Dragon Jade Chronicle: The Warlock And The Warrior

by Jamie MacFrey

  “Fuck,” she’d sighed, stepping back to earth. The hot white splatter clinging to her skin and his had made her burn a little, the question of whether they might have time for another go not far from her mind.

  “What a mess.”

  Pol had laughed and collected his shirt from the floor and handed it to her.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked. She’d smiled when she saw how he was staring, watching as she sponged his cum from her body with the shirt, starting from the thin line that had reached for her breast before making her way down to the wreckage of her stomach and thighs.

  “I’ll just show up for the voting shirtless. No one will mind. We’re all going to be naked in front of the High Council anyhow.”

  He’d taken the shirt from her, using one clean edge to clean his crotch, and Kiera had watched regretfully as his cock had disappeared back into his breeches. She’d pulled her dress back down and turned to go. Pol had grabbed her from behind, pulling her against him, the heat of his skin radiating through the fabric of her dress.

  “You’re going to be awfully distracting up there on the dias. I might forget who to vote for. I might vote for you by accident.”

  Instead, it’d been Pol who’d distracted her. The Grand Hall of the Guild Rock had been filled with chairs, each one spaced a respectable distance from its neighbor. Even with the generous placement, they barely covered half the hall, speaking to the diminished strength of the Guild. The Sorcerers had filed in, one by one, after the High Council, Princess Fione, and Kiera had taken their seats on the dias.

  At the base of the dias a table had been set up for the Chief Archivist Praela and Master of Lore Bollu to count and record the votes. Each Sorcerer had entered the hall, taking their chairs in order of seniority, with Pol occupying the seat farthest from them. A clerk had been assigned to each row, including the Masters seated on the dias, armed with a stack of blank papers that would serve as ballots. Bollu had explained the rules: the gathered Guild members were to write their choice down for Chair of the Guild. They could write any name, though only Waldrin and Heldi had declared their intentions to stand for the office. Should no person have a majority of the votes on the first ballot, a second round of voting would begin immediately, without time to confer or lobby for candidates. Voting would continue until the Guild broke for rest or until a Chair was chosen by absolute majority.

  It had turned out to be as slow as molasses. The clerks had proceeded down the rows, handing out a sheet of paper and a quill for the sorcerer to write down their vote, then collecting the ballot and moving onto the next sorcerer in their chair. The first ballot had placed Waldrin two votes ahead of Heldi, but neither had been anywhere in the realm of a majority, with votes cast for a plethora of undeclared candidates.

  The second round had weeded out a few of these, increasing Waldrin’s lead to five votes. One vote in the second round had been cast for Kiera, which Bollu had announced dutifully and Praela had confirmed and recorded. She’d shot a glance out at Pol, who was grinning ear to ear in the back of the hall.

  The third round had not altered the choices of those voting for neither Waldrin nor Heldi much, but it had altered the shape of their votes, narrowing the gap down to three votes. Mercifully, Pol had not voted for her again. She’d settled in for a long process.

  On the seventh ballot, the hall had seemed to come alive with energy as the results had been announced. Heldi took the lead for the first time, a full twelve ballots ahead, and nearing the majority, saving for a handful of holdouts still voting for candidates that hadn’t declared.

  The hall held its collective breath as Bollu and Praela tabulated the eighth vote total.

  “Mistress Heldi, one hundred seven; Master Waldrin, ninety-two; Mistress Carista, four; four no votes.” announced Bollu.

  When Ked had been named Exarch, he’d been presented to the city in a massive ceremony and a parade. Kiera had been quite young, then, just a girl, practically, riding along in a carriage while her father had waved to the city. But the Guild was different. When Waldrin had been chosen as Chair, there’d been nothing except a brief proclamation circulated around the city noting that, as according to Guild law, Waldrin had been chosen Chair with the confidence of the Guild. Kiera had always assumed there was some more formal ceremony and celebration inside the Guild itself.

  Instead, she was surprised to find that the Grand Hall of the Guild broke into a polite applause. No cheers, or whistles, or shouts. Just a pleasant round of clapping.

  “The Chair will choose her replacement on the High Council and the announcement will be made at tomorrow’s breakfast,” Master Bollu announced to the room. “Voting is completed and you may all resume your previous pursuits and duties.”

  The gathered sorcerers stood and began filing out of the room. There was a hubbub of murmured conversations, and groups of three or four lingered here and there around their chairs, but it was hardly much of a celebration. Kiera barely knew what to make of it. Beside her, Princess Fione’s shifted uncomfortably in her chair, her brow was deeply furrowed.

  Beyond her was Master Waldrin, sitting quietly by himself, staring off into the middle distance of the Hall. Margase was kneeling on the floor by him, her hand on his knee, trying to reassure him that he would soon be returned to office once the matter of the Dragon Clans was either settled or worsened, but it was as if she was invisible to him.

  Heldi approach him, the concern obvious on her face.

  “Waldrin...I—” she began.

  He seemed, at last, to recognize there were other people in the room, his head turning to her.

  “Oh, no. No. No, my dear,” he cut her off. “Things change. This is the way of the world. No person can choose their own hour.”

  He stood.

  “I think I might take a walk,” he announced, turning and making his way out of the Hall, his pace unhurried but deliberate.

  Margase strode up to Heldi and struck her across the face with the flat of her hand, so hard that the slap was audible throughout the hall, and Heldi reeled into Garen’s arms. Carista grabbed Margase by the elbows, keeping her from more violence.

  “He chose you for the Master of War, you bitch!” screamed Margase. “He chose all of us! And this is how you repay him?”

  Heldi rubbed at her cheek, straightening herself.

  “Let her go,” she said, waving Carista away.

  The instant Carista’s hands left Margase’s elbows, the red haired woman had Heldi by the arm, shaking her, shouting in her face.

  “How could you do this, Heldi? How could you? Don’t you see what it’ll do to him? Don’t you see? It’ll break him.”

  Tears were streaming down her face, and Heldi’s as well.

  “I didn’t do it to hurt Waldrin, Margase. I did it for the good of the Guild. For the good of the Metropolises.”

  “What good is it if you destroy a man in the process? A good man, Heldi! You’ve destroyed a good man!” Margase was bawling, rubbing at her eyes, the grip she’d had on Heldi evaporated.

  The dark-skinned woman wrapped Margase in an hug, tucking the Master of Students’ head to her bosom. The two women stood in the hall, Margase sobbing into Heldi’s chest as Heldi rested her own tear-soaked face on Margase’s head.

  “I wish to resign my post,” said Margase, quietly, when she was again able to form sentences. She pushed herself away from Heldi.

  “We will discuss it,” said Heldi. “But not now. He needs you now, Margase. He will not be broken if you help him.”

  Margase sniffed, wiping her face on her sleeve, her eyes puffy from crying, and nodded. She strode from the room after him.

  Kiera climbed down the dias, heading for the antechamber to retrieve her dress. Pol met her at the base.

  “Well, never done that before,” he said.

  “It was almost mundane,” said Kiera. “After the Rite of Renewal, I was expecting something more... wild.”

  Pol grinned at her.

&n
bsp; “We could liven it up ourselves, if you wanted.”

  Kiera laughed at him, and began to nod.

  “Well, Acolyte Pol, what did you think of the election?” Kiera and Pol both turned to find Mistress Heldi standing behind them.

  “It’s an interesting way to choose a leader,” said Pol.

  “How so?”

  “What if we’d chosen someone totally unfit for the job instead of you or Waldrin?”

  “If the Guild’s choice had proven to be so terrible, the High Council would call new elections, just as we have done today. But we would live with such a result until it was proven to be so terrible.”

  “It just seems like a particularly risky way to organize.”

  “It can be,” smiled Heldi. “But not today, do you think?”

  “No,” said Pol.

  “Good. If you would like to join us, Master Garen and I will be having a private celebration in my chambers. Your presence would be quite welcome as well, Lady Kiera.”

  “Well…” said Pol.

  “We can’t,” said Kiera. She wasn’t sure why, exactly, but something about the way Heldi looked at Pol raised her hackles. She knew she shouldn’t have been bothered by it. He was a member of the Guild, and Heldi was a Master, now the Chair. And yet...

  “We can’t?” asked Pol.

  “We can’t. My apologies,” said Kiera.

  Heldi gave Kiera a measured stare, her gaze traveling to Pol for a moment before returning.

  “That is unfortunate, but I understand,” said Heldi. “Enjoy your evening.”

  Before Pol could say anything else, the Sorcerer turned on her heel and marched away to talk to Master Garen.

  “Why’d you say that?” asked Pol. “You’d like Master Garen and Mistress Heldi.”

  “I’ll make it up to you if you take me to your chambers right now,” said Kiera.

  * * * * *

  Princess Fione looked stunning. A sparkling white dress adorned her body, the front cut down to her navel to reveal the pale, smooth surface of her stomach, the front tied behind her neck, showing bare skin as precariously low as the front. A diadem, the gold worked into a design of feathers cradling precious stones, sat in her hair, the long locks of platinum transformed into an array of curls that reached down to her shoulders.

  Unbidden, the memory of their tryst in the woods came to Tau's mind. When she looked at him, she gave him a knowing smile and he might have reached out and seized her there. He hadn’t seen Kiera in days—she was never at the vai Ullan estate and he’d grown increasingly frustrated. If only Fione had invited him to attend her in private, he would have tossed her onto the bed without any warning.

  Instead, four other men made the bedroom seem rather crowded.

  Farthest from Tau was Davod vai Auin, the third and youngest son of Lord Islan. In many ways, he looked the spitting image of his father, but as though someone had drained all the grey from his hair and the wrinkles from his face. He had an assuming smile and a strong jawline.

  Next to Davod was Ragar vai Banda. If Tau was strapping, then Ragar was positively muscle-bound, though not as tall as Tau. Of all the men, his gaze fell most obviously to the Princess’ ample bosom, staring hungrily at her breasts.

  Not that he didn’t have competition in Ronil vai Tischer. Elina’s nephew, the only other remaining member of House vai Tischer, was as focused as Ragar on Fione’s body, but where Ragar looked at her as a money lender might look at a pile of gold not in his possession, Ronil stared as though he were a street urchin who’d never seen such wealth in his life. He was the youngest of them by far, just on the last year of his teens.

  And then Jin vai Ullan. Kiera’s brother had that same disaffected look on his face he always did. He and Vatya had had a falling out just a few days after Kiera had returned. It had sounded very much like Jin’s fault, if Tau was honest. Then again, Vatya should have heeded his reputation rather than pursuing him. But that was her way, to fall hopelessly in love with whatever man took her fancy at the moment. It had caused her more heartache than pleasure, in Tau’s estimation.

  “Thank you, gentlemen, for responding to my invitation,” said Fione. Her long silvery eyelashes fluttered as she spoke.

  “Yesterday, I witnessed the election of the new Guild Chair, Mistress Heldi. And with this attack by the Dragon Clans…”

  She paused.

  “Sir Jin, tell your father I pray every night for his speedy recovery.”

  “He will be grateful, your highness,” said Jin, his face softening.

  “So do we all,” said Tau. The other three men murmured their agreement.

  “I have, as such, become very concerned with my legacy,” continued the Princess. “My people will need a capable hand to guide them when this crisis has passed, and if I am not there, who knows what will become of them. I would sleep well at night, knowing that I had a partner who would continue my duties to the Joian people if anything should happen.

  “And when I say, ‘sleep well,’ I mean that I will have been exhausted from a fresh fucking by my husband.”

  The silence that echoed through the room at this statement loomed large.

  “I hope none of you find my language offensive or surprising,” said Fione, testing the air.

  “I’d heard rumors,” offered Ragar.

  “I’ve heard the rumors as well,” said Fione. She placed her diadem on the side table near the bed, then reached behind her neck, undoing the straps of her dress, letting the front collapse down her pale skin, then hooking her thumbs in to pull the fabric over the curve of her buttocks, until she was standing naked before them. “Be assured, they hardly do me justice.”

  “Quite clearly,” said Davod. “But, your highness, aren’t these other four chaps going to be rather frustrated when you send them home without experiencing you after getting to know me first?”

  Fione laughed at his brazen confidence more than the joke’s humor.

  “Won’t you be rather frustrated when you have to watch the other four fuck me before you?” she shot back at him.

  Davod’s face soured instantly, and Fione laughed again.

  “Disrobe, all of you. I would like you to each, in turn, take me as you would if I really were to be your wife.”

  Fione sat on the edge of her bed, watching as the men’s hands went to their belts and shirts, tearing their clothes off themselves, until there were five cocks hanging before her. Unconsciously, she ran a hand along her body, stroking her breast until she reached the hardened pink nipple.

  “Sir Davod, I will grace you with the opportunity to prove your prowess. Join me.”

  Davod couldn’t help but smirk at his competition as he strode forward. Like most men, Tau had only a hazy idea of where his manliness’ more physical attributes lay in relations to other men, but he was gratified to see it was at least bigger than Davod vai Auin’s. The man’s walk, however, would have given the impression he was boasting the trunk of a tree between his legs.

  Reaching Fione, Davod seized her and pulled her tight to him, his cock pressing up against her stomach. He bent her chin up, kissing her heartily, and Fione closed her eyes, smiling as their lips met. Davod’s hands roamed her body, and Tau watched as the soft, pliant skin of Fione’s left breast poured between Davod’s fingers as his other hand squeezed her ass.

  He broke the kiss, his hand falling lower until it was tucked under her thighs and he lifted her, tossing her onto the bed, leaping in after. Her legs parted for him, their hips meeting before their heads did, Davod darting to kiss her neck before licking across her collarbone to suck on her nipple until he’d made the glorious pink nub stand straight up in the air.

  He rolled her over on top of him, his hands grasping at her breasts again, squeezing and kneading, Princess Fione’s back arching as she offered as much of them as she could to his grasp. She reached behind her, guiding Davod’s cock at her pussy, her hips rising.

  “Use your mouth,” Davod grunted.

  Fio
ne shot him a look. “Your highness,” he added.

  Fione looked a tad disappointed, but with an acquiescent care, she slid down his chest until she was crouched over his cock, holding it straight up with one hand. Her tongue snaked out of her mouth, finding the bulbous head of his cock, bathing it in her spit. When Davod groaned, she leaned forward and sent her lips sliding down the shaft. He groaned again, his hand weaving through her hair, encouraging her to increase her pace. Fione’s hand began to move, corkscrewing around the length that revealed itself as she rose, her cheeks hollowing from her suction. Her eyes were open, staring up at Davod as she opened her mouth to bathe his cock with her tongue again.

  “Come up here again,” he commanded. She crawled up again to her previous position and Davod took the opportunity to lean forward, trapping her nipple between his teeth before sucking it hard enough to make the Princess groan. He reached behind them to find his cock, still slick with her sweat, and pulled it up, until Fione began to sink down onto it.

  They both moaned and Davod leaned back, releasing the shining wet nipple from his mouth.

  “Oh, yes, fuck me, your highness,” Davod said.

  The look on Fione’s face suggested she was not a fan of doing all the work, but she fell to the task with a gusto to make up for it. Tau watched, enraptured, as she began to bounce on Davod’s cock, her breasts heaving in time to her movements. Her hands rested on his sharp pectorals, her eyes closed, her teeth tucking her lower lip back, her face a perfect picture of agony.

  Davod’s loud groan echoed through the room, and Fione’s eyes burst open. His hips pushed into hers, his hands wrapped around her waist to hold her steady. Fione gasped a bit and Tau watched as Davod groaned again, his hips thrusting a little. Fione sat still on top of him, staring down.

  “Anything more, Sir Davod?”

  “No, your majesty, you’ve drawn it all out of me,” said Davod. The man did not even have the grace to realize he should be ashamed, Tau thought. The princess slid off him, gesturing for him to stand back with the others.