress affair, and I have been unable to decide on your formal wear, so will you stand for a fitting?”

  “Of course. Will Drehl and Rhoda be there?”

  “If Charm is not required elsewhere for the evening.” He took her into the palace to a room she hadn’t seen before.

  “What is this?”

  He ran a hand through his hair, and his grey skin darkened. “My workroom.”

  She looked around, and a number of dressmaker’s dummies were standing with gowns in multiple stages of completion. “You…”

  “Have learned to make clothing with the hope that one day I would be outfitting my own mate. These are all yours by the way.” Meena walked up to a deep blue gown that she knew would look amazing on her. “It’s wonderful. I am not even going to guess how much you got to practice before Rhoda came along.” He gave her a sheepish look. “It would be best if you didn’t.”

  She chuckled softly and asked him. “So, why won’t one of these do?”

  “The capital is undergoing a time of celebration. It is the biggest holiday for Genarans to mix with the Nyal population. I wasn’t going to attend, but my family has made it clear that it is expected as the eldest unattached male.”

  Meena raised a brow and blushed when she realized how possessive she felt. “Unattached?”

  “We are not yet mated, there has been no ceremony and you aren’t bonded to me, so in the eyes of my people, I am available.” Her cheeks were scarlet, she was sure. “So, what do I need to do?”

  He gestured to the empty podium in the centre of the room. “Take off your clothing and stand there.”

  “Naked?”

  “This dress will need to be special, and it will take all of our available time. You are burning daylight, Meena.” He folded back his sleeves and walked to a bank of drawers along one wall.

  She shrugged and walked to the podium, removing her boots and unwrapping her shirt. She carefully set each item down with an eye to keeping them tidy.

  Kebril drew out metre after metre of black lace and a cascade of matching silk. When she was naked, she stood with her head high and shoulders back, waiting.

  She wasn’t kept waiting for long.

  “I am going to form and wrap the lace. You will need to be cut out of it at the end of the evening, but I will be happy to help in that regard.” He placed his tools on the floor next to him and lifted a piece of lace.

  He smoothed it over her shoulder and the delicate pattern curved and clung faithfully to her skin. She held still as he wrapped, tucked, stroked and coaxed the lace into a band over one shoulder that cascaded across her back to the opposite hip, a wide and surprisingly supportive covering over her breasts that came from under her left arm and across to end under her arm matched the heavy band that rode low on her hips but covered her sex. The skirt was a flowing, shimmering silk that outlined her legs clearly and exposed her right thigh from ankle to the band of lace.

  It had taken hours for Kebril to get it right, and he was very concerned about the fit over her breasts. She would have thought he was playing games, but the focussed look in his gaze was entirely inward as if he were seeing with his hands.

  The sun had progressed from morning to afternoon and only a protein shake brought by the bots kept her on her feet.

  When his creation was complete, she moved to step down, but he held up his hands. “Not done yet. The gown is in place, but now, you need accessories.”

  She couldn’t imagine what kind of accessories would top the gown, but he returned to his collection and withdrew some more lace and approached her. “Did I not mention that this evening’s festivities are a masque?” Meena narrowed her eyes. “No. You forgot to mention that.”

  He grinned and shrugged. “Silly me. Now, arms out.”

  She extended her arms, and the gold lace bonded to her skin in a lazy spiral that still managed to cover her prison mark. “Nicely done.”

  “I try.”

  He continued with her other arm, and then, he knelt to wrap her exposed thigh.

  She caressed the gold and admired the way it wrapped across the back of her hand and ended with a wrap around her hand in a fingerless glove-like finish.

  “Lift your foot.”

  Bemused, she elevated her foot, and he covered it in a gold lace slipper, thickening the sole into a low-heeled pump. He grabbed black lace, and with a look, she balanced on the shod foot while he worked on the other.

  He worked to get the shoes even, and when he was satisfied, he stroked the skirt until it was just grazing the tops of her feet.

  To her shock, he kept going until her torso was wrapped with gold bands that slipped under the black and blended against her skin. “How will the gold come off?”

  “It will break down in a few days and wash off in the shower.”

  “So, you actually bonded it to my skin.” He whistled softly, and she glared down at the top of his dark head a
s he evened the wrap of gold lace on her skin.

  When he stood, he grinned at her. “Now for the mask, and then, we can be on our way. My cousin has a hairdresser and makeup artist standing by.” She scowled, he sized the lace and shaped it, but then he pulled it away. “Put this on before my cousin hauls you to the ball.” Meena got nervous, and she clutched at the surprisingly sturdy mask. “Aren’t you coming with me?”

  “I have to be there in the receiving line. I will see you when you arrive.”

  “How will I get there?”

  He lifted his head and cocked it slightly.

  “Agheda has just arrived. You had better go. She is not the most patient woman.”

  “Just like that?” If she were being honest, all that stroking had gotten her motor running, and she was a few hand motions away from cumming.

  “Protocol. I am single and must arrive alone.” There was a twinkle in his eyes, and she clutched the mask, stalking out without another word.

  A Genaran woman was leaning against a very elegant skimmer. She jerked upright as Meena came toward her. “You are Kebril’s friend?” Meena wanted to howl in frustration. “I am his fencing partner.”

  The woman smiled and inclined her head.

  “Agheda Merskin.”

  “Meena Colou. I am honoured to meet you.” Agheda looked at her. “Well, you are dressed appropriately, but I can see why Kebril was concerned about your hair. Get in. We have a lot of work to do.”

  Meena settled in the skimmer and looked back toward the palace. She didn’t see him, but she could feel him.

  * * * *

  Kebril watched her go with his cousin. It had taken all his self-control not to take her on the floor of his workroom, but he was trying to make a point. He was hers, and if he had to make her defend her claim, she just might stop trying to put distance between them.

  That one day with her burned in his mind. The feel of her silken heat wrapping him was second only to the trust with which she allowed him free rein to do as he wished. He wanted her under him, over him, with him, and there was only one way to do it.

  She had to claim him.

  Chapter Eight

  The hairstyle was elaborate, and strands of golden pearls that winked against the braids and long, curled locks highlighted it. It was going to take days to sort it out.

  Meena’s makeup had required special care as the makeup artist usually did Genarans and occasionally Nyal. Her skin tone had been hard to match, but the woman was a professional, and Meena knew she had never looked better.

  Sealing the mask over her features completed the outfit, and when she looked at her reflection, she sought any piece of herself that she could find.

  Her eyes and nose were the only bits of Meena that were unchanged. Everything else was simply more.

  Agheda came in and stopped in shock. “Well, I am beginning to see why my cousin wants you to make an entrance. Every male in the place will be after you.”

  Agheda was wearing a glossy burgundy gown that complimented her silvery grey skin and made her red eyes sparkle. Her black hair was highlighted with navy blue pearls that matched the accessories, which wrapped her arms and caressed her neck.

  “We shall make quite the entrance. Come, Meena. We have hearts to break.” Agheda set her navy blue mask on her face, and it made her eyes even brighter.

  They joined hands and walked down the staircase and out into the streets of the capital.

  It was loud, raucous and many males froze in their tracks as they walked down the street toward the governor’s mansion. Apparently, whatever effect Kebril had been trying to achieve, he had been successful.

  Their two-woman parade eventually joined others on their way to the party. Meena realized that there were no couples walking the pavement with them.

  “Agheda, are there no couples attending this event?”

  “Of course not. This is the annual singles event. If you can’t meet your mate here, you are not trying. Watch Kebril, he will have his pick of eager women.” Agheda was completely oblivious to the torture she was inflicting on Meena.

  Meena steeled herself and walked with her companion through the detailed and intricate gates into the mansion itself. The receiving line was in place, and Agheda escorted her to it. “We may get separated, but seek me out before dawn or if you are leaving with someone. Have fun!” Her companion surged into the crowd slowly forming into a line, leaving Meena to ease her way into the mass of bodies.

  She met four charming men wearing their own masks and body-hugging formal wear. Her smile was polite, and as she met the Nyal governor and she dodged his hands, she realized she was in for an exhausting evening.

  Nineteen nobles and members of high families were in the line. The women admired her gold lacework, and the men admired everything else.

  Her face was hot under the makeup, and the moment she looked up to see Kebril, she almost bawled and crawled into his arms. Instead, she curtsied and extended a hand to him.

  He was wearing black and gold, making them a disturbingly matched pair in this sea of colour and flesh. “Meena Colou, you are looking spectacular this evening.”

  She inclined her head, weary of the whole thing. “Prince Kebril, as stunning as always. May you find what you seek.”

  It was the traditional comment for the event.

  May you find what you seek. It cut both ways. She had found what she sought, she just didn’t know how to get it.

  Drinking was a very bad idea. There were bodies writhing on every flat surface, and while she could see Kebril surrounded by women eager to tackle him to a couch, Meena was just standing and trying to find her resolve.

  “Mistress, may I have this dance?” The voice was oily and terribly familiar. She turned slowly to see Lord Makadan of the Yinshin wearing a minute leather vest and a tiny loincloth made of the same.

  “I am not dancing.” She turned to walk away, and he gripped her arm.

  “You are not being particularly welcoming, Meena, after all I have done to secure your affections…”

  Meena twisted and broke his grip with a sharp move born of practice with Kebril. “I am not for you, Makadan. Go find someone willing.”

  “Oh, I think you will be willing. I just need to find the appropriate leverage.” He grinned, exposing shark-like teeth.

  Shivering, she stalked away, seeking the comfort that Kebril could offer. She cut through his crowd of admirers and slipped her hand in his.

  His shocked expression turned to pleasure in an instant. “Good evening, Prince Kebril. Have you found what you were seeking?”

  He blinked. “I don’t know. Have I?” She snaked her free hand behind his neck and pulled his face down to hers. Her kiss lacked his subtlety, but it left him in no doubt as to her claim on him. The women surrounding him made small noises of disappointment.

  “I see you have made a new friend, Meena. Well done.”

  Kebril broke the kiss and scowled at the newcomer. “I have not met you, sir.”

  “I missed the receiving line, I am afraid. Lord Makadan, the new Yinshin Ambassador to Yacaro. You are Prince Kebril of the Genarans.” A peculiar anger flashed in Kebril’s eyes, but Meena dropped his hand as the two men greeted each other with a forearm grip.

  “It makes sense that little Meena would find a male known for his fencing ability. Apparently, after me, she developed a taste for it.” Meena stifled a gasp. The implication was that she and the loathsome male had been lovers.

  Kebril inclined his head. “She has most peculiar tastes, so I am unsurprised.”

  “Well, Prince, I hate to ruin your burgeoning relationship, but the Nyal government has given her to me. It is just a matter of filing the correct documents.” He reached out to stroke her arm, but she shifted away from him.

  It was her instinct to hide behind Kebril, but this wasn’t his fight. “Lord Makadan, I challenge you to a duel for my hand.”

  The words dropped into the room with the finality of shattering crystal. />
  “My, my, aren’t we over confident. Your hearing has not even been scheduled and you are challenging me to a duel?”

  She frowned. “You said they had agreed to hand me over.”

  “After the messiness of the court case was dropped. I dropped the charges yesterday, and now, I am here to claim my reward.” His smile was vicious.

  “I have the right to fight for my honour.” His eyes gleamed yellow with evil humour.

  “You have that right, but you will still belong to me after it.”

  Horror gripped her, but Kebril put his hand on her shoulder. “Come with me now.” Makadan looked at them with suspicion.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need to speak to her. Wait here.” There was no flexibility in his tone, and even the Yinshin froze in his tracks.

  Kebril hauled her to an archway where couples stood and giggled in the moonlight. He let out a shrill whistle, and a man in formal garb stood up and took up position behind a flat pedestal with two large grooves inside.

  Meena was standing on one side with her arm fit in the groove. Kebril’s was on top of hers, their wrists lining up.

  The priest-like man asked. “Do you consent and give to your mate all you are, all you will be?” Kebril nodded. “I will.”

  “Lady, do you consent and give to your mate all that you are and all you will be?” She took in the rapt audience and the formality of the words. She consented to her marriage. “I will and do.”

  The priest lifted the dagger and sliced down into their joined wrists. Meena opened her mouth to scream, but Kebril leaned down and took her pain into his own body.

  As the sharp agony receded, she looked down to see the welling of blood that was coming out of their wrists. To her shock, the blood coming out of her wrist reversed and returned to her body.

  Light and warmth ran through her, making her smile and laugh. When he lifted his hand, she flung her arms around his neck and held on for all she was worth. Wild applause broke out, and she kept the kiss going far beyond a decent amount of time.

  Kebril gradually released her, and she leaned against his chest. “I didn’t mean to rush this.”